#and B) look in the fucking mirror and acknowledge that you did the same thing for months on end to me as well

[burnyourtrains]

Yeah whatever. Anyway I hope both sides of her pillow are always warm and that she always catches her pinky toe on the corners of tables

[iamthecomet]

AHHHHHH!!!!

COMET!!!!

I just woke up and saw your post!!! We need to hear all about the shirt! The interaction! The guitar pick! We need to see photos if you took any too!

You are so lucky!!!! I'm so glad that you had a good time and you got to go to TWO in a row! So fucking fabulous!!!!

Mine ritual is on Friday and I cannot wait!

This post and all of it's ridiculous extra exclamation points brought to you by the Gremlin.

GREMLIN. Photos/videos coming soon. I just put them all on my computer so I can actually look through them and pick out the good ones. But THE SHIRT. OK. Just for clarity, I'm referring to him as Sodo here, because this entire interaction was very much an interaction I had with The Man and not The Ghoul and I cannot bring myself to refer to him as Dewdrop in this particular scenario. But I'm not mentioning anything else related to unmasked Dew, except for that nickname that everyone else already knows. So, I've been joking around with my partner and a few other people for MONTHS about making a shirt that said "Sodo" on it because A) I adore him for many many reasons (not just Ghost). and B) what if he SAW IT!? What would he do!? So, like a week before my rituals I went to the craft store, found out that the stuff needed to make said shirt would be like...10 dollars, and said "fuck it." I was super nervous about it, convinced he was going to see it and think I was CREEPY or weird or some shit, but several people (including YOU) managed to convince me that it was going to be fine and he would not think that. And he might even appreciate it. So I made it, wore it to the ritual I had pit for. Ended up with the best barrier spot I could have asked for in that situation. Got my pick a few songs in--before he ever saw the shirt. He threw it at me but it fell short but I still got it! Immediately after the He Is solo, he turned toward us. I'd turned my phone light off because I didn't want to blind him, and my partner had angled his down for the same reason--which meant that it was pointing toward me. And I'm like reaching up to him, singing at him, and then he saw my shirt, fucking stopped short. Fucking lights were in my eyes so I could BARELY see him, but he dragged his finger over his chest to be like "your shirt!?!?" and pointed at me, and I mirrored that and nodded, and probably did something else with my hands, who knows. I don't remember, it's a blur. He nodded and gave me a thumbs up, so I threw him the heart hands and I blew him a kiss , and he blew one back. And then it was over and I just stared after him like "was that real?" It was the sweetest fucking thing and I just stood there in shock when it was over, as the guy next to me nudged me and grinned and gave me double thumbs up. I'm just like slack-jawed looking around like "did that ACTUALLY fucking happen?" Gremlin, I love that man so fucking much. His attention was laser focused on me from the second he saw it until he had to turn and leave to go play. And it just felt...genuine? like I had a sign language conversation with him and we were both genuinely happy about it. I'm getting fucking weepy thinking about it again. Like how am I allowed to love him more than I already did? HOW? There is no way for him to know how much those like 10 seconds meant to me. But I really hope that they meant something to him too, even if just for a moment. I feel so fucking privileged to be able to have this interaction, that the stars aligned so he actually saw the shirt. That he paused and made a point to acknowledge it, to appreciate it. To see me. It was really fucking special. TLDR: Dew/Sodo knows I love him. And that I exist. And I am a little unwell about it, and will never recover and I really don't want to.

Also, if anyone happens to have a clip of the end of He Is from the CT show where you can actually see this happen, I will love you for fucking EVER.

[imapeanut]

I just wanted to post the latest chapter of my book here. I haven't posted in awhile.

Tw: Abuse, Transphobia of some sorts, family problems, some sort of neglect. Talk about private parts and addiction to drugs and alcohol. Death mentioned and acknowledged. Nightmare.

"You fucking brat!"

I got bashed on the head again with that same bottle, the one that was already covered in my blood and tears. I kept crying, and I hated it. There were glass shards in my face and mouth, I might have swallowed some, but I was too focused on trying not to cry. If my father sees it, he might decide to hit me harder.

"Were trying to help you Olivia, to make you our special girl again. Your dad just has a... Special way of showing what you did wrong."

Bullshit, all I did was drop a mug on the floor. And my minupuitive mother, alcoholic and drug filled father, and my oblivious sister had to hear it.

"Are you paying any attention or are you lost in your own world again, F__?!"

Shit, I spaced out too long. I have a habit of doing that. Is it because of getting hit with things that are making my memory bad? Makes sense on how I'm getting B's and A's all the time-

I let out a small yelp at the contact the broken bottle made. This time it was my chest. Blood started slowly staining my shirt from where the bottle made contact. It hurt, so, so much. Suddenly, mother somewhat rescued me from father.

"Robert! Don't stain her outfit! You'll get it all bloody!"

She then looked at me.

"Go take a shower, and then give me all your blankets and pillows for this mess you made, You'll get them back when we tell them you can have them back. And remember, Mommy loves you!"

I wasn't paying attention to that last sentence. She doesn't love me, a real mom would save me from their alcoholic husband. A real mom would actually care about their children. She does athis for the image. That we're an actually sweet, kind, loving family who has two daughters and a lavish mansion. The mansion part, yes. The two daughters and 'loving' part, absolutely not. I hate it, that I have to be called a girl when I don't want to be. Having to live this lie about being the perfect family while all I want to do is expose them for who they really are. It would be nice to see their faces be shocked and embarrassed. Watching them slowly but surely lose there sanity from there image being shattered and being sent to prison for there crimes. But it's too risky. And there's no point in trying. I don't even have a phone.

I start to get ready for my shower, I take off my clothes and start the water for it to get warm. I then throw my washcloth in there so it can get somewhat wet and put my towel on the toilet seat. But before I get in I look at myself in the mirror.

I look at my breasts. I hate them, I wish I can just insert a syringe into them and suck out all the fat and tissue out of them. I look down at my vagina. I wish it wasn't there. I wish it didn't smell and I hate to have blood gushing out of it for five days at least. Everything is wrong, everything is either filled with cuts and picked off scabs. I know I shouldn't pick them off, but the bumps and scabs annoy me so much.

I step into the shower and fully relax. It's my only safe space at this point. While other than my room that I share with Vivvie, which I still don't get because there's more then seven bedrooms in this mansion. But I rather not think about it. I'd rather focus about the shower.

The water runs down my skin, rinsing most of the dried up blood away into the drain it feels so satisfying but horrifying to watch. I then get to scrubbing, my armpits, my feet, my vagina. Everything from head to toe. As well as shampoo and condition my hair. Then I sit for awhile longer, enjoying the warm water on my body. It makes me feel safe.

I get out and dry off. Making sure not to miss a speck of water that would might get on the floor. The air is cold, they always have it under 40° in the house. It's why I always wear turtlenecks. To make it seem warmer then it actually is.

I look at the mirror again, the cuts seemed to not stop bleeding but they would dry soon. They always do. I then went out in the hallway again. This time I looked at the pictures. One of them was my parents, looking professional and hot expressing any emotion. Another had me on my sixth birthday. I was blowing out my candles while everyone was clapping around me. I can't even remember the last time I had a birthday party that was actually me enjoying myself rather then 'looking good' for views and likes.

The last picture before my room was all four of us, all of us were smiling for a family photo. I had Vivvie on my lap, father had his hand on mother's shoulder, and mother wrapped her arm around father. We all looked happy.

Oh, how I wish it was a genuine picture.

As soon as we got to the car after the picture, mother started yelling at me about not smiling big enough and it ended up with me being starved for at least a week. My parents before the photo made me wear a dress and told me that I would have to sleep on the floor for a month if I refused. So I had no choice in the end.

No one is really friendly in this house. Hell, even I have secrets that are hidden behind locked gates.

I make it to my bedroom, Vivvie is currently drawing in one of the multiple coloring books that our parents gave her. She's so spoiled.

"Hi big brother!" She says as soon as she sees me getting dressed into pajamas.

"Hey, Viv."

"What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing."

She stood up and faced me with her hands on her hips.

"I see the boo-boos, let me bandage them up for you!"

"No-"

"I'll start crying if you refuse."

"Okay, okay! I'll let you."

"Yay! Now get on the bed."

The next few moments were Vivvie putting various Hello Kitty and Pokémon bandages on my face to hide the scars and cuts away.

When she was about to start with my arms, I felt a hand choking me by the neck.

"This isn't real."

"Wha-What?"

I looked up at her. Her whole body was a silhouette with hyper realistic eyes and a blood red cut around her neck, we were both in darkness, and now there was no bed or anything. Just eerie silence and my attempts at breathing echoing around the dark.

"You saw me dead. At the school not even a week ago."

I was trying to remain conscious enough to listen. But with her choking me it was hard to do.

"You know, you could have saved me. If you didn't meet a certain someone again."

I can't... Hold on for any longer...

"Time to wake up brother, I'll see you soon."

...

"AH-"

Oh, it was a dream.

I clinged onto my pillow and curled up into a ball, letting my tears spill out onto the fabric. My stuffed raccoon was on my lap, I bounced it and pet it like a baby to calm me down. My breathing was a mess.

"V-Vivvie, I miss you s-so much..."

(Word Count: 1,282 (Holy Shit))

Full story (not really) on my wattpad account!

[thewrongmoon]

Actual Concrete S5 predictions from me

I feel like I've been fucking around with trying to figure out possible groupings for the next season, so I'm actually gonna go into what EVENTS I think are going to take place next season. Well, more like ONE event I know is gonna happen.

Will Getting Vecna'd (in some capacity):

I first felt like this would be too obvious, because Will has already been possessed before, but the evidence points directly to it. I don't think it will be the same as other Vecna possessions, namely because Will has a different bond with Vecna than Max and his other victims did. But, again, I'm like 90% sure its gonna happen. Why?

