#about to be incredibly annoying about this two

[ceaselesswatchersspecialboy]

Remember in the Alex hirshe comic con thingy he mentioned that Bill would also watch The Duchess approves

Soooooo would that mean that Stanfraud would watch cheesy old lady soap operas with Stanley?

Also has there been moments where Bill conceplated what will happen when he gets back to his body, what will happen to this family (while not his) that has become attached to.

Another thing I was thinking is how betrayed would Ford feel that Stanley was essentially playing house with Bill and how much anger would he feel at Bill for taking away time he could have had spent with his grand-niece and nephew, and with his brother?

This au is so incredibly interesting >v<!!!

They absolutely watch cheesy soap operas together — all the time. It’s become their thing, honestly.

Bill definitely catches Stan writing his erotic fan fiction (canon information on the website) and will never let him live it down — ever. He does offer to proofread though! But Stan threatens to play synthesised music to get rid of him.

As for Bill’s thoughts on getting his own body back. It’s always been there in the back of his mind, usually as a positive. Finally, he can be free of this annoying skin puppet and get back to prepping for weirdmaggedon. Finally, he can be himself again! But, as the reality of it draws closer, he begins to experience hesitance, which he wasn’t quite ready for. Why would he be hesitant? He’s waited thirty years for this!

(His eyes tend to linger on the two photos Stan keeps down in the basement, one of the twins, and one of everyone: him, Stan, Wendy, Soos, and again, the twins).

Stan also feels a sense of… sadness, maybe? He isn’t quite sure what it is. But there’s something hanging over both of them as they’ve almost figured it out, and, despite the complications behind their friendship, Stan can’t help but ask:

“You’re not gonna just… disappear, are yah? Kids’ll miss you if you did.”

‘I’d miss you’ goes unsaid.

And Bill probably has to pause for a second, caught off guard. Stan swears he almost catches a glimpse of sadness in his eyes, but it’s gone too fast, and Bill forces a grin.

“Oh please, Fez. You couldn’t get rid of me, even if you tried!”

There’s an uncertainty in his voice. Stan doesn’t comment on it.

Honestly, thinking about Weirdmaggedon, I don’t think Bill would be ready to accept how drastically he’s changed yet, even now, and would try to prove this by sticking with it. Albeit, he makes some changes. He doesn’t have to put the Pines in danger! They can be V.I.Ps! Shooting Star’s already a servant of chaos as is, he can let her whip up some creations to terrorise the town! And for Pinetree? Weirdmaggedon would be a front row seat to Gravity Falls’ weirdness on full display. With so much to study, how could he hate it? And Fez hates the law as is, why not let him be above it. Surely he’d appreciate the gesture after all they’ve been through together. A little token of his appreciation. And Sixer… well, he’ll come around once he sees just how safe Bill is keeping their his family. Maybe he’ll even throw Ice and Question Mark in the mix, just to cover all his bases.

Rationalising like that… it makes him a little less hesitant about getting his body back.

He doesn’t tell Stan of course, or anybody, even after it’s revealed who and what he is. It has to be a surprise!

And finally, Ford.

He honestly makes me really upset in this au, because you’re 100% right. He hasn’t just lost 30 years of his own life, he’s also lost 30 years of family. He’s missed his parents’ funerals, the birth of his grand niece and nephew, etc. And apparently, Stanley knew how dangerous Bill was, read all of Ford’s warnings and scattered notes, and still let him be around the kids, still played house with him all those years.

How has Bill manipulated him? He thought Stanley was smarter than that!

He can’t even be happy to bond with his niece and nephew, because they’ve been deceived into thinking he was someone else for months — Bill, no less!

Honestly, it hurts the most when he truly accepts Stan hasn’t been manipulated. He isn’t doing this because he’s been backed into a corner, even if it started off that way. He’s genuinely bonded with that monster. So have the kids. So have the townsfolk who Ford struggled so hard with to connect with.

It’s a lot of salt being rubbed into open wounds.

[communistkenobi]

I’m watching FD Signifier’s new video about edgelord white guy movies. He spends a decent amount of time talking about how creators have responded to their edgelord fanbases, using The Joker and The Boys as two examples, where these creators feel uncomfortable with how their art has been received and taken up by “angry white men,” and that in response to this, they have followed up these artistic products with sequels or new seasons of television that are incredibly blunt and obvious about how you shouldn’t think of Homelander as a based chad or Arthur Fleck as a motivational figure in your life. And like he ends the video saying this is insufficient because these audiences won’t care about the messages in these follow-ups (largely bc these are downstream of larger social issues), but his framing of it in terms of “the death of media literacy” is still really frustrating and annoying because it’s buying into the idea that the main problem with people “not getting” art is literacy/education. And its not just his video, this framing is a popular memetic phrase across social media, and he does a better job than most people in talking about it

But like I just straight up do not accept that the audience of these edgelord movies “didn’t get” that they are portraying bad people, that audiences of mass media are “taking the wrong message” of “very obvious” pieces of art. Not because I think they do secretly get what these films are ‘actually saying,’ I don’t care about what’s in their hearts, but because this concern with people ‘not getting it’ feels wildly off-topic. I think it has been demonstrated over and over again that mass media is not an educational tool where people go to “learn lessons” or “take away a particular message.” I think the very fact that we have a consumptive marketised relationship to these artistic products structures and produces a specific set of responses, which is, above all else, “getting my money’s worth.” Who gives a shit what the movie is ‘really’ trying to say! That’s unimportant when faced with the question of did I get what I paid for? And I don’t mean this in an annoying lib “consumerism is making us all stupider” way I mean the economic structure of artistic production is the primary determinant of how commodities on a market are received. The idea that, under these conditions, we can purchase a piece of art that will “teach us” something about the world is laughable, that art-by-itself contains the authority to impart political knowledge. The idea that we can purchase our way into good values, good politics, that we can buy a movie ticket and see the error of our ways is buying into this same exact consumptive framing.

“The death of media literacy” implies a point in recent history where this economic relationship to art was unimportant, that we used to be able to participate in mass standardised artistic production and be unaffected by this arrangement. I think about Adorno & Horkheimer’s argument in The Culture Industry, that the profit motive is itself an object of consumption under capitalism, that advertisements are themselves products & as a result, all mass standardised artistic products are advertisements for their own capitalist production processes and logics. 

I think when people “don’t get” that Starship Troopers is depicting a fascist society, when people “don’t get” that Travis Bickle is a bad, un-admirable person, they aren’t stricken by a sudden deficit of education or literacy, they are responding to the conditions under which these things get made. Being able to get art’s “true message,” no matter how supposedly clear or compellingly-articulated, is to argue that ‘message’ and ‘meaning’ can be made independent of the conditions under which those things are created and presented to people. The industrial capitalist machinery outputting standardised artistic products is itself an authority telling you how to interpret its own products, much the same way a cathedral is presented as evidence of god. There is a material & physical authority in their presence and social arrangement that are themselves arguments. Adorno talks about this with the radio - that this vast industrial infrastructure of radio towers, broadcast stations, systems of wires and cables, and the production of standardised radio receivers (available for purchase, of course) is utterly incomprehensible to most people and amounts to hearing the voice of god when you turn on the radio. The arrangement of artistic production & presentation is itself the structure through which you experience art, and that structure is an authority you can neither comprehend nor alter. And again as A&H say in The Culture Industry, the techniques, narratives, and genres of the culture industry become standardised themselves, cookie-cutters on a production line, and therefore dictate meaning above and beyond any particular semantic meaning injected into an individual film or story. “Romcoms” are a cultural authority above and beyond the sum total of every romcom film ever made, and it is these genres and techniques that transmit the justification for their own continued reproduction. Under this arrangement, the meaning of this film or that television show are rendered marginal - not unnoticeable or irrelevant, certainly, but secondary to the cookie-cutters they were produced from 

Now does this lead to a widespread ignorant, impoverished, reactionary view of art? Of course, but that is not because the guy who likes wearing V for Vendetta masks is illiterate. To place the blame on individual education, discipline, or literacy is to take Hollywood for granted as a natural eternal entity, to take it as just another church. It’s a goofy fucking argument! 

[brooklyncircus]

"Until you..." part. 4.

Hiromi Higuruma x reader.

Until you arrived, Hiromi Higuruma used to hate the damned sound of the rooster alarm, which constantly reminded him (to his frequent irritation) that he was alive, had to go to work, and continue with the same boring routine. Again.

But this time, he woke up before it went off, feeling strangely optimistic. He realised he wasn’t angry with the world. In fact, he was grateful, as everything that had happened... had led him to the moment he finally met you.

Realising this, he gave a faint smile, though he was still quite drowsy, with the sheets tangled around his legs and his hair even messier than usual.

With the feeling that the pillow’s imprint was still visible on one side of his face, Hiromi decided it was time to get up. With an exaggerated yawn, he headed towards the windows to check the weather outside.

"Today’s going to be a great day," he kept repeating in his mind, hoping it would be. His optimism was based on the belief that he’d see you again, even if only for a few minutes.

Put simply, Hiromi wanted to know if you’d survived the night. Or if you were still alive. Or if you weren’t merely a hallucination brought on by exhaustion or lack of sleep, or his own self-imposed work burnout (which was very likely, knowing him).

More than anything else, he wanted to know if you were alright.

The simple act of checking that you were still whole, alive, or pretending to be okay would be enough to calm his rising anxiety.

He grabbed the curtains and, with an anticipation and joy that felt fake and foreign, drew them open. “Ah—damn it!” he cursed under his breath, covering his eyes.

He knew he was being paranoid, but it felt as if the spirits in his flat were laughing at his foolishness. Because, upon pulling back the curtains, the sun hit him directly in the eyes, leaving him momentarily blinded.

After his small mishap—or supreme moment of idiocy—he got ready. He headed to the bathroom, washed his face and teeth, and attempted to tame his hair with a comb and a bit of gel, only to curse two seconds later because it didn’t turn out how he wanted, and a few stubborn strands refused to lie flat. Slowly, he put on his suit, shoes, and adjusted his tie.

That was one thing he found incredibly annoying: his tie. Despite several people showing him how to tie it, how to make that damned knot, he just couldn’t do it. He couldn’t. And he found himself staring at himself in the mirror, with the suicidal urge to hit his forehead against it in one go, shatter it, and then head off to work.

Minutes later, he found himself walking through the station. He’d already paid his fare, and he was nervous. Very, very nervous. His heart was about to burst from his chest, or break his ribs, or explode. Any unpleasant, intense, disgusting thing that could happen at that moment, he imagined it in full detail.

He felt tense, his shoulders stiff, and his knuckles white from gripping his briefcase so tightly.

In the distance, he heard the train approaching at full speed. He swallowed hard and felt himself starting to sweat with anticipation—he knew it.

“Maybe I’ll faint,” he thought, and felt an urge to burst into laughter at how stupid he’d look if it happened. “Maybe I could just throw myself onto the tracks and…”

The train doors opened before him, and he walked inside, feeling himself tremble. The elderly lady beside him, with wrinkled skin and white hair, gave him a curious and slightly worried look but said nothing.

There were so many people, he had to hold onto the railings attached to the ceiling to stay standing. He swallowed hard again, already hearing his own heartbeat in his ears.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

His vision was beginning to blur until...

“Oh! I’m so sorry, sir. Truly. I’m very sorry. I swear I didn’t mean to bump into you or, even less, step on you, I just…” the woman’s voice stumbled over her words, sounding both startled and embarrassed.

That voice…

Hiromi recognised it instantly, and he’d only heard it once in his life.

“But once was enough,” he thought. Yes, once was enough to recognise it anywhere.

In any life.

He turned and looked at the woman. At you. He sighed, relieved, and nearly smiled. Gently, he took hold of your arm to steady you at his side.

You were alive.

She looked at him for a split second and recognised him. How could she not? He was the man who, the previous morning, had helped her find the station to get to the library.

She knew she’d recognise him anywhere.

