#PLEASe of all the things they could have dramatically driven why is it this fucking thing i almost started crying

[sulli-villain]

im ready for my art to be overshadowed by more shit post gifs again but im actually dying from this

but uh tiny self promo. i draw and sometimes i draw sexy women from detective conan

[temporarywelcome]

Turkey - Spencer Reid

Word Count: 2k

Summary: JJ's son, Henry, loves his Uncle Spencer and Spencer's girlfriend, so JJ invites the two over for some holiday crafts.

WARNINGS: some swearing? mostly just fluffyness

A/N: technically a continuation of my little "Smooth Criminal" series though this can 100% be read standalone. If you want to know why Girls' Generation is mentioned, perhaps read "Babysitting", tho you really don't need to

____

Look, she didn’t hate kids.

She just didn’t like them.

Y/N didn’t hate Henry, but she wasn’t exactly a fan either.

Spencer adored the kid to bits, being his godfather, and as Spencer’s girlfriend, Y/N saw Henry quite often. She had won JJ over, another member of the BAU that was able to look past her sketchy past as a kleptomaniac. All that was left was Rossi. 

Winning JJ over wasn’t as easy as Garcia, Morgan, or Prentiss. Hell, Y/N found getting on Hotch’s good side to be easier. She helped with a few cases using her knowledge from her life of thievery, helping them catch a few unsubs. Hotch didn’t mind her.

But with JJ? It took multiple days of babysitting. 

And Y/N didn’t like kids.

But it paid off in the end, she could assume. 

November had just arrived, and Spencer being the holiday fanatic he was, had their shared apartment decked for the season.

This was the most orange she had seen in a while. 

This was their first November living together, so she let him have his fun, just like for October. Being the sucker she was, anything he wanted, she let happen.

But this time it was JJ who had a request for her. Well, both her and Spencer.

Like most days Spencer wasn't out on a case, Y/N had driven off to the FBI building's parking garage, sitting in her usual parking space to pick him up. She was exhausted from her own responsibilities at the theatre, busy at rehearsal for hours. 

She was reviewing her lines, because she always took work home with her, tired and cranky as hell. She already knew Spencer was probably going to be equally tired and cranky as hell, and he was always annoying as fuck when he was, well, tired and cranky as hell. 

Noticing Spencer approaching from the rearview mirror, Y/N grinned. She was already excited to just go home and cuddle in bed with her man. Her smile faded when she saw JJ walking next to him. Not like she had a thing against JJ, she just wanted to be in bed already. 

Spencer slid into his designated seat in the front, but he didn’t close the door, “JJ has a proposition for us,” 

“Does it involve a bubble bath and wine and then my nice warm bed?” Y/N deadpanned. 

JJ, who was standing to the left of Spencer, answered, “Unfortunately no. However, Henry really wanted to do some holiday crafts with his Uncle Spencer this weekend but also wanted you to be there too, Y/N,”

She paused, shocked, “Me? Henry wants to do some holiday crafts with me?”

“Yes, he really likes you,” JJ replied, “And it would mean a lot to Henry and Will and I if you came.” 

“Er,” Y/N scratched the back of her neck awkwardly, “I don’t see why not,”

Spencer’s eyes brightened, “Really?” he expected her to make up some lame excuse not to go, pleasantly surprised now. “Great! I-”

“Alright, g’bye, JJ,” Y/N grumbled, reaching over Spencer and closing his door, “Sorry, I’m exhausted and ready to bite someone’s head off,”

“That someone is going to be me,” Spencer sighed, leaning back in his seat.

“Oh, please, you’re always getting pissy with me when you’re tired-”

“Okay but you get pissy even when you’re not tired-”

“So we’re lying now? Okay, fine-”

“You two have fun,” JJ muttered, leaving them to their bickering. 

It was like that for the whole car ride, which led to Y/N and Spencer grumbling to themselves and dramatically stalking off to separate rooms. Within minutes, they both felt like shit. And so Spencer scurried to run her a bath with those bubbles she wanted, and when he went to get her a glass of wine, he found her in the kitchen, making him a late-night snack. 

They made eye contact, very well aware of what the other was doing. Y/N spoke first.

“You’re so fucking annoying when you’re tired, y’know?”

“So are you.” he shot back with a huff. 

“Yeah, but you let all your crankiness pile up until you’re in my vicinity to let it all out on me,” she explained, still chopping up some fruits as she spoke, “At least I take out all my anger equally onto everyone,” 

“How nice,” he rolled his eyes, “...I ran you a bath,”

“I made you a snack,” she held up a bowl of freshly cut fruits, his favorite kinds. He slowly took it.

“...I love you.”

“Love you too, fucking pain,” she said dryly, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before walking off for her bath, smirking slightly. That was usually how their arguments went. 

___

On Saturday, Y/N and Spencer arrived at JJ’s place at around noon. JJ was the one who answered the door, but before she could even greet them, Henry pushed past her.

“Y/N! Uncle Spencer!” He exclaimed. He was known for being extremely… loud. “You're here!”

“Hey, buddy,” Spencer grins, hugging back as Henry ran at him, “Of course we’re here,”

Once Henry was tired of Spencer’s hug he jumped on Y/N next. She choked, eyes widening before awkwardly patting the kid’s back. It was funny. She was usually the affectionate one and Spencer shied away from physical touch. But with kids, Spencer was always giving them love while Y/N was ready to jump out a window to get away. 

“Guess what, Y/N?!” Henry said in his usual annoyingly loud tone, “I’m going to be in a Thanksgiving play at my school!” 

When Spencer and Y/N had babysat Henry for the first time, Henry was a monster, and Spencer got overstimulated within the first hour. So Y/N had kept Henry distracted with her usual fix of Girls’ Generation and then put him on MTV for a while. Y/N had a career in the arts, and from what JJ has said, it seemed like Henry was becoming interested in it too. 

“Oh, really?” she asked, ruffling his hair, “I did a few when I was in elementary school,”

Henry’s eyes lit up, “REALLY?! I’m just like you!” he then skipped off inside of JJ’s home. Y/N debated running off into the street. 

“He really looks up to you,” JJ grumbled, clearly in a Don’t Mess This Up way. 

“Me? B-But I’ve only seen him a few times,” Y/N scratched the back of her neck, suddenly feeling this responsibility (that she did not even want). 

“Well, you made an impression on him,” JJ replied, “Now come on in. Will just made some lunch,”  At the word lunch, Y/N was off inside the house and Spencer went to follow, JJ stopping him, “Did you two have the talk yet?”

His brows furrowed, “Like sexual education-?”

“No,” she couldn’t help but laugh, “The whole kids thing…”

Oh. That. 

During that one babysitting adventure, Spencer had admitted to his girlfriend he had wanted kids, but didn’t think he would be a good dad. She had assured him, saying she was sure he would be a great dad and even said as a mom she would definitely pull as much of the weight as she could. 

But she doesn’t even want to be a mom.

She only said those things to calm him down.

They had agreed to discuss the whole kids thing after, something they probably should have done before they got serious with each other. But never did. He was terrified, and he was sure she was too. 

So they never did. 

“No,” he looked down, fiddling with his fingers, “We have not,” 

JJ sighed, “Reid.” Here we go. “You two have to talk about this.” 

“I know,”

“Then why haven’t you?”

“I just…” he shrugged, still not making eye contact, “I don’t want to lose her,”

“Spencer, if you guys have different wants, no matter what happens, you’re going to end up resenting each other,” 

She was right, and he knew that. He knew that if they didn’t have any kids he would probably start to resent Y/N, and if they did have kids, Y/N would probably start to resent him and the children, which he wouldn’t be able to bear. 

But he won’t be able to bear losing her either. 

“I know, I know… I’ll talk to her about it, promise,” 

“No you won’t,” JJ shook her head with a sigh, and with that, she let him in.

____

“I can feel you lookin’ at me, I know what you see. Any closer and you feel the heat,” Y/N and Henry were singing obnoxiously as they cut up little turkey body parts for a little arts and crafts project, sitting together at the kid's table.  

Spencer, JJ, and Will were seated at the “adult” table, occasionally giving each other glances as they watched the scene unfold before them. The way both Y/N and Henry looked equally concentrated on their turkeys as they cut the paper, brows furrowed with tongues sticking out in determination. 

“For someone who doesn’t like kids,” JJ mused, “She’s good with them,”

“Yeah, because she’s like one,” Spencer scoffed, sipping at his coffee, “That’s like her third turkey,” 

“He still hasn’t had the ‘kids’ talk with her yet,” JJ told Will, who tutted in disappointment. 

“Do you gossip about me?” Spencer’s mouth dropped. 

“A bit,” 

“Wow,” 

“To be fair, it was Garcia who told him about it,”

Spencer rolled his eyes with a soft chuckle, “Of course it was her. She blows up everything in my relationship,”

“She does it with love,”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah-”

“GIRLS GENERATION MAKE YOU FEEL THE HEAT-”

“-I hope it works out,” Will said, always the earnest one (also ignoring the practical karaoke in the living room), “I feel she’s good for you-”

“-AND WE’RE DOIN’ IT, WE CAN’T BE BEAT-”

“-Yeah, you need some fun in your life-,” JJ agreed with a grin. 

“-B-BRING THE BOYS OUT-”

“-Sometimes it makes me want to scoop my brain out of my skull via my nostrils,” Spencer grumbled, wincing at the loud yell-singing, “I have to deal with this pretty much every day-”

“-WE’RE BORN TO WIN, BETTER TELL ALL-” The singing suddenly stopped, and a child plus an overgrown child scampered on over, showing off their turkeys. 

“Look, Mommy!” Henry shoved one into JJ’s face, “It’s you!”

JJ surveyed the turkey with the colored in blonde hair with a smile, “Aw, it’s beautiful-” she paused, “...why does it look angry?”

“You get angry a lot,”

Will immediately covered his mouth to stifle a laugh. 

“And I did you too, Daddy!” Henry handed Will his turkey.

“Why is his smiling?” JJ grumbled before laughing softly, petting her son’s hair. 

“Because he smiles a lot,” Ah, kids with their zero filter. 

“Look,” Y/N slapped down her turkey onto the table in front of Spencer, eyes bright like the overgrown child she was. 

Spencer looked down at the turkey and grinned, already knowing exactly who it was.

“It’s you, pretty boy,” she said proudly, doing jazz hands like the theatre freak she was. 

The turkey was definitely him, with a silly hairstyle colored in and some glasses, accompanied by a sweater vest. 

“Why does my turkey have no pants on?” he asked like some art critic.

“Because it’s a turkey, I bet pants would be uncomfortable.”

“But glasses wouldn’t be?”

“The turkey won’t be able to see without glasses!” 

He laughed, looking down at the turkey again. He complained a lot, he was well aware of it, however, there was nothing in this world that could make him dislike the woman in front of him. 

And so he pulled her down, not bothering to stand, planting a kiss to her lips. 

“EWWWWW!” Henry gasped, covering his eyes, “What are you DOING?!”

When Spencer pulled his lips away, Y/N smirked, “You should totally make a turkey of me now,”

___

song is "The Boys" by Girls' Generation

[kerubimcrepin]

LIVEREAD: WAKFU, THE GREAT WAVE [TOME 1, Chapters 4-7]

Always some weird shit happening in this country.

I really wish they didn't make Grougalorasalar so fine because now putting him next to Joris feels like one of those "trying to give my cat body dysmorphia" memes.

EXCEPT JORIS ALMOST DEFINITELY ALREADY HAS THAT 😭

Some thought that it's quite cheap, to resurrect a character this way — however, killing 1k people is already established as a type of resurrection that works, within canon. And there is dramatic irony, considering at the end of the movie she kinda began to understand the error of her ways... It's like the universe is saying lol, no peaceful death for you, keep suffering, y'know? It's compelling.

SHUT THE FUCK UP. I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOUR FEE-FEES. YOU ALWAYS CRY WHILE COMMITTING WARCRIMES. COME UP WITH A NEW GIMMICK!

Like literally — this guy will cry over his dead son, and act scared about being forced to commit more warcrimes w/ Joris in the movie... and then go on to commit more warcrimes for centuries. Is he for real?

I think that, of all the people he could have picked, Julith is the most befitting candidate to try and fight Yugo.

She hated holier-than-thou types. She was aligned with Brakmar. She was willing to commit mass murder and abuse her son to reach her goals. For the right reasons, she will be willing to do more mass murder and son abuse once more. It literally makes so much sense to me.

(ANKAMA PLEASE CHANGE HER MOTIVATION FROM REVOLVING AROUND THE MAN SHE WAS IN LOVE WITH. DO KEEP THE CHILD ABUSE, THO. IF YOU DON'T DO THESE 2 THINGS, THIS MANGA WILL BE UNREADABLE AND UNBEARABLE. THANK YOU.)

Once again, I really appreciate the irony. I hope she feels bad about this — I hope it's clicking for her that this is what she was going to do. (I love torturing characters I love torturing characters I love—-)

I really wish we got some more of a conversation here — like "it's been approximately 600ish years since you died" or "the world almost ended like 4 times since you died, and there was a huge flood and stuff".

I really wish to see the reaction of some random mortal character from Dofus era to all the bullshit that has happened since then.

(God, I hope her first thought after learning how long it has been is, "oh, I guess I won't know what happened to my son. It has been a long time. He died a long time ago, I guess. That's probably a good thing." It would be so funny so so funny sooooo funny to me. hehe)

Due to Atcham being an owner of one of these thins in the past, I sadly have an affinity for them.

(I like to think Atcham wishes he could get another one, but being able to own an animal like this was like, one of the things he had to sacrifice to become a Bontarian.)

Something wrong with her, for real.

Loving their resurrection of Julith not just physically, but in spirit too <3

Welcome back, Irredeemably Evil Female Character Driven To Kill Torture And Abuse Innocents (Including Children) By "My Husband, Who Is The Only Person The Writers Have Me Care About, Died"-Disorder And No Other Character Traits Besides Motherhood/Desire To Be A Mother (Despite Being Abusive To All Children Around Her) Given To Her. You truly are a classic, in Ankama media!

I wonder if Julith is being forced into this, or if the only lesson she got from dying is "Jahash wouldn't have wanted me to kill 1k Bontarians" and she is still as weird and horrible of a person.

I guess it's hard to judge what is happening, without knowing what 'Salar told her.

By the way, if she still has a grudge against Bonta for planning the perfect series of events to kill her and Jahash, it will be so funny. Lady you literally tried to killed a woman's husband <3 you have no moral high ground anymore <3 and she never Had a moral high ground to stand on, but now there's like, hypocrisy to it too, if she uses the "my husband and I were plotted against" card.

[giggles cutely] You see, , this is why I often bring up Joris while analysing child-parent relationships and immortality. Ankama loves reiterating on ideas and concepts.

For example, the most recent motif is poisonings and belladonna, especially when love and royalty is involved...

I know I roasted the hell out of Eliatrope for her bad ruling skills, but I don't think that calling a ruling queen "kiddo" and "the girl" is helpful in this situation.

Then again, Aurora said that her father spent most of his time holled up in a cave, in season 4. Maybe he usually doesn't do politics. Maybe he's more of a military leader, while others do all the work.

...Yeah, I know, I know. Ankama just didn't give a shit and I'm just making stuff up to make it make sense.

[mingtinys]

Stained Glass

pairing : choi san x gn!reader

mafia!au , soulmate!au , angst , hurt/no comfort

warnings : language (like a lot) , depictions of blood and open wounds , mentions of guns (not fired) and general violence

word count : 4.4 k

requested ? no

a/n : this was a fic i originally wrote for an entirely different person back when i was in my star wars phase and just never published. but i liked the general plot and changed up a few things to ateezify it . brownie points if u can guess what character it was originally for 

[ part 2 ]

"You know, glaring at the clock isn't gonna make him get back any faster."

"Fuck off, Mingi." You mumble half-heartedly, eyes still glued to the analog clock mounted on the wall above Mingi, taunting you from across the room. Each second that ticks by twists knot after uncomfortable knot in your stomach, the feeling climbing up into your throat and nearly making you choke. It's been too long.

"Someone's snippy today."

You cut your eyes at the boy in one last warning, "I don't like being sidelined."

Mingi, long immune to your threats and sour attitude, stares back with an amused expression. "And I don't like babysitting, yet here we are– ah!" He shrieks as the blunt toe of your boot connects with his shin under the pristine mahogany table. The resounding groan followed by Mingi cradling his shin spreads a satisfied smirk across your lips.

"Why would you do that?"

"You know why."

"I'm never helping you and San out on another mission again." It's his pout that finally makes you feel a smidge guilty about kicking him. It wasn't his — or his poor shin for that matter's — fault you were in a bad mood. He was just the one unfortunate enough to be left with you and your anxiety-driven frustration.

"Sorry, Min." He seems decently pleased with your half-assed apology, a soft and empathetic expression returning to his otherwise sharp features. "I'm just worried, he should have been back by now."

"He's fine, Y/N." Mingi's eyes meet yours, genuine and comforting. "You guys have been partners for what? Two years now. You know he's more than capable of handling himself.

He's right and you hate it. Logically, it made more sense for only San to go while you and Mingi stayed back at the safe house and infiltrated their security to make sure he went undetected. Logically, San was the best choice between the two of you, he's been to this specific enemy base before and knows the layout like the back of his hand. Logically, the plan was sound and easy. "I'll be in and out in thirty, no sweat." He'd said when you tried to argue your case for tagging along.

But despite the mission being "so easy even a golden retriever could do it," — San's words — an uneasy feeling still settled into your gut the second he drove off. You don't like being too far from your partner, unable to provide backup or know his status. When you've been by his side every second of every mission for so long, it feels foreign being separated. Hongjoong had also drilled into everyone's heads the golden rule of always sticking in pairs, no matter how useless it may seem. It's a rule you and San have always followed; if not for the sake of saving yourselves from one of Hongjoong's lengthy, and terrifying, lectures, then because the two of you genuinely work well together.

You trust him to get it done, you really do. But his thirty-minute mission has long since turned into well over an hour with minimal communication and you can't help the gnawing feeling in your stomach. You shouldn't have let him go alone, this whole thing was stupid.

You huff, arms folded tightly across your chest and foot rapidly tapping the floor. "He's got twenty minutes before I go there and find out what's taking so long myself."  Mingi, who you expected to immediately shut down that idea and call you dramatic, doesn't respond, much less acknowledge the fact you spoke at all. You glance up, only to find he's gone from nursing his shin to smiling down at his phone, fingers happily tapping away at the screen.

A frown spreads to your lips, you weren't quite done complaining about the situation at hand. "Mingi," you deadpan. "Stop texting your stupid soulmate, we're in the middle of a mission."

He rolls his eyes and releases an exaggerated groan, but does as you ask regardless, setting his phone face down on the table. "No. You're in the middle of complaining about the mission. There's nothing for us to do anyways until San gets back." He takes a beat, dragging his hands down his face then jabs a finger in your direction. "And soulmates aren't stupid, you're just chronically miserable and hate love."

"I don't hate love," you defend. "I just don't see how you can justify bringing someone into this kind of life, much less have time for them."

Mingi stares blankly back at you as if he's calling your bluff. "Not everyone is as cynical as you. Now, Yeosang? He comes close, but you definitely take the fuckin' cake."

Cynical. You much prefer the term realistic. Because in your line of work, the chances of loved ones getting caught in the crossfire are near certain. You've witnessed it first-hand multiple times; soulmates used as leverage and bargaining chips between rivals, lovers left lifeless and brutalized in the name of revenge, their partners soaked in blood and begging for them to just wake up. The thought haunts you more than you'd like it to. Realistically, it's irresponsible and selfish to expect someone to just be okay with that risk. Even if the universe itself begged to differ.

Of course, you'd be lying if you said you'd never at least entertained the idea of a soulmate. In fact, when you were little, it was all you thought about. Constantly fantasizing about the moment you first touched them, skin to skin. Your black-and-white toned vision exploding into a beautiful array of vibrant colors. Everything about it just seemed so magical back then. But now, meeting your cosmically selected partner fills your entire being with nothing but dread.

You've gone through indescribable lengths to ensure you never trigger the whirlwind of colors waiting to be released, avidly avoiding skin-to-skin contact with everyone possible. You refused to even shake San's hand when Hongjoong first introduced the two of you as partners. The way you saw it, if you never knew who your soulmate was, they could never get hurt because of you. You would never have to lose anything dear to yourself ever again.

"Still," you finally respond to Mingi. "It just doesn't feel right to put someone through that. Make them deal with our shit lives, constantly in danger. I can't do it, especially not after what happened to Seonghwa's poor soulmate—"

"Stop." Mingi abruptly cuts you off, eyes wide as if Seonghwa himself would somehow hear your words from miles away. "You know not to talk about that." You sink further in your seat at his scolding, like a child who knows they're in the wrong but is too stubborn to admit it.