This image right here ! This image was posted by Noah before vol 2 dropped (I believe), and everyone assumed that vol 2 would have Will getting Vecna'd but that never actually happened.

And I will acknowledge the possibility that this could just be a joke made by Noah and he tried it on just to take a picture, but that also seems unlikely imo. Like I feel like these harnesses would probably be expensive and hard to get into yourself, so they wouldn't just let him run off with one? But I'm not involved in the production of ST so idk.

Actually, just realizing this as I go back to edit this point, Noah isn't wearing Will's clothes at all. He's wearing a white t-shirt and grey sweatpants. In the show he wears a blue long-sleeve undershirt and tan colored jeans (which you may be able to see in the bottom right corner of the mirror) alongside his yellow flannel.

Sadie doesn't wear Max's clothes here when she's harnessed up. This was in a rehearsal, not the actual thing. But I would imagine that they would A. maybe put their clothes back on in post-production (though this seems kind of unlikely) or B. have them dress in layers as to hide the harness and knee/elbow pads the best they can.

Will's actual outfit clearly being in frame in Noah's photo could mean he was going to put it on over the clothes he is wearing.

The second piece of evidence is this footage which shows the actor for Lonnie Byers at the table read.

Now, we don't see Lonnie at all during season 4. It's possible that there's maybe a cut scene with him in it, like a flashback? But I have no idea where they would put it. They don't show anyone in the Byers family having flashbacks in S4, and they're probably the only ones who would have any involving him.

Lonnie being present means we'll probably see him again. And because I don't think he would put in any effort into reconnecting with his kids he abandoned 5+ years ago, it's gotta have to happen in a memory, or flashback, or nightmare, or hallucination.

And who do we know that uses people's past trauma to get into their brains?

This queen right here!!

Now I know what you're wondering. If we're gonna see Lonnie in a Vecna-vision in S5, why was he at a table read for S4?

This leads me into my next theory:

Parts of S5 have already been scripted and filmed.

NOW HEAR ME OUT. This theory makes a lot of sense if you really think about it.

First of all, the production of S4 was delayed significantly by COVID. This left the writers with more time to potentially work on the S5 script.

Another huge hurdle for the crew of ST was the kids getting older. Nearly 3 years passed in between the end of filming S3 and the end of filming S4. Their characters were only supposed to age like 6 months.

Because of this, they tried multiple ways to make them appear younger, through wardrobe and even asking them make their voices higher.

They knew it was gonna take them at least another year or two before they could get to filming S5, and the actors would age more in that time. I mean, look at Finn Wolfhard. He already looks nothing like he did in S4.

The Duffers have stated that there was no way for it to not pick up where they left off.

Because of their insistence to shoot back to back, it's safe to say assume something happens right after S4 ends.

But I think they must have come to a compromise, where they inserted a time jump some time after that.

Lonnie's actor being present in the S4 table read and Noah in a harness (with the flannel he wears in the final episode) are kind of hard to explain if this isn't true.

Originally people thought a time jump would occur after episode 4 of S5, but I do think it's unrealistic for them to have already filmed half of S5. I do think it's feasible that they've maybe filmed episode 1 of S5, or they filmed parts of S5 that they want to play in flashbacks or just play in a non-linear fashion.

They finished this grid awfully quickly, and have said many times before that they already had most of S5 blocked out. I don't think it's super unrealistic for them to have scenes in mind that needed to be filmed asap to fit in with the story. This grid was probably more of a way to determine what part of the story fits in where.

Suffice to say, there's something fishy going on here.

Predictions:

I think Will will have some type of contact with Vecna right where S4 ends. Not necessarily being Vecna-d, but something to lift him in the air which would require a harness. I think Vecna would want to use his memories of Lonnie to turn him against his friends and family.

I think that Will may join him with the intention of double crossing him. This would bring the "super-spy" scenario back full circle.

But no matter how we look at it, Will being Vecna'd seems inevitable.

[batdarkladyvampir]

At the Garden Inn - Part 4

Dieter Bravo/curvy female reader

Part 3

Warnings: negative self talk regarding weight

You woke up the next morning and immediately thought about calling out sick. You could work just as easily from home as you could at the hotel.

No, that would be cowardly, and you were tired of not standing up for yourself. You could go into work and act like Dieter hadn’t made you toss and turn all night, wondering what kind of game he was playing with you.

You had broke down at about 2am and goggled the man, and all his previous partners had been fucking gorgeous. And skinny.

After scrolling though his dating history you had no problem convincing yourself he was just toying with you for his own amusement, which hurt more than it should.

You were also no closer to finding out why he was in the middle of fucking nowhere Arizona. You had read a couple stories about his most recent relationship, with a woman almost 20 years his junior, having been broken off suddenly a few months ago, so perhaps it was due to that.

An amused snort escaped you as you rolled out of bed. It would be ironic that the same thing brought him here that brought you here. Of course, your ex-husband wasn’t 20 years younger than you. That might be illegal? Too much math.

You refused to acknowledge the extra care you took with your hair and make up for the day, nor the time it took you to pick the perfect outfit.

You look at yourself in your bedroom mirror and sigh. There's no way he was serious about wanting you. He was fucking with you or you were reading him wrong. That's all there was to it.

---

You walked though the sliding doors of the Garden Inn and smiled. You might not be running your own B&B like you were hoping, but you still loved running this place. When the owner wasn't getting in your way.

After dropping your stuff off in your office and putting on your name tag, you began your morning routine, checking with the front desk to see if any issues cropped up last night or this morning, if housekeeping had any issues, maintenance concerns, and the like. Thankfully nothing needed handled. So you headed over to breakfast, happy that it was rather busy.

As you wandered the tables, stopping and taking to the guests, making sure their stays were good, you felt like someone was watching you. Every time you glanced around the room, everyone seemed to be enjoying their breakfast and not staring holes in the back of your head.

Finally done with the table touches, you grabbed a cup of coffee and made your way back to your office.

As you were sitting down at your desk, Ann stuck her head in the door way. “Hey, boss. I have a guest on the phone for you.”

You nodded, “transfer them through.”

She nodded and a few seconds later your phone rang. You answered with your standard greeting and there was silence on the line.

“Hello?”

You heard the guest on the other end of the line fumble the phone a bit. “Fuck! Sorry! Good morning, Gorgeous. How are you?”

You froze for a moment. “Dieter?”

“Good girl,” he purred, in a voice that made your entire body go warm.

You cleared your suddenly dry throat. “I-uh..how can I help you this morning?"

He chuckled softly, the sound almost sounding like a growl. “I can think of several ways you can help me, however we'll have to save those for later. I wanted to see if you would have another cup of coffee with me later?”

Your brain was officially mush. Dieter Bravo was growling in your ear and asking you out for coffee? Did you even wake up this morning?

“Dieter, um…”

��Listen, I don’t have a lot of time right now. I have a meeting with my agent and manager in a few minutes, and it’ll probably take most of the morning. But will you have some coffee in the lobby with me after?”

You nodded, as if he could see you. “Sure.”

“Thanks, cariño. See ya in a bit.”

You hung up the phone and stared at it for a long moment. What the fuck had just happened? As you were contemplating finding a way to make sure you were awake, your phone buzzed in your pocket.

When you pulled it out you saw you had a new message.

[Dieter]: you were so beautiful this morning going from table to table like a hummingbird tasting flowers. Can't wait to see you 😘

---

Tag list:

@nicolethered

[astonmartinii]

lemonade and star-crossed lovers, p1 (JJ Maybank)

Warnings: none yet, swearing? all core characters are aged up to 18, Rafe is 21. 

JJ Maybank x kook!reader (super super slow burn) (this will hopefully be a series) 

WC: 4.0k 

Growing up, Y/N always heard jokes about how the eldest daughter was just the mum in a different font. She never used to believe it, but that was when she had present and dedicated parents. Now, it just seemed that with every addition to the Miller family, the less interested Kevin and Julie Miller became. 

So here Y/N was, practically a mother to her three younger siblings. 

Dylan is only a year younger than Y/N but is no less of a hassle, especially when his useless friends decide to crash at their place. But considering they had the most hectic house of Dylan’s friendship group, the Miller household was usually the last option. 

Then there’s Anderson, he’s in his rebellious phase currently, getting to that point where he’s figured out that acting out could maybe get the attention of his parents. Though Y/N wasn’t sure how well his plans were working out. 

Peach is the youngest and practically attached to Y/N’s hip. To an untrained eye, Y/N often looked like a teen mum as she took Peach with her to the grocery shopping. In fact, Y/N was sure that if the kooks in Figure Eight didn’t know her family, they’d sneer at her with the same ignorance that clouded their entire lives. 

Y/N woke up glad - it’s the last day of school. Summer break looms. The idea of boneyard keggers and hot (but equally clueless) tourons, excited the girl. But she knew her summer reality would be looking after Peach, bailing Anderson out of jail and swatting away the affections of Dylan’s stupid friends. 

—————————————

Dylan is already awake when Y/N comes knocking, taking extra close care to his hair. 

“Oh, you’re up,” Y/N said, moving to ruffle his hair and grab the empty plate on his bedside cabinet. 

“Jesus, fuck Y/N, was that really necessary?” 

“Hey maybe if you spent more time on assignments than your hair you wouldn’t have to take so many summer classes - oh yeah, mum might not remember, but I do, and you will be going.” 

“But it’s summer, surely it’s a violation to my human rights to go to school.”

“I’m sure you’ll survive, and maybe when you finally pass this year, you’ll thank me. Breakfast in 10.” 

Dylan just flips his sister off, going back to admiring himself in the mirror. 

Y/N next goes to Peach’s room to find her awake and rummaging through her draws. 

“Hey, princess, what are you thinking for the last day? Third grade finished already, you’ll be my age soon, wheeling me into the retirement home.” 

Peach erupts into giggles, pulling out a little pink summer dress and grabbing her pink sandals to complete the ensemble. 

“All pink, we love. Breakfast in 10, alright, don’t want you to be late for the last day.” 