And because of this, a rosy blush coloured her cheeks as she stood beside Hiromi, attempting to hold onto the same ceiling rail, her hand mere inches from his.

“Don’t worry, there’s no need to apologise,” he reassured her in a kind, soft, almost tender voice. He was happy to see her again, even if just for a few minutes. “Hold on tight; the train’s quite crowded today…”

Until you arrived, Hiromi Higuruma used to hate the damned sound of the rooster alarm, which constantly reminded him (to his frequent irritation) that he was alive, had to go to work, and continue with the same boring routine. Again.

But this time, he woke up before it went off, feeling strangely optimistic. He realised he wasn’t angry with the world. In fact, he was grateful, as everything that had happened... had led him to the moment he finally met you.

[bottomlouisficfest]

We hope you’ve enjoyed the last couple of weeks of fics from the Bottom Louis Fic Fest 2024! Every two weeks, we’re compiling all of the fics from that period into one roundup post so they’re easy to find for anyone looking to catch up on fics they missed. Enjoy these amazing fics and give them the love they deserve!

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I am br(ok)en

A fic by SweetieR on AO3 | @SweetieR08 on Twitter

53k | Explicit | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Harry is a 28 year old Alpha who just got his heart broken by his long-term boyfriend. What happens when he meets Louis, a 30 year-old omega who is the spitting image of his ex? Sparks fly and hearts get on the line... Will Harry be able to understand his feelings before it's too late and he loses everything ? Or - The one where Harry is a stupid (stubborn) Alpha who can't understand what his heart is trying to tell him after the worst heartbreak of his life, and Louis is the sweet omega who arrives out of nowhere, wanting nothing more than being loved and cherished.

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Soft Hands Organics - Adore Sensitive Skin

A fic by SilverStuff50 on AO3 | @silverstuff50 on Tumblr | @SilverStuff50 on Twitter

8k | Explicit | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Prompt 504: PWP where OMC/Harry owns a skincare line and is about to launch extensive butt skincare products. The problem is that they are a small business and do not have enough budget to hire a model who would show their naked bum cheeks online for limited pay. Enter Louis, who could be a friend to a friend who’s up for it. Ass worship. OR The Ass Worship fic...

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don't make me feel special

A fic by moaismee on AO3

27k | Mature | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Prompt 118: Its only when Harry is chosen for the Triwizard tournament that Louis realizes that his feelings are returned. Make it ABO please.

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I love it better if I repeat it many times; firefly, firefly, firefly ᡣ𐭩

A fic by puppyvirginloui on AO3 | @puppyvirginloui on Twitter

66k | Not Rated | Tumblr post | Twitter post

“Louis, don't marry him.” he gasped loudly as the alpha cornered him at the engagement party. Louis watched behind Harry to make sure that no one was paying attention to them. “Please don't.” he begged, Louis' blood was boiling, he roughly pulled away from the curly’s firm grip. He couldn't believe his audacity. “What's wrong with you? You just asked Naomi for her hand, you asshole!” He yelled through clenched teeth, still looking behind his back. Harry shook his head for a few seconds, holding his hair that was ruined in a flash. “I can't believe it. You’re-” “I know you don't love him. I saw it in your eyes, Lou. Please.” The brunette omega fell silent, opening his mouth in astonishment, the ring he'd received from Rowan identical to Naomi's weighed heavier against the accusation that fell from the alpha on him. Harry took a step closer, they were practically already close from a start, right now, their chests were brushing. He watched his pleading gaze, his large, warm hands clinging to his arms, Louis felt his mark burning. “Harry-” “If you ask me, I won't get married. If you ask me, I’ll give up on all of this.” His heart along with his knees went weak.

--

No bananas in the library

A fic by emmli28 on AO3 | @emmli28 on Twitter

36k | Explicit | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Sometimes it all starts with a dare, sometimes the dare comes later, and sometimes the dare is actually the push someone needs to be brave enough to talk to someone. Louis wouldn’t say Harry is his enemy but that loud frat boy can be incredibly annoying, always disturbing Louis when he tries to study, and Louis has certainly told him so. And he’s always eating his disgusting bananas. However, one day Harry approaches him to say that he wants to get to know Louis. This isn’t the typical “dare”-story.

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we're leading each other out of the dark

A fic by anditsonlyforthebrave on AO3 | @HARRYSC1NEMA on Twitter

16k | Not Rated | Tumblr post | Twitter post

“But I don’t want you to think that I left because I didn’t care,” Harry admits, “Lou, you’re terrifying in the best way. And I knew that if I told you, if I said goodbye, I would’ve come back crying after two weeks,” Harry explains, “and I wish I had a better explanation, but everything I have ever said to you was true. I loved you, and you were the most important person in my life and I never, ever wanted to let you down.” “But you left me.” Harry nods, “and you hid the fact that I had a child for six years, involving my own mother.” “But you left me,” Louis repeats. or Harry leaves and never looks back, only for him to eventually come home to find Louis and a little girl that looks exactly like him.

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I used to call you my best friend way back before you were my everything

A fic by @roselouis on AO3 | xx on Tumblr | @locksloxlahks on Twitter

7k | Explicit | Tumblr post | Twitter post

“Okay, this is going to sound insane, but I really can’t stop thinking about you.” Louis’ eyes widened and his heart skipped. “How do you mean?” he whispered. “I mean. I kind of, like, want you. And like. I don’t know if I can have you.” “Oh, yes you absolutely can,” Louis gained confidence at Harry’s sudden lack thereof. “What? I was supposed to look after you, and now, not only have I gone and put myself in a position to not be there for you, but I also just. Want you. What would everyone think?” “Harry, I—I want you, too. Who cares what anyone thinks? Do you mean my parents? They’ll live, considering they love you more than they love their own sons sometimes.”

--

as the summer fades away

A fic by cinnamons on AO3 | @sunbellylou on Tumblr | @sunbellylou on Twitter

66k | Explicit | Tumblr post | Twitter post

Harry and Louis were not supposed to be. And that was a fact Louis had been very aware of for the past decade. It was just the way the universe was. And Louis knew there was no bending and pushing that would change the facts. Harry was his neighbor and his father’s best friend. A constant in Louis’s life for years. Sturdy and unmoving, with an ever present frown pulling on his mouth. Unattainable. When Louis landed back in Texas after graduating college, he learned that sometimes the universe could bend a little at his will.

–

Remember to give these fics kudos and comments, and spread their fic posts!

–

All roundups will be linked here:

Weeks 1-2 Roundup

Weeks 3-4 Roundup

Weeks 5-6 Roundup

Weeks 7-8 Roundup

[hard-core-super-star]

if you're weak, come to me [wandanat]

pairing: top!natasha romanoff x bottom!wanda maximoff

summary: wanda gets injured during a mission and natasha is TOTALLY fine with that (not). they seek each other's comfort in the only way they know how.

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT -> porn with so many feelings and a dash of plot; mentions of dom/sub dynamics; natasha has so many feelings and no way of verbalizing them; wanda's brattiness is implied; fingering {wanda receiving}; flirty banter; begging; teasing; so many kisses; non-fatal injuries; mentions of blood; not mentioned but this takes place somewhere between age of ultron and civil war

wordcount: 3.6k

a/n: so...this week has been a LOT, i have many thoughts but they're all scattered and filled with rage so i'll save them for another time. the U.S election results have left me feeling both incredibly hopeless and numb and to counteract the heaviness of the moment, i decided to finish this fic instead of spiraling or doomscrolling. easier said than done but it's fine. thank you so much to the lovely person who commissioned this, i had a great time writing for this paring. i still don't feel super confident about my characterization of natasha but it's getting there 😅 anyway, enough rambling, i'm sending you guys all my love and support, my askbox is always open <3

* * * * * * *

No one said being an Avenger was easy.

Outside of the long hours, and the possibility of the world ending every other day, there were the unmeasurable amounts of guilt and regret and worry that seemed to plague each and every one of them. They could probably keep a whole building of therapists employed with the amount of trauma they carried.

Everyone at the compound was well aware of their personal situations, but no two felt it as strongly as Natasha and Wanda. There was no denying how well they worked together, how easy their chemistry was, the way they knew exactly what to do to stop each other from spiraling when they needed it most.

Unfortunately, there were moments where their worries clashed together and left them feeling worse than usual.

Moments like today.

Wanda had been chosen to go on a mission without Natasha and the widow had managed to threaten just about everyone she could think of until she was able to go with her girlfriend.

It all would have been fine had the witch not been incredibly annoyed by what she felt to be an overreaction. Even that would have been fine if they hadn't ended up going on the mission while they were still upset with each other.

They weren't mad enough to not worry about each other, but they still chose to go separate ways and focus on getting different things done. Something that would have been fine had Wanda not been ambushed by far too many enemy agents at once.

Steve had been the closest one to the witch and had managed to get there before things turned too sour. Unfortunately, that had been enough to make the Widow spiral. She'd heard her girlfriend request backup in that shaky voice that gave away her fear and she'd been unable to do anything about it.

If Steve had taken any longer to get to Wanda...she didn't want to think about what could have happened. She couldn't think about it.

And yet it was the only thing on her mind on the way home.

The mission had been successful, but she still felt like a failure. Like somehow, despite how inaccurate of an assessment it was, it had all been her fault. If she hadn't allowed her ego to get the better of her, she would have been there. She would have been able to help her girlfriend before she got hurt.

The witch wasn't mortally wounded in any way, but that didn't matter to her.

Wanda, for her part, felt fine. Sure, she was sore and in pain and bleeding, but she was an Avenger, getting hurt came with the territory.

It became obvious to her that her girlfriend didn't feel the same way as her when the redhead decided to ignore her on the way home. The Quinjet was small, and yet the distance between them felt massive.

It wasn't like her to sneak into people's minds without permission, but this was different. This was Natasha, and her concern for her outweighed most of her guilt around using her powers around her.

Maybe it was a bad idea, but she did it anyway, and it allowed her to see the pain her girlfriend was carrying on her shoulders. It pained her to know Natasha was blaming herself. That she didn't believe she was worth all the love the younger woman had for her.

There wasn't an easy solution to that kind of guilt, but Wanda would be dammed if she allowed her girlfriend to continue to suffer in silence.

The second they landed back at the Compound, Natasha made her way to the witch's side. There was an unreadable expression on her face as she looked her lover over and she silently extended her hand out for her.

Wanda wasted no time in accepting her help.

They made their way to their shared room, holding onto each other a little tighter than necessary. Neither of them commented on it, though, they needed the physical contact more than they were willing to admit out loud.

The silence between them bordered on awkward, but they didn't even attempt to break it. They needed to have a long conversation and it needed to happen away from prying eyes and ears.

After a tense walk, they managed to make it inside their room, and Natasha instantly set the younger woman down on the bed. "Do you need to change your bandages?"

The mention of the badly wrapped bandages made Wanda chuckle despite herself. She wasn't sure whose idea it was to go on a mission without Dr. Banner who, despite how awkward he could be about it, always did a great job at patching them up when they were hurt. Sure, it wasn't his area of expertise, but he was much better at it than Steve.

"No, I'm okay," she replied, not aware of the effect her words were going to have on her girlfriend.

The Widow let out a loud scoff. "Oh, you're okay? You were stabbed and shot at but you're okay?"

"'Tasha-"

"Don't." Her tone left no room for arguing. "You're hurt, I'm allowed to be pissed off about it."

"I never said you couldn't be upset," Wanda muttered in response. "But that doesn't change the fact that I'm fine."

It was a shitty argument, but it was the best she could do given the circumstance. There was no way to win out over Natasha's stubbornness, so the only thing she could do was hope her words would eventually get through to her. That seeing her so sure that everything was fine would bring her out of the spiral she was stuck in.

The only response the Widow gave was a long sigh, her eyes betraying the true weight of her feelings.

Her hand reached out before she could stop it, and Wanda met her halfway, leaning into her touch with a small smile.