Mingi draws in a deep breath and releases it in a long and worn-out sigh. "You seriously never wanna find your soulmate? Like ever?" There's a certain undertone of pity in his voice that you've grown to resent whenever he brings up the topic of soulmates. Like he can't possibly fathom how one could be so content without one when his entire life revolves around his. Like you're some sad charity case he needs to heal so you can finally be "happy."

You refuse to meet his eyes as you speak. "Why would I want something else to lose?"

Mingi shrugs, "I don't know. To give our shitty lives even the tiniest bit of meaning? To have something worth coming home to. I can't really explain it, life just feels ... complete now."

"Sounds overrated."

"There's a bright, colorful, loving world out there, Y/N. You deserve to see it with someone by your side, even if you don't think so."

"I much prefer the grey tones. Thanks." With that, Mingi finally relents, allowing you the silence to descend back into your worrisome thoughts.

You don't get to dwell on them for long. No more than a few moments pass when a loud series of crashes and thuds startle you and Mingi alert. You lunge for the spare gun holstered on the underside of the table, knuckles white as your fingers wrap around the grip. Mingi has his own in hand and you signal for him to follow behind, he nods without protest

"Y/N!" A voice yells out. It's strained, yet unmistakably San's. Your heart stops, but only for a split second, then begins to slam aggressively against your chest, like it's catching up with your racing mind. It takes less than a second for you to discard your pistol and bolt for the living room, Mingi hot on your heels.

The room is a mess compared to just a few minutes ago. Picture frames shattered and face down on the floor, furniture recklessly shoved out of the way, and a shelf's contents spilled about. At the center of it all is San, stumbling around and grasping at anything and everything to keep his balance as he treks through the room. He's clutching at his left side with his other hand, small dark droplets of an unknown liquid on the floor outline his path. The same liquid coats his paled hand and the all too familiar scent of iron stings your nostrils.

You allow yourself half a second. Only half a second to reign in your frantic thoughts, shove your emotions to the furthest corner of your mind, and put on a calm and collected face, just as you've been trained to do. Just as everyone in Hongjoong’s organization has been trained to do.

"Help him to that chair." Mingi follows your command instantly, ducking under San's arm to let him lean all his weight on Mingi's shoulders.

"I need a med kit," San instructs, teeth gritted in pain but surprisingly calm.

You nod to Mingi, allowing him to handle getting san into the nearest armchair so you can retrieve the med kit from below the kitchen sink. When you return, San is slumped in the chair, head thrown back against the headrest and sucking in deep breaths.

You kneel beside him, on his left side where he's still clutching at the space between his hip and where his ribs end. You talk as you open the med kit and sift through the supplies. "Mingi, take the car and get Yunho, he can do a better job fixing whatever this is than I can. Fast."

Mingi doesn't nod or even acknowledge you spoke. He just grabs the keys from the kitchen counter and bolts for the front door.

San groans and attempts to reposition himself in the chair to grant you better access to his wound. "There's a piece of shrapnel in my side, you need to get it out. We can't wait for Yunho."

"I'm sorry, what?" You ask, whipping your head to look at him with wild eyes and a bewildered look of confusion. "Why the hell is there shrapnel in you?"

"Because something blew up," he says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world. Good to know he hasn't bled out enough to dull his charming attitude. "Now get it out."

"Because something blew—? Shit, San." It's ticking you off just how nonchalant he is about the whole ordeal. As if he didn't just come crashing into the safe house, dripping blood all over the freshly varnished hardwood. As if he's not in the worst pain imaginable while trying his hardest to act unfazed.

You pick up a pair of long tweezers and a miniature flashlight from the now ransacked med kit. Shooing San's hand away from his wound, you click the light on and start inspecting the jagged wound in his side. More blood oozes from the wound at the loss of pressure, staining the light-colored chair. Hongjoong isn't going to be too happy about it, but the aesthetics of the safehouse aren't exactly a top priority at the moment.

"It's an easy mission, oh I can just go alone. In and out in thirty," you mock. San shoots you a glare.

"Okay, okay I get it. You wanna get this thing the fuck out of me? Feels like it's ripping my insides apart."

"Just stay still and don't bitch out on me." Rather ungracefully, you slot the tweezers into his wound and start digging around. The method isn't the most effective, but then again you weren't exactly as talented as Yunho when it came to treating injuries. Sure, you've roughly fixed up a couple of wounds when out on a mission, but nothing anywhere near this bad.

"Ow . . . ow . . . OW!" San writhes in his seat, making his displeasure with your technique known loud and clear. " You wanna be a little more gentle with that?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Does me digging around in your fucking shrapnel wound hurt?" You snip at him. You really were trying to make this as painless as possible, but your hands are shaking and his incessant complaining isn't exactly a morality boost. "I'm not a medic, San, I don't know what I'm doing."  

"Literally anything else! Please!" His voice cracks, an indication of how unbearable the pain must be. You sympathize with him, you really do. But there isn't exactly a better option, so you continue digging, just a little less rushed this time, and San tries everything he can to stifle his groans. After a few more hopeless minutes of searching, you still can't find the shard.

"I can't see it. This flashlight isn't doing any good and I can't feel it with the tweezers." It's just one big dark mess in your vision. Perhaps Yunho or Mingi would be able to see some distinction in the colors with their soulmate-induced retinas, but this whole feat is growing useless with your lack of experience and poor vision.

"Then try again. You need to get it out before it goes any deeper." San's voice is slightly calmer this time, tone less abrasive and snarky, even bordering on comforting.

"I'm sorry but everything is kind of the same fucking color. It just looks like a dark mess."

"Then stick your fingers in there and try to feel where it is." He says it with such blunt confidence that the phrase catches you so off guard. You pause your actions and stare at San's face, eyebrows raised and waiting for him to say something like "just kidding." But he doesn't. He just stares back at you like you're stupid for not jumping into action without question.

"What?" You hadn't even chanced getting his blood on your fingers while using the tweezers, and now he wants you to just shove your hand in there?

"Do it."

"I'm not fucking–"

"Y/N, please!" There's an urgency in his voice and it strikes a cord in your heart. Against everything he's tried to convey from the moment he stumbled in — the brave face, the tough, arrogant act — he sounds scared. Underneath everything, Choi San is scared and that scares you.

"Okay, okay" you whisper, more so to yourself. "You can do this."

You grab the bottle of alcohol from the med kit and douse your hands in it, rubbing the cool liquid in. You should really be doing this with gloves, but they're conveniently m.i.a., so you do the best you can. With the flashlight gripped tightly in your non-dominant hand, you flex your fingers on the other, mentally preparing yourself. Just do it. Suck it up and do it. As every nerve in your fingers screams and begs for you to stop, you take a deep breath and—

In the split second between when your finger hovers just over his wound to when it just barely touches his skin, a chill shoots up your spine. The world goes from black and white to bursting with hundreds— no thousands, of vivid colors. Horrifyingly enough, the main color your brain registers is red. Dark, glistening red. You recoil, yanking your hand away like San's skin is made of hot embers.

So many different emotions and thoughts rush through your brain at once. It's overwhelming, and all you can do is match San's unbelieving expression. You've spent years avoiding this exact moment, and now it's happening at the worst time imaginable.

This can't be happening. This can't be possible. Choi San cannot be your soulmate.

San is the first to speak.

"Y/N— ah, fuck." He doubles over, hand flying back to hold his side, and squeezes his eyes shut. It snaps you back to reality like a bucket of ice water over your head. San's still injured. He's your soulmate but he's injured and oh God everything is so fucked right now. There are more pressing matters than sorting through your complicated feelings. So you compartmentalize the part of you that wants to run far, far away. The part that's filled with fear and panic.

The part of you that's always, in the deepest confines of yourself, seen San as a little bit more than just a partner. You bury all of it for the time being so you can revisit it once San is out of immediate danger.

"Come on," you coax, helping him to sit back up. "Don't forget this was your idea."

"Y/N—" He tries again.

"I know, San. Let's not worry about that right now, okay?"

He weakly nods. "Just get it over with."

You try not to think about it too much this time. Hesitation hasn't gotten you anywhere and you're not sure how much longer San can last.

San screams as you plunge your finger deep into his wound. It's warm and squishy as you fish around, the feeling so nauseating and vile you have to suppress a gag. Strings of curses and meaningless threats fall from San's lips as he squirms. Though you ignore them completely, too focused on keeping your lunch down as the urge to throw up surfaces for the fourth time.

What is likely just a few seconds of searching feels like hours. But your finger eventually comes into contact with something sharp and hard, it budges slightly when you knock against it. San jerks upward with a gasp, and you have to drop your flashlight so you can use your free hand to press against his chest and pin him down to the chair. On any other occasion, San could easily overpower you if he wanted. But the blood loss has made him weaker and there isn't much energy left in him to fight back.

"It's almost over, I promise. Hold on just a little bit longer."

Much to San's displeasure, you have to dig around again to relocate the piece of shrapnel. While your knowledge of the human blood vessel system is limited, you don't think it's deep enough to have cut an artery. The flow of blood is much more consistent with a knicked vein. Not fatal, but definitely painful and concerning with the sheer amount of blood leaking from his body.

"Okay, now stay very still." You instruct once you've found the shard again. Very carefully you take your hand off San's broad chest and reach back for the tweezers. You slip them back into the wound with surgical-like care and use your finger to guide them to the piece of shrapnel. It's easier this time to grasp the metal shard and once you have a hold of it you're able to slip your finger out. The resounding sucking noise is pure nightmare fuel when combined with the whimpers coming from San.

"Okay, I got it. Are you ready? This is gonna hurt a lot."

San nods, "I can handle it." It's very unconvincing.

You wipe the blood from your hand on your pants and extend it towards San. You aren't sure if he'll take it, and you're even more unsure of why you felt the need to offer it. Because he'll need something to hold on to while you rip a piece of metal from his side? Because he's your partner and you've never enjoyed seeing him in pain? Because he's your soulmate and it's the least you could do to comfort him? Whatever the reason, he takes it without hesitation, and you're happy for it.

"On three."

San takes a deep breath.

"One���"

Something halfway between a gasp and a curse breaks past San's lips as you swiftly, and not so gently, pull the shrapnel from his side. The sudden extraction has him crushing your hand in his grasp, though you don't have much time to process the pain as you drop the offending object and grab a wad of gauze to press against the profusely bleeding cut.

"What happened to two and three!?" He barks between short and heavy breaths.

"Would you have stayed relaxed by the time I got there?"

"Fuck you," he groans, words meaningless. You slip your hand from San's iron-like grasp and guide him down to the gauze you've placed. Another gasp involuntarily escapes him the more he presses down on the wound to slow the bleeding.

An awkward silence hangs in the air and casts a heavy blanket across the room. It's suffocating in and of itself, but the way San's eyes burn a hole into your skull is so much worse. You can't even bring yourself to lift your gaze from the bloody shrapnel on the floor to face him. The offending object doesn't feel so threatening now as it lays jagged and tinted red on the hardwood. It reminds you of how stained glass looks when shattered into pieces. Dull, delicate, haunting. A small distraction from the man you refuse to face, the man who is most definitely expecting something from you, but you aren't sure you can give him the answer he wants right now. But his heavy and labored breathing is making him hard to ignore.

"Um . . . Yunho should be here soon, I'm sure he can patch—"

"Don't do that."

"Do what?" You feign innocence.

"Change the subject."

You rise from your kneeling position but keep your eyes trained on your shoes and arms wrapped protectively around your waist. Every neuron in your brain is screaming and pleading for him to just drop it. You're not sure any time will ever be a good time to have a conversation on the obvious, but they still sound a hell of a lot better than right now while he's still not completely out of danger.

"Now isn't a good time, San. We can talk about it once you're healed and—"

"No." He's firm in his stance. "Look, I understand if you need time to process everything, but this isn't something you can just ignore and make go away. We're gonna have to talk about it sooner or later."

You feel horrible. Because for every time you've made it known you have absolutely no intention of ever being involved with your soulmate, San has been right there on the opposing side. He's confided in you and Wooyoung countless times about just how much he desires to meet his soulmate. How he adores the idea of finding that perfect person to share a life with. It's truly unfortunate that person had to be you.

You're pretty sure you love San, that you've always loved San. But you just can't. The thought of him getting even closer along with the danger he puts himself in every day? You'd never truly be able to find peace or comfort in that type of relationship. So you take in a deep breath, hold back a flurry of tears, and prepare yourself for what will possibly be the cruelest thing to ever come from your lips. You prepare to absolutely and utterly crush San's heart and dreams into a billion pieces. You try to convince yourself it's for the best, but the guilt outweighs that feeling.

"There's nothing to talk about. I don't–" there's really no kind way to say this. "I don't want you as a soulmate. I don't feel that way toward you–"

"Liar." His voice is shaky, and the image of stray tears streaming down his face invades your mind. You've never seen him cry before, and you definitely don't want to now.

"What, did you think you'd be some sort of exception? Just because we're partners? You know my opinion on soulmates. I can't– I won't. . . I'm sorry it had to be me, you deserve better."

The universe must take some form of pity on you because before San can articulate his next thought Yunho and Mingi burst through the safe house door. "What happened?" Yunho commands, already dropping his duffle bag of medical supplies to the floor and kneeling beside San.

"He got hit by shrapnel, I dug it out and did the best I could but you'll probably need to disinfect and stitch it up." You rattle off everything you did almost robotically before making a beeline for the front door, and though Yunho is too zeroed into treating San, Mingi picks up almost instantly on the quake in your voice and tension that suffocates the entire house.

His hand shoots out to grab your arm. "Woah, what's wron—"

"Not now, Mingi." You bite at him, ripping your arms from his grasp before he even really had a hold of it. Shouts from San and Yunho arguing with each other fill the living room, trying to use it as a distraction, you attempt your escape again.

"San, stop being difficult."

"Don't fucking touch me! So you're just gonna leave—?" His words stop you dead in your tracks, frozen in place with your fingers ghosting the doorknob. "—You're not even gonna fucking look at me?" The room goes silent once more. Your skin itches from the number of eyes staring you down.

"You're a coward if you run now."

His words sting, though you're sure it's nothing compared to what you've done to him. Ripping a piece of metal from his side only to moment later rip his heart from his chest. You truly deserve every insult he throws your way.

"I'm sorry," You repeat. "It's for the best."

Your body feels numb like it's operating on autopilot as you hastily slip into the cool fall air and let the wooden door slam shut with a blunt bang.

It's for the best. He'll understand it one day.

[ part 2 ]

[silviakundera]

Best drama love stories? Two characters who will move heaven and earth for each other? Who convince you true love exists by just how much they adore one another?

So I've been thinking about this anon. An upon consideration, the questions you asked are very different things to me!

The drama love stories which truly convince me that maybe true love does exist by just how much they adore one another, by how much I can understand & feel the mutual bond between them... are not necessarily the characters in dramas who I see "moving heaven & earth" for each other.

Why? I guess because in my mind, it's 1 thing to go to extremes when your back is up against the wall and everything is falling apart - because when adrenaline is flowing and heroics are called for, yes it's very dramatic and exciting to jump off that cliff together. Humans get very hyped up and extra like that. But that doesn't necessarily make me think of true love. To me, true love isn't a dramatic act of sacrifice that a stressed & despairing person is driven to, through circumstances beyond their control. It's not the story of the worst months of a person's life and the person they are desperately clinging to as external factors torment them. True love is a connection, tactic understanding, a partnership. It's living for someone and every moment feeling better & brighter because that person experiences it with you; experiencing beautiful moments with someone when living your lives as a pair. A person who makes ordinary life into something extraordinary.

Don't get me wrong: I love dramatics and big hero moments and badass rescues and also my red flag romantic lead!. All of that are some of my fav dramas. But they don't often give me that feeling of wow, I believe in love again, fuck I'm too single right now. and then I'm back on the dating apps.

So I'm going zero in here on some couples who gave me that rush. Ships who have a lot of messy, harsh conflict, or are too surreal for me to personally relate to (like being in love with a god) won't be included.

This is very very subjective and personal! Only what gave that feeling to ME, silvia.

You Are My Glory - devastating relationship propaganda. Watching this drama for the first time really did make me sign up for a dating app again lmao. The last 10 episodes are established relationship comfort couple goodness.

Bad Buddy - Pat and Pran are my gold standard for friends & lovers. By the end of the drama I truly believed nothing could come between them and they would never want to live without each other.

Fake It Til You Make It - a squee-inducing relationship between adult professionals that feels real and obtainable. This is the relationship I want for me & the drama makes it seem not completely out of reach.

A Tale of Thousand Stars - Hallmark channel romance done right. A classic romance novel on screen that just hits all the tropes, with great pining. I know in this one they don't truly hook up until the end, but then we got the 2 episode My Skyy mini-series of established relationship epilogue. also: HE GAVE UP INDOOR BATHROOMS AND THE INTERNET. If that's not true love, what is?

The Princess Royal/The Grand Princess - I'm cheating here because it's truly the novel version of this couple that are epic and unforgettable for me. The drama is good but couldn't capture the rich depth of the otp, in their second time around. But the novel version omgggggg inspiring, someone please marry and divorce and remarry me NOW.

A Journey to Love - a drama that earned it in every way; we see them falling in love and we see their devotion. The way they loved each other exactly how they NEEDED to be loved. I felt that.

Parallel World aka West out of Yu Men - it's easy to make a split second decision to die for someone, it's harder to live for someone and even harder to give up well laid plans & forgive the unforgivable. When all the secrets come out and it doesn't end them... that's when I knew this couple was epic to me. idk but I just felt the connection between them and felt the drama earned my belief that nothing could turn them against each other.

Hidden Love: like sliding into a warm bath. 💕💕💕💕💕 I absolutely believed in their love, in every way.

Story of Minglan: They took a very long time to get there but oh when they do! Beautiful mutual support and a loving relationship of respect and partnership that would have been rare in that time period/setting.

The Spirealm - Reality is whenever you are. Enough said. (Yes, this is a strange one. But I stand by my choice, this censored danmei adaption was ultimately very romantic to me. 😭)

The Rebel Princess/Monarch Industry - There's a certain warmth and passion between them that stands out for me in the sea of other costume dramas.

Just misses the cut:

The Untamed - almost on the list, but disqualified by Lan Wangji leaving the love of his life to go be a politician at the end wtf ??????? sorry not sorry but that it stains the epicness of the romance for me

[rowanaelinn]

Illicit Affairs - Chapter Fourty-Nine

A/N: Thank you everyone for your patience :) Sorry for the delay, I've spent the last few days obsessing over daisybilly

Warnings: some angst | Word Count: 4,300

Aelin was going crazy. 

She couldn’t stand anymore the relentless beeping noises in the room. Each time a machine made a sound, it sent her more over the edge. She had barely slept two hours before she woke up, and that had been hours ago. Her hands were slightly shaking, something she had noticed only when she was handed a cup of coffee and she’d nearly spilled the drink on her lap. 

It wasn’t like her dress would be a great loss. She liked it, really, but after spending more than twenty-four hours inside of it… Aelin wanted to burn that thing, and she was aware of how dramatic it sounded. She couldn’t find it in herself to care. 

Rowan wasn’t looking much better. She’d seen him doze off for maybe a few minutes before waking with a sharp intake of breath, and then a guilty look appearing on his features. She was sure those micro-naps didn’t help him rest. She wondered what he was thinking about, how he was feeling. She knew it couldn’t be good, of course, and yet… She didn’t ask. It wasn’t her business, they were just… coparents, now. What they were to each other in the past didn’t matter anymore. 

He had moved on, and wasn’t she trying to do so as well? Even if her attempts thus far hadn’t been prestigious, and all because of her. Sam was a great guy. Maybe two years ago, after Chaol, she could have settled for someone like Sam. It would have been restful. Nothing of the passionate, illicit affair she’d had with the man sitting in front of her. 

Maybe she could have settled for something of the sort before, but she couldn’t. Not anymore. 

But how can she be with someone and not burn for them? And not feel as if she could survive in a world without feeling as if she was breathing for two? It was unhealthy, she knew that, and yet she was growing to rather… not dislike that about herself. Her devotion to people. 

If she could just control it, never let her love for others fade her love for herself… Life would be easier. But she supposed that noticing it was already a good point. 

She promised herself that if Helia woke up, she’d work on that. 

The door of the bedroom opened, starling Aelin. She realized she was almost falling asleep again. Fuck, she needed more coffee. Her father came in, followed by Lorcan. She sighed, leaning back into her chair. “You’re like a blessing now, dad. May I get another cup of coffee, please?” 

He looked at her feet, at the eleven empty cups of coffee she’d drank thus far. He gave her a tight smile, “I think if you drink more, you’ll overdose.” 

She shrugged, “I’m a tough girl, dad. I can handle it.” 

He walked to her, laying a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sure of this, princess. But I think it’s time for both of you to go home.” 

“No,” Rowan protested.

Aelin agreed. “She’s still asleep. We are not leaving.” 