Anderson’s room is last, Y/N doesn’t bother knocking on her parent’s door. Kevin is probably already down on Judy - his beloved boat. The room is typical of a 14 year old boy, it stunk, his weed paraphernalia was badly hidden and there was a lump of pillows under the cover instead of a boy. 

Shrugging, Y/N picked up the dirty mugs in his room and moved downstairs. She’d been awake nearly an hour now but was still unsure of what to make for breakfast. Opening the fridge gave her the only possible answer, leftover pizza from the previous night and maybe a porridge pot, though considering there were only two siblings to account for, it would do. 

Dylan and Peach joined her in the kitchen shortly after, each taking a slice or two of pizza. 

“No Anderson and pizza for breakfast? Watch out, we'll be calling CPS as soon as we’re outside.“ 

“You don’t know where the bug is? Why does that boy insist on giving me early onset cardiac issues?” 

“Don’t take it too to heart, I’m sure he’ll turn up by the second period.” 

“Okay, go to school now. Dylan, are you okay to drop Peach off, I’ll pick her up.” 

Dylan nods and ushers the youngest out of the door and to his car. Y/N lets out a sigh when she sees them leave the driveway and makes her way to the back door. Through the sliding door she can see her dad, Kevin on Judy instructing John B, the kid who worked on the boat, what to do. Y/N puts two slices of pizza on a plate and grabs an apple and ventures out to the dock. 

“Morning Y/N.” 

“Morning, John B, can I interest you in an apple? It’s all we have I’m afraid.” 

“No worries, any breakfast is breakfast when you’re a pogue.”

“Oh John B, you know I don’t believe in all that sub-par class warfare bullshit.” 

“Of course you don’t, but that’s very easy to say when you’re on the other side.” 

“Touche.” 

Y/N doesn’t say anymore, but moves to give her dad his breakfast. She liked John B and hoped he didn’t see her like the other kooks. Sure Rafe Cameron frequented her house, but she’s nothing like him. 

“Thanks, squirt.” 

Despite the nickname, Kevin was absent as ever, not moving to look at her. 

“You’re children are off to school, don’t worry.” 

Silence. 

“Oh thank you Y/N, I really don’t know what we’d do without you! You’re such a gem, you’re really unappreciated and we don’t deserve you! Thanks dad, I really needed to hear that. Are you coming later?”

“Where?” Kevin grunted, with pizza in his mouth. 

“My graduation? Did you forget that was today?” 

The awkward silence was enough of an answer for Y/N. 

“Sorry squirt, I promised to go to the mainland to pick something up for your mother.” 

With that, Y/N stormed off Judy, towards the house and into her room. When she sat down on her bed she could think about what just happened. She knew her parents didn’t care about her, but missing their first child’s graduation for a small errand to the mainland? 

Now that the house was quiet again, she could get ready - she was graduating today and as valedictorian she wants to look her best. Julie, her mum, is in Washington on some mysterious job venture, Y/N wasn’t told until she came down in the morning a few days ago and saw Julie with her suitcases. She guessed that one positive of her parents’ absenteeism is her ability to steal Julie’s expensive jewelry to wear. 

Y/N looked in the mirror, she did clean up nice when she wanted to. Her lengthy hair is in a half-up, half-down style, with minimal makeup and a red knee-length dress. The dress hugged her figure and complemented her graduation gown perfectly. Too bad none of her family would be there to see it. She knew deep down that Peach and Dylan would’ve attended if possible, and Anderson would maybe even make an appearance, especially if there was food involved. 

Y/N put her matching red heels on and grabbed her cap from her closet. After one final look in the mirror and putting her printed speech into her bag, the young girl made her way down the stairs. 

To her surprise, none other than John B sat in her kitchen drinking a glass of water. 

“You clean up nice kook,” said John B, a smug smirk on his face. 

“Thank you, John. Don’t you have graduation today?” 

 “Eh, yeah. I’m just going for the food though, school isn’t really my thing…” John B looked closer at her cap. “I’m practically the opposite to you Miss Valedictorian”. 

“Hmm, well at least someone in this house noticed, thank you John B. I’m going now, I didn’t notice your van out front, you need a lift to yours?” 

“Is that really on your way, wouldn’t want Miss Valedictorian to be late to her own event, you got a speech ready?” 

“I do as a matter of fact, but I want to be just on time, minimise the time people have to ask about the whereabouts of my parents. So, do you want a lift or not?” 

“Sure thing, Miss Valedictorian.” 

Y/N doesn’t acknowledge the nickname, but secretly loved it, it was a joke, but at least someone was appreciating her achievements. Peach would, she knows, but she’s not really at the point of understanding what it means and the others really are wildcards.

She led John B out to her small car, a baby blue Beetle. The boy smiled at her choice in car, 

“I’m sure that a kook like you could afford better than this.”

“Don’t insult Shelby in her presence, weren’t you ever taught manners? Now get it and give me directions.” 

The drive was fun, not that John B would tell Y/N that. He enjoyed her music choice, Mac Miller blasting from her speakers and the windows were fully rolled down, damned be her hair. 

Y/N neared the chateau and came to a stop. There were a few people sitting on the porch, looking over in confusion. 

“Yo, what’s with the kook-mobile, John B?” The blonde yelled from his seat on the beaten-up couch. 

When John B only turned to Y/N to say thank you, the interest peaked on the porch. The little gang of pogues moved towards the car. 

“John B, I didn’t realise your job came with a taxi service, why did I have to drop you off this morning?” The blonde, once again. 

“Lay off JJ, this is Y/N Miller, she’s the daughter of Kevin, the guy whose boat I work on. She’s on her way to her graduation and offered me a lift.” 

“Since when are kook graduations on the Cut?” The other boy interjected. 

Y/N decided to speak up, “if I knew an act of kindness would cause so much strife, I’ll just let you walk home next time. Now, I do have somewhere to be, so it was nice to see you, John B. I'm sure I’ll see you again this week.” 

“Bye Miss Valedictorian, good luck with your speech,” John B said, getting out of Shelby. 

“You’re the valedictorian?” Kiara finally spoke, face shocked. 

“Yeah, surprising what happens when you show up for school right?” Y/N snapped, angrier than she intended. 

“Oh yeah, sorry. I guess I thought that maybe Sarah would get it, especially if Ward has anything to do with it.” Kiara grimaced, she didn’t mean to offend the Miller girl. 

“You can’t buy the valedictorian title, well I’m sure you could, but not to flex, but my grades were miles better. If we’re being really ironic though, Ward technically does pay for the valedictorian,” Y/N said with a smile, not meaning to brandish her academic success in their faces. 

A chorus of “huhs?” from the pogues surrounding her car told Y/N that they weren’t catching her drift. 

“I’m Ward Cameron’s assistant. Sorry, I didn’t make that very clear.” 

“You have a job, but you’re a kook?” the blonde, JJ, said. 

“Yes, blondie, some of us do have to look out for ourselves, didn’t your parents tell you not to judge a book by its cover. I’ll see you around. Bye John B.” 

Y/N backed out of the road, heading back to Figure Eight, with her graduation starting in 10 minutes, she had massively overstayed her welcome at John B’s. If she weren’t so busy, Y/N always thought she’d like to be friends with John B and his crew, they had an unmistakable family bond that Y/N craved. She loves her siblings but they are still grappling with the idea of give and take, mainly fixating on the taking aspect. 

Y/N pulled up to school, and took out her phone, dropping a text to Anderson pleading with him to at least make it to two classes today. Even with her phone safely away in her bag, Y/N couldn’t quite bring herself to get out of the car. Happy families surrounded her everywhere she looked, she couldn’t handle the stares when she walks in alone. Well, it’s now or never she says to herself. 

Walking isn’t as bad as she suspects, Mr Morgan, her English teacher, meets her at the door and takes her to her seat, explaining the mechanisms of the ceremony and when she’ll make her speech.  

The hall, however, is the reminder that Y/N was dreading. The two seats she had booked for her parents sat empty, standing out like a sore thumb in the packed hall. She made her way to the student section with her head down. However, before Y/N could sit she was apprehended by an excitable Sarah Cameron. 

“Y/N! Hi! I heard you’re valedictorian, well done! I don’t know how you managed, with all the work and your siblings, you really are amazing.” 

“Thanks, Sarah.” 

The words sting, despite their pure intentions. She’s a kook, she shouldn’t have to work, and she should have parents who care for her and her siblings, but some things just aren’t meant to be, clearly. Y/N sat in her assigned seat and willed the ceremony to go fast, though she wasn’t looking too forward to her speech. The diversion to the chateau meant that Y/N had no time to look over it again. 

The ceremony started and the hall quietened down. Principal Stoney started her opening speech, basking in the spotlight when the hall door bursts open and interrupts. In the doorway stands Anderson. His hair is disheveled and the clothes are torn, probably from the nightly activities with the skateboard he held in his hand. The boy scanned the hall, eyes falling on the empty seats with the name Miller and then Y/N herself. He gives her a small wave and pushes past the Figure Eights families to the seats. 

Principal Stoney just restarts, a slight bewildered look on her face. 

When it was time for her speech, Y/N didn’t even feel real, like she floated to the stage and was possessed. Her speech went well from what she could gather, Mr Morgan gave her a thumbs up and Anderson hollered, much to the dismay of the families around him. But he was even worse when she received her diploma. 

As families spilled onto the field for fancy food and photo opportunities, Y/N wrangled Anderson to the side before he could raid the food stalls. 

“Anderson, what the fuck? First you didn't come home last night and then crash my graduation?” 

“Hey, I’m sorry about last night, me and the boys got carried away skating and I crashed on Oscar’s couch. I’m sorry, I should’ve called. And as for now, you think I’m going to let my smart-ass VALEDICTORIAN sister graduate without anyone being here to holler? You’re dead wrong.” 

The sentiment fills Y/N’s heart with joy and tears threaten to spill. Anderson’s never been good with feelings, it was nice to know that he did care. 