Natasha's fingers trailed across the witch's jawline as her eyes took in every little scrape that painted her delicate features. A part of her knew  she was overreacting. That they're safe and sound and Wanda's injuries will heal in no time.

And yet, it was impossible to stop desperation from building within her. The worries that threatened to swallow her whole if she allowed herself to think about things too much.

"'Tasha." Wanda's voice was barely above a whisper as she tried to get through to her lover one more time. "I'm okay."

"You were hurt."

"I've been through worse."

The words were meant to be reassuring, but they had the opposite effect. If anything, they made Natasha feel more helpless. Like despite all her skills, all her knowledge, all her training, she'll never be able to keep her lover safe.

She'll never be enough.

"Stop that, you're more than enough."

Her eyebrow raised involuntarily in response. "Get out of my mind, little witch."

"Hey! It's not my fault your thoughts are so loud."

Despite the heaviness that still lingered within her, a chuckle managed to escape past her lips. In an instant, she leaned forward to press a quick kiss to Wanda's pouting lips.

It amazed her how soft the witch could be after all the pain and violence she grew up in.

More than that, it amazed her how quickly her mood was able to shift when she was with the younger woman. How easy it was for her fears to disappear when they were together.

A soft smile was written across her features when she pulled away from her lover, her eyes a mirror that reflected the affection that was clear in the witch's eyes.

"Let me fix you up, detka." Her voice was barely above a whisper, but there was no denying the weight behind her words. "I promise I'll be quick."

Wanda couldn't help but shift nervously in response. It wasn't like she didn't trust Natasha, of course she trusted the redhead, but she knew how she could get. How easy it was for her to get caught up seeing monsters instead of shadows.

"I...are you sure? My bandages should be okay for a few hours."

"Not with the way Steve wrapped them," Natasha replied with a hint of humor in her tone.

The humor wasn't enough to mask her worry, and yet Wanda felt herself relaxing a little. If it helped her girlfriend feel better, she had no complaints about allowing her to clean her wounds up a little.

"Okay."

It was a single word that conveyed the trust she held in the redhead.

Wanda shifted back on the bed until she was laying down with her head resting on their pillows. She'd been in this position many times before, but this was different. There was an edge of vulnerability that clung to the air between them, a need for reassurance that neither of them could verbalize.

Natasha moved closer, not quite settling between the witch's legs, simply coming close enough to reach for her shirt. Her hands shook slightly as she lifted her girlfriend's shirt, her eyes taking in every inch of smooth skin that was revealed to her. Her heart ached in her chest as she examined each and every one of the cuts and bruises that littered her torso.

"I promise I'm okay," Wanda whispered, noticing her girlfriend's hesitation.

"I believe you."

Still, her head ducked down until her lips met the skin that had been revealed to her.

The gasp that escaped past the younger woman's lips made her smile. She still didn't feel completely okay but the helplessness that had settled in her chest was slowly easing away.

Her lips traced every inch of battered skin they could reach, her hands pushing the fabric up and over Wanda's head. With her shirt out of the way, she was able to fully look over the  bandages wrapped around her girlfriend's injuries. They didn't look as bad as she had expected them to and she subconciously let out a sigh of relief.

It didn't matter how many times she was reassured that the younger woman was fine, she needed to see it with her own eyes. To realize she wasn't bleeding out, there was no bullet lodged inside her, no sharp knife sticking out of her. She was fine.

She was safe.

And she was already arching her back in the way that made the Widow lose all of her control.

It wasn't about the pleasure, though. They both knew that. It was about comfort.

About being there for each other in the only way that was able cut through their anxieties. Maybe it was wrong to have to rely on the physical to get rid of the mental strain they were always under, but it made sense to them. More than that, it worked.

Because as much as they trusted and loved each other, being vulnerable wasn't something that came easy to them. Especially not after a mission when their fight or flight insticts were still on.

"I'm here," Natasha mumbled, shifting until she was hovering over her girlfriend. "I'm right here, Wands."

The words brought a beautiful smile to the witch's face. "I know...but you're still too far."

Wanda managed to work up enough courage to wrap her arms around Natasha's neck. She tried to keep her grip loose, just in case the Widow wasn't ready for too much physical contact.

"Patience," she replied. "I'm in the middle of something here. I still haven't cleaned you up."

The witch couldn't help but roll her eyes at that. The last thing on her mind right was her injuries. She felt fine. More than that, she felt weirdly needy and she needed her girlfriend's lips in a completely different spot.

She knew complaining probably wouldn't get her very far, but she couldn't help it. Maybe some light playfulness would help Natasha feel better.

"Come on, 'Tasha, that can wait. I need you right now."

The redhead paused for a second, green eyes focused intently on Wanda's face. She thought things over for a second, silently analyzing the situation in front of her. Her girlfriend seemed fine. All that seemed to linger were her wounds but not the pain they had initially brought.

It was irresponsible, she knew that much, but how was she supposed to deny her beautiful lover?

"How are you always so needy?" She replied, her soft smile growing just a tad bit teasing. "Don't tell me I've spoiled you too much."

"Maybe you have." Wanda shrugged. "There's nothing wrong with that."

"I beg to differ."

Natasha leaned down to capture the witch's lips again. This time, there was a little less softness to the contact and a little more urgency. And a lot of unrestrained desperation neither of them knew what to do with.

One kiss turned into two which turned into Wanda digging her nails into Natasha's shoulders while her hips bucked involuntarily. The Widow's thigh was too far to provide the witch with any real friction and yet it only made everything feel ten times more intense. An intensity that always seemed to catch up to them when they were together in such a way.

"Nat..." Wanda groaned, head tilting back in both pleasure and desperation.

"I know." Despite the teasing edge to her response, there was nothing but affection in her tone. Nothing but devotion for her lover. "What did I say about patience?"

One of Natasha's hands made its way between their bodies, her fingers tracing a path she knew by memory. The witch didn't seem to be in the mood for much teasing but she couldn't help it. There was something so exciting about turning her girlfriend into a desperate mess.

She knew, on some level, where it came from. That Wanda needed to be taken care of just as badly as she needed to be in control. They were on opposite ends of the same spectrum.

The witch arched her back in an attempt to push her chest further into Natasha's hand, a quiet moan leaving her lips as she teased her hardned nipples. "Stop teasing."

"I've barely started, detka. Don't tell me you already can't handle it?"

"You're so mean."

"You like it."

Wanda didn't have any time to refute that claim because right when she opened her mouth to speak, the redhead decided to finally give in to what her body needed.

"I oh-" The witch's body shuddered as Natasha's hand moved down, slidding into her tight pants and cupping her wet heat. The fabric of her underwear was still in the way, but neither of them cared too much about the obstruction.

Matching moans left their lips as the Widow found the wet spot staining the younger woman's underwear, her fingers moving over the soaked fabric with renowed purpose.

"What was that?" Natasha teased. "Were you going to say something?"

Her girlfriend's tone had Wanda clenching around pure air, her hips bucking involuntarily in search of more friction. "N-no."

"Are you sure? I can stop if you need me to."

"Fuck no. Don't stop...please."

"Good girl."

The praise sent shivers down Wanda's spine and effectively turned all her thoughts to pure mush. It should have been embarrassing how quickly she fell apart for her lover and yet all she could feel was pleasure. And maybe a little pride at how fast she managed to make Natasha give in to what she wanted.

That sort of pride was mutual, though, and it caused desire to thrum in their veins. Desire for what? That wasn't as easy to figure out. Thankfully, they had nothing but time to try.

Natasha quickly grew tired of teasing her girlfriend. Not because she didn't want to keep doing it (she really really did), but because she could tell she needed more. And after the day they'd had, she wasn't sure she'd be able to deny the witch anything.

Her fingers slid inside Wanda's ruined underwear, relishing the loud gasp that escaped the younger woman when she brushed against her clit. The witch was always sensitive, and today was no exception. It made these kinds of moments all the more exciting for her.

"Oh, fuck." Wanda's voice came out more like a whine than anything else. "Please."

"Please what?" She responded, leaning down to trail kisses down the witch's jawline. "Use your words like a good girl."

The only response she could form for a few seconds was another whine. Natasha always knew exactly what to do, exactly what to say, to help her sink down into that fuzzy, submissive headspace she was slowly getting used to. They hadn't done much exploring, too busy with never-ending missions to safely allow the witch to slip, but the safe experimentation they'd done had taught them both more than enough.

Mainly, it taught them how much they both thrive in that type of scenario. How much they depend on each other, on and off the battlefield.

"Don't stop," Wanda begged, feeling her hesitation fade away with every second that went by. "Touch me, fuck me, anything, please."

If Natasha was in a crueler mood, she would have taken her time to tease the younger woman. To play with her until she was a writhing, whimpering mess beneath her.

As fun as that sounded, she wasn't in the mood for that today. She wanted to let go. To help Wanda let go until all that was left was the two of them, locked together, in the sanctuary of their room.

"That's my girl." Her words were accompanied by the movement of her fingers. They slid through Wanda's slick folds before slowly easing in to her cunt. "Fuck, you're soaked for me, detka."

The witch was more than wet enough to take Natasha's fingers but the Widow still took her time, working two fingers inside and diligently watching her lover's face contort with pleasure. The way her walls fluttered around her was intoxicating, drawing the digits in deeper and practically begging her to stay buried inside her.

She moved slowly. Not because she wanted to tease but because she wanted to draw out the sensations. To overwhelm Wanda with the devotion she couldn't properly express most days.

To be fair, it didn't seem like the younger woman minded. They were both broken, albeit in different ways, and they seemed to understand eachother without words. It was the most comforting thing either of them had ever known.

But God, she was so afraid of losing this. Of losing the one good thing she had. The one person who didn't see her as the Black Widow or a S.H.I.E.L.D. product. To Wanda, she was simply 'Tasha and it meant far more to her than anything else.

It wasn't hard for Wanda to realize the change in her girlfriend's thoughts. The sudden change in her breathing, the glosiness that overtook her eyes. She knew exactly what it meant and she knew she had to do something before the redhead started drowning in her thoughts.

So, she did the only thing she could think of right now. Mainly because thinking was getting difficult and it wasn't like she could move around too much with the Widow's fingers buried in her pussy.

Her hands moved to Natasha's face, cuping her cheeks and bringing her closer until their lips met once again. The kiss was a stark contrast to the movements of the redhead's fingers, but neither of them seemed to care.

All they cared about was being together.

Wanda pulled away first, her panting breaths turning into whimpering gasps. The coil in her stomach was about ready to snap, her hips bucking desperately into the readhead's hand. "Nat- I can't, I need-"

"What do you need, detka?" She asked, even though she already knew the answer. She couldn't help it, she loved the way the witch's eyebrows furrowed in frustration when she interrupted her just to tease her.

"Need to cum, please-" Her words turned into a moan when Natasha's thumb found her swollen clit. "Please, can I cum?"

The desperation in her girlfriend's voice made the redhead smile proudly. It was hard to think about her fears when she had the witch like this. Completely and utterly under her spell.

"Of course," she replied, speeding up the thrusts of her fingers in an attempt to bring Wanda even closer to falling apart. "Come on, be a good girl and cum for me."

The witch felt overwhelmed in the best way. All she could think about, all she could feel, was Natasha. Her words, her hands, the pleasure only she was able to bring her. It was all too much yet it felt so good.

Her walls clenched around the Widow's fingers as she lost control of herself, giving in to the pleasure and letting everything else fade away. All it took was a few sharp thrusts of Natasha's fingers before she was moaning her lover's name, her eyes squeezing shut while she rode the waves of pleasure that crashed into her.

The redhead worked her through her orgasm, making sure to slow down a little to avoid overstimulating the younger woman. She leaned down to pepper kisses across each and every inch of Wanda's neck to help ground her a little more.

Neither of them were sure how much time went by before Wanda was able to open her eyes again, but when she finally did, the large, slightly goofy, smile on her face instantly gave away how she was feeling.

Still, Natasha asked anyway.

"You okay?"

"Hmmm, yeah."