Lorcan took a step in the room. “It’s why we are here. Let us take over for a while.” 

Aelin was shaking her head, ready to protest, to affirm that they wouldn’t leave Helia’s side. Then, her father said, “You’ve been here for more than two days, Aelin.” 

She threw a look at Rowan, whose face reflecting her confusion. “No, I’ve just arrived last—”

“No, Aelin. He’s saying the truth,” Lorcan confirmed. “You both need a night of sleep, to eat something real and change clothes.” 

She shook her head. “I’m not going to Varese, it’s too far. I wouldn’t be there if—”

“You don’t need to,” her father said. “Aedion brought your dog, she’s at Fenrys’ apartment, and Sam went all the way back to get you clothes. He’s just came back.” 

Why must he be so difficult to reject? So sweet? She smiled and nodded. That was a nice thing to do, really. 

She didn’t miss the fact that Aedion had driven Fleetfoot to Fenrys. Was there where he was staying? 

“Come on man,” Lorcan urged Rowan, and she realized they might have been talking at the same time as her and her father. “Look at Aelin, she’s on the verge of passing out.” She wanted to deny it, but somehow she didn’t find the strength to do so. Maybe it was why she didn’t argue so much with her father when he came in, because even if it went against her instincts to stay with Helia, she knew he was right. “If she wakes up now, you’re no use to your daughter. You need to rest, then you can help. We’ll stay right there; we won’t move an inch.”

Rowan looked at his daughter for a second, squeezing her hand. “You promise?” He asked his best friend, as if he needed the reassurance. She looked at her own father then, a question in her eyes. He nodded, yes, he’d stay here in her stead.

“I promise on my own child, Rowan,” Lorcan said with a serious voice. “Trust me.” 

Her heart missed a beat, and she was glad to be seated. “On your what?” She struggled to say. 

Lorcan’s eyes closed shut, and he swore. “Elide’s going to kill me. She wanted to tell you in person, had planned to visit this weekend, but then…” Then, Helia had her accident. 

“She’s pregnant?” She breathed. 

Then something happened on Lorcan’s face. She was accustomed to see him closed, and sometimes neutral when Elide was around. But now he looked… He looked happy. His hard features turned soft. He nodded, a small smile on his lips. “We found out a week ago.” 

She smiled then. She was happy for her friends, for her family. She was happy that everyone else’s lives seemed to go just fine, that they were happy. She stood, daring to quickly wrap her arms around Lorcan before pulling back as quickly. He was still Lorcan, she wouldn’t be caught in his arms for fear of her reputation. “Congratulation.” 

He smiled at her, leaving a hand on her shoulder and squeezing before letting go. “Thank you, Aelin.” 

“I didn’t even know it was in your plans,” she said. “Elide never told me about trying for a child.” 

He shrugged, “We didn’t. That was the best kind of luck.” 

She felt her smile flatter at his words, but even as they echoed in her, even as they weakened her knees, Aelin forced her smile to stay bright. All eyes were on her, waiting for something she knew was already rising in her. She slid her hands around her waist, wishing that goddamn dress of hers had pockets. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to use the restroom,” she said, keeping her voice even as she left the room without a look behind. 

She knew she passed her friends outside of the room, if only because she heard her name being called, but she was too deep in her feelings to even see them. The only things she heard were her heartbeat and the heels of her shoes clicking on the floor. 

The moment she entered that room and closed the door behind her, Aelin heaved for air. She needed to breathe, to calm her mind. 

She gasped, jumping of fear as she felt a warm thumb on her cheek, wiping away something. Tears. Someone was wiping away her tears. With quivering lips, she looked up. 

Rowan was standing in front of her, in an on-call room. The on-call room. Rowan didn’t say anything. He lowered his uninjured hand, making eye contact. She shook her head, “I don’t want to make this about me.” 

“I know.” 

“I’m very happy for them.” 

“I know,” he answered again. 

“They deserve all the happiness in the world,” she said, as if she was trying to convince herself. 

“They do.” 

It was as if she got stabbed as she finally got the words out, the ones that hurt. “Then why am I so fucking jealous? Why do I want to—” she took a deep breath. “My friend is pregnant, the one who supported me even when I pushed her away. I should be preparing the baby shower, Godsdamn it, not… I shouldn’t wish to be her.” 

“Aelin,” he said, not leaving a moment of quiet. “Give yourself credit. You are not your thoughts, and you have many of those. One bad one doesn’t define you. We’re waiting for Helia to wake up, sleep deprived. If I hadn’t known… I could have had the same thoughts, and that’s without counting your…” 

“Infertility?” She suggested. If he used any other words, an euphemism for it… she wouldn’t be able to stand it.

“Yes,” he breathed. “You have the right to have bad thoughts.” 

She huffed a laugh. Anyone else would have judged her, and yet this man… This man rocked her world, as always. It was a dangerous game to stay here with him, because she knew with each second that passed, it would be harder to leave. And yet she made no moves to leave. 

“You don’t have to go back to Varese,” he said quietly. “Come back with me.” She shook her head, but before she could say anything, he spoke again. “Helia lives there, you lived there for a while. I’m not inviting you to some place you don’t know. Plus… If we get a call, it’s easier if we are at the same place.” 

“Less time wasted,” she murmured, and he nodded. And as she replicated the movement, accepting his offer, she knew that she wasn’t doing so for the practicality of it all. She wanted to be near his comfort. 

---

As she drove Lorcan’s car, the road back to his place seemed so familiar. She drove slower than she was used to, knowing how tired she was. Rowan couldn’t drive because of his injured arm, and she didn’t wish to put him in danger. Her car was… Well, she didn’t know. Hadn’t thought to ask. Rowan’s was apparently wrecked, which didn’t surprise her considering the damages done to both Helia and him. Lorcan had given Rowan his keys, no questions asked. 

He was tense beside her, which only made her slow more. Her heart melted in pain at the fear in his eyes, at how hard he was gripping the door handle as if he was ready to jump out of the vehicle. 

First his parents, then Lyria, and now… Well, he didn’t have a good track record with car crashes. She admired his strength, climbing into a car so soon after. It’d taken her years before she could even take a bath, and she hadn’t been the one to have an accident in the water. And yet Rowan, he faced that… she wouldn’t say easily, but she envied him as much as she didn’t. 

She knew he wanted to break, just that he… couldn’t. She enjoyed her freedom to break, to show weakness. She just wished she was enough for him to rely on her, even if it wasn’t truly her place anymore. 

She parked in front of the familiar house, the place that had felt like home. She’d missed it very much, if she allowed herself to be honest. “Do you need help getting out of the car?” She asked, her voice slightly quivering. It must be because of the fatigue. 

He simply shook his head, stepping out of the car and she followed in silence, the bag of clothes her father gave her on her shoulder. She was glad she hadn’t seen Sam when she went back to the room, or that she hadn’t seen Elide, as horrible as it sounded. She didn’t want to close herself up per see, she did appreciate their support. She just really didn’t wish for the hard complications to take place anytime soon. 

Nothing had changed since the last time she’d been there, all the furniture were still at the same place. The only thing that had changed were the toys scattered all around the room. She smiled at the sight, her girl had grown up, and this was the proof of it. Why must time pass so quickly? Why had she been away for so long, missing these parts of her life? 

“Can I make some coffee?” she asked as she took off her shoes, sighing in relief. 

He was standing in the middle of his living room, eyes rived on his daughter’s toys. 

“Don’t need to ask,” he said, voice flat at barely louder than a whisper. 

“Rowan,” she breathed, walking to his side. He didn’t seem to have heard her, to even notice her until she laid a hand on his shoulder, which surprised him enough to have him turn his head toward her. “Are you alright?” 

He didn’t answer for a second, then another, and another. He shook his head, as if he was trying to regain his sense. “Of course, I’m doing great.” 

She hated the sound of these words on his tongue, hated the untruthfulness. “We don’t lie to each other, Rowan,” she whispered. “Don’t do that.” 

There was a flash of something in his eyes, and then it was gone before she could ask about it. He shook his head, “Nevermind, Aelin. I’m feeling as good as you are.” 

She snorted at that. “Then good luck.” 

His eyebrows furrowed a little more, but before he could ask, she turned around and made her way into the familiar kitchen. Rowan followed suit, and instead of going for the coffee machine like she did, he opened the refrigerator. He took out cheese and butter, and then closed the fridge’s door, and took out bread and two knives. 

She finished pouring her cup of coffee and asked him if he wanted one, he shook his head. “Come eat.”

“I’m not—” he gave her a look that pinned her in place, and she nodded, knowing he wouldn’t accept her refusal. She swallowed and went to stand across from him, spreading butter and cheese on a spice of bread. It wasn’t the best of meals, but it would do. They ate in silence, and the weight of food in her stomach made her feel sick. Or perhaps it was all the coffee, the thought was enough for her to push away her cup. She wouldn’t make herself sick, she’d lived through enough these past few days, she wouldn’t humiliate herself now. 

“Last thing I told her was that she was insufferable,” Rowan said, voice almost quiet. 

“Rowan,” she breathed, her heart breaking. 

“She rambled all day about going to that goddamn theme park with you this weekend, literally all day,” he said, closing his eyes. “And then she threw a tantrum, saying that I didn’t love her because I didn’t want to take her to another theme park the week after. I told her I had to work, and then she said I loved my job more than her, where the fuck did she hear that? She threw mean words at me, and she fucking reminded me of myself, I told her she was…” he lost a ragged breath, and her heart squeezed in her chest. “Then, the car hit us.”

“She knows that you love her,” Aelin said, convinced. “She won’t remember it, and even if she does, you’ll tell her how much you love her when she wakes up.”

“She never thought that I didn’t love her before,” he hissed, but she knew it wasn’t out of anger at her. More at the situation, at life. 

“You’re human, Rowan, it’s okay to break sometimes. And… she’s changed, this past year,” she whispered. Aelin had noticed. The girl was more irritable, more sensible. She always needed reassurance, which Aelin provided a lot of. But still, she noticed that the number of tantrums she threw was just growing.

Rowan nodded, and there wasn’t much else she could say. Whatever she could come up with, whatever reasonable arguments she could give him, he won’t believe it until he gets the chance to fix things.

She looked around, and she was surprised at the rush of sadness that hit her. This was the place where she used to eat breakfast every morning, the place where she’d laugh and cry her hardest. The place where she was part of a family. Where Helia was now growing up, so, so far away from her. Where Helia was clearly struggling, and Aelin couldn’t offer her more than a weekend occasionally. 

Aelin could even believe she was responsible for that shift in the girl’s demeanor. She was the one that left, and yes, she had known it had affected her at some degree but… Was she hurt so much that she was now snapping at her father? Doubting his love? 

Wasn’t the doubt of a parent’s love that had led Aelin down that destructive path she had so eagerly followed?

She would never allow her daughter to do the same. 

Never.

“I think I will stay,” she told Rowan, and her voice didn’t tremble as she thought it would. 

He nodded, “I told you that you could, Aelin. Take my bedroom, I’ll sleep on the couch.” 

She bit the inside of her cheek. “I-I meant in Doranelle.” He looked up then, his eyes slightly widened. She went on, feeling the need, the urge, to explain her plans. “I’ll stay with my dad for a while, and then I’ll rent an apartment downtown. It’ll be easier to see Helia, it could be good for her. I could help you, too, when you’re working and need someone to take care of her.” 

He was so, so still. “What about your mental health?” 

She swallowed, “I’m doing better, and she makes me happy. I’m learning how to compartmentalize.” 

“You have this new school,” he said, voice flat as a rush of warm hit her skin. 

“They have a campus in Doranelle, I could apply there.” 

She had his entire focus on her, and she felt pinned under his gaze. She couldn’t read him, had they spent that long apart? 

And then, he laughed. 

He laughed, passing a hand over his head. “I-I’m sorry,” he said between laughs, looking back at her, sending him into another fit of laughter as she stood, entirely confused. Had he lost his goddamn mind? 

He leaned into the counter, his elbows resting there, and his face hidden in his hands. But then, the sound of laughter changed. 

His chest was shaking for another reason, one that had her even more petrified than his strange laughter.

Rowan Whitethorn was crying. 

Aelin rushed to his side, but the moment she laid a hand on his shoulder, he jumped away from her touch. She was under shock and surprise as she looked up at him, and the pain on his face was enough to have her own eyes burn. “Please, don’t touch me.” 

She nodded, “Alright, I’m sorry.” 

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath in. “Go to sleep, Aelin.” 

She squared her shoulders, “Don’t order me around, I want to help you, Rowan, you won’t push me away.”

His voice broke, and so did his soul, as he said: “You’re the one who pushed me away.” She recoiled at the words, her bottom lip wobbling. But he kept going, even with the tears staining his beautiful brown skin. “You left, I tried everything I could, but you left. And I begged you, I begged you to come back to me, to come back to us, you said you couldn’t. Because this place wasn’t good for you, because of your school. But what you meant all along was that you wouldn’t come back for me.” 

“That’s not wh—”

“Aelin, please,” he begged her. “Right now, when I look at you, all I see is the reminder that I’m. Not. Enough. And I don’t know how long I can still live like this, Aelin, and watching you now… It’s too fucking painful.” 

“You think looking at you isn’t painful too? That it’s not killing me?” She breathed. “My whole life, I have been replaceable, all the time. I have wanted to come back, at least since my birthday, and I was so close to coming back home, just to hear from our daughter that you’ve moved on. That you replaced me, just the way my parents did my whole life.” She was breathless, and his eyes were wide open, his mouth parted. “So, it hurts? Deal with it, because being around you kills me.”

There were a few seconds of silence, when only their heavy breathing. Then, “I replaced you? Are you joking, you’re the one who came here with your little boyfriend, you’re still wearing his jacket.” 

“What?” She asked, shocked. “Sam isn’t my—He’s just—Why should I even explain myself for a kiss? You have sleepovers. And by the way, your daughter isn’t a fan of your little girlfriend.” 

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” he said, so matter-of-factly that she nearly believed him. 

“Helia said you did, Fenrys did, all of your friends know, and we both know that you aren’t good at hiding relationships. I cut,” she said, voice breaking on the word, “contact with Fenrys because he didn’t tell me about you and Remelle, I lost my friend, so don’t lie to me. Please,” she begged, “At least have the respect to not lie to my face.” 

“Remelle?” He frowned, taking a step in her direction. “No, no. It wasn’t like that Aelin.” 

“Have you slept with her?” Aelin asked, already knowing the answer. She knew she had no right resenting him for seeing other women, they weren’t an item anymore… and yet, it would still make her sick. 

“She kissed me, once,” he admitted. “Nothing else.” 

She nodded, a knot in her throat. “Did you like it?” 

“Did you like kissing Sam?” 

She shook her head, “No. I didn’t.” 

“Me neither,” he admitted, and she desperately wished to believe him. 

And she realized that she could. That he’d never lied to her for anything other than her protection, and that he wouldn’t… “Why, then? Why did Helia tell me she was over at your house all the time?” 

He looked away for a second and then looked back at her. “She is divorcing her husband, and… I don’t know, I wanted to show her that the world could be a happy place. That one bad relationship didn’t mean the end of the world, that she could make friends. Then, she came over more and more, because she felt alone. Until one day she kissed me, and she hasn’t been in this house ever since.” 

“Oh,” she breathed, feeling lighter. He nodded, and she passed a hand through her knotted hair. “I wanted to call you, on my birthday.” 

He took a step in her direction, and she didn’t take a step back. She stayed right where she was. Maybe it was the fatigue, maybe it was her mind finally deciding to stop fighting. “What would you have said?” He took another step in her direction, closing up the gap between them. 

She looked up, her entire body feeling as if she would collapse. “That I had a talk with my father. That I knew you fought for me, that you were ready to fight the hospital for me. That I knew you had no other choice.”

One more step, and she could feel his warmth spreading through her. One more step and he would be flushed to her body. Somehow, she still didn’t pull away. 

Not anymore. 

“Is that it?” He asked. 

She shook her head. “I would have told you… I miss you. You’re enough, you’ve always been to me, and that I want you. That I have never felt as whole as I am with you, and that I don’t think I can be really happy so far from you. I tell you, now, that I want to kiss every single one of your scars, and forget about what has been done to us in the past. Because this could be… This could be the start of our new life, no more secrets, no more fears, we just heal, grow and love.” 

He didn’t move, but she did. She took that last step, and then there was just Rowan. Her Rowan. 

New tears escaped his eyes, but they weren’t the same as before. They were… good ones. They couldn’t truly be happy right now, not with Helia still asleep, but… They were as close as they could be. 

“You’re not going back to Varese,” he said. 

She shook her head. “I’m not.”

“You’re staying here, not with your father.”

She cocked her head to the side, “What if it’s too fast?” 

He mirrored her gesture, “Since when do we care about the rules?” 

And that pulled a grin out of her. He was right. They’d lost enough time already. 

“Can I hug you?” He asked. 

“Not kiss me?” 

He shook his head. “No, I’ll do that when we wake up tomorrow, and when I’m sure this is what you want.” 

She could tell him that she was sure, that she couldn’t get more real and raw than she was now, but she knew what he meant. They were never stickers for the rules, but he wanted to make things right this time. So, Aelin rose on her tiptoes and she wrapped her arms around Rowan, careful at not putting pressure on his bad arm. 

He pressed her to her, and it was as if she was breathing for the first time in month. His smell was intoxicating, the feeling of his skin and his hair… She loved it, loved him. 

She felt at peace as she fell asleep with his hand in hers, as if nothing could ever happen to her anymore. As if being with Rowan had just fixed almost everything wrong in the universe. It was truly them now, and the thought was as scary as it was exciting. 

The thing was, Aelin didn’t listen to her fears. Only to her heart. 

••••••

@sheharahu // @morganofthewildfire // @thestoriesyoutell // @fromthelibraryofemilyj // @swankii-art-teacher // @itsforeverinnocent-blog // @becarefuloflove // @imnotsogoodatthis // @rowaelinismyotp // @a-court-of-milkandhoney // @feysand-loml // @elentiyawhitethorn // @live-the-fangirl-life // @story-scribbler // @loves-books // @fangirlprincess09 // @theysayitscrazy // @danibutterr // @endlessdaydream // @thegreyj // @gracie-rosee // @acreativelydifferentlove // @cretaceous-therapod // @louphantomdragon // @mis-lil-red // @backtobl4ck // @whoever-you-choose-to-love // @lemonade-coolattas // @mad-madeline-ace // @the-introverted-bibliophile // @leiawritesstories // @emilyoftheshadows // @anniesbookshelf // @rainbowcheetah512 // @astra-ad-mare // @story-scribbler // @superspiritfestival // @wordsafterhours // @rowaelinrambling // @black-daisy-water // @fireheart-violet // @livsdriverslicense // @charlizeed // @ladykreads // @mariamuses // @autumnbabylon // @justreadertings // @highqueenofelfhame // @earthtolinds // @bowdawn // @psychopath-at-heart // @ginnyweasley06 // @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks

[the1975attheirverybest]

I know its silly and been done before but could you write something short about Matty and the reader having an argument and she leaves his house and he is running after and trying to apologize

Not silly at all! Here’s a little something! Hope you like it :-)

——

“I can’t talk to you when you’re like this, Matty. You’ve clearly been drinking.” She turned her back to him, walking out of the living room and into the kitchen to get a sip of water.

“Was at a party. Of course I’ve been drinkin.’ Why does that matter, though? What I’m sayin’ still stands!” He puffed his chest, clearly irritated. “Where’ve you gone. We’re havin’ a conversation, come back here.”

She took a sip out of her glass, feeling the water run down her throat and relieve the dryness she’d felt since this ridiculous argument started.

“Doesn’t feel like much of a conversation when you’re steam rolling me and raising your voice. Can we, just, do this later?”

“I don’t wanna do it later. I wanna do this now.” He stomped his foot dramatically.

She rolled her eyes. “You’re being petulant.”

“I am not. You just have nothin’ of substance to say and you know I’m right. Just admit it!”

“Matty-“

“Admit it! Go on! You know me, I’ll throw my hands up and say ‘I’m wrong; you’re right,’ if you can convince me that I’m actually wrong. I’m not without integrity. But, when I’m right, and you’ve got nothin’ else to say, I’d like the same respect paid to my perspective, as well. Is that such a fuckin’ crime? Hmm?”

She squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head repeatedly in shock. “What? What’re you even saying? Do you hear the words coming out of your mouth right now? That’s what I mean about steam rolling! Why’re you on about fuckin ‘integrity’ and ‘perspectives.’ That was a shitty thing you did. Just say you’re sorry, don’t make it a thing!”

“You’re not listening to me!” He ran his hand through his hair, tugging at the roots and sighing loudly. “Listen- let’s start from the beginning. When I said-“

“No! You’re the one whose not listening! I said I didn’t want to talk about it right now. Not while you’re tipsy and getting aggressive and in my face about it. You know what? Fuck this, I’m out of here.”