“Mum and dad can go fuck themselves, if they don’t see how great you are then they’re blind.” 

“Thanks, bug. It means a lot. Now don’t eat too much, people are probably already annoyed that you’re here.” 

Anderson shrugs, he couldn’t care less what they thought, he was here to eat and show off his sister. 

“Congratulations Y/N!” 

The voice of Y/N’s boss, Ward Cameron, was easily identifiable. Y/N puts on her confident face and turns to see the whole Cameron brigade, minus Wheezie. 

“Thank you, Mr Cameron.”

“You know, I just don’t know how you get it done, working for us and dealing with your siblings…” Rose says, the last part fading out as she watches Anderson walk back to his sister with his arms piled high with fancy horderves. 

“It’s tough, yeah, but what wouldn’t you do for your family?” 

“Of course, of course, sorry for any implications, where is the old man, I know Julie is off on business, but Kevin has to be proud, I didn’t see him in the hall?” Ward’s voice feigned sincerity, but the Miller siblings saw right through it. Before Anderson could respond, Y/N replied. 

“Dad is also doing business on the mainland, at the last minute. He’s devastated, really,” it's not convincing, even to her. Y/N can tell she hasn’t convinced the Camerons either. Sarah gives her a sad look, Rose attempts to mirror her step-daughter but fails, Ward looks slightly smug, like he’s trying to hide it but Rafe doesn’t even try to hide it like his dad, a massive smirk on his face. 

“What are your plans for the summer Miller?” Y/N is surprised when it’s Rafe who asks the question. 

“Well, I’ll be working for your dad, if he’ll have me, I still have my volleyball coaching in the tourist season and there’s never a dull moment with these around,” Y/N puts her arm around Anderson. 

Looking for a quick exit, she looks at her watch. 

“Oh, if we go now, you can still catch your last two periods. Kids, am I right?” She gestures at Rose and Ward, “we’ll be off now, I’ll see you next week?” 

The Camerons nod as Y/N pulls Anderson away and towards the car park. But before they can fully escape, they’re stopped by Mr Morgan. 

“You think you can leave without a photo and a proper goodbye, I didn’t think you were that kind of girl, Miller.” 

“Of course not, Mr Morgan, here,” she hands Anderson her phone, “take a picture please.” 

Anderson does so, taking about 50 at once. 

“Okay, okay, let's get one of you two, you can’t not have a proper graduation picture, especially not when you’re valedictorian.” 

Mr Morgan takes the phone and smiles at the siblings. When the impromptu photoshoot ends, Y/N is glad, despite it pushing back her escape. 

“Y/N, on a serious note, you are always welcome in my classroom, you’ve been a pleasure, and don’t tell anyone, but you were my favourite. And you, I hope you’ll be just as good next year sir,” he says turning to Anderson, “although considering you’re here and not in class doesn’t bode well.” 

“Thank you, sir, really. But you are completely right, and that’s why we’re bouncing now, so he can get two at least two periods.” 

Mr Morgan smiles at the two when they start to run to the car. He’s always felt sad for the eldest Miller, and her parents absence did not go unnoticed. 

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

“I’ll see you later, I know you guys will probably crash a kegger, but at least come home before you go?” 

“Yeah, yeah, okay, who knows maybe I’ll see you there?” 

Anderson laughs and gets out of the car, he knows his sister won’t especially when Peach will be home. Y/N watches him go into the building and stays a couple minutes to make sure he doesn’t sneak back out when he thinks she’s gone. 

But Y/N barely gets time to breathe, as she’s down to the elementary school to pick up Peach. The girl in all pink is waiting with a gaggle of friends and shrieks when she sees the blue car. 

“Y/N! Y/N! I got the “most improved” in drama!” 

Y/N opens the door and picks up Peach, spinning her round and congratulating her. 

“Well done, bubs. This calls for a celebration, it’s the first day of summer and the boys won’t be out for another couple of hours - what do you want to do?”

Peach doesn’t even need a second to think. 

“Lemonade stand!” 

Huh? Y/N was prepared for an answer closer to maybe a princess party or surfing lessons, but a lemonade stand? 

“Are you sure?” 

“You said we could do whatever I want!” 

“Okay, okay, let’s go then we’ve got a lot to do.” 

Satisfied with getting her way, Peach got in the car and demanded that the next stop was the craft store. 

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

The next 90 minutes were gruelling. Peach spared no expense, Y/N was lucky that she still had the credit card Julie gave her. But she knew it would all be worth it. And it was. 

Peach chose a spot right in the middle of the beach and the stall was already making a profit. Y/N knew kooks just couldn’t resist the temptation to look good and what was better than giving a generous tip to a child’s lemonade stand? 

But with a successful kook-trap came the kook assholes. Namely Rafe, Topper and Kelce. 

“Three lemonades please. Apricot, right?” Rafe said with a smirk. 

“You know it’s Peach asshole.” 

“That’s a bad word, Y/N,” Peach mumbled, clearly upset about being called apricot of all things.

“Yeah that’s a bad word, Miller, you should listen to Apricot a little more.” 

“Maybe, you should listen to your college professors, oh wait, you dropped out, my bad, must be a bit of an open wound judging by the look on your face. I bet daddy wasn’t impressed.” 

“Excuse me, you bitch, how dare you talk to me like that.” 

“Run along, lap dog, we don’t need your money.” 

Rafe goes to say something but Topper and Kelce hold him back. 

“Bro, don’t get it shit with your pops over a fucking lemonade,” Topper warned. 

With a final “fuck off”, Rafe Cameron stalked away to his car, his gang of cowards following, but not without Topper placing a crisp $20 bill in the tip jar. Peach mumbled and thank you and Y/N just nodded to Topper, too tired to say anything more. 

And if her afternoon couldn’t get any worse, the prickly blonde from this morning strolled over to the stand. 

“I’ll have four lemonades please.” 

Peach gasped and accepted his money right away, getting to work on the drinks. 

“I’ve seen many a kook-trap in my time, Miller, but not many operated by Kooks themselves. Impressive ingenuity.” 

“Thanks - JJ, was it? Peach here won “most improved” in her drama class and this is what she wanted to do in celebration” 

“Cute, Miller, didn’t take you as a softy earlier.” 

Peach announces that she’s finished with the pogue’s drinks, he puts another $5 in the tip jar and grabs the drinks. 

“Miller, there’s a kegger at the boneyard tonight, wanna come? I’m sure at least one of your brothers will crash.” 

“Sorry JJ, someone’s gotta look after the little one, maybe another time, if you can stand being around a kook for that long.” 

“I think I can make an exception, especially if they look like you Miller,” he winks, “boneyard tonight, if you change your mind.” 

Y/N blushed, but she knew she couldn’t, she couldn’t leave a nine year old at home, even if Kevin was there, there was no guarantee that Peach would be fed and given adequate attention. 

“He’s pretty, you should go.” 

“Peach, honey, you know I can’t, I can’t leave you at home.” 

“But I could go to Jenny’s, she’s having a sleepover tonight, I forgot to ask earlier, I got too excited about the lemonade stand.” 

“Okay, you can go to Jenny’s, but promise not too much candy?”

“Only if you promise to go with him tonight.” 

Peach was proving to be just as mischievous as her brothers. 

“Okay fine.” 

“Go tell him then.”

“Huh?” 

“I won’t believe you unless you go tell him now that you'll be there!”

 Y/N groans, but gets up to follow the blonde. As she nears, she shouts, 

“Hey JJ! I’ll be there tonight, at the boneyard, I’ll be there.” 

“Didn’t take too long for you to change your mind then, am I just that irresistible?” 

“No? What? Of course not! It’s just Peach - she’s a master manipulator, and she’s only nine!”

“Sure, Miller, if that’s what you want me to believe, I’ll see you later, sweetheart.”

Y/N turned, she should cringe, but she finds herself blushing as she walks back to Peach. 

“Don’t say anything, missy, you’ve done enough, let’s pack up and get you ready for Jenny’s. You young ones are such troublemakers, damn.”  

A/N: I am not American, so I hope that the graduation stuff makes sense, from someone who has no real clue what happens there lol  

[oexen]

Do you have any Valdemar headcanons you'd be willing to share? ^^

OF COURSE I DO thank u for asking anon, i ended up writing a bunch of stuff wehehe i hope u enjoy

Fluff

• I love to think that they have a secret penchant for cute tiny things, and I do mean things that are widely publicly accepted as cute and it would be super embarrassing if anyone found out. No one can ever know.

• They carry fantasy HotHands ™ in their pocket. :^)

• They’d get offended if you accused them of committing some atrocity or crime, but not for the right reasons. How dare you insinuate they’re a filthy pleb, obviously they’re above that, Fool.

• They really try to be funny, even if subconsciously. (Dr. 069 in the house, calling MC a Fool haw haw, oh woops, looks like I have interrupted your Romantic Endeavors :3c, how do you do fellow humans) One of these days someone will laugh at their dry ass non-jokes, right? Right???

• If they really wanted to they could whip out their tentacles to do menial tasks but it’s more fun to watch other more perishable beings try hard to do things for them

• Duck whisperer, no one knows why. Quackstor

• They never put anything extra in their tea.

• I think they’re generally very clean, and they’d smell like clean laundry or nothing. Alcohol would dry their shit all the way out, and it’s pretty difficult to keep yourself clean when you wear all white all the time, so I don’t think they’d smell like death, decay, chemicals, the dungeon, etc. They’re completely swaddled and must look ✨ crisp ✨. Their eldritch spaghetti form would have to smell like nothing or it would have an aoe instadeath radius for sure.

• Theatre kid. Horse kid. Where are their horse demon characteristics smh

• As much as they’re ~above humans~ they’re still thirsty for juicy drama and will use themself to that end. They’re more there for the drama than they’re an active threat unless they’re ordered to do things, but they’ve still shown they won’t follow orders to the letter unless they personally want to.