The Widow chuckled, her heart practically bursting out of her chest at the sight of Wanda so happy and relaxed. It was a sight that never failed to make her feel better, no matter how shitty her day had been before.

"Good." She placed a few extra kisses across Wanda's face before shifting further down her body. "Because we're not done yet."

Natasha was talking about the remaining injuries she hadn't taken a look at yet but if they got up to other things too...well, she wouldn't complain about that.

[01zfan]

part two: throwback | l. sh

music major!sohee x reader | 8.8k words

the party that takes place on the 14th of august at giselle's house in oud-zoid.

contains: making out, a little bit of hand stuff, other people are in the room sleeping. other idols mentioned for world building purposes

taglist: @http-yeonjun, @soheefleurs, @melobin, @naa-ri7, @antoncore, @jvngw0nlvr, @hcluvie, @seokiebin, @snowyseungs, @catawin, @soheecore, @byeonwooseokabs, @nakam00t, @area127, @bubbletaeq, @allyloops, @osakhee, @ikisswonbin, @sftsohee, @seungheartyou, @kingsoowolves, @gacktsa, @niinaspeaks, @katarinaablu, @kkumistars, @dearmyouth, @leeloostayhere, @huan9jun, @bingbonghyuck

Sohee was laying in his bed when Anton came in. The door slamming shut caused Sohee to pull the notification tab down on his phone. 9:56PM was incredibly too early for Anton to be home. Usually this time of day Anton would be pregaming at his friends house, or already be at some party. He heard Anton go into his room first, the sound of his door closing and the sound of him looking for something crossed through their shared walls. Things hit the ground with a dull thud and for a second Sohee was worried they were getting robbed. Sohee left the door unlocked after Anton forgot his keys one too many times, and knowing his luck their could be someone ransacking their home thinking no one was here. 

Sohee paused the show on his phone and sat up in his bed slightly. Right before panic was about to settle in and Sohee was about to launch fully into fight or flight mode, Anton spoke.

“Sohee!” Anton called through the wall. 

Anton drug out the last syllable of his name and said it too sweetly. Sohee knew that a favor was about to be the next thing to fall from his roommates lips. Maybe getting robbed would’ve been better than this. He was silent in his bed, not moving another inch. Maybe Anton would think he was at class, or not here. But as if Anton could see through their shared wall he spoke again.

“I know you hear meeeee.” He taunted.

“What Chanyoung?” Sohee spoke just loud enough for it to go through the wall. 

“Come with me to this party.” Sohee could practically see Anton pressed against his wall, ear to the plaster listening for Sohee’s response like a child. “It’s in a really fancy flat in Oud-Zoid.” He said.

Sohee knew about that place. That’s where the wealthy families and transfer students that came from money stayed. Anton had a chance to stay in housing in that area if Sohee remembered correctly. But no fancy housing or a party could take Sohee away from his bed. He shook his head first and went back to his phone.

“Not going.” Sohee said simply.

Sohee then heard more crashing, Anton’s door opening, and his roommates loud steps to his closed door. Sohee looked from his spot on the bed to the shut door. Once again he imagined Anton on the other side, waiting for the invitation to come in.

“It’s unlocked.”

Instantly, his door was open. Anton took one look at Sohee on his phone and groaned loudly. Sohee groaned back, and then Anton groaned again. Sohee didn’t know what to do about Anton sometimes. Sohee was used to being the defiant younger brother his whole life, and Anton was the responsible younger brother. He didn’t know what to do now that the roles were reversed, that Anton was the one teasing him and doing everything in his power to piss him off. Sohee found it even harder to use his hyung privilege on Anton. Authority felt weird on him, so most of the times there would be a standoff of who can be more childish.

Anton always won.

“You just spend everyday locked in this room in one of the best cities in the world.” Anton came in and sat on the edge of Sohee’s bed. He let out an annoyed sound as his body leaned towards Anton’s. “I thought you said that you wanted to go out more.” Anton said matter-of-factly.

After about ten more minutes of convincing, Sohee and Anton were heading towards a function in Oud-Zoid. Sohee followed behind Anton as he navigated the streets of Amsterdam, the twisting turns that the half-circle of a city made. Sohee kept his hands in his pockets, trying to let his roommate know he did not want to be doing this. They passed by too many groups of people already having fun that Sohee felt like he was sticking out like a sore thumb.

“Giselle is a creative.” Anton said.

Sohee hummed in acknowledgment as Anton let his steps slow down. When the two were side by side he looked to Sohee. 

“She’s really into themed parties or whatever. She went to Korea recently, and came back obsessed with Korean drinking games.” Anton emphasizes his point by spreading his hands out. 

His black heeled boots click against the stone walkway, Sohee’s worn tennis shoes make almost no noise at all. Their drastic difference in fashion almost makes Sohee laugh. The long black leather trenchcoat Anton wears is completely different than the light cotton jacket Sohee has on. Anton wears an all black ensemble, the shirt tucked into the pants with a belt while Sohee just put on jeans instead of the pants he wore to bed. 

Sohee lengthens his stride to keep up with Anton’s large steps. They make it in front of a large residential building. Anton looks around for the numbers on the door, Sohee assumes he’s looking for Giselle’s place.

“You’re only bringing me around to play drinking games?” Sohee asks annoyed.

“Of course.” Anton sounds distracted as he looks at his phone again before pivoting and walking in another direction. “Giselle likes the games, but she doesn’t really remember how to play them. Sungchan can’t explain things for shit. Wonbin will try to rig the games to win” He answers with a laugh.

Sohee’s head is spinning at all these names he doesn’t know. He settles deeper into his pockets, looking back the way they came. A thirty minute wander around the city would definitely lead him back home. Eventually.

“So I’m here to show a bunch of people how to play drinking games?” Sohee asks.

“Yes.” Anton walks partially around the building before heading walking up to the door. Sohee doesn’t see the number as he knocks and rings the doorbell. “And you’re gonna have fun.” Anton says.

The buzzer sounds off and Anton opens the door. He leaves it open enough for Sohee to come through. they take off their shoes at the bottom of the stairs, the same place where Sohee counts ten or eleven other pairs that line the walls. They all look like a different size, and the sound coming from upstairs sounds like it’s a party indeed. 

He’s already exhausted.

“How long are we staying here?” Sohee asks.

He looks up from kicking his shoes off to add to the pile to find Anton already looking up the stairs. He follows Anton’s line of sight to see you standing at the top, beer bottle in your hand as you stare down at them.

“As long as you want.” You have to speak over the sound of people cheering and groaning. Sohee sees you look past Anton to settle on him. “Who’s your friend, Anton?” You ask.

Sohee ducks his head and already feels embarrassed. He didn’t know he could be heard, he didn’t know someone was already here. Less than a minute inside and he’s already made the situation awkward. He prays you aren’t the host and he prays that you aren’t the host. 

“This is Sohee.” 

Anton looks behind him, and Sohee looks at his smile turned tight lipped as he silently tells Sohee to introduce himself.

“Anton talks about you so much.” Anton starts walking up the stairs and Sohee follows. “I’m surprised you’re here.” You say.

Sohee is embarrassed again at the thought of Anton mentioning him like a proud Mom. He knew that he made regular appearances on Anton’s social media, he didn’t know that he was also talking about him in real life too. But you look at Sohee like you know him personally, and he still isn’t sure if you’re the host or Giselle or both. He can only nod and reach out his hand for you to shake when the two of them make it to the top of the stairs. Anton goes into the room first and more cheers erupt. 

Before Sohee can follow behind his friend you pull at the sleeve of his hoodie. Instantly you take up all of Sohee’s sights, you’re so close he can smell you and the alcohol wafting from your breath. 

“Be on my team, okay?” You say with a smile.

Sohee is still shocked at you coming into his space so quickly that he can only nod. Like a switch had been flipped you go back into party mode, following after Anton and leaving Sohee’s line of sight.

Maybe he could stay awhile. He hadn’t been surrounded by his peers outside the context of class and he had someone who wanted to be on his team. Who cares if it’s a Thursday and he has an early morning class tomorrow.

When Sohee made it to the living room, he realized there was even more people than he expected. Some pairs of shoes sat at the top of the stairs, and he almost completely lost you in the crowd of people. Mostly everyone mingled, drinks in their hands as they stood in various places talking to eachother. Sohee would’ve loved to take in the beautiful layout of the apartment and the sheer size of it, but he was overwhelmed by the people sitting in the living room staring at him. Anton had already found a seat, and Sohee felt like a sore thumb. A girl sat and people made a circle around her. When she made eye contact with Sohee her head cocked to the side, a look of confusion on her face.

“Giselle, this is my roommate, Sohee.” Anton said.

Instantly the girls face lit up.

“IPad kid!” She said playfully.

Anton threw his head back in laughter. Sohee remembered the tweet clearly, Sohee was working on a sound engineering assignment when Anton took a picture of him. He captioned the tweet somewhere along the lines of his roommate being an IPad kid and it blew up.

“My reputation precedes me.” Sohee put his hands up like he was guilty of a crime. 

Giselle laughed again as she went back to her phone. One of the boys in the circle looked over her shoulder at her phone too. Their faces were focused as Giselle screen illuminated their faces. They mouthed the words they were reading, pulling the phone away before going right back to reading again.

“Okay so the rules for this game are a little complicated.” Giselle starts.

The man next to her nods his head. He gives up eventually, focusing on the old music videos that play on the large flatscreen television. Sohee still stands awkwardly in front of them. He takes a step forward, trying to recall the nostalgic memories of back home and the late nights he spent with his friends playing games.

“Which game is it?” Sohee asks.

Giselle looks up to Sohee, then back to her phone.

“I am Ground?” She says.

Sohee knows that one. He smiles to himself, and before he knows it Anton is telling everyone that he knows how to play all of the games.

Sohee only has to explain for a minute before everyone gets the gist. The people playing starts off as a small group, but then when the game actually starts, the crowd doubles. Sohee notices instantly when you come and sit next to him in the circle, drink for him in your hand. He takes it with a smile, but before he can say thank you Giselle is loudly starting the game. She starts the rhythm and points to Anton, and then Anton speeds up and points to Sohee. The game continues like that, and Sohee never has to take a single drink. He has too much of an advantage, he simply nurses his beer so he can feel somewhat of a buzz as the people surrounding him get plastered.

After that game, they play Baskin Robbins 31. Giselle takes it upon herself to explain that game, but when Sohee looks to the side and sees you with a look of confusion on your face as you lean in close trying to hear her, he faces you.

“You basically have to call out three numbers getting closer and closer to 31.” Sohee says it directly into your ear to not interrupt Giselle. He watched you grip the neck of your bottle a little tighter before nodding your head. “When it lands on thirty-one, that person has to drink.” He explains.

When you turn back to him, Sohee realizes he can’t handle his alcohol. He also realizes you lost the previous game twice, and the shots and beer you continued to drink made your eyes low. You were still alert as you nodded your head, you even asked him a question about if the numbers had to ascend or if they could go down as well. 

When Sungchan started the game, he only said one. He looked from side to side anxiously, a smile on his lips like he was already expecting himself to mess up the game. He point to Wonbin next to him.

“2, 3.” Wonbin said quickly.

Minjeong was next to him, she scanned the large circle of people quickly before Giselle could chide her for cheating.

“4.” She said.

Then it was Sion who went up to seven. Then Ryujin went up to ten, and Chaeryeong went to thirteen. Haechan only went to twelve, and then it was Sohee’s turn. 

“13.” 

“14.” You said instantly.

Anton next to you counted again, and Giselle chided someone for the second time for cheating.

“Do it fast.” She yelled.

Anton continued to go up to seventeen, and then Mark next to him went to twenty. Karina did twenty-two, Yunjin went to twenty-five. Keeho went to twenty-eight, and it ended at Giselle. She looked to Sungchan next to her expectantly, the shot already in her hand.

“30.” She smiled, handing the shot to Sungchan.