She dumped the rest of her glass in the sink, setting it down with a loud thud and walking out of the kitchen.

“Where the fuck are you goin’ now! We’re not finished discussing-“

Matty watched her grab her bag from the hanger by the door, unlock the gate, and sprint right out. Not paying him any attention.

“Babe, wait! It’s late! You can’t-“

The door slammed shut behind her, shutting him the hell up.

The echoes of the door closing died down quickly, complete silence descending on the room in an instant. It made him uncomfortable. There was a finality to it that felt forceful. Mostly because it forced him to replay the whole interaction in his admittedly hazy, unfocused mind.

He walked back into the living room, throwing himself down on the couch. He fished his phone out of his pocket and checked the time. 13 minutes past midnight. He’d driven her to his place earlier in the day, so he knew she didn’t have her car. Which meant she was probably walking out in the streets alone. In the pitch darkness. He went into his phone log and pulled up her name and contact info, his finger hovering over the “call” button.

“Oh for fucks sakes” he muttered to himself and sprung to his feet, grabbing his keys and rushing out the door to catch up to her.

“Baby! Please wait!! Hold onnnn” he jogged up the street once he’d spotted her.

The sound of his voice startled her. She turned around, stunned. “What the fuck, Matty! Go away.”

“No- wait- fuck!” He was starting to run out of breath. “Hold on. Don’t say shit like that, if someone sees us they’ll think I’m some creep trying to harass you on the street.” He bent forward to catch his breath, resting his hands on his knees.

“Baby, please, listen-“

“Matty, all I’ve been doing is listening. I said i wasn’t interested in your-“

He interrupted her with a finger on her lips. “Wait- let me just catch a - a breath. Fuckin hell.” He took a deep breath, his heart rate beginning to even out. “Okay, look, I’m sorry. You’re right. I was being a dick. It’s not right. Please, okay? You don’t wanna accept my apology right now, that’s okay. I’ll wait and tell you, again, how sorry I am, in the mornin’ once I’m sober. But- please don’t go. Don’t leave like this! And certainly don’t walk alone at night.”

He straightened his posture and extended his hand out to her. “Take my hand? Please? Walk back inside with me?”

She hesitated briefly, watching him with doubtful eyes. She could see, from the look on his face, that he was being genuine. Besides, Matty was never the type to simply apologize just to end an argument. If anything, he was the exact opposite. Sometimes stubbornly refusing to accept his mistake, unless one could prove to him, without a shadow of a doubt, that what he did or said was objectively wrong. She took his hand in hers, relenting to his pleas.

“Thank you! Yes, thank you!” He squealed and kissed her forehead, taking her under his arm protectively. “Never do that again! storm out at night. Scared me shitless, alright?”

She simply giggled and rolled her eyes. “Doesn’t get you out of apologizing in the morning.”

“No, I know. Just- hate thinking I sent you into danger by being an asshole…”

“You do realize you like in a pretty fancy neighborhood.”

“Even so! No walking alone in the dark. Ever!”

“Yes, sir.”

[lemonthepotato]

I Understand Goodbye Volcano High Now: A Short, Positive Review (Rambling)

When I first learned about this game, it was while watching a Dumbsville video on Life Is Strange 3, another game I enjoy. I have a peculiar interest in watching critiques of things I like. After watching his review, I found the concept and ending of this game to be humorously flawed. Intrigued, I decided to experience it firsthand. However, after only ten minutes, I found myself losing interest. I shared my thoughts on Discord, stating, and I quote:

“So I heard about this game called Goodbye Volcano High, and I opened a playthrough on YouTube to watch, got 10 minutes in and got bored. Read a review of it, and apparently it’s a story about a group of friends, emotional drama, blah blah blah, high school shit. And the ending, no matter your choices? THEY GET WIPED OUT BY AN ASTEROID. DID I MENTION ALL THE CHARACTERS ARE DINOSAURS. Oh that’s hilarious. I could get some ironic enjoyment if the dialogue didn’t feel so… stiff to listen to. I love it. Edit: Ok basically I’m 50/50 on this being either the best game or worst game ever. Imagine sitting through hours of choices about relationships and dynamics and then they get hit by a fucking asteroid. Edit: never mind this game is peak.”

So how did I change my mind only 40 minutes in? Let’s go on the journey. Who knows? Maybe YOU will change your mind.

Please note: I haven't personally played the game yet. I typically prefer to watch a playthrough before diving in, particularly for narrative-driven games like Life Is Strange or The Quarry. While it may seem unconventional, this approach allows me to provide insights on the story rather than technical aspects.

In fact, I will share the notes I took while watching.

At the 40-minute mark, I found the game to be peak during the tarot reading. The presence of foreshadowing indicated that the game had a deeper message to convey. I will admit though, the designs took some getting used to, the forward-facing Fang was a bit overwhelming. Perhaps the art team could have toned down the dinosaur features while maintaining their overall essence. It felt somewhat uncanny, (although I must admit it grew on me by the end.)

I appreciate the little moments in this game, like how Fang's small mishap with the MIDI controller caused a strong reaction. Pal, there’s a thing called “handle the situation with a thorough and careful cleaning rather than a light rub.” I love them, my little over dramatic iconic blorbo.

Massive kudos and praise to the talented artist responsible for the captivating visuals in this game. You’re a champ. Now, for the animation itself. Personally, I believe that animation is an incredibly challenging field, so I refrain from criticizing animators. The exceptional artwork compensates for any perceived shortcomings in animation, in my opinion. While the dinosaur aesthetic may not be my personal preference, I admire the creativity behind it. And you know, a criticism…

I often come across, is the criticism that Naomi's crush on Fang wasn't evident. However, personally, I believe there are several instances of foreshadowing that hint at their connection. Even if I were unaware of the plot twist, I might have still guessed it. It is amusing, though, that Fang is comfortable conversing with an unknown number.

Anyway, why do I cough and get wheezy when I eat?

Why are all the songs in this game so goood? They cut off suddenly sometimes, but still. Are they on Spotify? I’d love to listen to these. Honestly, I feel this games predictions isn’t too far off. If a meteor were to attack us, we would act non-chalant. Make memes. Older people wouldn’t care or comfort their younger kids. Everyone would pretend it’s okay.

While it may be, and probably just is coincidental, the presence of an intersex flag pattern on Trish's shirt in the F&F game has led me to a new headcanon about Trish. <3 Look, I just think it’s worth noting that intersex individuals often lack representation beyond being included as an "I" in acronyms. So even if it’s probably coincidence, I like it.

So it looks like this is the big reveal, with Naomi making the same dress the mysterious number showed Fang. And it seems like Reed is really down about the comet situation, and now it's all coming to a head. But the thing is, what can they even do? It's like no one wants to take action or even acknowledge it. I'm not an optimist, but there has to be something we as a species could do if an asteroid was heading towards Earth.

The tarot earlier was forgotten about, which is a shame, because I thought it was going to be explained. I forgot what it was so I can’t even google it. But yeah “death” isn’t good.

Perhaps I'm biased towards Fang, but saying "fuck off" doesn’t really sound that severe when Naomi was kinda being a bit of a dick. While Naomi had a valid point, she also seemed dismissive of others' aspirations. Personally, I might have responded more harshly in that situation, which is why I struggle with friendships haha… Additionally, I didn't fully agree with Trisha placing all the blame on Fang for not understanding her feelings. Fang can't read minds, but it's a complicated situation given their denial. But still- unlike Trisha, Naomi’s outburst seems… sudden? Less justifiable? Maybe I wasn’t reading in between the lines enough. At least everyone made up in the end. Coolio.

Wow, that ending. My interpretation is as follows. It’s better to be together than alone in times of hardship. Life is fleeting, and we could lose it any-day. We need to live for the moment, not for the future. We need to live our dreams, not just wait for them to happen. When destiny fucks you, you fuck it harder, essential.

Overall, a sincere 5/5 game. The problems are so little for me, and I say that as someone who criticises EVERYTHING. My only complaints is that MY ship wasn’t validated /j. Nah, I have very few.

Pry my ship from my cold dead hands, essentially.

Ranking:

Story: 4/5

Art: 5/5

Game Mechanics: Again, I only watched a walkthrough, so I can’t comment on that.

Pacing: 3/5.

Overall: 5/5.

I don’t normally do reviews. But well, this was an exception. I did use an AI to make my points more professional sounding, but most of what I wrote was from the heart, raw.

Why do people hate this game? It’s what I call the High Guardian Spice Effect. People get a bad first impression, so judge the final product too harshly. Granted, I think HGS isn’t as good as GVH, tbh. I thought HGS was okay. Good, even. Not great, flawed in many ways. But it was pretty average. But GVH? I think it’s a worse case. While HGS had a questionable trailer, GVH didn’t really have many red flags. People just didn’t like that it had anthropomorphic gay people in it, so judged it because of that.

I went in thinking I would hate this, but I loved it. I can’t wait to see what KO-OP has in store for the future.

Because I only watched a playthrough and haven’t played it for myself, I don’t know how much different dialogue options affect the story. I guess I’ll have to see for myself, one day. For now? I’m going to give my recommend/don’t recommend status. If you like story driven games, small interactions, slow-pacing (too slow for some, which I understand) and want a surprisingly wholesome apocalypse story? Check it out. If not? Understandable. Not every game is for everyone, and no game is without flaw. Even though I enjoyed GVH, I don’t regret watching that review I did. Didn’t I tell you? I love watching media I like getting criticised. It gives me a lot to think about. But I just think the story works for me. And while the story may have a “sad ending,” it’s the journey that matters. Can’t that be said for life itself? The meteor may have hit, but it’s everything in between that matters.

Although, yes, portraying it like your choices impact the ending may have not been the best decision. Then again, “nothing you do matters” is probably a bit hard to sell. Anyway, that’s all I have to say. I’m gonna go do my Duolingo lesson (2099 streak baby) Feel free to tell me I’m wrong though. Or right. I guess.

[mysteriouslybluepirate]

Watching Con O'Neill Content Day 8- 3 Steps to Heaven

Warnings for: Full Body Nudity, drug use, murder, torture, BDSM Imagery, forced kiss

Online this is classified as a Comedy by Rotten Tomatoes, which feels fair. When you google it says Suspense/Dark Comedy.

Initially, based on the premise, I thought this movie was just Vengeance Is Mine but Con plays one of the fuckers semi-responsible. I was not entirely wrong.

Full Spoilers Below! If you don't want my reactions, skip to the dotted separations at the end for the rating!

I've separated out parts where Con is on screen, and identified if a part of the movie takes place in a flash back.

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

PRESNET

Why did she pull the gun out in elevator the first place. Like. Idk man, seems like you could have waited.

Love the step-by-step instructions for gun assembly

Why is she just spinning in circles with a gun in her hand? How does that help train for anything?

PRESENT- CON'S SECTION

CON! I hate the facial hair, oh how I hate it. Just in combination with the short hair. Makes him look way older. Like, it probably fits the character- But like, if he fluffed it, or did anything besides letting it stay so flat-

Is he on something? The character Angel, not con. Clearly, he's going for paranoid criminal, and I love it.

You know what, I can enjoy this. 'Worried?' "Now that you mention it, yeah!' Sweet. That was a nice car they took.

If Con's look is interesting the man with a knife and a beaver on his head is something extra.

Con in a wife beater getting pinned and interrogated is surely something.

Hey look, he's allowed to laugh! Crazy how that works.

Angel just letting himself get driven around by her is very funny

She makes him close his eyes, and gives him a bullet. Babe. What the fuck does that even mean. You can't use a gun properly.

"I've met someone" Babe, you don't know her name. This is just Con in most of his roles, but Jesus. Never really noticed it was a trope of his until now.

Wife Beater+ Tighty Whitie's+ Cig is also surely a thing

Cocaine + waving a gun around. A winning combo

Angel- this makes 3 Con characters doing stupid shit with guns...Please lower the accidental kill count

"Oh," Carefully raises one finger, schusses the air "Gotta be quicker" Why am I loving this so much? This man has clearly never killed another person.

WHY THE MOUTH AND FINGER SUCKING CLOSE UP. He's licking up the trace of drugs on the table, but why was this the choice.

Wife beater+ Tighty Whittie's+ Cig+ white ROBE is amazing

Don't get too close to the balcony now babe, I know you're excited, you'll be thrown if in no time.

Did he give her his address? Why is she here? He's trying to lay low? Does he just think he needs to get laid and surely this woman won't murder his ass?

Angel stealing my actual fit. Jean button-up + blue Jeans in 90s fashion. Bastard.

Angel, sadly you aren't one of the Con characters our lead will run away with.

AHHHHHH hahahhaha that pistol whip. His dramatic fall. This fall vs ep9 OFMD is honestly a tie. Dramatic and extra as fuck.

They're both just anxious little purse dogs shaking so hard. Why? Calm down babe, you are literally holding a gun, and he's tied down in a chair.

Babe, it's been two weeks since your guy died and he's being hunted down for money. He probably doesn't remember what he had for breakfast the previous day, let alone your man.

(In the flashback for this one point)THOSE EARRINGS ARE OBNOXIOUS

Oh, good. The Beaver hair guy is back.

This is where our guy dies!

To be fair if I walked in and my target was already tied up, I'd also be very happy.

I didn't think there would be this much panting and grunting, especially from Angel.

"He's very gentle" Carefully pinches and lifts his chin. Oh, my stars. I'm clutching at my pearls. *pulls out notepad for my WIP*

I think we all deserve to be hoisted up into a bridal carry, and lovingly twirled around.

"Yeah he's lovely-" Exactly, Angel. Stop ruining the mood and get with the groove!

This is too good. Just throwing him around like a ragdoll! The dancing is a bit much, but they're having fun with it.

The two evil guys definitely explored each other's bodies. That's a proud boyfriend look if I've ever seen one.

She could be a real bud and just shoot one of them. They don't know where she is, and then Angel has an opening to attack...or not.

"you-puff" Shame on you Con, those aren't usually your lines in these kinds of movies.

And HE FLIES OVER THE RAILING-

Did they not want to kill him? Why do they look so shocked he went over the edge?

Whelp, RIP Angel, I genuinely enjoyed that. don't be surprised if this next section is shorter. (Editor Me here, oh I thought the rest of this movie would be boring...how I was wrong)

Vaguely depressed and murderous is also how I look in semi-cheap wigs.

They really did cast a good guy for a politician/'sex pest'. Looks like a few of my state's representatives.

Remember, every character in a British piece of media needs to have a name in the form of Eddie, John, Sam, or Harry.

"Well respected in 'women's' things" Why does Angel get to die and these fuckers roam rampantly.

(Helps adjust his tie) "You've hurt me Harry" Is every villain in this having a thing with their side character besides Con? Or am I just watching too many Queer movies?

OHH IT IS A GAY THING!

YEY!

I don't think slapping the head like it's a basketball is the done thing with blow jobs, but I don't have a penis. So who knows?

'Angel Farnam.' Wow. That is a name choice.

Love that he has a beard. Like, an actual beard to hide a queer relationship from the public.

TOES. EWWWWWW.

OH MY GOD. BELLY BUTTON? WHY? Fucking why? I'm more surprised seeing him finger his belly button than seeing his entire dick, which, is almost impressive for a movie to do!

How funny would it be if he died by falling down the stairs. '2/3 down, 1 to go!'

If he's not dead just fucking shoot him. I know you want info...but

ACTUALLY IF SHE JUST SHOWS UP TO PLACES AND EVERYONE DIES THAT WOULD BE AMAZING

If you look at this like you would a comedy, this movie becomes much better and more entertaining.

That isn't how putting peroxide on a wound should feel, why the fuck is he flinching over every tap?

Cold compress? It's a scrape! I'd be worried more about a concussion with a fall.

THE FUCKING TALKING WHILE THEY SET THE BED AND CLEAN IS SO FUNNY. That's the only editing in this movie that felt like it actually added something.

Why did she join in to the cleaning.

Love that he just wants to eat food when she clearly thinks they're going to fuck.

That was a gentle remote throw, don't know how it broke, 3/10.

You could have shot him almost at any time, now that a ton of people are waiting outside, you decide to care.

"Whore" "-Lying little whore" Hahahahaha. Its lame, but I love when movies do that.

(Seeing him fully bound in BDSM restraints) Look, Like What You Like, but this isn't safe with a stranger? Also, this room looks hard as shit to clean if fluids get anywhere.

If speech is a 'No No' in the dungeon there are toys for that.

"-I never panic". Angel would disagree, you panic all the fucking time. Speaking of Angel-

THE PAST

Izzy the spewer transfers across universes.

THAT ISN'T SAFE, don't reach around and try to swap drivers while driving.

Yes! Take all the drugs before you get pulled over, smart.

Their arguing is very just fucking funny. A lived weird friendship where things just keep going wrong. They're all tied into so many different criminal rings, but they found each other. This could be a prompt for a found family story.

(She took a ton of drugs because the cops are on their asses tryign to pull them over) "Do I look like I'm off my face!" "You're always off your face."

Everyone being high as shit panicking is so good. I've believed their weird friendship here more than anything else in this movie.

Love that they just kind of kidnapped this guy and now they need to deal with his corpse.

PRESENT

"Something I've always been bound up in!" Raises his hands, bound. That got a laugh out of me.

There are gags/toys for that babe, zipping up the mouth hole won't do shit.

Now that she knows all this stuff why doesn't she just shoot him

"Good Luck! God Bless!" He's fun.

At least she kept the key ring in eye sight for him.

This does play on the 'politicians are into kinky shit' thing, but eh.

She keeps on accidentally killing people. Fun.

(Weird shower scene) What the fuck? Who touches their body like that, is she getting off on this? It looks forceful and rough? What man directed this?

"I think he liked me." Sure? He liked you? Why does it matter that these people whose death you witness like you? It's not middle school, they're fucking dead.

"It was me, I was killing them. Sort of." Yes! I don't know why she only cares about them after they die.

What man directed this porn? I respect them not covering anything up I guess? I hope there's no creepy shit online where in interviews she felt like she was forced into these scenes.

The whole 'Multiple photos, that get snuffed out as they die' thing has grown on me, not going to lie.

Her removing her hat and seeing her hair fall down then lighting up a cig, to me, was more erotic than seeing her naked.

Are the 'criminal crew' all Queers? I know Angel was kind of homophobic and jerked off to lesbian porn but-

THERE'S QUEER WOMEN IN THIS? YESSSS!!!

"Lust came to the rescue?" What does that even mean? Are you planning on fucking her?

She's 40 which is still young, she's entering/in middle age. Just own any wrinkles you have, it's hot! So fucking weird that for feminine presenting people aging is seen as something awful, it shows experience! And you own a cat, and clearly have money! Live your life babe!

Her earrings are all choices in this. Those things could knock me out.

They don't film this shit for live TV, I don't know why they're so stressed about her being a few minutes late.

(Pulls bra on backward, snapping the clasp, twisting it right way round, pulling up straps and adjusting over chest) Most realistic scene of a woman putting on a bra in a movie.

Oh, to fondly be called Sweetie.

I want to be her: both of them.

Cocaine + Cigarettes + Alcohol. Uppers and Downers aren't great ideas. But she's having them.

They replaced her cause she's too old I'm guessing? Shitty.

"It wouldn't take much(to kill her)" So go do that! Why do you need a stroll to do the thing you were planning to do.

Strangulation feels like a choice you made when you have a gun.

(protagonist gets knocked out by a bottle when a criminal sees her gun) NICEE! She's been so dumb about pulling out the gun

Why is this such a Tom and Jerry routine

"Fuck you!" "All in good time" AHHHHHH. I've read this story before. We'll see how this one ends.

The PAST

Oh, my favorite crew of idiots. How did they evade the cops? They were just on their asses now they have time to pull over?

Con/Angel fireman carried that guy? Good for him!

"That's not very dignified!" "Well what do you suggest?!!""Stand him up!" They slum him over the railing. Idiots. I admire this crew of fuck ups.

Did they not check for a pulse? Like, even high most people could figure that out. If you can still drive, you can hold your finger up to someone's throat.

(Sees him slowly tip over the railing into the water) Okay, so it's kinda on them, yeah.

The PRESENT

Okay, so gun safety is to always assume a gun is loaded and safety is off. STOP WAVING IT UNDER YOUR NOSE

20? He looked mid 20s at least.

THE PAST (One of the earliest scene we see of them)

Doing drugs in a random Men's room is a choice.

Also, don't lick a public bathroom stall's TP Holder Angel, you fucking maniac.

I'm saying she wasn't invited cause they were planning to all fuck in the bathroom/do as many drugs as possible without her nose taking it all. Any other guesses?

I love Con in this so much. He's so unlike all his other characters it's just fun. Like a pissed-off high toddler that can only put a few thoughts together that arnt him being mad or horny.

"You're hair, it's so black!" "It's natural!" "Oh, Pa-lease" Angel said that last line, oh my sweet summer child, you confuse me so.