• They hate all the paperwork they’re stuck with :3

Angst under the cut!

• They’re touch-starved. Getting physically close to MC is a 2 birds 1 stone situation, they get to scare the pants off them (oops ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) )and they microdose intimacy.

• I like thinking about how Valdemar’s emotions, especially their love of discovery, were torn away from them over the course of their deal-making, so they’re now obsessed with science and research in the same way that Volta’s obsessed with food, they can’t stop pursuing it, they know they’re supposed to like it, but they can’t really taste the fruits of their or anybody else’s labor :’^) Their insistance that they ~love~ death and decay is a cover story, mostly. The sentiment used to have meaning.

• They could, once again, whip out their tentacles at any point when they’re alone in the dungeon all the time, but they try to remember what it is to feel like a person sometimes. They know no one’s coming down there anymore, and they’d save themself some trouble if they casually used demon powers, but they don’t. It’s weirdly vulnerable.

• Kinda fluff, kinda angst, Valdemar likes tea and the feeling of a warm drink is supposed to make people happier/friendlier as well as it simulates human touch, and I feel like they use that to feel something (like the ghost of a warm fuzzy feeling B’^) ) considering it’s something small and frivolous they go out of their way to enjoy. If you hold their hands they don’t feel the need to make tea as often ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) They cling to the last shreds of their humanity with everything they have or they wouldn’t be able to function properly.

• Underneath all their posturing and effortless intimidation, they know they fucked it all up big time, but they’ve at least convinced themself that they’ve accepted it. They’re stuck, bored as hell, and know they can’t reverse anything, so why bother entertaining the thought of regret? I think MC noting that Valdemar couldn’t have made certain expressions Muriel did speaks to that they only allow themself a small range of emotions.

• Their relationship with Death really closely mirrored Nadia’s relationship with the High Priestess, when they were human. They didn’t have a strong support network though, and thus were more inclined to accept deals from the Devil. Death might have taught them a lot, and Valdemar at least acts as if death and its processes are all they care for; they don’t have much else. I think they say a lot of things to convince themself that whatever they’ve done isn’t fucked up beyond all reason (ends justify the means wink wonk), as much as it also works as a facade.

• They started with good intentions, they wanted to discover things and help people, if they were that ancient alchemist, something made them desperate. They went too deep in the Devil’s bogo deal special, Death’s disappointment felt like a betrayal (Don’t you think I should help more people? Why are you so against my success?) and Death’s pain may not have occurred to them.

• The breakdown of Valdemar’s relationship with Death must have been long and painful on both sides at some point, but by the time Death was weakened like the Hierophant in Nadia’s route, Valdemar had their own blinders on🐴 and/ or was too deep in the Devil’s thrall to acknowledge what it really meant.

• They had a need for power and control over their life and ended up giving up what little they really had for illusions of these things, and once they realized that’s what was happening, it was far too late. Can’t half-ass it though I guess lol they said crank that shit up to 11. Then they just ended up with all the paperwork lmfao

Misc

• They helped create an entire society that at some point was even advanced and prosperous, and while they say they love to see it fall, it also means it’s in their best interest to help in bringing it up. They also would rather be employed than not, and love having opportunities to reject invitations to meetings and other things.

[anonil88]

Malcolm and Marie live blog

I don't usually do liveblogs for movies but yea.

Spoilers ahead!!

I love that its modern timed but very 70s stylized.

A tune indeed.

When you are high and drunk on success and

How the white critic reacts is why I feel like gatekeeping my scripts. At the same time some things I do make are about race or involve.

Marie sitting on the patio smoking is a mood whenever men are talking.

So he's pretentious and unaware.

Whoever chose the music for this, I feel like we would be Spotify mutuals.

Can this nigga stop pacing.

Also can he stop talking;

Marie is so tired and unimpressed.

Also little booties matter and are to be bitten.

Oooo the tension and the jazz.

Title Card over mac and cheese.

Shitty boxes mac and cheese but still mac and cheese.

Tbh i always wonder if spouses/significant others get upset when their spouses don't acknowledge them during speeches.

John sounds so much like his dad but I really hope his acting style differs from his dad a lot.

Guilty confession?

He did not profit off of his partners backstory and then not even acknowledge her.....I.....

If that ever happened to me catch me cussing my partner out during the beginning credits, the end credits, in the car, and at home.

GASLIGHTER!

The way I'm excited for Zendaya to give me some, oooo can she work with Regina King. Please on my knees I pray.

Um no that's not your job to coddle your lead.

He's a dick and the type of dick who makes himself look like a good person around other people.

If Sam Levinson is trying to make his viewers more of misandrist, it's working.

I feel like Marie has her flaws probably a lot of them and we will surely see as this continues, but Malcolm needs to learn how to apologize sincerely.

70s vibes! 70s vibes!

Them kissing and talking about criticism and dreams makes me miss a partner. A partner that I've had and haven't had.

Women really are behind every great man.

Yea sir you fucked a happy moment.

Oh visual allegories for looking in from the outside and cat and mouse chasing and looking from the outside in.

She's saying she doesn't feel noticed by you.

Gas lighter :0 he called her an emotional support dog, bruh.

I would LOVE to co-write or take a writing class held by Sam Levinson. The fights i write are very much in this same realm of reflection and anger and monologue.

Sam.....sam.....are all the sides inside of you doing okay sir?

The ugly side of dating and being in a relationship with someone who struggles with their own demons.

Honestly I could close my eyes and listen to this script being read without seeing these characters visually. Just close my eyes and get a sense of these characters like it was a radio story.

Oh. Oh this is a new wheelhouse of Zendaya acting; a different voice is like breaking through here and her expressions aren't the same we are used to. You can literally hear another character in there....hmm.

Mans is outside really fighting with his invisible demons lmfao.

Selfish ass, how after everything she said you came out of it thinking about your own craft and self instead of how you hurt her.

So she's conditional.

Me: did sam (a white man) say nigga this many times in his script or are the actors adding their own inflections. Not just the lingo used but the topic of race and directing etc. being written by a white writer about black characters is always gonna be a critique when you're writer is a white person.

Alexa play Broken Girls by Saba

He is so hurtful.

A clown nigga a clown look in the fucking mirror you bozo head ass looking like you need some Mehron clown white and a size 16 in clown shoes.

John is doing a really swell performance and reading of these lines.

He is reading her for her insecurities by bringing up his experiences with other women and that.....is yikes.

Arguments can get messy like this in real life but it takes a lot of maturity and control to either not let it get to this point or have a healthy conversation afterwards.

This film is really shot on some very crisp lenses.

They sitting there like 🚬🧍‍♀️🧍‍♂️.

Leftover Mac and Cheese and unfinished cigarettes.

The nyt etc. pay walls are so annoying, but there is a work around look at the articles on incognito or add a period at the end of the url.

He sounds like his daddy so much here, weird, this is the only part I'm eh on the dialogue it feels real but a bit out of pace in how they are bouncing off one another.

Nail scissors? So the end is not the only part he based off of Marie. 🙄

ITS A GOOD REVIEW YOU DINGUS but also its a full review they are going to critique things. She isn't wrong though he did profit off of a woman's story that was not his own to profit from.

Yes Malcolm because unfortunately all marginalized people look through a lens of life that is inherently political because of the world they live in.

He is so mad and upset and had a lot on his chest. But I think he Malcolm and Sam are talking about something thats an issue and a non issue. Being critiqued for you art is hard but also Malcolm is not super self aware. He's like a stand in figure of for example rich depop sellers who wanna be oppressed so badly they yell at others instead of examining their own personal behaviors and ethics.

Oh Marie, when you know the spark is gone and you pick fights because.

He ain't even ask her to read?

One critic I have for most of hollywood actors is they learn their cry and that is it. A change from this is Margot Robbie, I adore her fluctuations of crying being similar but the crying is carried differently for each character. If I had to say any actor that does a cry scene amazing its this woman right here (Amy Adams)

You stole her story from her and gave it away, she has a right to be upset and angry and a rubber band ball of emotions.

Citizen Kane, not the cinematography, but the story is it even that good? (Unpopular opinion but meh, maybe in my rewatch it will be better.)

But that is what people want authenticity and whatever authenticity means to them. What is real for one is false for another.

To be honest look at the criticism of Euphoria, well earned, but a lot of people were like this isn't real even though he literally wrote about his own life. People said it was inauthentic like....wtf.

Ahh the smoking is just a habit, he quit and she didn't.

CAST ZENDAYA IN A HORROR MOVIE PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING. Get Lupita and Zendaya and some more black actors preferably less known ones in a horror movie. One with a interesting script and story, directed by Regina King. Please and thankyou.

I love Marie yep that was amazing.

Behind every great man is a greater woman, one that deserves her credit for how she has stood behind. I wonder the stories of those women, what they have sacrificed or not sacrificed. Their thoughts and feelings when the world is surrounding their partner and views them as a plus one. (I'd write a short script about this but I think do I have the time, can I, or am I equipped ?)

He is a shitty person for bringing up his exes, like she even said I don't wanna know any of that.

Imagine being on anti depressents and rarely having a sex drive and then when you do your partner starts talking about their exes and tearing you apart for all your faults.

I love when you see peaks of Zendaya's cadence in roles.

Tension, what if's and he didn't even bring her up in his speech.

Marie to herself and the audience:

He is not afraid that he will loose her but as my character says in my unreleased story, "i can't wait til you give me a fucking reason to leave your ass." Malcolm expects everything in order for not even doing the bare minimum and she is only asking him for something as simple as consideration. She just wants him to be considerate. He wants to get married and considers their relationship like rolling down a hill at full speed and he cannot apologize, he cannot be considerate, and he cannot admit his wrongs. He can only offer her I love yous that he probably does mean but he does not back up outside of what he's done for her in the past. The past which was more of her experience than his and he sees his part in it as a burden. He doesn't use his own vantage point of the past to further his career he uses her. He does all of these things without a real apology or thankyou because he is not afraid to loose her.