He downed it and everyone cheered. After the first game, it somehow always ended up ending on Wonbin. He was three shots deep by the time the game switched.

“Have you guys heard of The Apartment Game?”

Looking back, choosing The Apartment Game could’ve just been a ploy to get closer to you. Sohee knew it wasn’t that big of a deal that your hands rested on top of his. But he could feel how soft your palm was on top of his hand, and how you let yours rest heavy on top of his despite everyone keeping the tiniest space between their hands. It had to be a sign, and the way you said a number that was far from his had to be a sign too. He tried not to let the way you got closer to him with each round not to get to him, but you were practically leaning on him by the time the next round started. Sohee leaned into you too, and he found too much joy in the sounds you were making throughout the game. Your tiny gasps, the sounds of happiness when it wasn’t you who had to take the shot. 

The apartment game was the longest one everyone played. Each time it was a different number of people playing, sometimes there was so many not everyone could move their hands before the floor was called. The more people that joined the circle the more you were pushed into Sohee. He didn’t know what to do when you let your head rest on his shoulder in between another round starting. Even when everyone’s hands were stacked differently his always ended up under or on top of yours. When both of you noticed you two couldn’t stop yourselves from giggling. The alcohol and you two sticking together like magnets made Sohee blush, and the more time you spent playing it the worst the blush became. When he made eye contact with his roommate who had bleary eyes, he could see the last bit of his sobriety stop him from pointing out the obvious. The gap between you and Sohee was gone, the signs of growing affection were becoming more and more obvious. Sohee had to silently beg Anton to look away before he focused back on the game. Karma had Sohee’s back, because within three minutes Anton was taking his nth shot of the night.

“We make a good team.” You whispered to Sohee.

Sohee was able to look at the smile on your face. He shifted on his spot to settle into you more. As if on cue, Sion started the new round. You and Sohee stuck your hands into the pile at the same time, sandwiched together again.

“We really do.” Sohee agreed.

You laughed and pushed your body against his.

After everyone got too tipsy to continue the apartment game, they split back off into the party. Anton stayed in his spot on. the recliner. Giselle went off somewhere, and you stayed close to him. 

You two took turns following eachother for the rest of the night. When you exercised your bestfriend privileges with Giselle to look in the fridge for a snack you grabbed him something too. When you didn’t have anyone to talk to, Sohee was there with good conversation and stories about back home. You shared your own stories, and he found out that you two shared more in common than he ever thought. You two talked about nothing but everything, switching to different parts of Giselle’s house. You talked about your shared tendency to never leave the house in the hallway, your favorite parts about the city on the terrace. You talked about your friendships in the kitchen and then the people you failed to meet on the couch. Giselle came by with her digital camera and snapped a pic of the two of you. You were leaned on the armrest of the couch, with one of your legs draped over Sohee’s. He didn’t even realize that was the position you two fell into. He just noticed that you were incredibly warm against him, and you seemed just as confused when Giselle was finished taking her pictures.

“I really do throw the best parties.” She said to herself, like she knew something you two didn’t.

By the time Giselle was done taking pictures of her party and started calling it a night, Sohee’s throat was almost sore from talking so much. He felt cold when you got up from the couch to help herd people outside and clean up a bulk of the mess.

Sohee watched the crowd of the party dwindle down in real time. The big spills were cleaned off the coffee table and the wooden floorboards, the cards from a random games were stacked and put back into their boxes. He watched people make their way out of Giselles’ flat, saying their goodbyes and kissing her cheeks on both sides before heading down the stairs. Each time Giselle told them about the digital photos she took, how they’d be up on her Instagram soon. She continued to clean up the mess in between people leaving, and you were helping her. Watching you sort the glass beer bottles from the metal ones made Sohee want to clean up to. He grabbed paper towels and spot cleaned what he could. He knew he probably should’ve left before the alcohol got the best of his friend. 

By the time the party was cleared and the only thing that remained were bags of trash for the morning, Anton was already down for the count. Stretched out uncomfortably on Giselle’s recliner, legs fully spread and his head leaning to the side. The snoring was manageable at first, but when Sohee was getting ready to bid his farewells and wake up his friend, Anton’s snores were interrupting conversations and became a subject of concern.

“Is he alright?” Giselle asked. 

She was in the middle of talking to you in a conversation Sohee was not a part of. She leaned in close to you next to the refrigerator. Sohee knew he wasn’t involved in the conversation, but you two kept looking in his general direction. Sometimes Giselle would laugh and hit your shoulder, sometimes you would laugh and hit hers. It had gotten to the point in the night when it was just Wonbin staggering to the guest room holding onto Sungchan for dear life. Sohee was left to be picked apart by the two of you, mostly sober and for some reason still not ready to say goodnight. 

But he needed to leave. When Giselle asked about the state of Anton he nodded his head, making his way over to Anton’s mostly lifeless body to give his shoulder a shake.

“He’s alright.” Anton didn’t react to the shoulder shakes. His head just lulled to the other side, a pause in his snores just for them to continue just as loud. “Once he’s up and moving he’ll be fine.” Sohee said.

Giselle wordlessly pointed past Sohee and Anton to her guest bedroom. Sohee followed her finger to Sungchan reemerging from the room, closing the door gently with a click.

“Wonbin is already in the guest bedroom.” Giselle tied off the plastic bag filled with aluminum cans and set it on her marble countertop. “There’s enough room on the bed for Anton.” She said.

Sohee looked to you first. You were leaned against the door of the fridge, messing with the handle like you were trying to contemplate what to do next. Sohee was just as lost, politely shaking his head before continuing to push and pull at Anton’s shoulder.

“Ah no, it’s okay.” Sohee said quickly.

He needed Anton to wake up and be on his feet immediately. But Anton only furrowed his eyebrows and settled deeper into the recliner.

“Sohee right?” Giselle looked back to you for confirmation on his name. When you nodded your head Giselle looked back to him, smile on her face as she leaned against her kitchen island. “I insist. I wouldn’t feel safe with you two stumbling through Zuid.”

Sohee shook his head again. He could spare the money for an Uber. He just wouldn’t eat for the week. That was completely alright. But Giselle was persistent, and Anton weighed a ton when he was drunk and not able to move. So Sohee and Sungchan both guided their mutual friend into the guest bedroom for him to fall on the mattress right next to Wonbin. Giselle followed with blankets, pillows, and garbage cans. 

“You can take the couch. It’s more comfortable than it looks. I nap there all the time.” Giselle said.

Sohee took the blankets from her hand and thanked her sincerely.  She was out of the room quickly, closing the door gently behind her after making sure Wonbin and Anton were rolled on their sides.

Sohee tried his best to get comfortable on the couch. He had more room to work with than his loveseat, he could fully stretch his body across the cushions instead of having them on top of the armrests. The cushions were softer too, and the blanket that rested over his body was softer and warmer than any comforter he’s ever had. Wonbin and Anton were as okay as two drunk people could be, breathing normally and turned to their sides for extra safety. Even if everything was as right as it could’ve been in this situation, Sohee still felt uncomfortable. He wanted Anton to be sober, he didn’t want to keep seeing the moon outside of Giselle guest bedroom window. He wanted it to be the next day already, he wanted to be at home in his bed. 

He was getting ready to get up and shake Anton awake again when he heard the door slowly open.

Sohee fully stiffened on the couch. He brought the covers up to his chin and acted like he was asleep. He could hear whoever it was hesitate in the door. It creaked on its hinges as it shut slightly as you pulled it back, but then you pushed it forward again.

“Sohee.” Your voice was so light, a whisper that almost fell underneath the light snores of Wonbin and Anton. “Are you awake?” You asked.

Knowing it was you, Sohee opened his eyes and sat up a little too fast. He turned to see your head that was peaked out only slightly past the door, and your nervous hand that gripped the doorknob. Sohee could see in the light casted by the pale moon that your were apologetic, your hand reached forward like you were trying to stop him from getting up any further.

“Did I wake you?” You asked quickly.

Sohee shook his head from his position on the bed.

“I can’t sleep.” You said truthfully.

“Me neither.” He said back.

Sohee sat up fully on the couch, pushing the blankets off his body and moving the pillow out of the way. You sat down, leaving the biggest space between your bodies for the first time of the night. Sohee couldn’t help but see how nervous you were. Hands that would playfully touch him throughout the night were tucked underneath your thighs, and your eyes that looked at him unashamed were casted forward, looking at the bed.

“Your drinking games really put them to sleep.” You said.

As if on cue, Wonbin grumbled and rolled over, closer to the center of the bed. Anton did the same, and within seconds Anton had his arm slung over Wonbin’s body. Instead of waking up or moving away, Wonbin only scooted closer. Both of you laughed quietly at the sight. Sohee would’ve taken a picture to tease Anton with if you weren’t sitting so closely next to him. He didn’t want to move from the spot. He was grateful for his sleeping friend to break the tension in the air, but now it was even harder to focus. Sohee didn’t know how to transition from his friend and a friend of a friend laying on the bed together to how warm you were sitting next to him. He didn’t know how to look at you directly without a random drinking game to fake focus on. Catching your subtle looks throughout the night was easier when there was an audience, it was easier to let something unspoken brew between the two of you. But when it was just you two—and two sleeping guys cuddling on the queen guest bed—something had to be said. 

Sohee didn’t know how to say it and neither did you. Both of you were looking around the room, too nervous to even have your head facing the same direction. When you’d look at Anton and Wonbin, Sohee would look out the window. When you would look out the window, Sohee would turn his head to look more in depth at the decorations of the room. Sohee spent too much time looking at the boxes of Giselle’s old projects and her desk that housed a chunky monitor. 

“Your drinking games were alot of fun.” You said.

Sohee dragged his hands down his thighs. The sound of his hands against the denim was louder than your voice. He smiled gratefully, still avoiding your eyes.

“Thanks.” Sohee looked forward at the coffee table in front of you two, the glass showed him your reflection. He tried not to let his face heat up when he noticed that you were looking at him. He could feel your eyes drag across his cheek and he felt the urge to hide behind his hand. “Learned them back home.” He said.

Sohee knew he already told you that he was taught all the drinking games through various social situations in South Korea. He thought he told you about the nights of him and his friends huddled in a living room playing games with water because they didn’t have a taste for drinking. You still pushed the conversation forward, putting a hand behind his body as you leaned slightly into him.

“Where’s home again?” You asked quietly.

Your whisper fanned the side of his face. Sohee wasn’t sure if your were trying to make him too nervous to answer his question, but his mind couldn’t come up with anything. He foolishly thought of The Hidden Leaf Village, then the fact that he had never been on a couch so close to someone who he wanted to get even closer to. His mind was caught in an endless loop, and then he felt your other hand cross your thigh to rest on top of his.

“Home is.” Sohee looked at your face. He made the mistake of seeing your washed skin in the moonlight and the worried look in your blown out eyes. Nothing could’ve prepared him for how pretty you were up close, how looking at you somehow made you invade his senses even more. Your body wash replaced any coherent thought in his mind as he went back to looking at the glass coffee table. “Home is home.” He repeated.

You nodded and smiled at his comment. Sohee felt the air in the room change as you got closer. Sohee could hear you turn your head one more time to make sure Anton and Wonbin were really asleep before you leaned in again.

“Do you have any other games?” You asked.

Sohee didn’t have any other games, he laid them all out on Giselle’s living room earlier. Even if he had one, trying to explain anything would’ve been helpless. He was too busy constantly rubbing off new layers of sweat on his jeans and avoiding eye contact with you to calm his heart. He almost twitched away when he felt your fingers run down his arm before resting on his thigh.

“Well. I have one we can play.” You put more weight behind your hand and let it rest heavy on Sohee’s thigh. His habit of twitching and reacting to every one of your moves gives you confidence. Still, the brashness causes words to jumble in your head. You lick your lips as you try to remember what you want to say, the infliction that you want to say it in. “With just the two of us.” You say.