(the dead boyfriend and politician start getting handsy) No shit they had a thing going on there. They've been eye fucking every scene he's not passed out sick.

(She angles a mirror to see under a stall to watch a blowjob?) Mam, I wouldn't want to watch my friends fuck. Why are you so weird.

ANGEL 'COCK BLOCK' TO THE RESCUE. Look at that grin, he knew.

"I need some more(cocaine)." "Love? Affection? Punishment?" Sir, I have a whole discord full of Izzy Hands fans you can suggest ideas to. "I'll take the whole fucking lot." SIR!

Ohhh her boyfriend would entrap 'famous' queer people, take photos, and then blackmail/extort them. He deserved to die then, no sweat off their backs. (Also, how does evil lady know all this to tell our protagonist? Is she extorting Patrick now?)

Present

Okay, this is my 4th time seeing this woman naked. Why?

(Protag is tied down and evil lady whispered in her ear)This is...a scene.

Gross forced kiss. I had more fun when this was semi-playful banter but now its just sexual assault. Gross, director.

Mam, you didn't bring that many bullets. Why are you just shooting random shit.

She just leaves her alive?

Aww, I wanted her to kill him(the other extorting friend). If anything he also kind of deserves some of the blame.

Well, this whole plot was kind of for nothing. She got closer to the real plot and was able to realize how shitty her boyfriend was. If he was 20 then she's got to be close to that age. She has plenty of life to move on from this.

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

Story: 5/10 Shit. No character in this movie had agency/impacted the plot. Everything was accidental. All the ways they were doomed weren't purposefully set up by the main protagonists.

She didn't actively plan for these deaths so they feel hollow. Angel sure, he was tied down by her, but he lives on the nth story, so in the 30-ish minutes he could have left he likely wouldn't have. He assumed it was safe. The politician was an accident, and the media lady still would have gotten replaced.

In OFMD it's fun when Stede Bonnet accidentally kills because we care about him. We know he doesn't mean to do this and it plays on the murderous pirate trope. In this movie, we only know she's hunting down her boyfriend's murders. That's all we know about her! One hour, and thirty minutes, she had no development.

This would be such a fun premise. A woman accidentally interrupts a crime 'friend' group and watches them fall apart. Yet they make it gross and weirdly give no one agency in this whole story.

I want to write this movie better. This premise could be rewritten for a fanfic...hmm....

Editing/Cinematography: 5/10 Keeping it out of chronological order ruined the movie. Some shit really bothered me. A director is a man who has only done other projects to this level. He also wrote this shit, so every gratuitously extra scene of our main actress naked was all on him. He wanted to see her fondle herself and oh boy did he get it.

Every scene of this nature just felt uncomfortable, and putting that forced kiss in at the end just adds to that. He's a perv who thought it was hot. The main actress's dead fish eyes during just added to the awful feeling I got. Sure, we got a 'blowjob' scene, but nothing was super explicit other than it happening. Sexual 'deviancy' felt like something to be ogled at in this movie. The straight/pure 'good' main character had to do away with these sinful yatta yatta, you've heard it all before. I can make this 1:30 minute movie into an hour movie if I cut it.

I wish we cared more about Angel getting caught by the men he owed money too. About Harry getting publicly outed and dumped. About Andrea getting replaced in her tv show. But we just don't. It just kind of happens.

Imagine if we told the backstory of her boyfriend's murder first. Then our main character shows up 20 minutes in, without knowing what the audience knew, to hunt them down! That would be so much more fun! And gives us a reason to care! I enjoyed the flashbacks in this movie and not much else.

There's a good movie in here, it just needs to be re-edited.

Every character besides Con: 6-7/10 I liked how fucked up everyone was, and most of my issues are with the writing. They acted with what they had, and they had shit. Somehow our 3 criminals come off as a weird trio accidentally, just through chemistry. I wanted a movie about them. The spare characters just seemed to try to have fun beside our protagonist. She did the whole dead eyes, getting justice thing. In the end, it didn't even fulfill her. Finding the truth did, not assisting in their downfalls.

Con! 6-7/10 Loved it: Once I accepted he was playing a goofy junkie, I was having a good time. The scene where she saves him after the interrogation was weird. It put me off his character for a few scenes. He was into her and tried to make a move, she told him he needed protection, and that whole story line was just dropped. WHY!

FLASHBACK ANGEL WAS FUN. I don't know the order they shot this, but currently, Angel felt like an always high junkie. Flashback Angel felt like the shitty friend who bullies the friend group and doesn't contribute to anything. When they fall apart he's panicking and loses all bravado. He's fun. I don't think I've seen a bad performance from him. The plot and writing just dragged it all down.

OVERALL: 5-6/10 Writing can kill a movie, and it murdered this one. Definitely the worst of the bunch so far. I enjoyed it, but in a 'cant look away sort of way', it was very fun to watch and just see the action unfold. So do with that what you will.

I'd recommend this movie if you're here for Con. If I wanted to watch this plot again, I'd just watch Vengeance Is Mine. Low B tier overall for movie+Con. Just above the projects where he has almost no time.

Looking at IMDB he did this after Dancing Thru the Dark and the same year as Scarborough Ahoy. How the ever loving fuck?

I would love to hear everyone's thoughts down below, including the usual suspects!

@mossiestpiglet @ivegotnonameidea @treesofgreen

Have an amazing day y'all!

[anisohtropy]

if I had the ability to draw or edit, I would do a whole dramatization of the twin’s conflict in tristamp to the plagues. legit I have a vision for the whole song. Let me lay this out for you because it is haunting me. Their actual fight happening during the choir portions, the fight intensifying as the voices do. Every time the choir comes in between the portions of the song between the brothers, it’s always the fight in July and eventually the flashback portions move through time enough that they get caught up at the end for the space shit.

Cuts to flashbacks of them together as children. Once I called you brother/Once I thought the chance/To make you laugh/Was all I ever wanted 

Then the first argument/fight they had when they were teenagers in the facility full of dying plants. And even now I wish that God/Had chose another/Serving as your foe on his behalf/Is the last thing that I wanted

Cuts to what happened at Jeneora Rock. This was my home/All this pain and devastation/How it tortures me inside then scenes of the people who died at Jeneora Rock All the innocent who suffer a close up of Knives From your stubbornness and pride

Literally any of the stuff between the two of them from ep 11. You who I called brother/Why must you call down another blow?

The plants all floating in the soup around Vash and Knives bc that shit is disturbing if you’re actually paying any attention to it Let my people go 

Dark!Vash raising his gun at Knives Thus saith the Lord/Thus saith the Lord

And then finally for the end of it, we’re caught up to the fight in space, the struggle over the angel arm You who I called brother/How could you have come to hate me so?/Is this what you wanted?

Knives getting burnt to a fucking crisp, like the full sequence of it happening Then let my heart be hardened/And never mind how high the cost may grow/This will still be so/I will never let your people go/Thus saith the Lord/Thus saith the Lord

Knives’ skeleton ass flying off into space I will not

Vash falling back to Earth and July fucking exploding Let your (my) people go

Please someone do what I cannot, I just think this would be great. I just really needed to let this idea out into the ether because I’m actually being driven insane. Like put the plagues on and read through this and imagine it, let it seep into your bones, let it keep you up at night and you may suffer as I have as a lowly writer

[hogwartsmarvelmommy]

In it for you (H.H)

Summary: A drunken conversation leads to more than you were expecting. 

A/N: I dont even know how i feel about this... but here ya go :) 

Wordcount: 1.8k

Masterlist 

Taglist

Warnings: Swearing, angst, fluff (Please let me know if i missed any) 

The second Tom saw you walk through the door he was determined to find Harry before you. He had tried to keep the secret to himself, despite already telling everyone except Harry, he just… he was bad at keeping secrets, everyone knew that. 

He spotted his brother quickly, making his way through the crowded kitchen to where he was standing making drinks. 

"Need to tell you something about Y/N," Tom said quickly.

Harry's eyes widened as his face filled with concern, " is she ok?" He demanded. 

"No, yes, she's fine," Tom stumbled over his words looking over his shoulder to make sure you weren't close to them. His eyes met yours and you smiled and offered a little wave before starting to make your way over. "Shit," Tom mumbled, grabbing Harry by the arm and pulling him behind him and out to the porch. 

"Jesus, Tom..," Harry laughed, as he looked through the sliding door to see you obviously confused as to where the two of them had gone. 

"She's in it for you, Baz," Tom told him, not even looking toward him. 

"She what?" Harry asked. 

"In love with you," Tom clarified, looking over to his curly haired brother. 

"What are you talking about?" Harry questioned, a bit shocked, and a bit confused. 

"Last week, the pub, remember how the two of you were dancing all night?" Tom asked. 

"Yeah-" 

"And then you left cause you had to work in the morning, so y/n stayed with haz and I," Tom explained. "She drank a little too much, got a tad emotional, and cornered me to tell me she was in love with you, like pictured your wedding day and kids kinda love," Harry listened carefully, his heart pounding in his chest at the words he was hearing. 

"With me?" He asked.

"You," Tom nodded. 

Harry walked over, peaking through the glass door to see you standing next to his twin, giggling at some probably not funny joke someone had told, because that's just how you were. You looked unbelievably gorgeous Tonight, a tight medium length skirt with a black blouse that was lower than what you usually wore, showing off your nearly perfect cleavage. Harry turned back to Tom, smacking him in the shoulder. 

"Why did you wait to tell me you div," he groaned. 

"She swore me to secrecy," Tom tried to defend himself, but just ended with an eye roll from Harry. Just then the door slid open and you stepped outside.

"Here you two are," you giggled, shutting the door behind you. "Oh, it's kinda cold, why are you guys out here?" You asked. 

Harry acted fast in pulling off his zip up and draping it over your shoulders, "Tom dragged me out to talk about something," Harry explained. 

You smiled, slipping your arms into the arm holes that were nice and warm, the smell of Harry wafting to your nostrils. 

"Well, what's going on?" You asked innocently. Tom's face turned an unflattering shade of red. "I have to find Tuwaine," he blurted, practically making a run for the house. 

You chuckled watching him struggle to get past the accumulation of people in the kitchen. "What was his deal?" You giggled. 

"He's an absolute div, that's what," Harry chuckled. "Wanna know what he told me?" He asked you. 

"Obviously, spill the tea," you joked, nudging him with your shoulder. 

"He said you were in love with me," he chuckled, watching your face fall.

"Oh," you said, remembering drunkenly divulging a bit too much information to Tom last week. You had hoped he would have not remembered, or at least stuck to the promise of not telling anyone. "He wasn't supposed to tell you that," you mumbled as you felt your face flush in embarrassment. 

"It's true then?" Harry asked, almost sounding angry. 

"I mean, in a sense, I was drunk Har, it wasn't a big deal," You told him. 

"It was a big enough deal that you confessed to my brother. You could have just come to me," he shook his head like he was in disbelief.

"I didn't want to tell you, honestly it's none of your business," you huffed. 

"It has to do with me," he pointed out. 

"My feelings for YOU, I don't owe you an explanation for that, and I didn't tell you because I figured something like this would happen, your acting like this is some major thing and you're making a big deal," you explained.

"It is a big deal y/n, something like this could ruin our friendship," he deadpanned.

"Oh my god," you groaned. You slipped his jacket off your arms and handed it to him.

"What are you doing?" He asked. 

"I'm leaving," you told him. "You know, so I don't ruin our friendship with my yucky feelings," you turned and stormed inside. You didn't tell Harry, you never wanted him to know, this wasn't your fault. So you did the logical thing.. you fled. 

Harry felt like an idiot, instead of just admitting his feelings he went and had to question yours, pissing you off to the point of storming away from him. 

"What the heck happened?" Tom asked Harry after watching you storm through the house. 

"I'm a div," Harry groaned. 

"I'll say, I literally told you so that you could tell her how you have felt, what did you say?" Tom demanded. 

"That her feelings could ruin our friendship," he told his older brother. 

"Mate," Tom laughed. "Why the fuck would you do that?" 

Harry stood up straight looking at his brother. "I have to go find her, I'm a freaking idiot," He slid open the back door making his way through the house to find you. When he couldn't find you after a couple of minutes he found his twin. "Sam," Harry pleaded. 

"What is it?" Sam asked.

"Y/n, have you seen her?" Harry hoped he would find you before it was too late. 

"Yeah,  Haz took her home about five minutes ago," Sam told his brother. 

"Fuck," Harry groaned, drooping his head to sulk. He probably screwed up any chance of you and him ever being more than friends. 

"I didn't even tell him Haz, your big mouthed best friend did," you told him as you slumped onto your couch. 

"I mean, he was probably just shocked, love," Harrison said softly. 

"I didn't expect him to profess his undying love for me, but like. 'hey I like you to' or 'y/n I don't see you like that would have been sufficient. But no, I got a lecture about how my feelings could ruin our friendship, a friendship that has been going on for nearly fifteen years!" You slid farther down the couch as the embarrassment truly started to hit you. Your best friend knew your feelings, they would always be lingering, and you weren't sure you could deal with that. You loved Harry, more than you should sure, but he made it so goddamn easy. The way he put everything above himself, and was so adamant on listening to others. He was never his own first priority, and you loved how driven he was to make a difference, to help less fortunate people be seen and heard. He was the best person you knew, and you wished that he felt the same about you, but you knew you had your flaws. You weren't selfless like he was, you didn't make time for important things, you liked to spend your free time with your friends instead of making a difference, and in the grand scheme of things, you would never be enough for Harry. He deserved the world, and you, well you were barely a star. 

"You actually love him?" Harrison asked you.

"So, so much," you sighed. Maybe you could call him and tell him it was all a big joke, or maybe you could just pretend it had never happened. You shook your head knowing that was unrealistic, he knew, you had spoiled that the second you confessed your feelings to Tom. 

There was a light knock on your door but you were too numbed to be bothered to answer, luckily Harrison walked over to open it. "Oh, good," he laughed. "I'm going to go to bed now, she's officially your problem," Harrison told whoever had come into your apartment before going to his room. 

"I'm not anyone's problem," you mumbled loudly. 

"You're not a problem at all," Harry's voice said from behind you. 

"Jesus Christ," you squealed, jumping up. "Scared the living shit out of me Holland,"

He laughed, shaking his head slightly, "sorry," he mumbled before jumping over the couch to sit where you had just been. You exhaled rather dramatically before sitting beside him, leaving enough space between you two so you were not touching.  

"What are you doing here?" You asked, watching him intently as he avoided looking at you. 

"Well, for starters, I'm a div," he chuckled.

"The biggest," you agreed. 

"Yeah yeah," he looked up at you, tossing a pillow towards you. "Feelings make things messy," he blurted out. 

You chuckled, nodding your head in agreement. "They can," you whispered. 

"If I tell you how I feel, you have to promise me things won't go bad, you're my best friend, and I can't lose you," he explained. 

You sighed knowing he was going to tell you he didn't feel the same, you expected as much. He was Harry of course, he could have anyone, why would he even want you? "It's ok Harry, honestly, I didn't expect you to like me, when there are girls practically throwing themselves at you," you told him. 

His brows furrowed together as he studied your face. "Why would I not like you?" He wondered. 

You shrugged your shoulders, "because you deserve the world, and I'm barely a star in your sky," you told him. 

"And late at night, when I glance up to the sky, do you think I'm looking for the world? Or do you think I'm looking at the stars?" He demanded.

"Probably the stars," you giggled. 

"So why would that make you my second choice? Stars are so much more than the world," he told you. 

You smiled, nodding towards him. He shifted his weight, reaching out his arm towards you to snuggle into. You slid across the couch, cuddling into his side, his arm protectively around you, as you both just sat there. 

"I love you," Harry whispered after a few minutes. 

You looked up at him, tears pooling in your eyes. "You do?" You wondered. 

"I have for so long," he nodded, as he swiped away a single tear with his thumb. "I've just been scared that things would change for the worse," 

"They don't have to change at all," you whispered. 

He nodded, stroking your hair gently, "yeah but if they didn't change at all I wouldn't know what it's like to kiss you," he told you. 

"Do you want to?" You asked, sitting yourself up a bit. 

"Desperately," he nodded, leaning forward and molding his lips with yours in what was sure to be the first of many kisses shared with Harry. 

Tag list:

@violetlilysunshine  

@petesrparker

@harryhollandsgirlfriend

@mcushvft

@elishi03

@nelebynele

@theglitterymess

@sunwardsss

(if your name is striked out I cannot tag you 😞)

[kachuuyaa]

第一章𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄. 報復; 最初の動き

reminder: there is no canon plot. please read the warnings and others in the link provided below.

𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐍 𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐄; REMINISCENCE.

prev. \ next.

𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊 ここ

𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐋𝐔𝐃𝐄𝐒: spoilers for the bsd manga, mentioned violence murder bsd stuff, mori appears

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: led by greed are those driven with love.

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: ur choice will possibly introduce chuuya and/or another character. voooote wiseeelyyyy :)

Dumbstruck. That’s what you felt like. “I knoooow it has been fou- five! Five years since we’ve last seen each other…” He trailed off, noticing your silence from the other line. Ah.. this call is a bit abrupt, He thought. Why the hell would you accept his favour? He has been nothing but unfair to you. He was a broken man whose fault is his own, yet he didn’t have the guts to even admit it to you and more importantly, himself. Who knew that the Dazai Osamu is a coward under his malevolent, promiscuous persona? Why were you to accept a single favour of a man who has proved time and time again that your hatred for him was justifiable? He has hurt you, countless times, and now he wants you to help someone as desperate as him? You deserve better, it’s been said by not only you and himself but to those who he had abandoned as well.

He left with no goodbye and a subordinate whose dreams were crushed by the very man who is talking to you now, for fucks sake. “Hellooo~,” He said, in a sing-song voice, an uncomfortable silence following after. The amount of rage stored in your body by just hearing that man’s voice snap you out of your thoughts was enough to make you lash out-- but you didn’t. He left you, he left everyone abruptly, and even though you know the reason behind it, it gave you more reason to hate him more. “And why do you think you could contact me?” You scorned, hearing an apologetic sigh coming from the other line. A pause, then, an apology unfinished. “Don’t,” You began, “Stop it with your insincere apologies.” a moment of silence was exchanged between the two of you, and it was mainly due to Dazai holding his words at the tip of his tongue. Although confident, he seemingly falters at your words alone.

Dazai Osamu is a man whose exterior is as hard as a diamond, his interior as versatile as you may think, his heart, to you, is as fragile as glass. It was ironic, for him to think that he is allowed to feel fondness towards you, for his heart to melt and to mend at the sight of you when he himself knew that he alone is the cause of everything you hated him for. You hated him for letting go of himself and letting go of you, and most of all, you hated him for the sole reason that he didn’t allow you to see past the malevolent, methodical Dazai Osamu you knew before. You were so blinded by hope that you forgot to even block his number, out of all things. You let him gain the upper hand again and you speculated that it was your fault every single time.

It wasn’t.

It was always his fault. It always has been. You knew that (however, you were in a state of denial every time you realized so), and he did too. A broken man is doomed to survive whenever he destroys his own relationships, and even the smartest of men is known to be a confident fool, and you have witnessed one of the prime examples of that kind of man.

And that man chases for you.

“I’ll help you.” You finally let out, “Only if you tell me everything.” You said sharply, indicating that you do not take no for an answer. Dazai nodded, “Yeah, sure, okay.” He said, seriously this time, but reverted back to his usual childish persona. “But pleaaaase be quick!” He whined, and in response, you said, “Fuck off, I’ll be there.” You could hear Dazai gasp dramatically on the other line, “Ah! You wound me! And after, my darling, we should perform a double suicide together!” He said, giddy in speech, and you scoffed. My Darling? Are you kidding me? You thought, I’ll punch him in the stomach when I spot him. Before he could say anything else, you hung up, putting your phone in your pocket. Sighing, you rubbed your eyes as you stood up from your position, rushing to the bathroom to hurriedly change your clothes. It’s as if even after all these years and after all his mistakes, you still are worried for his safety.

You didn’t like that.

You have always wondered how Oda was able to handle him-- moreover before he even died. Truth be told, you, the legendary executive of the Port Mafia, was reduced to nothing but a shell of rumours circulating your entire persona. Even after he left, you carried on without problems. After he left, you grew. You two changed without each other, yet both of you were stronger when together. You were titled a god while he was titled a prodigy, and prodigies are known to receive the gods’ favour. Perhaps he was the reason for your uprising, or maybe you were consumed by guilt. No, it was due to Dazai leaving with an unsaid goodbye and taking Oda’s last words within him alone.

It was because he was unknowingly selfish and obsessed with the thought of being a good person. He did not foresee your disappointment and your resentment when he did that, though. Nevertheless, he deserved it. Halting your steps and your thoughts, you realized something. This is bait, isn’t it? You pondered. He sent me his location, I know that place. Taking a hard left, you made sure you did not stand out compared to the rest of the cars. A favour from this man is most likely a request, clicking your tongue, you let your hands grip the steering wheel, The location is in an alleyway next to a damn bar out of all things. A bar, seriously? The wine I drink costs more than the entire establishment.