The restrictions of quarantine and the panorama have made Sam's writing very no frills. I wonder how other films from other directors and writers that are filmed in small contained crews like this will be structured. But this was a very good movie gonna add to my letter box 3.3-3.5

Oh shit this is my song,

Ratings/overall thoughts:

Script is like a C+, B- : I could go into my heavier big brain thoughts on the script but I don't feel like it. You catch hints of it above it centers conversation on race and privilege, mainly the writers and questions i have that won't be answered but Sam did make me grow disdain for Malcolm over a short time. Which is sometimes hard to do because im one sympathetic person but the sympathy i have for Malcolm is at 0. Maybe a 2 at some scenes but then it quickly goes back to 0. Some parts of the dialogue miss the mark or hit the are off balanced. While some of it like Malcolm's bathroom speech albeit mean is really strong or their conversation when he comes back from peeing really shines for me.

Performances: B+ to A- because they carried the script further than it could of gone with less talented actors. The monologues do well to showcase their current skill levels which are already high af and leave room for anticipation in where these actors go next.

Zendaya holding a knife: A+ with a gold star. That switch on and off and on is delectable.

John being a shitty boyfriend but following Marie like a lost puppy: B+ with a good job written at the bottom of the paper, Malcolm being nervous a frantic dialed up with more realistic nervousness would have sold me completely on Malcolm's anxious waiting.

Cinematography: A and a participation award.

The mac and cheese: A+ for the easy mac. Wish it was like Annie's or Velveeta.

Cigarettes: Participation award and their picture hung up for student of the month. Why the grill lighter? Everytime Malcolm opened up his mouth Marie was like sparks fly.

The music: A++ with a prize. Whoever picked the music probably makes good Spotify playlists.

[thatshithurted8]

Sticky Notes

Summary: JJ falls in love with the introverted Kook Pope tutors.  (Part two to Introverted. However, you don’t need to read part one.) Requested by @teamnick

Word Count: 1.6k 

A/N: This is the long awaited part two to my original fic Introverted. I’m sorry it took me so long to write, but I hope you all love it nonetheless. I also want to thank you all for 650 followers, I adore you all! 

You look in your rear view mirror one last time before getting out of your car. You just arrived to the chateau since JJ asked you to come over. However, you had no idea what he was planning. He told you to wear whatever you want, not specifying anything in specific. Even though you had no clue as to what the mischievous boy was planning you wanted to look your best. Little did you know you could wear a garbage bag and JJ would still be smitten for you. 

After changing your mind on countless outfits you finally decided to wear a white dress with brown buttons running down the middle, it was cottage core inspired. Along with your dress you wore a pair of white converse and a gold necklace that your parents got you for your birthday. The reflection and colour of the necklace accentuated the golden aura that seemed to follow you everywhere. That same aura was something JJ loved. It was comforting and reminded him of how soft and reserved you were.

As you close your car door you see Kie, Pope, Sarah and John B all scurry inside of the chateau, which you thought was weird. Yes, you didn’t talk much, but you always greeted them, they were your friends after all. However, your confused thoughts instantly go away when JJ walks around the side of John B’s van, greeting you with a smile and hug.

Everything you wore took JJ’s breath away, but something about seeing you wear white made JJ feel a certain type of way. Not a sexual way, but a loving and content type of way. Seeing you wear white basically thrusted JJ into you guys’ future where he can imagine you walking down an aisle wearing another white dress. 

“You look beautiful.” JJ says after hugging you and fixing his backwards cap. 

You blush at the boys compliment while fiddling with your fingers. “Thank you.” 

Despite being extremely close to JJ now you couldn’t stop yourself from shying away whenever he complimented you. And despite loving you for so long JJ knew he would never get tired of how you reacted to his compliments. 

“My lady?” JJ asks, sticking his hand out for you to take which you do. 

The two of you walk around the side of the van where JJ previously was and you’re taken away when you see how John B’s yard was set up. You were greeted by string lights hanging from tree branch to tree branch and a white sheet being hung up between two trees, Kiara’s projector sitting a few feet away from it. The only thing seemingly out of place was the van, it wasn’t parked in it’s normal spot.

“JJ.” You softly say, awestruck. It was like a scene coming out of a movie. 

“That’s not all.” The blonde says confidently before letting go of your hand, which makes you realize how much you loved the feeling of his hand against yours. You watch as he walks over to the vans sliding door, he smiles at you and opens it. 

Your mouth falls open as your eyes scan over the vans contents and walk closer. Inside were a ton of blankets and pillows, on top of the soft blankets sat a small basket full of your favourite snacks and drinks and all over the van were sticky notes in every colour with JJ’s messy writing on them. JJ admires you as you step closer to read what each sticky note had written on it. 

You’re beautiful.

I love how down to earth you are. 

You can light up the whole universe with just your smile. 

Colours seem brighter when you’re around. 

You bring out the best in me. 

I feel the most like me when you’re around. 

Jokes are funnier when you tell them. 

You make me want to be a better person. 

I love your perspective on everything. 

You turn towards JJ as you finish reading all of the sticky notes that were scattered around the van. Your eyes were welling with happy tears while your heart beat only increased. 

JJ lets out a shaky breath before speaking, “You know Y/N the first time I ever saw you, you took my breath away.” He says fiddling with his ring clad fingers before looking up to meet your gaze. 

The Maybank boy wasn’t the type of person to be intimidated or nervous when talking to girls, but when it came to you it was a whole different story, especially since he also was planning on asking you an important question. 

“I’m so happy that we have gotten to know each other.” JJ says grabbing a hold of your hand, which he grazes softly with his thumb. 

You nod in agreement at JJ’s statement, but you let him continue talking. 

“You are single handedly the most amazing person I have ever met. And you make me so fucking happy Y/N, you have no idea. So I was wondering.” He says trailing off while taking another sticky note out of his cargo shorts and handing it over to you with his free hand. You softly take it from him and read the words that were written in JJ’s legible, but messy writing. 

The note read, ‘Will you be my girlfriend?’ 

You look up at JJ, meeting his blue orbs, both of your guys’ hearts were beating a mile a minute. You continue to stare into his eyes, making sure he was being serious, after all he liked to joke around with everyone especially you.However, you could tell he wasn’t joking and what you dreamed and hoped for was finally happening. 

“Yes.” You softly, but genuinely say while smiling from ear to ear. 

JJ’s nerves instantly go away when you reveal your simple answer. Seeing you smile and be so happy because of him made JJ even more happy in that moment. Much like you, he couldn’t believe everything he planned and hoped for was finally happening.

“Yes!” He exclaims throwing his hands up into the air. 

“You’re my girlfriend!” He exclaims again, while throwing his arms around you and pulling you into an embrace causing you to giggle. You could feel yourself relax into his touch. 

In one swift movement JJ picks you up bridal style, making sure your dress was covering you fully before spinning around in circles. You start to laugh hysterically at your now boyfriends antics.

“She said yes! Let’s go!” He yells once again, excitement and happiness radiating off of the Maybank boy. 

The Pogues come outside after hearing JJ and they start to cheer and congratulate you two as JJ continues to spin you two around. 

- 

You and JJ sat in the back of John B’s van, cuddled up together and underneath the countless blankets the blonde brought outside. 

“I love this part.” You say, your eyes trained to the white sheet that was currently being used as make shift projector screen. JJ made sure to play your favourite disney movie for tonight which was Cinderella. 

As Prince Charming starts to dance with Cinderella, making every other girl at the ball envious of the blonde beauty in the blue dress, an idea crosses JJ’s mind making him kick off the blankets and stand up. You glance between the movie and then back to JJ confused. 

“My lady?” JJ asks again like he did earlier, but this time he bows while putting one hand behind his back and one out stretched to you. 

Without hesitating you throw the blankets off of you and grab a hold of JJ’s calloused hand. You giggle and blush as JJ copies what Prince Charming does in the animated film and guides you to a pretend dance floor in the middle of John B’s yard. 

JJ’s large hand falls on your waist while his other intertwines his fingers with yours and holds them in the air. You blush as you two start to waltz around the open yard. Your heart was beating a mile a minute and you couldn’t help, but look down at your feet, making sure you didn’t step on JJ’s as you two twirled around. 

“Look at me beautiful.” JJ says as the movie continues to play in the background. 

You look up from your feet and meet JJ’s gaze, causing his breath to hitch at how beautiful you looked under the moon and fairy lights. Your cheeks were flushed and you felt like you were on cloud nine. Never in your life has anyone made you feel the way you do when you’re with JJ. In that moment you finally acknowledged the fact that you were in love with him. It felt refreshing to finally admit that to yourself after trying your best to push your feelings for the blonde away. You were too worried and in your head about him not liking you back. You genuinely thought he could never like the shy and introverted girl, seeing how outgoing he was. 

But how wrong you were.

JJ stops dancing, his left hand remaining on your waist while his right hand comes down to caress your cheek, your hand finding his bicep. You hoped he couldn’t feel the heat that was most likely radiating off of your skin because of him. 

His blue eyes glance down to your lips before looking back up at your eyes that he adored so much. Without even realizing you both start to slowly move in. Just before the distance between you two is eliminated JJ glances back up to your eyes, as if he was asking if he could kiss you. 

“Kiss me.” You softly say, causing more heat to rush to your face. It was out of character for you to be so straight forward and demanding, but you wanted nothing more than for him to kiss you. 

And so he did.

[michaels-blackhat]

thoughts on evil Forrest 😈

We are going to start out by apologizing. This is very very late. I’m sure when you sent this ask, you meant it to be in the same joking tone that I approach all of my other propaganda posts. Sadly, this is actually going to be a deep dive into a few Evil Forrest related things, including the moment I feel they changed directions, the perfect wasted build-up, and the implications of the change/how it then negatively impacted the story. As I’m sure you already know, by being on my blog at all, I don’t think the story was good to begin with, so we are going to focus on the weird hoops they made themselves jump through to make that story still work. Additionally, I am only going to mention once, right now, how much of a waste it was to not have Forrest ‘fall for his mark’ and complete one of my absolute favorite tropes. Honestly, I think “because I want it” is a completely valid reason to like Evil Forrest. But, the question was “Thoughts on Evil Forrest” and these thoughts have been developing for over a year and a half. So, I apologize in advance.