Watching Sohee try to figure out where to put his hands makes you want to guide him. But your fear of this not being what he actually wants makes you sit still. You hope that this can bridge the gap, that this can help you tell Sohee how badly you need him in the most quiet and welcoming way possible. 

“What’s the game?” He asks.

“You—” 

Sohee’s gaze is still locked onto the glass surface of the coffee table. You can barely make out his reflection, you can’t tell if he’s disgusted or interested. The thought of it being the former makes your heart thud. You’re sure it’s about to beat out of your chest when you bring your hand to lightly touch his jaw. 

“You have to look at me first.”

That was probably the last thing Sohee wanted to hear. The game he wanted to play was contingent on him looking at you? Surely he’d lose, or die from the overwhelming feeling he got in his chest just by looking at you. Your shorts were riding higher and higher up on your bare thigh that was touching his, wasn’t that enough? He wasn’t sure he could take any more of it. But then your hand applied the lightest bit of force, and Sohee could feel your soft fingers dimple the skin on his chin. He couldn’t resist turning his head by your guiding hand, until he was looking directly into your eyes.

You took up eachother’s entire view. The moonlight illuminated the side of your face, it partially lit up the front of Sohees’. You could see his eyes were blown out, his pupils shaking like he was trying to find out where exactly to focus. The guy that was so confident, saying sly remarks during the third round of the apartment game looked like he was going to explode into clouds and smoke just looking at you. You would’ve said something snarky back to him if you didn’t feel like you were about to do the same. Why a night of getting closer and closer lead you both to avoiding eye contact in private was beyond you. What you did know was that time was running out. It would only be a matter of time that Sungchan and Giselle were done doing whatever the fuck they were doing and Sungchan would be dragging you back home. You had a game to propose, and hopefully one to play.

“If it’s too much.” You brought your other hand to the side of Sohee’s face to keep him in place. You thought you were going to burst into flames when you felt his slender fingers ghost over your waist. “Say red light.”

You watched him quickly lick his lips then swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat while he left his lips slightly parted. They looked so soft and inviting, even when they mouthed out the beginning of words Sohee was trying to find out how to say.

He only nodded. 

You selfishly needed him to give you something more. Second guesses made your hands break away from his face, slinking down to his shoulders. Something about gripping the ball of Sohee’s shoulders neutral, as if you weren’t halfway into his lap already. You also needed a position that would help you play off what you were about to do, as if anything could be mistaken with how intently you were staring at his lips.

“If you don’t like it.” Your hands went down his arms, squeezing periodically all the way down. The moon felt like it was shining brighter now, and now it was you finding a reason to look away from him. “Just say red light or something, okay?” You specified.

Sohee’s eyes were big when he blinked and nodded his head quickly again. His hand rested a little heavier on your waist now, and you felt a grip come from him that you forced yourself to read as anticipation. When you scooted impossibly closer to him on the couch Sohee came forward too. Your shared weight caused the cushion to sink into the framing of the couch. You sat up and brought a hand back up to his shoulder, squeezing gently and smiling. 

He smiled back, and hurriedly pushed his bangs away from his head before his hand went back to resting on your thigh. He looked down at your lips, you looked down at his. The moon was about to blow up in the night sky as you looked back to Sohee’s eyes. When you felt the lightest pull—one that even he seemed shocked by—you slowly started leaning in. Your hand left his shoulder to go back behind his body and your hand went to his thigh for stability as you turned your head to the side. 

Something in you told Sohee not to close his eyes. He knew he should’ve to match yours, but he couldn’t bring himself to. He didn’t want to miss watching you part your lips, the exhale that fanned his wet lips as you got closer. He would’ve missed the sight of your hand clasping over his thigh, and the way your lips slightly puckered as they got closer. Sohee had to remind himself to close his eyes right before your lips made contact. As consolation he held your waist even tighter, until his fingers slipped underneath your shirt and wrinkled the fabric.

Your lips were too soft. They were plush against his, even if it was a simple chaste kiss Sohee was already engulfed in you. The two of you kept your lips pressed together without moving. Sohee wondered for a second if he should move, but the thought of breaking away from you made his heart ache in his chest. He would gladly just be face to face with you like this, not separating, not moving, just touching. exhales from your noses fanning eachothers sweaty faces, your hands experimentally grabbing at the other. 

You only told him what to do if he didn’t like it. What was he supposed to do if he didn’t want to stop, if he wanted to go further? 

“Green.” He mumbled it against your lips, the sound caught in your mouth and muddied amongst the million other stimulants in eachother’s mind.

You pulled away first, the smallest sound of your lips detaching before Sohee noticed you were already fulled leaned into him.

“What?” You asked.

Sohee looked down at your chest to see the deep breaths you were pulling in. He noticed then that he was having trouble breathing himself.

“Green.” He repeated.

When Sohee saw the word register in your mind and you nodded your head quickly he knew he was winning the game. This time your hand went to his neck to guide him in at the right angle, and you slowly moved your legs to drape over his. Sohee tried his best to fall into the place you were opening up for him. His hand wrapped around your lower back and he splayed his fingers over the side of your stomach, pulling you in closer to him. His other was on top of your mid thigh, the area that was hidden seconds ago due to your shorts. Sohee closed the distance faster now, and he turned his head the other way to compliment your head turns. He felt pride swell in his chest when he realized he was doing the right thing, and that him saying green meant you were going to move your lips against his now. 

He felt your chapstick spread across his lips and cross over the perimeter. Sohee moved his lips against yours in tandem, parting them when you’d close yours and vice versa. He knew something about how he was kissing you was off, but he didn’t know how to correct it. He wanted to feel you breath hot air into his mouth, he wanted to feel your tongue and taste the remnants of alcohol and toothpaste on your tongue. Just like when you were playing games earlier in the night, Sohee got the hang of it eventually. When your hands carded through his hair and pulled slightly, parting him from your lips for you to utter quick instructions, Sohee understood. When you slowly parted your lips Sohee did the same thing this time, and turned his head to get deeper than he did before. His hands pulled at your thighs and waist to bring you closer, and you scooted into his lap without hesitation. 

Your ass was sat carefully on his thigh and the couch. Sohee didn’t have time to comprehend the change in the situation. You were sat on his lap, your hands moved from guiding his movements to locking behind his head. You were entrusting him with way too much. Less than five hours ago Sohee was getting ready to waste another night away watching a show on his phone. Now here he was, making out with you on a couch in your friends guest bedroom with two people less than ten feet away. You were entrusting him too much, you were entirely too much. He had to say red light for your sake. He didn’t know if he could handle the idea of having your tongue swap spit with his, if he deserved it. He gripped you tighter despite everything in him telling him not to. When you sunk into him further Sohee knew he didn’t have the choice. 

You two played entirely too well together, he knew it when you two won every game of the night. The same way you hesitated saying the final number in Baskin Robbins 31 you hesitated with your lips pressing against Sohee’s. The same way he leaped to help you then he did the same now. He closed the gap between your separate vigors, leaning his mouth forward to press against yours. He gripped you tighter and your hands when back to touching his neck and face. He felt something building up between your synced breaths. Anticipation, anxiety, something was coming.

Then you moaned. It was the lightest sound, one that was caught between your lips detaching and reattaching and Wonbin moving around on the soft bed. As soon as the sound broke, you and Sohee stilled your movements. Sohee’s eyes shot open to see yours already open, wide and in panic. 

“Sorry.” You croaked.

He had to push your legs slightly forward so they were resting directly over his crotch. He knew the ache entirely too well, something that set his skin crimson red because it’s never felt quite like this before. 

The way you faced him entirely didn’t let the moon hit your face, but your proximity to him made Sohee see everything. He could see your already swollen lips, the thin layer of drool that coated them. Sohee saw the flush and the sheen sweat that covered the apples of your cheeks and your forehead, and the heat radiating off of you that was sticking to his sweaty skin. You moaned for him. You moaned for him and you looked like a mess because of him.

“Don’t say sorry.” His voice was halfway gone, the end of his words made no sound at all. “No reason to apologize.” He said.

You nodded and your fingers started messing with the ends of Sohee’s hair. He felt himself holding onto the desperate sounds threatening to slip out when he felt your nails scratch at his scalp. He prayed that the shadows in this room hid the embarrassment aching in his lap and the red creeping up his neck and the tips of his ears. 

When you tried resting your leg back over his lap Sohee had to subtly redirect you again. When you tried doing it a third time you cocked your head to the side slightly. Sohee tried to remain nonchalant, his hand wedged between your thighs to feel your warmth there. Your enclosed his hand perfectly, your soft skin only made that feeling even worse. Sohee watched you tip your head back at his greedy hand, and he got the insane urge to reach forward and suck at the skin at the base of your neck. He was pulled away from the sight when your neck was hidden again, your low eyes almost looked sleepy as they bored into his.

“Can we kiss some more?” You whispered.

Sohee was starstruck. You boldness fully lapped his despite you seeming more pent up than he was. Sohee barely had the chance to press his lips to yours before you poked your tongue out, running it sloppily over the chapstick you smeared there before.

Any exclamation he had, any quick green light was swallowed by you. Your mouth opened just a little wider than before, and you were letting quiet whines slip into his mouth. Everything was green at that point—the moon, the couch, him—and he was doing everything in his power to let you know that.

He should’ve been worried about the other people in the room. But the way you were kissing him, and the overall darkness and how the moonlight only seemed to shine on you two made it easy to forget anyone else was in there. When Sohee could taste the toothpaste on your tongue and the plum soju on his it was only about you two swapping whatever you could. When Sohee experimentally stuck his tongue in your mouth and you gripped him so tight your nails dug into his skin, it was all about you. And when his guard was down, and you took your chance to let your leg graze over the bulge in his pants he groaned into your mouth.

Sohee lost the game. He made the loudest sound between the two of your put together, something between a relieved sigh and a croak of a moan from everything that was pent up over the course of the night. He knew he was too far gone when he couldn’t be bothered. He was becoming greedy, when you broke away to press your hand against his dick he rutted against your palm, causing both of your bodies to move.

“Green?” You asked.

Sohee’s hand reached higher than ever, grabbing the side of your face and cradling your jaw in his palm.

“Green.” He said quickly.

You nodded as Sohee brought your face forward again to quickly bring your lips to his again. This time, it was Sohee to push his tongue into your mouth first. His hand gripped your thigh and he moved closer and closer to the heat that had you squirming on his leg. You started feeling for his dick in his pants, your hand clasped over the imprint his shaft was making. Just like true teammates, when Sohee became to distracted by your hand you picked up where he left off. You pushed your tongue into his mouth, turning your head and whimpering to let him know you were saying green a million times over in your mind. He didn’t have to say anything when he felt your hands mess with the button at the top of his jeans. You two worked together to try and push the metal button through the slit in his jeans, not wanting to break apart to get what you wanted.

Sohee blames himself for being so caught up in your teamwork to remember that you two weren’t alone. One moment it was only you in the room, then the next it was Anton shooting up in bed and letting out a sound so loud that you chomped down on Sohee’s bottom lip in surprise.

He knew that his roommate had the tendency to wake up abruptly in the night. Anton’s dad said it had something to do with the snoring, Sohee believed it had something to do with his tendency to set terrible alarms and never wake up to them. However, he would’ve never thought it’d be that bad. Anton made you spring off of Sohee’s lap and detach from him entirely, practically leaping to the other side of the couch as Anton stumbled out of bed. He was so loud that Wonbin woke up just to smush the pillow over his eyes, and it made Sungchan bound across the living room quickly with Giselle following closely behind. Everything was so quiet, with just the two of you and then suddenly everyone in the house was in the room. Sungchan poked his head through, then once he saw Anton’s shadowy figure fully standing he came in entirely. 

Giselle came in behind him, closing her night gown and tying it off before reaching and turning on the light. Behind the door, the last amount of privacy, you two spent the final seconds preparing yourself to be seen by people. Sohee tried to fix his hair he could tell was sticking up in all directions, you pulled down your shirt and your shorts that had rode up. The back of your hand went across your mouth the same time Giselle peaked past the door, eyes narrowed from sleep and confusion.