You departed from your car, fixing your coat with sharp, bored eyes. He still doesn’t have taste, does he? You were invisible when it comes to stealth, having been eliminating more than half of your target’s men without being seen. Moving swiftly, you spotted a slumped figure near the end of the darkened alleyway. The only source of light being the flickering enlightened sign of the bar, its words being too long for you to even care. “Dazai.” You voiced out, watching as the said man’s head snapped in your direction. He sent you an apologetic smile while his brown hair sways gently, noticing your fiery aggression towards the brunette. However, you did not make any move to help him with his predicament. Deadpanning, he shook his hands. Enclosed in handcuffs, to signify he needs help, although he is aware that you knew about it. “I hate you, you know that?” You whispered, and while he knew that it was genuine, he allowed himself to indulge in your presence despite the numerous words covered in hatred directed to him. “I am undeniably aware.” He smiled, again, this time, a smile covered in a melancholic, sincere and unfeigned penitence. “What is it that you want from me?” Instead of receiving an answer, you heard a chuckle from the detective, making you clench your fist in indiscernible anger. “It’s been so long, why skip the forma--” before he could utter his words, you appeared before him, making your fist and his stomach meet, while he let out a choked gasp at the sensation. “Fuck the formalities,” You whispered directly in his ear, and you heard a low moan coming from his mouth.

Placing a firm hand on his neck, he looked at you with half-lidded eyes and a wry smile on his face. “You got stronger.” He weakly muttered, and you made no move to respond. That is, for a few seconds. “What is it that you need from me?” You said, and he nearly smirked at the dominance in your voice. Alas, he sighed, unconsciously leaning to the hand entrapped on his neck. You made no move to stop him, opting to glare at the man instead of doing anything harmful. It was true that you resented him for what he has done, yet you knew your words and your body language speak more than violently beating him unconscious. Letting go of his neck, you deadpanned. “Speak.” You spoke sardonically, lightly slapping both his cheeks until he utters a word. He looked up, this time, a dumb smile on his face, “What happened to ‘I hate you'? Missed me that much, darling?” You let your smile falter, and you stood up. “Tell me what you need from me. Quit stalling.” I want to bash his head against the wall and stab him four times before throwing him out of the window. He lets out a cynical laugh at your behaviour, and you take his hair in your hands for a second. “Now, darling, tell me.” You emphasized the pet name, and his laugh faltered. Snapping your fingers, the handcuffs fell limp on the dirtied ground with a ‘clang!’ and Dazai had to rub his wrist due to the pain.

“You already know why I led you here, don’t you?” He asked after an uncomfortable, dead silence, and you whipped your piercing eyes to the ability user. “Nothing less from the Port Mafia’s Moloch, it seems.” He said, although you were able to decipher a hint of mockery enlaced in between his words. You clicked your tongue, muttering something indecipherable under your breath, and said, “This is bait, isn’t it?” You questioned, leaning back to the vandalized cement behind you. “I wonder why Fukuzawa sent you to get me.” You tauntingly remarked, “I wonder why you accepted my favour, hm?” he replied in return, and you narrowed your eyes before scoffing. “Don’t think much of it, now get in the car.” Directing your thumb to the end of the alleyway, the hallway littered with vandalism and filth on the floor, shattered bottles and burnt papers scattered on each side of the alleyway. He led himself out first, stretching his arms out and letting out a grunt at the pleasure. You swiftly went ahead of him, your coat slightly touching his at your arrival. “Drive the car. I didn’t waste my time driving for nothing.” You sternly said, each word piercing through Dazai’s chest, making him clutch his chest for dramatic effect. “You get bolder and bolder by the day, My Darling.” He voiced out, and you couldn’t help but grimace at the nickname. “Stop calling me ‘darling’, fucking overgrown potato sack.” You muttered the last part under your breath, opening the car door to the passenger seat, causing Dazai to widen his eyes in amusement and childish euphoria-- sparkles in his eyes and everything. You could feel the overflowing amazement he’s displaying, and you smirked amusedly at his behaviour, “Your car is amazing!” He gushed, looking at the sides and the exterior of your vehicle. “You will let me drive this?” He pointed to you, then to himself, then to your car.

Raising a brow, you realized that it wouldn't be a good idea for this manchild to drive your car. “On second thought,” You arrived at the driver’s seat, Dazai feeling obligated to sit beside you. “I’ll drive. You might crash the car.” You spoke, and Dazai deadpanned. “You really think that low of me, don’t you?” Scoffing in return, you started the car, an uncomfortable silence filling the air. With the fleeting light of the moon reflecting your irises, Dazai couldn’t help but stare at you rather than the view of Yokohama. It was nearing midnight, and his own chocolate-coloured eyes betrayed his own emotions, landing themselves on your figure, emanating equity familiar to the man. “The agency is not far from here,” You whispered, and Dazai snapped his irises from you to the window, your voice assuaging his worries.

And it hit you like a truck.

The four boys, living in your home, what are they doing now? It has been proven that they were worried about your safety in this city of crime and punishment, and you forgot about them. Why the fuck would you forget about them?

It’s not like they would disobey your orders, now would they?

You’re funny.

They weren’t used to this much hospitality, some even more so than others. Thoma was one of the more worried people, for he was accustomed to serving for whoever he had to. And this time, it was you. They all expected at least a warning before you went out, however, you neglected them for just a short while in hopes that leaving without a goodbye would help you save time; well, now you’re just overthinking. You gripped the steering wheel with such intensity, a vein popping at the side of your knuckle. It was unnoticed by Dazai, who was currently resting his cheek on the window, observing the city lights from inside the car. He made no move to talk, opting to stare outside, knowing that you didn’t prefer to talk to him. “Hey,” You spoke, watching as Dazai’s form jumped the slightest bit. It was no lie to you and to him that he was regretful for his actions, leaving you in a puddle of misery and sorrow, while he observes from behind you, with no hint of remorse for what he has done. He wasn’t the Dazai Osamu you once encountered, a naive boy willing to do whatever Mori gave him. He resented you for the reason that you pitied him as a new recruit and as an executive, but he can’t seem to hate you.

He found you interesting as time went by. He thought he pushed you to your limits for his own entertainment, only to be found being held in the same situation. You were more terrifying than the rumours came to be, and he needed to decipher you.

He couldn’t. Then, and now.

He found more reasons why you should have hated him. And to find beauty in your hatred adds on to the fact Dazai Osamu was absolutely, unquestionably, and patently captivated by you. And he hates it. He hates that he was able to feel human with you, knowing that he has made you feel less of a human when he left. It was his fault to let his guard down and be empathetic, and it was his fault for being a coward without thinking of the consequences. It was his fault for being selfish when all he could think about was to be a reputable person, the opposite of what he was during the Port Mafia. “Swan Lake?” You queried, voice allayed any hatred, and he couldn’t fathom the tranquil atmosphere in your vehicle. You hated him; hated him for what he stands for and hated him for betraying you and leaving with an unsaid goodbye, but a goodbye that pierced through your chest. You hated him for being Oda’s last person to talk to, and you hated him for leaving a subordinate who was broken beyond repair. It was his fault. Everything was his fault. For one to disagree is one who is foolish in mind and ignorant in morality, and you both knew that. “I don’t really like Tchaikovsky.” You nodded, “Brahms?” Querying, you awaited the answer from the brunette. He reclined on his chair, nodding. You let a chuckle slip past your lips, Dazai widening his eyes slightly from your voice. “Never knew you had good taste in classical music.” Now, it was his turn to chuckle. Reaching for the screen embedded in your car, you told him, “Search Brahms, would you?” He obliged, typing in ‘Brahms’, and picking the first song that was recommended to him. “Your taste in classical music has not changed ever since we met Fyodor.” He retorted, and you smiled. “Tchaikovsky and Bach? Too cliche for me.”

Dazai Osamu was never one for apologies, and you knew that quite well. However, you knew there was a lingering apology in his tone of voice when talking to you, yet you can’t quite forgive him. There is no yet, there is no ever. The spared minutes before arriving in the agency was spent discussing the remaining years you two never connected in whilst remaining civil. He applauded you for your calmness, yet he blamed himself for being a victim of his own mind. You parked your car near the agency, and shut the car off, while you both simultaneously got out, and fixed your coat. “Let’s go, the president is expecting me.” You reached out to your car, locking it. “You really are beautiful in the moonlight,” Dazai mumbled subconsciously, and you laughed a bit in return. “Not the time for your useless musings,” You waved him off, “Now go, I wouldn’t want to be caught in the dead of night.”

Stepping inside the office was dreadful, even more so as your eyes landed on the man you resented the most, Mori Ougai. Why was he here? You deduced that he was involved with the whole plan to bring you here, in the agency-- isn’t he an enemy? They probably went through another alliance for you to take the bait. Mori Ougai knows all your weaknesses, doesn’t he? It was the prime reason their plan succeeded. Mori’s information about you. “President,” A seemingly powerful voice entered your ears, however, you paid no mind to it. “Are you sure about this alliance?” He questioned, and the president remained silent. “Rest assured that the agency won’t fall due to this alliance. I’ve made sure of it.” Fukuzawa voiced out from behind Mori, and the latter smiled deviously in response. Dazai leaned his back to the cement, his quietness confusing the weretiger. The rest of the agency members did not bother to talk, absolutely awestruck at the appearance of the Port Mafia’s Moloch. They were not shocked at their existence, but mainly, their presence. Ranpo, however, simply stared at you with closed eyes. “W-wait,” Atsushi intervened, causing you to direct your gaze towards the albino. He jumped at your gaze, clearing his throat after. “Captain… Moloch…?” He trailed off, trying to figure out how to address you without being too embarrassed. Dazai broke out in small chuckles, while Kunikida silently scolds him for his behaviour. “[Name]. Call me [Name].” You replied swiftly, Atsushi nodding stiffly in response. However, he did not expect your next words. “Although, I do tend to go by ‘sweetheart’ and ‘darling’.” You winked and turned back to where Mori was situated, leaving an amused Yosano and a blushing Atsushi in your wake.

“Mr Mori.” You called out bitterly, distaste evident in your tone and on your face. “Yes, [Name]? He responded, with a sickly sweet smile you absolutely hated. Fukuzawa swiftly interrupts the conversation, “Do you know why we called you here?” Or, lured you here, but whatever. Fukuzawa questioned, and after some pondering, a comical lightbulb went off on top of you. “For protection, is it?” You answered, and Mori chuckled at your answer. As if he was proud of you, and you grimaced internally at your revelation. No man has proven worthy of your time and your patience, Mori being the least of your concerns and the bane of your being. He was a man shrouded in selfishness and baleful intent to those he crossed; and it is painfully ironic, that he was afraid of you, and of Dazai. He made you feel inhuman, a tool for him to use whenever he’d like and you realized this way before your upbringing, yet you stayed. Your loyalty to the Port Mafia shall never waver despite the man you hated with every pint of your blood was your superior.

“And I expect this… protection to be extreme?” You drew a circle with your pointer finger, signifying the alliance of the ADA and the Port Mafia. “Why both, though?” You could perfectly handle yourself-- you weren’t the Port Mafia’s Moloch for nothing. Having been titled the most remarkable prodigy in the Port Mafia, quickly surpassing regular recruits, and even passing Mori himself, you were a secret kept only for the Mafia alone. Not even low-ranking members have seen you or have witnessed your power. You were a rumour meant to be spread and not to be seen under any circumstance. So, why do you need protection? From the ADA too, no less. “This is not only for you, [Name], this is also for the Mafia and the Agency.” Fukuzawa sighed, “We also are targeted by the Hunting Dogs and the Decay of Angels,” Looking out of the window, Mori crossed his arms. “They have begun to target you and us for what you have done to Jouno Saigiku and Tecchou Suehiro,” Mori responded right after, and you sweatdropped at their statement. Well, you did kind of damage their internal organs a little, but hey! It was justifiable. “And the agency agreed to this alliance for what you have done to my members. If it weren’t for you, we would most likely be at a loss for ability users.” The president placed his hand on your head, a sign of thankfulness and recognition.

Call yourself dramatic, but that was a gesture you would never forget. “And Tachihara? Does he know about this?” You queried, even though you had an idea of his motives. He wasn’t that hard to read, anyway. Figuring out his true identity was far from difficult when it came to you, having been hinting at Mori about his double agent identity. You knew it would be impossible for him to achieve any sort of information from you, and it was evident that he knew absolutely nothing about you.

Why? Because you never engaged in any sort of conversation, Mafia-related or not, willingly. His transparency was the cause of his failure. Obviously, he would be on your tail for what you were rumoured for and your receipt of a track record. You were, undeniably, one of Japan’s most wanted in the country’s criminal history. “Why do you think so? He is blissfully unaware of all of this.” Mori chided, smiling cynically. “And I’d like to add, The Clown also wants you dead.” Nikolai Gogol? What did you do to him for you to land on his hit list? You only uttered a simple understanding of his morals, and the reaction you received was enough for you to realize his own personal motives. “So? What do you say, [Name]?” Fukuzawa asked, “If you decline, we won’t provide you any support nor help you in whatever predicament you put yourself in after your answer.” He stated seriously, although you could see an ounce of remorse in his metallic blue eyes.

Being guarded by the agency was a feat on its own, but you knew that if you would have accepted, they would find out about the group of men in your house, confused, and unknowingly putting their lives on the line for someone as dangerous as you. Negotiating with the president would most likely resort to futile attempts of trying to save those four men from their wrath because anyone who trusts you naively would inevitably die in your hands one way or another.

You want to accept, you want them to adapt quickly, however, who knew that the most probable solution was to allow them to meet your enemy?

God knows if Zhongli would remain civil with Fukuzawa if they met each other and if anyone in the ADA would really get along with the outlanders in your home. Sure, you could’ve just said no, however, there was an unabating thought far off in your mind that ushers you to entertain their idea. The potential discovery of your outlanders situated in your home was not much of a problem to you, at least, that’s what you think.

“Give me a moment.” You mumbled, retreating out of the office, leaving a regaled Mori Ougai with an equally bemused Fukuzawa Yukichi as a result.

Pondering will get you nowhere if you know the outcome. This protection provided to you was the culmination of your actions to the enemy of the Port Mafia and the ADA. Leading yourself to a secluded area in the agency, you reverted your gaze to the moonlight. It was an hour past midnight, and you were certain that the outlanders were asleep.

What do you do?

“Hey, [Naaame]! Long time no see!”

— 投票𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐋

𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐔𝐒!

"Have you seen [Name]?!" Thoma shouted from the kitchen, causing Zhongli to jolt from his position on the couch. His book fell from his hands, and he lost the current page he was reading as a result. Sighing, Zhongli adjusted his glasses (which he got from you, after all your nagging to buy the ex-archon one). "I have not seen [Name] yet, do you think they were called for work?" He thought out loud, recalling your words to him a time ago. Although you would not elaborate on your position, he had an inkling that your work should not be shared with the public.

"We shouldn't look for them. That's the most rational action we should do when they're gone." Zhongli reminded the group, Childe pouting at his response. He wanted to look for you, and also look for potential enemies. He was vaguely aware of your occupation, due to their lack of information about your job. He does the same, either way; of course, he'd have an idea as to what you work for. "Wipe that look off your face, harbinger. We're not going out." The Yaksha scolded, and Childe sighed deeply in return. Thoma laughed awkwardly, "How about we just... Prepare something for them? It's late," He suggested, noting the acceptance of the trio before him. Zhongli perked up, unbeknownst to the rest of them, and started scheming in his archaic brain. You'd like to read books, right? Oh, what if you read all the books in your library? How about some tea...? You liked his tea, and you liked his stories.

Oh. Yeah, you'd enjoy him as he is.

A satisfied smile crept up to Zhongli's lips as he reclined on the couch, abandoning his book that he no longer had an interest in.

And thus began a chaotic mission to welcome you back properly.

𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐀!

Ranpo talked to Atsushi after you flirted with him. The poor boy was still generating your response in his head.

Yosano likes you. It's a given; A powerful person and she can feel your hatred for Mori despite being the strongest Mafia member? Sign her up.

The four boys did not have a good time working together. But they had to do so in order to satisfy you like you did them!

Xiao was disappointed to see that you only had one pack of tofu in your kitchen. He tried to taste it and he didn't like it. He sulked for a solid 10 minutes in his room.

While you were away, Zhongli crept into your library and snatched 2 books about Norse mythology. He looks forward to talking to you about his discoveries when he drinks tea with you.

Childe, uncharacteristically, loves to watch your koi fish swim around in your little pond, and after you left, he silently thanked you for teaching him how to feed your fish properly.

Thoma and Childe have a great dynamic over the kitchen. When it comes to anything else they have a playful rivalry. (BATTLE OF THE MALEWIVES)

Mori could sense your distaste for him from across the room, and he tried his best not to deadpan at you; He proposed the alliance anyway. (why are you even looking at us u fucking frail Ass Bitch u will die soon)

Fukuzawa missed talking to you, believe it or not.

Chuuya and Koyou are the only Mafia members to be aware of the alliance. The Black Lizard, including Akutagawa, has no idea of the alliance whatsoever.

Tachihara sneezed when you talked about him. Teruko laughed at him after.

2021 © kachuuyaa. do not steal or claim my work as your own.

[marauderundercover]

Taking Chances Ch. 23: Stealing the Batmobile (Alt Prompt Driving)

AO3

Prev

Marinette looks at her little brother with an amused expression before asking:

“He really stole the Batmobile?” 

“Yup. Claimed he was a better driver than me.” Dick says with a snort. Marinette winces. 

“To be fair, he’s probably right. You’re kind of an awful driver.” She says with an apologetic smile. Dick clutches his heart and sniffles loudly. 

“My own flesh and blood!” He cries dramatically. Damian scoffs. 

“Tt. She is on my side, Grayson. As she should be since she is <i>my<i> flesh and blood.” He says with a scowl. 

“The pain!” Dick cries, throwing himself off the couch and onto the ground. Jason just sighs and shakes his head, while Tim looks on tiredly. The five of them had decided to hang out at the manor together earlier, which had somehow shifted into telling stories about each other and funny things that had happened. Marinette loved hearing stories about her brothers from when they were younger. 

“Out of all of us, I am likely the most competent driver.” Damian says, glancing at Marinette before nodding once. “And I assume Marinette would be the second most competent.” He adds. Marinette’s face instantly turns red- she’d never driven before. Her little brother (who was two years younger) was already a great driver. And she…..was not. 

“Oh, uh, I’ve actually never driven before.” She admits. Damian frowns. 

“Wait, you’re almost fifteen and you’ve never driven before?” Jason asks, leaning forward. “Like, ever” 

“Well, no. You can’t get a license in France until you’re eighteen. So no one in their right mind is going to let a fourteen year old drive around the city.” She explains. She watches as a thoughtful look crosses Damian’s face before settling back into a neutral mask. 

“I require your assistance with something. Follow me.” He says, standing and walking out of the room. 

“Er, okay.” She says, furrowing her eyebrows. “We’ll be right back.” She reassures her other brothers. She walks quicker, trying to catch up with Damian who was practically running at this point. He glances at her and raises an eyebrow. 

“Did the others act as if they would follow?” He asks. She frowns, but shakes her head. “Excellent.” He says, opening one of the entrances to the Batcave. She follows him, but freezes as they walk in and she sees where he’s heading. 

“Damian, we’d get into so much trouble.” She says, planting her feet and freezing in place. 

“Not if we aren’t caught. Which we will be if we don’t leave soon.” He says, rushing into the changing room. She stays where she is, glancing down at Tikki peeking out of her purse. 

“Marinette, your father would not like this.” She warns. Marinette bites her lip. 

“I know, but Damian seemed so excited.” She counters, with a small smile. Tikki gives her an unimpressed look. Marinette watches as her little brother walks back out, dressed in his uniform. He nods at her once and then climbs into the driver’s side. She hesitates, weighing her options. She could go with and attempt to drive the Batmobile, or she could watch her little brother drive away and know that no one knew where he was. Crap. Pushing away every instinct telling her this is a horrible idea, she rushes after Damian and hops into the car, calling her transformation as she does. She grins at her brother, her Ladybird suit had started giving her more confidence than her Ladybug suit. It was odd, but she loved it. He immediately slams on the gas, driving out of the cave and into Gotham.

“Ukht, will you be driving as well?” He asks and she hesitates before nodding. It was the Batmobile, what could go wrong?

---

Okay apparently a lot could go wrong, she thinks, watching as the Batmobile slides into the Gotham river. 

“How the fuck did you guys manage that?” A voice asks. She whirls around, wincing when she sees Jason, as Red Hood. She can’t see his face but she can just imagine the look he’s giving them. 

“In my defense, we were left unsupervised.” She says. He scoffs. 