The majority of this is under a cut, with highlights in the abstract. If no one wants to read this, I understand completely. Go ahead, skip it.

Note: it pains me greatly to not actually have full sources for this essay. Just know that in my heart I am using proper APA citations, I just absolutely do not feel like digging through tweets to find sources to properly cite.

Abstract:

Previous research indicates that Roswell New Mexico has a history of repeating excuses to explain mid-season changes to plots. This essay explores how those excuses are not only loads of crap, but how they hinder the show’s ability to tell a coherent story, misuse the multiple-plot structure to enhance the themes being explored, and lead to decisions that mean the show continuously goes over budget. This also means that characters are not used to their full potential and has led to what some fans consider to be “out of character” behaviors. While these behaviors are not universally agreed on, evidence can be shown that these behaviors directly contradict emotionally important character arc/plot points in the show.

The author of this paper acknowledges that the show took some strides to mend this problem. However, once again no consensus could be found on whether Forrest was a low-level member of Deep Sky and thus just allowed to fuck off on a bus, or his job was recruitment because he did a piss poor job of making Alex not join.

The concept of Evil Forrest has been with the fandom as early as New York Comic Con (NYCC) in 2019, when it was revealed that Alex had a new “blue-haired love interest”. Speculation abounded within the fandom, with some people, including the author, going “yeah, he’s evil” while others rejoiced in the concept of Alex having a loving partner. Speculation increased as fans discussed Tyler Blackburn’s seeming disinterest in his new love interest, prompting some once again to scream “EVIL” at the top of their lungs to anyone who would listen. Very little was revealed, beyond the fact that the new character would show up somewhere around episode 3 of the second season.

Episode 2.04 aired with some commenting on how he barely interacted with Alex- prompting more evil speculation- and others excited to see the characters interact more. The character appears again in 2.06, where he invites Alex to dubious spoken word poetry (which Alex attends); 2.08, where they have a paintball date and go to The Wild Pony; 2.10, where the two are seen writing together briefly at the beginning of the episode; and 2.13, where Alex performs his song at open mic night, tells Forrest his relationship with the person in the song was long over, and they kiss. Forrest was not revealed to be evil during season 2.

Amidst the season airing, Word of God via Twitter post announced that yes, Forrest had originally been planned as a villain, though not the main villain, but it was changed as filming progressed.

The Word of God Twitter post revealed that Forrest had originally been planned as a villain, but they decided that they could not make their “blue-haired gay man” a villain. This mirrors a similar situation and excuse used the previous season, where the character of Jenna Cameron was originally planned to work with Jesse Manes against the aliens, before it was changed because they just “loved Riley [the actress] too much”. Both of these examples occurred while already filming and reflect on a larger problem with the show. Though not the topic of this essay, it is important to note that both characters are white, both in the show and by virtue of being played by white actors. The fact that they couldn’t be villains for one reason or another is not a courtesy extended to the male villains who are all the most visibly brown, and thus ‘other’, members of the cast.

This also highlights the fact that, via Twitter, it has been revealed two other times that occurrences that were reported in season 1 also occurred in season 2. During the airing of episode 1.02, it was revealed that the single best build-up of tension in the show- when Alex walks to the Airstream not saying a word to Michael after a dramatic declaration- happened because one actor was sick at the time and they had to go back and film the kisses later. At the point of airing for episode 2.08, it was revealed that one of the actors were sick and unable to film a kissing scene. Allegedly, this caused the writers to retool the entire scene and deviate from the plan to make that subplot about Coming Out. The execution of this subplot will be explored later in this essay.

The last occurrence revealed via Twitter also revealed larger issues within the show: lack of planning and poor budgeting. During the airing of season 1, Tyler Blackburn was needed for an extra episode beyond his contracted 10. A full explanation was never given, but speculation about poor planning and to fill in because Heather Hemmens had to miss one of her 10 episodes due to scheduling conflicts for another project. During the airing of season 2, yet another tweet came out saying they made a mistake and Tyler would once again be in an additional episode. No explanations beyond “a mistake” were given, though once again speculation occurred. It is the opinion of the author that this was due to changing plot points over halfway through writing, while episodes were already in production. It has been speculated by some that these changes occurred during the writing of 2.08, which was being finished/pre-production was occurring roughly around the time of NYCC 2019.

Previous Literature:

A brief look at different theories of plots and subplots

Many people have written on the subject of plotting, for novels and screen alike. The author is more familiar with film writing than tv, but a lot of the concepts carry over. Largely, the B- and C- (and D- and E-… etc) plots should reinforce the theme of the A-plot. This can be through the use of a negative example, where the antithesis of the theme is explored to reinforce the theme presented by the A plot, or through other examples of the theme, generally on a small scale.

A movie example of this would be Hidden Figures (2016), where the A-plot explores how race and gender impact the main character (Katherine Johnson) in her new job. The B-plots explore the other characters navigating the same concepts in different settings and ways- learning a new skill as to not become obsolete and breaking boundaries there (Dorothy Vaugn) and being the first black woman to complete a specific degree program and the fight it took to get there (Mary Jackson). A TV example that utilizes this concept of plot and theme is the 911 shows. Each of the rescues in a given episode will directly relate to the overall theme of the episode and the overall plot for the focus character. This example is extremely blunt. It does not use any tools to hide the connection, to the point you can often guess the outcome for that A-plot fairly quickly.

This is not the only way to explore themes within visual media. Moonlight (2016) looks at three timestamps in the life of Chiron. Each timestamp has a plot even if they feel more like individual scenes or moments rather than plots as some are more used to in films. Each time stamp deals with rejection, isolation, connection, and acceptance in different ways. So while there is no clear A-, B-, or C-Plot, each time stamp works as their own A-Plot to explore the themes in a variety of ways, particularly by starting out in a place of rejection and moving to acceptance or a place of connection to isolation.

Please note that there are many ways to write multiple plots, there are just two examples.

While there are flaws within season 1 of RNM, overall the themes stayed consistent throughout the season, mainly the theme of alienation. The theme threads through the Alien’s isolation/alienation from humanity which is particularly seen through Michael’s unwillingness to participate and Isobel’s over participation. There is Rosa’s isolation from others, how her friendship with “Isobel” ended up compounding her existing alienation from her support system due to her mental illness and coping mechanisms. We see how Max and Liz couldn’t make connections. This theme presented itself over and over in season 1. While this essay is not an exploration of the breakdown of themes in season 2, it should be noted that there were some threads that followed throughout the season. The theme of mothers/motherhood was woven throughout season 2, with some elements more effective than others. Please contact the author for additional thoughts on Helena Ortecho and revenge plots.

One of the largest problems within season 2 was the sheer number of plots jammed into the season. These plot threads often ended up hindering the effectiveness of the themes and made the coherence of the season suffer. Additionally, a lot of them were convoluted and difficult to follow.

Thesis:

Essentially, season 2 was a mess. To look at it holistically is almost an exercise in futility. Either you grow angry about the dropped plots and premises, you hand wave them off, or you fill them in for yourself. Instead, this essay proposes to look at individual elements to explain why Forrest should have stayed evil.

We first meet Forrest in 2.04 when he is introduced on the Long Family Farm, which we later learn was the location where our past alien protagonists had their final standoff. He’s introduced. He’s largely just there. The audience learns he has more of a history with Michael. In 2.06, we meet him again with his dog Buffy (note: poor Buffy has not been seen again and we miss a chunky queen). There’s mild flirting, Alex is invited to an open mic night, which he attends. For the purpose of this essay, the author’s thoughts on the poetry will not be expressed. Readers can take a guess.

It is after this point that the author speculates the Decision was made. This choice to make Forrest not evil- paired with the aforementioned ‘can’t kiss, someone’s sick’- impacted the plot. We have Alex have a scene with his father- which the author believes could have been pushed to a different episode- and then have Alex go on a date and then not kiss Forrest at the end of the night. Here, the audience sees Forrest hit Alex in the leg, allegedly not knowing he had lost his leg despite ‘looking him up’, which parallels the shot to the leg that happens to Charlie. Besides wasting this ABSOLUTELY TEXTBOOK SET UP WTF, it also takes Alex away from the main plot and then forces a new plot for him. Up to this point, Alex’s plot was discovering more about the crash and his family’s involvement. Turning Alex’s date from a setup for evil Forrest to a Coming Out story adds yet another plot thread to a packed season. It is also the author’s thought that this is where the convoluted kidnapping plot comes in. With Forrest already in 2.10 for a moment, a plot where Alex is evil has Forrest attack him for Deep Sky rather than Jesse abduct him for a piece of alien glass Alex was going to give him anyway and then for Flint to abduct Alex from Jesse. It’s messy. In a bad way. Evil Forrest would have been a cleaner set up: no taking back a piece of alien glass Alex gave to Michael in a touching moment. No double abduction. Instead, there is only Forrest, who Alex trusts, breaking that trust to take him as leverage over Michael.

Implications:

Now, Alex has two plots (Tripp & Coming Out). The Coming Out plot is largely ineffective, as they are only relevant to scenes with Forrest and have the undercurrent of there only being a certain acceptable way to be out. This could have been used for Alex to discover his comfort levels, mirroring Isobel’s self discovery, but there was not enough screen time for that. Additionally, Isobel’s coming out story was about her allowing herself the freedom to explore. Alex’s story was about the freedom to… act like this dude wanted him to. Alex’s internalized homophobia played out often in the series but it was also informed by the violence he experienced at Jesse’s hands and the literal hate crime he and his high school boyfriend experienced. With that in mind, the “kissing to piss off bigots” line comes off poorly. This is a character who experienced what a pissed off bigot could do- reluctance to kiss in public is not the same as not being out. There is more to be said on this topic, but as it is not actually the focus of the essay, it will be put on hold. To surmise: Alex’s coming out is attempted to be framed as being himself, but it is actually the conformity to someone else’s ideals. It does not work as an antithetical to Isobel’s story, as the framing indicates that the conformity/right was to be out contradicts Isobel’s theme.