“What was that sound?” She asked.

For a second, Sohee thought Giselle was talking about the moan he let slip out. Sohee looked to you in a panic and you looked to him before turning towards Sungchan and Giselle.

“He just like, made that sound.” You shrugged your shoulders, and cleared your throat when your voice was weak. “He woke us up.” You said quickly.

When you looked to Sohee for confirmation he knew it was his turn. He nodded his head and yawned, gesturing towards Anton so Sungchan and Giselle would face him instead.

“He did it out of nowhere.” Sohee continued.

Sungchan walked over to Anton, while Giselle kept her narrowed eyes on Sohee a second longer. She was too tired to do anything more about the situation. Instead she leaned against the doorframe of the wall, letting out a loud yawn and rubbed the sides of her head.

“I think this is expediting my hangover.” She grumbled.

“Anton.” Sungchan put his hands on Anton’s shoulders. He swayed from side to side slightly, but focused on Sungchan’s eyes clearly. “You alright?” Sungchan asked.

Anton nodded. Sohee watched you grab the throw pillow to put it back in the center of the couch. Without saying anything Sohee knew. He grabbed it and placed it on his lap, adjusting his pants underneath the privacy of the pillow.

“I have that assignment due in a couple hours. I have to go home.” Anton whined.

“It’s super late. Can’t you do it in the morning?” Sungchan asked.

“No.” Anton’s whiny voice caused Wonbin to sit up in the bed. He looked objectively the most out of it than everyone else in the room. His hair was sticking up in all directions, his eyes weren’t focused and barely open. He ran a hand haphazardly through his hair before looking directly forward. Sohee avoided Wonbin’s eyes as he leaned forward, looking at Anton fight another wave of intoxication.

“I already had it extended twice.” Anton reached for his wallet and keys to his flat that rested on the bedside table. “Have to get back.” He said.

Then, Anton locked eyes with Sohee. Then his eyes traveled to you on the other end of the couch. He watched the cogs turn in his roommates mind, him connecting the voices and sounds he was probably hearing in his subconscious to the two people sitting awkwardly. Before Anton could point an accusatory hand and let the tipsy words slip out, Sohee got up from the couch. He took a quick glance down before collecting all of his bearings.

“I guess it’s time to go back then.” Sohee said.

“It’s late.” Giselle emphasized.

Sohee shrugged. Anton whined again.

“I have a class in a couple hours anyways. Attendance is mandatory. It’ll be nice to get home and shower and everything. I think we can manage.” He says.

Sohee motions towards Anton and he nods, already stuffing his things into his pockets. Sungchan lets Anton go and he’s stable on his feet, if anything it’s the tiredness that causes a drag and stumble in his gait. Regardless, Anton helps Sohee find the rest of his things after only having to ask once what he is supposed to be doing, and he’s the only pulling up the walking directions back to their flat on his phone.

“Only a twenty-six minute walk.” Anton says cheerfully.

Sohee lets out a pensive sigh. His friend unknowingly cockblocked him to Hell and back, now he has to walk for twenty-six minutes, making sure they don’t get lost or robbed on the way home.

Sohee bids a farewell with everyone at the door. He realizes quickly he doesn’t really know Sungchan or Giselle. He can only tell them thank you for letting him stay and have fun at their place, and that he will make sure Anton gets home safe. He sees you last, and he realizes quickly he doesn’t know how to interact with you when there’s people around. He doesn’t know how to ask for your number, or to thank you for kissing him and showing him the best game he has ever played. He can only reach out his hand awkwardly so you can grab it even worse, something between a handshake and a fist bump. The sight causes Giselle and Sungchan to look between you two, confused before they start talking to eachother.

Sohee watches you open the door for them, and Anton already makes his way towards the parking lot. Sohee looks between his roommate and you, his priorities skewed because the only thing he wants is to take you back into the room and kiss you again. Just to prove it was real. Just to prove that you two were playing the same game. 

Before Sohee can run off to follow after Anton you put your hand in the pocket of his light jacket, patting the space empty once you pull your hand out.

“Just incase you forgot something.” You say casually.

Sohee nods, and pats his pocket for safe keeping.

“Thanks.” He says.

Before you two can forget there’s other people in the world again, Sohee is called by Anton. His voice is entirely too loud for this area at this time of night, he can see it in the way Giselles’ teeth clench and Sungchans’ body freezing. Sohee has barely anytime to apologize for Anton before heading down the stairs, sparing you one last look as you smile and wave before closing the door gently.

masterlist | previous part | next part

[grinsgrimmy]

Hello, Writer-nim! ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

I'm a new fan of your blog! I really like how you write! ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ ᡣ𐭩 I saw that your drabble request slot is still open. I'm just wondering if you'll be able to write a character from 'Death is the only ending for the Villainess'? For Callisto Regulus, specifically? ʚ(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )ɞ

Like, Reader finds a jar that's full of trinkets and it's so familiar to her because these are all the trinkets she gave to him since they met. And it's like Callisto's greatest treasure. ૮⸝⸝> ̫ <⸝⸝ ა

Thank you in advance, Writer-nim! 화이팅~! (ㅅ´ ˘ `)♡

Ｔ Ｒ Ｅ Ａ Ｓ Ｕ Ｒ Ｅ .

ㅤᯓᡣ𐭩 𝖢𝖠𝖫𝖫𝖨𝖲𝖳𝖮 𝖱𝖤𝖦𝖴𝖫𝖴𝖲 𝗑 𝖠𝖥𝖠𝖡!𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

DEATH IS THE ONLY ENDING FOR THE VILLAINESS

๋࣭⭑ֶֶֶָָָ֢֢֢𖹭 drabble. (816 words)

sum. you found a jar on callisto's dresser. the content in the jar were familiar to you

note : thank you for your request and kind words, anonie! it took me a while to do this because i could not exactly understand callisto's personality for some reason. I ended up summarising his personality to be NEARLY the same as sylus from love and deepspace. regardless, I FINALLY DID NOT GO OVER THE WORD LIMIT !!

drabble request slots have reopened !

ㅤ⪩⪨ m.list

“aren't you so bold to snoop around the crown prince's bedroom, dear?”

callisto mused, leaning against the doorframe with that insufferable, arrogant smirk of his. he eyed you going through his bedroom with an amused glint in his eyes.

clearly, he was enjoying the sight of you getting caught in the act.

you did not actually mean to snoop around callisto's bedroom. you had been waiting for him when he was busy getting dressed. since you had nothing to do, you let your eyes mindlessly wander around his massive yet empty room.

it was not as though you were trying to find something. you were just idly passing time while waiting for him. but then your eyes landed on something that sat sitting on his dresser that was oddly near his bed.

before you could think twice about what you were doing, your curiosity got the better of you. hence, you ended up investigating what that odd thing could be.

when you gazed upon the item. it was an old, weathered glass jar, though the content within it were certainly new. you took a moment to process what exactly it was that gave a tug of familiarity.

the trinkets were so familiar to you.

you would have not bat an eye on that glass jar if it were not for the contents in it.

then, callisto caught you in that moment.

which led to callisto standing in the doorway, giving the most annoying smirk known to man alongside that look of bemusement.

you felt your heart racing when you were caught. though you knew you were not guilty, you felt as if you were touching something so incredibly intimate to him.

you straightened up immediately. your hands instinctively moving to your back to hide the jar you took from his dresser.

you took another long gaze in the jar without shame to ease your curiousity. after processing it, it caught you by surprise when you realised what those were.

the trinkets and other items within it were tiny gifts you gave callisto over the course of your time together.

small tokens of affection or silly, spontaneous, or callisto decided it would be better to steal it from you.

each trinket within it brought back memories of the two of your shared moments you did not know you needed to remember.

a pebble from your garden that you gave to callisto during your early days of meeting him to boldly mock him. several jewellery you gifted (and stolen) to callisto. two overworn handkerchiefs and other tiny content you saw—

all these small, seemingly insignificant gifts you had given to him,

you never realised he had kept them.

it hit you hard. you could not even comprehend what you felt seeing the jar.

affection? adoration? nostalgia? disbelief?

there were too many thoughts running through your mind.

your fingers tightened around the jar unconsciously, as if shielding the vulnerability you felt at that moment.

callisto, the annoyingly observant man that he is, noticed your change in expressions. he gave you a knowing look as he took a slow step forward to you.

“i had no idea you were so sentimental, darling,” he commented with his usual teasing tone, yet it was laced with something more.

you opened your mouth to speak, but your words were tangled in your throat. you were caught by the strange, warm ache in your chest that you could not explain.

“i didn't know you kept these...” you croaked out, trying not to sound vulnerable, but your voice was softer than you intended. you glanced at the jar again with disbelief.

his lips curled into a tiny, gentler smile, yet he managed to maintain his arrogant smirk after. he took the jar from your hands carefully. you noticed he was cradling it almost reverently, scared it would break.

“this is where i store my greatest treasures,” callisto murmured, his voice almost tender when he glanced at the content within the jar.

his eyes shifted to you. he placed the jar where it belonged, then his fingers brushed against yours. he gave a knowing grin. “if i could put you in here, i would,” he said teasingly, but you could sense that he actually meant it.

he then leaned down to press a kiss to the top of your head. the warmth of his lips lingered longer than you expected. it was a quiet gesture, but it was profound to you, as if it were a promise.

in that moment, you realised it was not just the objects that made you sentimental, it was that callisto had truly seen you. all these tiny things could have been easily overlooked, but he cherished it.

callisto cherished you.

"thank you," you whispered. the words carried heavy meaning. you gave him a smile, a sincere one without artifice. a smile that caught callisto off guard.

callisto then smiled, a smile that matched yours— genuine and sincere, far more than either of you had anticipated.

・❥・want a hc / oneshot? please consider commissioning in ko-fi !

[q8qwertyuiop8p]

My thoughts on season 2 Act one-

Overall: Not as good as season one for sure, but still pretty good. Needs more silco. Too fast paced, but good music, loved the Hellfire scene and Vi/Jinx fight, plus Viktor went biblical and lost his manhood. Magic stuff too confusing with not enough buildup in season 1 and parallels way too obvious.

Now more specifically.

Screw Heimerdinger. Screw Smeech. Screw Renni. And guess what? I'm going to say it.

Yes

Screw Vi.

We were in such denial with her being an Enforcer, we convinced ourselves she was lying to Cait about giving up on Jinx just to protect her. I was really surprised that she genuinely turned on Jinx. I think Vi would have killed Jinx if it weren't for Isha. I'm not going to pretend like Vi was totally wrong, totally evil- Jinx did kill everyone, so I can see why Vi would give up on her. But personally I cannot forgive Vi this, so it was pretty disappointing seeing her take a complete 180 and hate Jinx like that. Also not fond of Cait, and it actually seems like she's to be a major villian now.

Heimerdinger better die, I'm so done with him. He seemed to get better in s1 act 3 but no. He is still annoying and has too much screentime in season 2.

Smeech is somehow even worse, my new least favorite character. He has a cool design visually but I'm glad he died so soon. Same with Renni, seriously launching an attack on Piltover, escalating tensions like that, because the one guy killed your son?

I'll miss the flashbacks we had at the beginning of the episodes in s1. The new intro was alright, it felt less interesting than the season one intro to me.

Jayce has too much screentime, the way he doesn't realize viktor was naked until after he hugs him was a little questionable, but it's OK because we find out later that the hexcore stole Viktor's privates. The JayVik breakup was very rushed, disappointing, and unclimactic, jayce acts like it didn't even happen. The Viktor in Zaun scenes felt like I was watching an animated version of the Bible, I'm not sure how Viktor knew that touching huck, who I thought (and wished) died in episode 6 would do that, but manhood or not, I think viktor has become hotter.

The leblanc thing was cool, but incredibly random and confusing, and I even knew a little about leblanc beforehand. There was literally zero buildup for this not just in season 1, but even in season 2 before all this happened. The Arcane in general was practically absent in season one besides the mage and hexcore, and then is suddenly thrown in our face in season two, which I thing contributed to the feeling of things being too fast-paced.