“You little shits left us!” He reminds her. 

“Ladybird had never had the chance to drive before. It made sense to make sure that she could drive and to train her in case she ever needs to utilize a vehicle on patrol.” Damian reasons. And yeah, the reasons are sound. But the Batmobile slowly sinking into the river kind of makes his reasons weak. Just a bit. 

“And driving into the river was, what, to see if she could drive a boat?” Jason asks, crossing his arms. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Hood. That’s a car.” She says, the words tumbling out of her mouth. She regrets it, but only for a second because then she hears Damian snort. Score! Every time she was able to make her angriest brother laugh, she gave herself a point. She was so close to double digits.

“Well B’s gonna be ready to go on patrol in less than an hour. Either of you two geniuses have any ideas on how to get the car out of the river and back to the cave?” Jason asks, pulling Marinette from her silent celebration. 

“We could call a tow truck.” She suggests. 

“Tt. That is unwise. The Batmobile is not a regular car.” Damian argues and she huffs. 

“Okay well, last I checked you didn’t have any bright ideas either.” She quips, annoyed with him again. They were good at that. Laughing one minute, then annoying each other the next. She figured it just meant they were doing something right as siblings. 

“Ladybird might actually have a good idea, Robin. Unless you want to call Superman here and have him rat you out to B.” Jason says. A devious smirk stretches onto Damian’s face and Marinette suppresses a shudder. She was definitely glad the kid was on her side. Most of the time, anyway. 

“Excellent point, Hood.” He says, clearing his throat slightly before yelling. Well, not really yelling. Just talking slightly louder than normal. “Jon. I require your assistance.” A few moments later a boy flies down and lands in front of Damian. If she didn’t know any better, Marinette would assume the boy was another of her dad’s kids. Dark hair, blue eyes. But this kid had a huge smile stretched across his face. So maybe not. 

“Hey Robin! I haven’t seen you in ages!” The boy says cheerfully before waving at Red Hood. He turns to her and his smile falters slightly before it’s back full blast. He sticks out his hand. “Nice to meet you! I’m Superboy.” He says. Marinette grins, shaking his hand back. 

“Ladybird, and likewise.” She says. 

“So what-” Jon (Superboy?) starts, glancing at the river, eyes widening at the car. “Did you steal the Batmobile again!?” He yelps, obviously shocked. And concerned. Which she understood. It’s not everyday you see the Batmobile slowly sinking into the Gotham river. 

“Er, temporarily misappropriated.” Marinette says, glaring at Jason who snorts at her response. 

“No, they definitely stole it. And Ladybird here decided she’d try to drive for the first time. What I’m not understanding is why you knuckleheads thought it’d be smart to drive so close to the river?” He says. 

“Obviously I wasn’t thinking clearly, Hood. Can we please just focus on getting the car out of the river before I’m murdered by Batman?” Marinette rambles, looking pleadingly at Jon. It was odd, begging a little kid to drag her superhero dad’s super car out of a river, but it had to be done. 

“Oh, yeah, of course!” Jon says, his earlier shock replaced with a wide smile once again. He flies over and grabs the car, gently pulling it up and placing it back on the road. Marinette winces at the water pouring out of the car. She was so grounded. 

---

Walking into the Batcave, Bruce frowns at the lack of Batmobile. He’d passed Tim and Dick on his way to the Cave, so he knew they didn’t have it. Which left his two most mischievous sons and the daughter they had so easily corrupted. Hopefully they were just getting fast food or something again. Hopefully nothing bad was happening. He winces. That was unlikely with his children. He rushes over to the computer, tracking the Batmobile and accessing the cameras near the car. The image in front of him makes him pinch the bridge of his nose and grit his teeth. 

“Just one day, one day is all I ask.” He mumbles under his breath. Because of course traffic cameras would catch Superboy lifting the Batmobile out of the river. Of course. He sits in his chair and watches as the kids argue for a few minutes before getting in the car and driving off. He tracks them all the way until they’re past cameras, and then he waits. Knowing it’ll only be moments until they’re in the Cave. He sits, silent as they get out of the car. 

“No, seriously, he’s gonna know.” Marinette is saying, obviously looking nervous. 

“Then beg Tikki to take all the water out or something. It’ll be fine, Pix.” Jason says. 

“She’s gonna be so mad at me though. She warned me that it was a bad idea.” Marinette says, and Bruce decides to speak up. 

“She was right.” He says, turning his chair to face them. 

“SHIT! Goddamn you Bruce, why the hell would you sneak up on us like that?” Jason huffs out, glaring at him. 

“Perhaps it’s the same reason that you three thought it was a good idea to steal the Batmobile.” Bruce says, crossing his arms. 

“Uh, fuck that. I wasn’t in on it. I went out to try and find the little shits when I realized they were gone.” Jason argues, crossing his arms too. 

“Ukht had never driven before. I believed it was a useful skill that she could utilize on future missions or patrols.” Damian says simply, his calm demeanor the complete opposite of Marinette’s current demeanor. She’s obviously panicked and anxious, avoiding looking at him. He feels his former resolve soften slightly. No one was hurt, they obviously felt bad. And Marinette obviously felt bad about it. But still….

“You’re benched for the night. Both of you.” He instructs. Damian grits his teeth but nods, while Marinette looks confused. 

“But I’m not even-” She starts to say, stopping as Jason throws a hand over her mouth. “Well, well, look at the time. I’ll take them upstairs and tuck ‘em in before patrol.” Jason says, rushing away with Marinette and leaving Damian behind. Damian turns to Bruce and frowns. 

“It did not go unnoticed by me, Father, that you benched the one child you do not allow to patrol. You may have done this in an attempt to not punish Marinette, but make no mistake she will remember this. And she will be on patrol later this week. After all, you only benched her for tonight.” Damian says, nodding at his father before walking away. Bruce sighs. He hadn’t thought this one through.

---

“What was that for?” Marinette asks, frowning at her brother as he drags her to the house. She drops her transformation as they walk, wincing slightly at the ‘we’ll talk later’ look from Tikki. Oh yeah, she was definitely getting lectured. 

“He just benched you for tonight, right?” Jason asks, a smirk on his face. Marinette huffs. 

“Yeah, but I’m not even technically allowed on patrols.” She reminds him. 

“Except now, you’re technically allowed to come tomorrow. He said you were ‘benched for the night’.” Jason points out. Marinette opens her mouth to argue, then closes it. She blinks before a wide smile stretches across her face. Was she really gonna get to go back on patrol on a technicality? Suddenly, she no longer regretted driving the Batmobile into the river.

Next

Tag list: @maribat-bdbwm @vixen-uchiha @stainedglassm @liquid-luck-00 @laurcad123 @waiting247 @jayjayspixiepop @mizzy-pop @jjmjjktth @trippingovermyfeet @queenz-z @thepaceperson @iloontjeboontje @toodaloo-kangaroo @ritacrow-blog @deathssilentapproach-blog @kittenmywaythrulife @nerd-nowandforever @tazanna-blythe @jaybird-and-co @jumpingjoy82 @lady-bee-fechin @corporeal-terrestrial

[narukoibito]

“Am I your lockscreen?” “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

Am I Your Lockscreen?

Summary: Harry misplaces his phone.

AO3 | FF.net

Note: This took absolutely forever (months!), but here it finally is. Thanks for the ridiculous prompt Anon. This is complete, unadulterated fluff. It’s ridiculous, and I just can't. Haha, I hope you enjoy!

*

Harry was in the middle of stifling a yawn when he heard the rumbling downstairs.

Must be Fred and George, he thought, stretching his arms over his head. He let them fall back on the cot, with a content, food coma induced sigh. He was thinking about taking a little kip when Ron stirred on the bed beside him.

“Sounds like Ginny’s home early,” Ron grumbled.

“Ginny’s home?” Harry perked up, only to cough self-consciously at the strange look Ron gave him. Right, best mate’s little sister, he reminded himself. Except she was so much more than that. As if on cue, he heard the tinkling of her laughter below.

“Oh, I guess that’s nice,” Harry said casually, leaning back into the cot and pretending to go back to napping.

After a moment, Harry sneaked a peek. Ron had returned to fiddling with his phone. Texting Hermione probably.

Good save, Potter.

Unable to stop himself, Harry reached into his pocket to protectively touch his phone. Only to come back empty-handed.

His eyes popped open.

He straightened and immediately began to pat the blankets around him, his hands searching with a growing franticness.

“Mate?” Ron asked.

“Have you seen my phone?” Harry looked under his pillow and the sheets, on the verge of panic. He always, always kept his phone with him, especially —

“Er, no?” Ron sat up, confused. “Let me call you.”

Harry waited with bated breath as Ron dialed his number. He glared at the rumpled sheets pooled around him, willing them to start ringing.

Finally, there came his tell-tale ring! Only it was…

Shite. Shite, shite, shite!

It had been a moment of weakness. At her last football game, he had snapped a photo right when she’d made the winning shot. Then, like the idiot he was, couldn’t resist saving it as his lockscreen.

“Harry?” He heard Ron’s cry of surprise behind him as he moved, wrenching open the door. He bolted down the stairs, taking two, then three steps at a time, racing toward the ringing.

Just as he rounded the corner to the kitchen, Harry saw Ginny. Even in the midst of his panic, he couldn’t stop the way his stomach swooped at the sight of her standing there in her football training kit, with her long hair tumbling over her shoulders, her freckled skin that glowed, her pale fingers that he longed to hold.

And then, as if in slow motion, he watched as those very fingers reached toward the dining room table.

Fuck.

“Whose phone—?”

“Argh!” Without thinking, Harry launched himself into the air. 

His fingers triumphantly curled over the phone.

Sweet relief coursed through him as an invisible audience cheered him in his head. Safe! He was safe!

Only of course his foot caught on something, and Harry went tumbling headfirst onto the floor. All those years of football training meant he automatically rolled, protecting his head, even as he crashed against the cupboards.

“Harry! Are you okay?”

He blinked away the spots in his eyes to see Ginny looking down at him, her brown eyes bright with concern. She leaned in, her face tantalizingly close.

“Fine. I’m fine,” he croaked, his face flooding with color and not only because he was upside down.

And he was fine, despite the spinning room, because Ginny was here, smiling down at him. The fluttering in his chest mixed with the squeeze of relief that she wasn’t looking down at him in disgust or, worse, pity at having uncovered his secret.

“I see you haven’t lost your flair for dramatics,” she said wryly.

“Constant vigilance,” Harry said, pleased when she laughed at the reference to that ridiculous counselor from that summer camp their parents had enrolled them in as teens. Counselor Moody used to do all sorts of mad things to scare them, like popping out of the bushes. Harry and Ginny used to catch each other’s eyes and laugh about it back when she was nothing more than his best mate’s little sister.

Harry’s eyes couldn’t help but wander from her face, only to flush and snap his eyes upward. She certainly wasn’t so little anymore.

“Let’s get you right-side up, and then maybe you can explain why you were pulling a Moody.”

His stomach curled into knots at her proximity as she helped him. He tried to think of something charming to say, which was hard when she was dusting him off and unintentionally sending goosebumps up his arm.

“I was testing your reflexes,” Harry blurted. “I’m still faster than you.”

“Oh, like that really counts when you suddenly shout and fling yourself at me.”

Why was it that the challenging look on Ginny’s face only made his heart skip a beat?

“Element of surprise.” He reached up to adjust his crooked glasses, something tickling in the back of his mind like he was forgetting something. Focusing was difficult with the intoxicating scent of flowers short-circuiting his brain.

“Well, for all your bluster…” With a mischievous glint in her eye, Ginny triumphantly raised his phone screen to his line of sight. “You still lose.”

Harry’s heart dropped to the floor. His eyes darted from the phone to her face and back again. He made a wild swipe for it, but Ginny was prepared.

“Whose call were you so eager to answer, hmm?” she taunted as she ducked into the family room.

“No, Ginny!” He followed her frantically, nearly knocking over a vase. “Come on, don’t—!”

“Not Cho, I hope?” She ran around the couch, strategically placing it between them. Her hand waved the phone tauntingly at him.

“No,” Harry said, slowly drawing nearer, adrenaline drumming in his ears. He frantically looked for an opening. “Cho and I aren’t a thing anymore.”

“Then it’s no problem if I check, is it?” Ginny turned the phone toward her, eyes slowing lowering — with his heart lodged in his throat, Harry lunged.

The two of them tumbled to the ground in a mess of limbs.

Harry groaned at the sting from where his head had connected with the floor. Somehow, in the chaos, he had managed to be on the bottom, which was good because Ginny hadn’t felt the brunt of the fall. But as the pain began to recede, he was suddenly very much aware of the soft curves pressing into him, her legs tangled up with his. She moved, wiggling enough to make him yelp.

Oh God, was this it? The only time he would ever get this close?

How pathetic could he get?

“Harry?”

He winced and waited for her to punch him and call him a pervert or something. When it didn’t come, he dared to open a tentative eye. Ginny had lifted herself up, hovering above him, her fiery red hair a curtain around them. Unable to stop himself, he stared up at her, bewitched by her freckles up close, the growing flush on her cheeks that reminded him of a sunset.

“Yeah?” he said, his voice hoarse.

“Am I your lockscreen?”

Harry swallowed hard, his chest twisting painfully. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

Her lips quirked upward. “Planned on keeping it a secret for life?”

“Worth a shot,” he said dryly, even though his pulse was racing. She was smiling — could that possibly mean…?

“Yes, well. Now that the cat’s out of the bag, what are you going to do about it?” Her eyes flashed.

His traitorous hand reached up, lightly brushing her hair back. As his fingers skimmed her cheeks, she released an unsteady breath that whispered against his face. Ginny, his best mate’s little sister, his brilliant friend who could kick his arse, who made him laugh until his cheeks hurt.

“Ginny,” he said, barely able to think over the hammering in his heart, trying to form the words he had been reciting endlessly ever since she and Dean split up. “Will you be my lockscreen?”

Wait. Did he just…?

Mortification surged inside him. Where was a hole to bury himself in when he needed it? He would never be able to show his face around the Weasleys again — how was he going to explain that to Ron? He’d go abroad, Scotland maybe, explore castles or woods, anywhere really, just somewhere far, far away.

A peal of laughter tore him from his runaway thoughts. Ginny gave him such a bright smile, it was hard to look at her straight on. She was leaning closer, her eyes blazing. “Only if you’ll be mine.”

“Fair is fair,” he said, holding her gaze for what seemed like an impossible time, the tension between them making his chest want to burst, and then suddenly they were kissing.

He had imagined this moment many times in the past few months since his feelings had all but clobbered him over the head when he and Ron bumped into Ginny and Dean snogging under the bleachers. He’d replaced Dean with himself, imagined his hands around her waist, his lips fused with hers.

But this — this was so much better than anything he could have imagined. All conscious thoughts were obliterated by a warm sunshine that effused his every nerve.

“Harry,” Ginny breathed heavily when they finally broke apart. The smile she was giving him made him smile what was surely the soppiest smile in existence. “That was…”

“Lockscreen worthy?” he asked like an idiot.

She chuckled, her body shifting against him, turning that sunshine inside him to molten heat. “Might need to double check.”

“Happy to oblige,” he said, as she leaned down and kissed him again. He ached to be closer, his hand tangling into her soft hair, and she pressed closer as if also driven by the same reckless desire. He was so lost in her, he only barely registered the distant noise that was getting closer.

“Where’d you go, Har— oh my God!” Ron’s cry pierced through Harry’s hazy brain. “Get off my sister!”

Fear spiked through Harry. He looked up at his best mate (who was hopefully still his best mate), who looked as if he had been clubbed on the head.

“He can’t get off me, I’m on him!” Ginny replied unhelpfully.

“Oh then… Get off my best mate!”

Ron grabbed her ankles and started pulling her off of Harry, but Ginny, in a fit of rebelliousness, clung onto Harry harder.

Over their bickering about “bro code” and “we don’t need your permission” and “took you both long enough, but no snogging in the family room,” Harry let his head fall back with a thunk against the floor.

Nevermind – Scotland it was.

[blushnote]

↳ requested | 1.6k words

↳ dom!wonwoo smut

a/n: HELLO. i’m sure everyone is wondering what’s going on and WHY i’ve been absent for a few months. put simply: things got hectic and i needed a break! i’m not saying i’ll jump back into being completely active again, but that i’m going to come on as often as i can! (which might be every few days or so! i apologize!!)

as a treat for everyone - this features rich girl wonwoo! <3 

wonwoo stands at the street pole, conversing with his friends. the bar is unusually crowded. mostly likely because it’s a friday and there isn’t much else the townspeople would rather do than get plastered, forgetting the atrocities of work. his friend extends a box of cigarettes to wonwoo, offers him one, but he shakes his head.

since getting involved with you, wonwoo has attempted to forfeit smoking. it has always been something he’s done to pass the time at the street corner. plus, he likes the idea of blowing a big, stinging cloud right into someone’s face when they give him attitude. 

instead wonwoo suckles on a lollipop that tastes like an artificially sweet strawberry, pushes up the bridge of his glasses, and folds some silvery hair under his beanie. he knows it’s about the right time for you to be returning from that dinner party your parents forced you into attending.

as wonwoo’s friend exaggerates a tale about getting into a fist-driven confrontation at a bus stop last week, someone strutting by on the packed street bumps wonwoo’s shoulder.

“choose a better place to stand.” the stranger rumbles, agitated.

wonwoo flicks up his middle finger indifferently. “fuck off.” he grunts, the fog of his breath appearing in the night air.

he’s feeling sort of agitated himself. your parents have tethered you to a leash lately, forcing you to all these fancy gatherings and opening ceremonies and dinners. to put it frankly – wonwoo misses you. your laugh, your eyes, the texture of your skin, your voice in his ear. he’s been wanting an excuse to get his hands all over you. every single inch.

that’s when he hears the ding in his jacket pocket. looking away from the dramatic enactment involving his friend driving a fist into his palm, wonwoo checks his phone to see a text from you. a series of images.

23:28 // JPEG.1034

23:28 // JPEG.1035

23:28 // JPEG. 1036

the three pictures load. he chokes on his breath.

23:28 // i know u don’t like when i spoil my lingerie but.

23:28 // don’t i look so cute :( so fuckable?? im srry but I had to :(

his teeth crack the strawberry lollipop into sugary shards in his mouth. that lace is squeezing your flesh in all the right places. the picture with your fingers splayed teasingly over your underwear, hiding your core, it’s enough to make him shudder, salivate even. he’s officially ignoring his friend’s story by tapping a reply, fiddling with the thin stick in his mouth.

(ww) 23:30 // u free now? head to my place.

he receives an answer immediately.

23:30 // hmmm why?

(ww) 23:30 // u know why. don’t act like such a brat.

already, wonwoo can sense the desire form inside him. pounding almost. like a second heartbeat. you’re usually compliant and bending to his carnal whims. maybe all this time away from each other has you forgetting just how well wonwoo can fuck that stubbornness out.

23:30 // it’s new. i don’t want u ripping anything!!

(ww) 23:30 // idc.

23:30 // so mean!! not even gonna let u touch me now :-)

(ww) 23:30 // yeah. ok. we’ll see about it then.

after sliding his phone back in his pocket, wonwoo glances briefly in through the bar window. he sees a bartender pour a glass full of ice cubes before sloshing in a surge of alcohol. at that, wonwoo gets an idea. when his friends question about why he’s leaving so suddenly, he smirks.

“need to teach someone how to behave.” wonwoo shrugs before jogging quickly across the street.

“i’m not gonna tell you again. keep your fuckin’ thighs spread nice and wide for me or else i won’t let you cum – not even once. you understand?”

a harsh dip in your stomach suggests the breath you just inhaled. after a moment of silence, he hears you comply, and watches with his hungry, intent gaze as your legs part open for him. wonwoo has been teasing you with a bowl of ice cubes. at first, he held them to your nipples, had you whimpering into his mouth while he simultaneously rubbed his tongue against yours. but the real fun began when he introduced the ice cubes to your lower region. it was a very different punishment compared to his past endeavours, a tantalizing one.

wonwoo returns the cube to the nook of your inner thigh, then creeps it slowly toward your core. you’re beginning to tremble with the restraint required to not snap your legs shut. the ice cube ghosts transiently up your slit, a contact you had yet to experience, and a beautiful gasp tears from your lungs. he swears that you leak even more onto the sheets.

he takes the cube away, then drags his warm tongue from the bottom of your pussy right to the top, delivering a slow, flat lick which tastes sweet and cold and makes him so unbelievably dizzy with how much he loves it.

“w-wonwoo, please, pl-please keep going.” you stutter, opening your thighs even wider to invite his tongue.

he shakes his head. “what else did i tell you? don’t ask me to do anything. you’ll lie there and you’ll fuckin’ take it.” smiling, wonwoo issues a tight grip on the ice cube and presses it right into your clit. you whine sharp and loud, your hands traveling all over your body in confusion, not sure if it’s more pleasure than pain, or a hot mix of both.

“or are you still interested in acting like such a brat, hm?” wonwoo utters in his deep voice. “ like a smug little princess who thinks she can tease me whenever she wants and she’ll still get my cock all the way inside her? nice and full, just how she likes it. is that it, babygirl?”

he feels the ice melt under his fingers. you can hardly piece together a response, just a very incoherent, “no wonwoo” as tears start slipping down your cheeks. wonwoo takes the cube away, then massages your clit with his thumb, warming you up slowly. a few jolts pass through your body. he can tell you’re falling apart inside with how badly you want to cum, though wonwoo had strictly told you to hold it. he rubs and rubs and rubs, barking at you to control yourself, your pussy so slippery with arousal that it’s running all down your skin and wetting the bed.

right when he feels you’re about to snap, wonwoo completely removes his touch. you wail at that, suckle in a shaky breath and cry his name.

“please, wonwoo! i-i’m sorry, m’soso sorry! i’m sorry for acting so bratty and sending those pictures, t-teasing you like that! but i just c-ccan’t take this anymore. treat me however you want, but please let me cum!”

he’s truly missed the sound of you begging for him. his cock twitches in his pants, reminding him of how hard he currently is. each time you cry the boy’s name in such a lewd manner, there’s another surge of pleasure and he aches even more, to the point where he could cum just from touching himself over his clothes. still, wonwoo must ensure you’ve really learned your lesson. so, he offers you a deal. he’ll get to watch you pleasure yourself with the ice cube until he cums.

and so wonwoo sits in a chair based at the end of the bed, a hand stuffed down his pants, watching you swirl an ice cube at your sensitive core. he guides you every now and then: “hold it right there, pretty baby. let it melt all the way down. that’s it, sweetheart. n-now rub it, okay? f-finger yourself too. nnrgh, f-fuck. fuck you sound so wet. m’gonna c-cum—”

his strokes lash faster until wonwoo’s head rolls back against the chair, his eyes blinking shut while he chases his high. he hears you continue to whine as he cums, his cock throbbing in his hand, still so hard and heavy. in fact, wonwoo requires a moment just to breathe and let the heat circulate properly through his body.

with his fingers covered in the sticky mess of his cum, wonwoo approaches the bed again, fingering it as deep as he can inside you. he’s unable to remove his gaze from the filthy sight. there’s something so raw and intimate about watching his own seed getting pumped into you that sets his whole body aflame. he decides to let you orgasm as well, stimulating your g-spot consistently, letting you clamp down tight and ride his hand until you’ve got a full fix.

wonwoo supposes he’s done his job.

“i don’t think i’ll ever be able to look at an ice cube the same way again.” you laugh, sitting back against the headboard, tucked into his t-shirt.

drawing a warm washcloth between your thighs, wonwoo blinks at you, a very sly grin forming on his mouth. he plants a kiss on your nose.

“good. means it worked.” the boy says.

he folds the cloth over and finishes the last of his cleaning, ensuring there’s nothing more of his fluids that are still leaking out or anything sticking from your orgasm. grabbing your overnight bag off the floor, wonwoo pulls out a fresh pair of underwear and helps you slide into them. your lingerie sits in a pile off to the side, a few lace straps ripped.

“sorry about your little outfit.” wonwoo apologizes, staring at you earnestly. “it was pretty. you look good in everything.” he squeezes your hip and presses a soft kiss to your lips.

“it’s okay.” you murmur. “i’ll order something even better. and i’ll surprise you with it. maybe for your birthday. sound good?”

“mmhm.” wonwoo purrs, pulling you down with him to cuddle up close for the night.

“as long as i can take it off you, sweetheart, i’m fine with that.”

[harrylilies]

The Royal Series | Pt. II

The Royal Series Masterlist

a/n: Damn okay rewriting this made me question how you all liked this before at all because that was cringey as fuck.

---

If anyone had told you or Harry that you would be texting each other from your private numbers only a week before you met, the both of you would have laughed straight to their face.

You remember how before you both parted ways that night at the bar, you stood in front of each other by your car, Farrah having been already in the car and Harry’s band having had bid their goodbyes and “we wish to see you again’s”, but Harry lingered by you.

“Thank you for coming to the show and spending time with my lame friends and I.” Harry had said with his hands clasped behind his back and a small smirk on his face as he tipped his head at you.

“Thank you for helping Farrah and I get seats so soon, and for a wonderful show, and amazing fries and conversation.” You had replied with a smirk that mirrored his.

“Will you be attending any more shows of mine?” Almost timidly, Harry had asked.

“Depends, are you going to invite me?”

His smile had widened, eyes seeming to sparkle at the initiated playful banter you replied with, “Would you accept the invitation?”

“As I said, depends if I even receive one.” You had shrugged.

He had known that this was him shooting his shot – a shot at the Princess of the United Kingdom to be more specific and it sounded absolutely mental. “Well, how do I reach you if I ever want to send an invitation?”

You had given him a smile, eyes staring into his, “You can text me, but how do I trust that you don’t leak my number?” You had teased him.

“How do I know that you won’t leak mine?” Harry had joked, tipping his head to the side as he looked at you.

You had given him a shrug with a smile he could only think of adorable and all its synonyms, “You don’t.”

Having had 5 days before his next show and deciding to go back to London, you had planned to meet for coffee at a place you knew that rarely had anyone visiting but coffee turned to staying for lunch, to trying dessert together, and before either of you had known it, you had spent the entire day together.

The following day, you had FaceTimed as you watched a movie together, Harry slipping halfway through it by saying what you had secretly hoped for and had you giggling and smiling like a young teenager;

“I never thought our second date would be over FaceTime.”

For Harry, it was embarrassing, but you had seen it as hitting a bird with two stones; 1: he considered the day before a date, and 2: he considered that one, too, a date.

But you had assured him when you replied;

“Maybe we can meet tomorrow? So that the third one isn’t virtual?”

And for the third one, you had made dinner together at his house and cried watching The Notebook.

Taking your seat at the table, beside your brother, Har, your grandmother had the family over for breakfast and was later hosting a formal dinner on the same day - two occasions you had to attend but you had informed them that you weren’t going to be able to attend dinner.

"Tiny, is it true you’re not attending dinner?" Your brother, William, asked with the nickname he and Har had created for you ever since you were an infant, as you placed toast on your plate before reaching for jam, Har helping you by giving it to you.

You hummed in confirmation, "I have plans that I can't cancel."

Sighing, William put his fork down and looked at you, "What sort of plans?"

Letting your fork down and intertwining your fingers together, you looked back at him with a raised eyebrow, "Personal ones.”

"Personal pla-"

"Oh, just let her go, will you?" Har chuckled, "It's not going to be the end of the world."

"Don't encourage her, Harry." Your grandmother replied.

"I don't need any encouragement, Granny. I have been attending dinners and formal meetings all my life. I think I deserve to look after myself for a bit, don't you think?"

The table was quiet for a few seconds before Har coughed and shrugged, "I think you're right."

You gave him a thankful smile, watching as he winked at you discreetly.

"I think Y/N knows what she's doing, Will." Kate said softly, glancing at you before looking at your brother who instantly loosened.

"Is he British?" You grandmother asked, making the air hitch in your throat before you eyed Har, who stifled his scoff, knowing that she was indirectly referring to the woman he was with; Meghan.

You only looked at her, eyes wide and mouth slightly opened.

"Well?"

"Is-Is who British?" You cleared your throat.

"The personal reason why you're not attending dinner." She gave you a smile, letting you know that she was keeping up.

"Granny!" You groaned, looking down at your plate, ignoring everyone who sat on the table as they seemed to stifle their laughter at the situation.

"Just remember," Your grandmother began, making you look at her, "You are Y/N, Princess of the United Kingdom, not someone normal. Leave the normal to the normal. If you're seeing Fred, I'll give you my blessing. If not..." She paused before continuing to eat.

Your eyes met Kate’s sympathetic ones before you looked down at your plate, "Of course." You whispered.

You were in a hurry to get breakfast done with so you could go on with your own day.

After a formal visit to a hospital, you were glad to go back to your flat at Kensington, finally feeling your muscles relax as you began to get ready to see Harry.

Although you could have your driver drive you to where Harry was, he was persistent to meet you so you could go to wherever he wanted you to go to, together.

Your driver had driven you the short distance from the palace to where Harry was waiting for you, looking around for you to make sure no one but the 3 of you was around.

“All clear.” He smiled as he turned back to look at you.

“Thank you so much,” you smiled back, “Sorry for the hassle.”

“None of that, YN.” The old man waved you off, causing you to grin before getting out of the car and walking towards Harry’s black Range Rover.

His head turned to look at you, a smile instantly making its way to his face as he got out to greet you, wrapping his arms around you in a quick hug before pecking your cheek.

"Sorry I'm late." You said, catching your breath as you looked at him.

"It's okay. Is everything alright?" He asked, his eyes on you as he took you in.

You nodded, smiling slightly. "It is now.”

Getting in the car and buckling up, Harry drove off after waving at your driver.

He glanced at you before looking back at the road, a dumbfounded smile on his face, “You look beautiful.”

You tried to stifle the wide grin, looking at the window beside you, “Thank you. You look lovely, too.”

“Did I just make her Royal Highness blush?” Harry gasped dramatically.

“Shut it, Styles!” You laughed, feeling all the stress and worry that you had carried with you throughout the day fade, “Also, I’m on AUX duty.”

Arriving at the place where Harry promised to be peaceful, you were helped out of the car by him. Gently holding each other's hands, both aware of the zoo in your stomachs, you walked inside the small restaurant.

"Oh, Harry, you're here!" An old lady exclaimed with an excited grin before her eyes moved to you, her grey eyes going wide. "Is this- Oh my, are you Princess Y/N?"

Biting your lip and afraid she'd give you any special treatment, you reluctantly nodded.

"Your Highness," She gave you a curtesy. "The place is a bit messy. It's not always like tha-"

"No, no!" You quickly interrupted her, "I love it. And please call me Y/N."

"Are you sure? I mean you're..." She trailed off, glancing at Harry who gave her a reassuring nod.

"I am." You smiled softly at her.

“Oh, dear,” she brought a hand to her heart as her face softened, “It’s a pleasure meeting you, Y/N.”

“All mine,...”

“Trisha.”

You smiled, “Pleasure is all mine, Trisha.”

Smiling at the encounter, Harry’s hand was then on your back as he looked at Trisha, "The regular booth." He informed her, beginning to walk towards the end of the restaurant with you.

You sat down, watching as he sat in front of you. "Do you come here often?"

He nodded, "Trisha here," He pointed back with his thumb, "Has seen me at possibly every state. I got lost once and I came here to use their phone and I've been coming here ever since, that was maybe 3 years ago."

"She seems lovely." You smiled.

"She is." Harry agreed before looking at Trisha who came to your table and put two menus in front of you and him.

"I'll be back in a few minutes to take your order."

You smiled at her before opening the menu and skimming through it, “What do you usually get?”

“The s-”

The sound of the door bells chiming grabbed both of your attention, the both of you looking towards it. In came a group of maybe 7 young adults, all laughing and filling the once quiet place.

You noticed it; one guy elbowing his friend and pointing at you with wide eyes and before you knew it, the group of friends were looking at you and Harry with not so discreet whispers.

"Hey," Your head snapped to Harry once you heard him. He leaned forward to talk quietly, eyes showing care, "We can leave if you want."

You slightly smiled and shook your head, "I still want to know your usual plate."

Reaching underneath the table, Harry held his palm open towards you. You glanced from his hand to his face, smiling as you placed your hand in his, feeling Harry give it a squeeze.

The truth was, Harry knew the risk he was taking. He knew that you were way out of his league; hell, if someone told him years ago that he would be on a date with someone from the Royal family, he would've laughed in their face.

Yet, something about you was so soothing. It was almost as if you had a part that needed to explored, a part that you kept to yourself – a part that was just like anyone else; normal. He didn't know what it felt like to be a part of a royal family or even know much about the formal, royal protocol but one thing he knew for sure was that he never felt this way about someone before.

He had never experienced the normalcy of how it felt with you with anyone else.

Eating Harry's usual meal, salmon pasta, you both were sharing stories that had you giggling and all smiles as if you were the only people in the place.

"And before I know it, I'm dragged in the water."

You laughed, "I can't believe you thought your friend was a shark."

"It's not all the time that people drag you into the water!" Harry said defensively but with a chuckle at the end, watching you as you laughed.

"Sure, because sharks have fingers." You sarcastically nodded.

"That-" Harry pointed at you before slumping in his seat, "That's a good point."

With his hands under his chin, Harry watched you talk about that one time you and your best friends, Emma, Farrah and Nia, decided to up and leave England for two days without giving anyone heads up.

"We went to Italy." You finished, smiling down at your finished plate at the memory before looking at Harry, leaning back in your chair.

"Got an earful when you went back home?"

You chuckled, shrugging, "Nothing I'm not used to."

"So the tabloids are true? You like breaking rules?" Harry smirked, tilting his head slightly.

With butterflies in your stomach and a grin on your face, you replied.

"Only when it's worth it."

After sharing dessert, Harry asked for the check.

Holding the paper, Harry took out his wallet as you were taking out yours, “How much is it?” You asked.

He gave you a funny look, “You think I’m letting you pay?”

“Come on, we can’t go through this every time.” You chuckled, trying to snatch the paper from him only to have him pull away.

“Not to sound too proud but you know I’m capable of paying for the both of us for whatever, right?”

“I also know that you don’t have to.” You added.

“But do you know that I want to?” He asked, taking money out discreetly.

You rolled your eyes jokingly at him, “Of course you’d use that line,” you chuckled as he shrugged at you with a cheeky smile, “Fine, I’m leaving the tips though.”

He knew that it was a dead-end so he nodded.

You gave him the money so he could add it with his, “How about we do that from now on? Switch paying and tips with each other,” you suggested, “Next time, I’ll pay and you handle the tips.”

Harry held his hand out, grinning when you shook it, “Deal.”

It felt like the night was getting younger by the second from how neither of you wanted to leave the other and it was why you decided to take a short walk together around the place since it didn’t have any people around it.

It seemed like a rom-com; you walked alongside each other, pinkies softly intertwined as you chattered.

“Uni was probably the nicest period in my life,” you told him, “Nobody seemed to give a shit who I was except for the first week or two but that was just it. We were just a bunch of kids trying to graduate.”

“What did you study?” Harry asked with a smile as the both of you walked slowly.

“Psychology and management.”

“Doubled?”

You hummed, “Was really interesting studying them, but then you have people with you who just get too into it, especially psychology, and,” you laughed, “We would go out of an intense lecture and someone would come up to you and just,” you stopped as you shook with laughed as you stepped in front of Harry, putting your hands on his arms, Harry grinning in amusement, “Harry, the reason why you don’t like ketchup on your salad is because you weren’t hugged enough as a child.”

He burst out laughing, throwing his head back. You laughed along, eyes twinkling at the sight of the man in front of you.

Breathing out with a hand to his heart, Harry looked down at you as the both of you continued to chuckle.

Maybe it was the setting of it all; a normal date with a conversation that flowed as gracefully as a river, the weather being almost perfect, you and Harry grew quiet as you stared at one another, oblivious to the rapidly thumping hearts hidden in your chests.

Gently and ever-so-softly, Harry leaned closer first, moving one soft hand to your right cheek. The coldness of his rings and the air wasn’t what caused you to take a breath in, it was the intense yet soft look he was giving you before the both of you closed your eyes, lips finally pressing against each other in a gentle kiss.

Quietly and gently, you both pulled away, still maintaining the close proximity. Harry was first to open his eyes, a smile drawn to his face as he watched you open yours.

“Only took us four dates to kiss.” You said quietly with a smile.

“Sorry.” In his deep voice, Harry replied as he still cupped your cheek.

“It’s alright,” you reached to place your hand on top of his on your cheek, “You can make up for it.”

And so, you were both beaming as you jogged to Harry’s car, Harry’s lips getting placed on your own as soon as you were hidden in the car.

It was a hot mess with how much you were both laughing, though not knowing why but judging from the way the night went – it was just happiness and excitement, two nouns you had missed using.

Driving you back was fun though it was bittersweet; the both of you sang along to the music you played, Harry feeling comfortable enough to hold your hand as he drove.

“Will you call me?” You asked quietly and bashfully, unbuckling your seatbelt and looking at him.

Harry’s heart fluttered, leaning closer to kiss your lips. “Only if you’ll answer.”

“I’ll consider it.” You teased, pulling him in for another kiss before getting out of the car.

What you hadn’t expected to find was your personal assistant and friend, Emilie, standing outside your flat door the moment it came into sight.

“The Queen wants to see you right now.”

Your smile fell as you looked at the sympathetic look she was giving you.

The 10-minute drive to Buckingham was quiet, thoughts racing through your head like colliding trains.

The walk inside and to where your grandmother was waiting for you was stressful, but you reached her.

Sitting on a chair, your short grandmother had an iPad on her lap, zooming in and out on it.

“You wanted to see me, Granny?”

She looked up, “Ah! Yes,” she nodded before handing you the iPad, “What is this?”

Taking the iPad, your eyes moved from her figure to the screen, your breath hitching in your throat at the picture of you and Harry smiling at each other stared back at you. From the little preview of photos at the bottom, you swiped to see the other familiar pictures.

A picture of you laughing and Harry talking with a smile on his face, a picture of your hand on top of his as you talked, a picture of the both of you leaving with Harry’s hand on your back.

You stayed quiet for a moment before letting a sigh, your shoulders slumping down, “This is why I’m here?”

“Are you shocked?”

“Kind of surprised, yes,” you nodded, “How is me going out with someone bad enough for you to request to see me now?”

“That someone happens to be a singer,” she frowned, feeling as if spitting out his profession, “A singer who comes from a boyband, dresses in a way that no man should, and might I add, sings for a living.”

Your eyes widened, “No man should? Why? How should a man dress, Granny? Suits for jammies and morning coats for a stroll?”

“He’s a singer, Y/N. You’re a Princess!”

“And a human, too, just like him and just like you,” you chuckled in disbelief, “And he’s bloody talented at what he does and it’s impacting so many people all around the world.”

“How long have you been seeing him?”

“Long enough to actually like him.” You replied instantly.

The Queen closed her eyes momentarily before standing up, “Are you aware of how you were born to marry a royal?”

You shook your head, feeling your eyes grow tearful, “Are you aware of how much I miss running to you when I fall down or feel sad like I used to as a child?”

“You know whose fault that is, young lady? Yours,” she pointed, “The moment you decided that you were unsatisfied with your duty as a Royal Princess.”

“No,” you shook your head with a slight dry laugh, “It was when you decided that me having an opinion was too much of a privilege, Granny, especially when it comes to who I see.”

“You’re doing all this for what? For who? Him?”

“You don’t get it,” a tear fell, “It was never for anyone but myself.”

“I care about you, too, and you know that. It’s why it’s best for you to marry Fred, someone who comes from a royal line, not a commoner!”

“A commoner?” You laughed, “What year is this?”

“Don’t speak to me in that tone, Y/N. Especially when the public caught you in the wrong with the Styles boy.”

“Caught me in the wr-What?” with a chuckle, you added, “Because me meeting up and knowing people who don’t walk around with their fancy attires and royal calendar is wrong, right. Where are you going with this, Granny?”

“You shouldn’t be tarnishing the family like that, I will not allow it, Y/N!”

“Then I don’t want anything to do with it!”

And with that, you turned around, hurrying out of the room as you harshly wiped your cheeks, furiously taking out your phone and dialling the one person you wanted to see.

“Hey, love. Didn’t know you were that eager to hear my voice.”

It was your sniffle that had alerted Harry, sitting straighter as he pressed the phone against his ear, his smile and joking demeanour dropping, “Y/N? Love? Are you okay? What is it?”

“Harry, are you at your house?”

“Yeah, love, I am. You want me to come and get you?” He asked urgently.

“No,” you sniffled, “I’ll be there.”

Getting the car, you wiped your cheek again as you looked at your driver who frowned at you crying, “Can you please take me to Harry’s, Barney?”

“Anywhere you want, Y/n.”

---

You rang the doorbell, waiting impatiently on the doorstep before you fidgeted with your hands as you waited.

Only a few seconds later did you snap your head up as the door was – aggressively – opened, viewing Harry who looked like he was waiting for the delivery of his child. He instantly pulled you to his chest, resting his chin on your head. "I was worried sick."

"You told me you're not scared." You whispered after a few seconds of silence in each other's embrace.

Harry pulled back a little, looking down at you, his eyes skimming over every part of your face.

A smile made its way on his face as he leaned in, his lips grazing yours ever so softly. "I'm not scared. Are you?”

Closing your eyes, your hands found their way to the hair at the nape of his neck. "I'm not scared."

Harry closed the space between you, pressing his lips to yours in an assuring kiss. Almost as if it was a seal to a deal.