I'm mad we have not yet seen a silco hallucination. We better get one. The scene with Jinx letting him go was heartbreaking, but the way they kept flashing back to his death and baptism scene was incredibly annoying. We get it, this is a parallel to that, no one is thinking otherwise. In season one the parallels were nice and subtle, you don't even realize until looking deeper and it's a nice treat, but that is no longer the case. And then as he sinks we hear him say "have you had enough?" Again, we get it. We know what that is a parallel of.

I'm confused as to how singed just got up, went to the snowy place, found and killed a murk wolf, dragged it all the way back to his lair, and hoisted it up singlehandedly. Also confused about how literally everyone knows silco is dead already. Did jinx tell everyone? Did she admit that she killed him to sevika? Why doesn't sevika see jinx as a traitor?

[mothiir]

Hcs about Marshal Ezra pleasepleaseplease

do they count as hcs if it is my character? anyway here are some fun facts, below the cut because the list got long because i love this man:

isaiah caused some awkwardness when he discovered that red hair was technically a mutation - his brief one-man crusade against the unfortunate ginger serfs only ended when marshal ezra shared a very rare pict of him in his youth, with gorgeous auburn hair. isaiah never thought to ask why ezra now had salt and pepper hair - thus meaning that ezra did not have to disclose that he used to dye his hair, because the ladies loved a redhead

speak of: yeah, you heard that. marshal ezra is too old for this sort of nonsense now, but he knows first hand that space marines are not sterile. he has five adult children. fourteen grandchildren. two great-grandchildren. none of them have been officially claimed as his offspring, but they have their suspicions, mainly because despite having five different mothers they all have the same hard jawline and steely grey eyes. his genes do not fuck about.

yes, five children with five mortal women. he was doing his duty and serving the emperor by taking care of the needs of the civilian populace. by attending to their widows. and one time with a woman who was already married to a planetary governor. that one did cause some problems, but that was a long time ago.

despite what you might think, the mothers of his children all get along very well. they may come from different backgrounds but they all share the same qualities — steely-spined, clever, devout-but-sensible. they have a book club and compare notes.

despite the fact that isaiah really really annoys him, he respects the boy tremendously — he sees a lot of potential in him. however, he thinks that reuben is a far better candidate for being marshal one day, since reuben has at least a passing knowledge of how humans work.

he firmly believes that the emperor has sent him on a holy journey. he does not see this belief as clashing with his frequent habit of having conveniently timed revelations from the emperor, depending on whatever he thinks is the best course of action of the time. the way he see it, if the emperor objected to him occasionally fabricating a vision, the emperor would strike him down where he stood. he considers his continued success as all the proof he needs of the emperor’s favour.

he really does not get along with the inquisition. inquisitors assigned to his crusade have a nasty habit of vanishing somewhere, or turning out to be heretics. he encourages the local inquisition to send their best and brightest though, and makes a big show of being eager to work alongside them. the more experienced ones are learning to be cautious of him, even if they can’t officially say why.

he is not a blank himself, but he’s fairly certain he carries a dormant version of the pariah gene, given his own unusual ability to withstand psyker attacks. that and the fact that five of the fourteen grandchildren have turned out to be nulls of one kind or another. two of them are sisters of silence, another two work in the administratum (enjoying the fact that most of their colleagues do not like coming near them, thus making them incredibly and unusually efficient), and the last is the attendant of a commissar. the last one is always welcomed at the family reunions, even if they do encourage him to stand by a window, since the smell is a little bit much. no one is entirely sure where the smell comes from. it just seems to manifest.

[after-the-end-times]

This is a really fascinating response! Mainly because the characters in my head feel so different than how they're described here...and considering you're their author, I'm not sure how or why I've interpreted them so differently lol

Because, one) I don't see Rae as a villain at all, in any capacity and two) I'm not sure I agree that Alice would've been a sweeter, "less annoying", and more sympathetic main character.

To me, Rae is someone who is literally just fighting to survive in insurmountable and inconceivable conditions. First against the cancer that's literally about to kill her, and then later in a kingdom that's so harsh and cruel that no one who lives there knows an ounce of kindness.

Of course, she's going to be angry that she, at such a incredibly young age, is going to die before she ever even got a chance to live.

Of course, she's going to be angry because she feels alone in her slow death, forgotten and left behind by her friends and family.

And, of course, she'll take whatever bit of hope she can that might allow her to live just another day, if not hopefully for a long and fulfilling life.

But anger doesn't make her evil. Wanting to live doesn't make her cruel. None of her actions are because she wants or likes to see others suffer. Every action she makes is completely understandable and, most often, the only actions she can make to just continue living another week, another day, and, sometimes literally, just another moment

The characters who consider her evil do so because the society and kingdom that they live in is just so horrifically cruel and controlling. They see someone who's just trying to survive however she can (while often playing by their rules and sometimes playing by the genre's rules) as cheating and is thus a villain. They feel that if they're beaten down, terrified of breathing wrong, and so completely unhappy all day everyday, then everyone else should be too. But that doesn't make them evil either. They too, are just trying to survive to the next day.

And it's amazing how often, while I was reading, I thought about how this book mimics our world right now. Especially now, with our election results. But being angry that trump and his ilk won doesn't make anyone a villain. It doesn't make anyone who rebels against the coming tyranny, evil. We need to be angry to make the world better. It's the only way we'll stomp out his evil and his control. If people aren't angry, they'll become passive and trodden down and let him destroy our country out of fear of saying anything. Anger, however, will allow us to rise up for good, for hope, for change.

We need anger to survive

And as for Alice as the main character, I just think Rae makes for a much more interesting main character. Rae being someone who has already been fighting for her life against her own self, going on to fight for her life against outside forces of true evil.

The entire story feels very much like a wish fulfillment story for anyone who's fought the, sometimes futile and unwinnable, fight against their own body. And none of that feels villainous to me.

I remember reading in one of your blog entries (years ago??) that in the new book you were writing, the main character's *sister* had cancer. Does that mean that Alice was originally the main character of Long Live Evil? Was she going to go into the book to save Rae, instead of Rae going in to save herself?

How extremely kind of you to remember!

No, that was actually a YA murder mystery that I wrote while ill, revised while recovering, and sent out into the world where it died on submission. (Which means we sent it out to about 12 editors and the editor either said no, or said yes and took it to acquisitions - a group of people at the publisher including sales and marketing - and acquisitions said no.)

One editor told me she really wanted and really tried to buy it. Another person who worked in publishing (and has since changed jobs, or I wouldn’t share this) said the response at her acquisitions was - if you like this writer, find the next her (implications about health and youth were made).

I was terrified my agent was going to ditch me too, but she said ‘We’ll sell that one day, for now let’s write the next thing.’

I remember another writer telling me she missed my work that wasn’t a tie-in, and I felt ashamed to tell her it wasn’t that I wasn’t writing other things - it was that I couldn’t publish them.

The tie-ins meanwhile were paying the bills (they still are tbh!) and I was and remain so grateful for them. But I also really loved writing them - especially my Sabrina tie-ins, you don’t forget the first, and it reminded me I want to write horror and poly one day - and how they got me to love and sympathise with so many fandoms.

I see the burnout of caregivers all around me, and I wanted to write the story of one. But maybe I also wanted to take a step back from cancer. I didn’t think I did, at the time. I had a whole lot of things I tried writing before Long Live Evil, and I think some of them were really good. One of my critique partners gave me a lipstick with the same name as someone in the murder mystery. There was a romance novel another critique partner said was her favourite thing I’d ever written. But none had someone with cancer at the heart of the story.

And even though Rae isn’t much like me, maybe I had to start there. You can’t make real magic using someone else’s liver. Maybe I had to wait to be brave enough to use my own liver.

I do get requests for advice on how to cope with rejection of your writing, and I always worried I didn’t have anything else to say, but I suppose my example says - if you can, (and I know it’s hard, you feel so terrible at writing and so useless) (and you love the work you’ve done so much and you don’t see a way forward to loving the next thing) (but still, if you possibly can) write the next thing.

Even if the first thing sells, you’ll want the next thing one day. Writing the next thing is more writing practise, so it’ll make you better. Write the next thing.

Ultimately I’m really glad Long Live Evil was my comeback book. I think it needed to be. It took the time it took.

But maybe it was a shade of that past book (where the heroine’s sister with cancer was six, so not much like any of the Time of Iron characters) that made me think of the YA version of this book, which I always had in my mind as something I was intentionally hewing away from - a more straightforward book, a book that might have sold better - in which shy reader Alice was the hero. She’s the one with the suggestive hero name - Alice through the looking glass - the heroine looks, and the more projectable-upon personality. She’d get called annoying less often (though still some, because she’s a girl), partly because she is (with love, Rae knows I’m right) a genuinely less annoying person. Much kinder, much sweeter, and much better at in-depth reading! Her sister being in trouble would’ve been a backstory, a catalyst point, and - you’re totally right - a great motivation for her to get the Flower. Saving a family member is a much more sympathetic and heroic motivation than saving yourself and one I do love (the Hunger Games, Labyrinth, Mahy’s the Changeover, and I write it a lot!). I think Snarky While Tragically Dying Rae would’ve been a pretty popular side character, too. I think it would’ve been a good book! Just not mine.

I love your question because I love thinking about POV, and all the decisions that are the building blocks of a story. To me, the Alice centric Time of Iron is a version that exists. As are several versions of the Lia centric Time of Iron. And versions centring other characters exist to me, too. (Eric, absolutely.)

Speaking of POV musing, I think Rahela the wicked stepsister featured more in the musical than the book. If the Time of Iron series ever became a TV show (and at this point in time I think I’d rather a movie because it wouldn’t… get cancelled…) and I got to write it (don’t know why I would…) I would start with the beginnings for three characters about to go on a journey to somewhere strange to them: Key in the Cauldron, Rae in the hospital, and Vasilisa in the icelands. There are so many possibilities! And I really wanted the sense that there were so many possibilities, too.

But I wanted the chronically ill one to be the centre of the story, and for it to be her villain origin story, and to ask a lot of questions (hence a lot of villains!) about who gets villainised and why. And I thought hers, to my mind, would be the most fun of all the possible stories.

So that’s the one I made. But Long Live Evil has a lot of origins. Thank you for remembering one of them! I don’t think I would’ve dared tell the story, if things hadn’t worked out for me (so far, fingers crossed).

And I also tell it to be clear my publisher was taking a RISK with me and Long Live Evil, and I really appreciate that, and I’m so happy it’s worked out for them (again so far, early days, fingers crossed, etc).

I hope some writers - whether in the process of submission, rejection or making the choices that are the building blocks of story - find this helpful, and some readers find it interesting.

Let this be one of the universes in which your story is told.

[hwkgrass]

[pagesofkenna]

it's basically the same explanation as in the manga, but the anime has made it easier for me to understand what Kabru's beef is with the Touden siblings, and I think that explanation was really well done

[makedonsgriva]

just finished reading semantic error manhwa and now I just can’t stop thinking about writing a wangxian AU loosely based on it ugh😭🙏

[journey-to-the-attic]

lucifer acts like he's the type of guy who'd be into dark comedy or high-brow satire, and he is to some extent, but he in fact prefers to watch michael mcintyre walk around on stage going "wooo wooo" pretending he's hoovering

[nakanotamu]

People will talk about "idol wrestling" and just mean wrestling that wants you to emotionally invest in the performers and want to see them improve as if that isn't virtually all wrestling ever and then hold up TJPW and Act Wres like they're some sort of ultra pure sports based presentation that're just ultra focused on putting on quality matches and not the most pure unadulterated attempts to copy idol frameworks since 2011 Stardom

[horsemage]

I think we should bring back basic etiquette lessons such as shutting the fuck up when you’re watching a movie in a group that is not exclusively your friend group 🙂