Further Research:

MAKE FORREST EVIL YOU COWARDS

Author Acknowledgements:

The author of this paper acknowledges that the show took some strides to mend this problem. However, once again no consensus could be found on whether Forrest was a low-level member of Deep Sky and thus just allowed to fuck off on a bus, or his job was recruitement because he did a piss poor job of making Alex not join.

[bigskydreaming]

And another thing, he said as if its ever just ONE more thing, hahahaha look, fuck you numbers, I’m not about to be limited by the likes of YOU.

Anyway.

Anyone else think its kinda weird that in all the many years of “Dick not so secretly resented Jason because Bruce adopted him and made him Robin and that’s why they were never close” fics.......there seem to be a big whopping zero that take the fix-it approach: 

“What if Bruce had been aware of the tension between the two because he’s not actually a Dumb Dumb McStupidhead and thought to himself, gee, if only there was something I, the parent, had the power to do about this resentment from one brother based on something I, the parent, did for the other brother who never did anything because he is not the parent and also he did nothing wrong? What if given that I and my actions are the actual problem here, I, the parent, he who holdeth both the actual power in this family as the parent and the power as the problem-causer, to address the problem.....like what if I got off my ‘matches with Batman’ butt and.....did...something? About it?”

Like.....oh I don’t know, just spitballing here....maybe explaining to Jason just what it was Dick was resentful about when it came to Robin and that Jason wasn’t the one Dick was actually mad at, which more than likely would have prompted the extremely empathetic at this age Jason to take Dick’s side and be like wtf, you gotta fix this B. 

Or maybe like, going to Dick and expressing how sorry he is that he didn’t consider how Dick would feel about any of this and that he’s let it go unaddressed for so long since then, which more than likely would have NOT resulted in Dick continuing to hold a grudge against an innocent third party but rather be like thank you this is literally all I ever wanted, a fucking acknowledgment that you’d hurt me and that my being hurt mattered to you? 

Or if the problem is more Dick being resentful that Bruce adopted Jason and not him, maybe Bruce explaining this to Jason and that Jason wasn’t the one Dick was actually mad at, which again, more than likely would have prompted the extremely empathetic Jason to go umm, wtf are you talking to me about this for then, if you think he’s upset about that why the fuck aren’t you going to talk to him about it and tell him all this stuff about regretting not adopting him before now and sparing him this hurt instead? Like what are you waiting for old man, your fucking helicopter to come pick you up? NOW. Go NOW. You’re not getting any younger, geez Louise, why are old people so dumb.

Or maybe like.....Bruce going to Dick and expressing how sorry he is that he didn’t consider how Dick would feel about.....look, you see where I’m going with this, right? You get it? Its not actually all that tricky to grasp?

Or hell, maybe even just in a fic where Jason nurses his own resentment over the fact that he’s heard so much about Dick and looked forward to meeting him and yet months and months go by since Jason’s adoption and in all that time his alleged big brother apparently can’t even be bothered to come introduce himself, RIP Jason’s feelings, guess he can’t possibly matter all that much to the guy, way to welcome him to the family......

I mean, its not like THAT thought neeeeeeever comes up in fic, so its like, hmmm, counterpoint, but where are all the fics that take the angle of rather than let Jason think he doesn’t matter to his predecessor and let Dick take all the blame for this impression when there’s LITERALLY nothing Dick could do about it since he found out about Jason from the freaking newspaper months after the adoption and only after Jason debuted as Robin.....maybe Bruce, could again, just like....start a conversation. And be like Jason I seem to have inadvertently given you the wrong impression here, but trust me, Dick not coming to meet you before now had nothing whatsoever to do with you and was purely because I never actually told him about you.

Again, cut to Jason, the actual brains of the family at this point in time, staring at Bruce with his mouth hanging open:

“Wait, so you’re telling me that after the two of you had this big fight and you haven’t seen him in like eighteen months, AND after his eighteenth birthday came and went without you bothering to even call him and let him know you still wanted him in your life despite him no longer legally being your ward, AND after you went and took me in and adopted me......you never at any point picked up the phone and said hey kid that I raised and consider family and still want to be part of my family no matter how long its been since we talked......I just thought you should know, given that we’re still family and all, that our family is now bigger, because that’s information that is kinda key to give to people you consider family, as NOT keeping them in that loop could kinda sorta maaaaaaybe give them the impression that you DON’T think of them that way or else you would have thought this was relevant information for them to have?”

Bruce: I’m not sure I see where you’re going with this.

Jason: How are you this dumb. No but seriously. HOW. 

Anywho, cut to me, twiddling my thumbs here all super casual like.....

But HMMM, isn’t it WEIRD how fandom, which is totally better than canon, and definitely does not have patience for that unnecessary family angst porn DC is so obsessed with and just wants these goshdarn idiots to be a FAMILY, like......neeeeeeeeever utilizes the transformative power of fanfic and their much more reliable takes on Good Parent Bruce Wayne to like....have Bruce....do something about the problems between past Dick and Jason? In any of these fics? And instead has him just....let the opportunities to make things better for them, AND HIMSELF in the process, just like.....sail away into the rear view mirror, waving a hand at them as they pass, content to let things fester and worsen until cut to after Jason’s return, like.....oh gee, really wish something could have been done about the relationship between Dick and Jason way back when, maybe Jason could have benefited from another close relationship in his life then and maybe Dick might not be as bad off now if he wasn’t burdened with unnecessary guilt over having had human emotions when he was a teenager?

So so SO weird that this angle never comes up or gets tackled in ANY fics that emphasize Dick’s alleged history of being an asshole to Jason and the reason they were never close or barely knew each other. I mean, its such an EASY and OBVIOUS fix to all that, don’t you think?

Unless, of course.....in the fics that make an emphasis of this fandom created dynamic.....its not actually considered a problem to fix at all.

But rather, this manufactured dynamic IS the fix, to what they see as the ACTUAL problem......any kind of real or explored focus on what Bruce actually DID and didn’t do, that caused the resentment they’re all too happy to show Dick nursing, but seem keeeeeeeeenly deft in avoiding any exploration of him FEELING. Except of course when it comes to a reason for him to feel even guiltier BECAUSE of it.

Its almost like we would have had a ton more variety in how fics depict the early years between Dick and Jason, perks of this oh so easily arrived at fix-it angle.....unless those fics were always doing exactly what they intended by keeping every one in the comments sections so busy commenting on what a jerk Dick was in that chapter or in the older events that chapter mentioned, that they just so happen to never really spend much time considering Bruce’s inciting choices back then to be AS worthy of comment or criticism.

Idk you guys, I just happen to find it kinda hilar in that ‘what a weird coeenkeedink kinda way’ that so many of the things a lot of fandom are EXTREMELY loud about holding against Dick (whether Dick did or not actually do those things in the first place)....just so happen to be the very things that most of these same people REFUSE to ever hold Bruce accountable for, or admit that he actually did.

Y’know, like how Bruce never actually fired Dick as Robin, that was just a retcon (when there’s literally been more versions of events where Dick WAS fired than WASN’T at this point).....but meanwhile, Dick very much definitely did FIRE Tim, that was exactly how that went down.

Or how similarly, Bruce neeeeeever actually kicked Dick out, let alone made him give back his keys, but Dick DEFINITELY kicked Tim out of house and Gotham.....even though Dick literally did none of that and in fact was living at the penthouse the whole time he was Batman, meaning Wayne Manor was perfectly available to be Tim’s home base the whole time, if he’d wanted it. 

Or how Bruce has never lifted a finger at his eldest, or thrown any kind of a temper tantrum, because he is a good person who would obviously never ever do that, BUT if the son he spent the longest time raising just so HAPPENS to end up with a reputation of having a hair-trigger temper, going off at the drop of a hat, blowing things all out of proportion and lashing out physically whenever he’s overwhelmed emotionally.....well, that certainly has nothing to do with Bruce or anything he’s ever done, lol why would it, BUT its definitely something that needs to be commented on time and time again because it very much did happen all these times in canon, whereas all these times you’re talking about with Bruce are very clearly out of character writing because see, Bruce just isn’t like that, uh doy.

Or how Bruce definitely wasn’t being problematic as hell when it came to his non-interactions with Dick back when Jason was living with him, but Dick’s non-interactions with Jason are 10000x more worthy of comment and criticism. And Dick’s responsibilities towards the emotional wellbeing of the kid he didn’t pick to be his family and wasn’t even actually legally family with at the time, let alone actually obligated to, are definitely the same as Bruce’s responsibilities to the emotional wellbeing of both the kids he did actually pick to be his family and did actually make obligations to. Thus the one is definitely more deserving of a call-out post than the other....wait, what? Dammit, I was SURE my math checked out on that one this time. Well fuck a duck, now I am THOROUGHLY flummoxed by all this.

Yup.....

Just really funny in that lmao ‘actually not at all sorta’ way, how its the extremely PRECISE things that so many fans absolutely REFUSE to acknowledge Bruce ever doing, that they just can’t help but ‘expose’ as a mere retcon, bad writing, ooc behavior, writers just ‘not getting who Bruce Wayne is,’ etc, etc, whenever it does get brought up by other people....

It just so happens to be these very specific things that come up time and time again as the things people just WILL NOT LET GO when it comes to Dick doing them.....even when.....in most cases he didn’t even actually do them! Not because they were ‘mere retcons’ or just ‘bad writing’ or ‘ooc behavior’ or ‘writers just not getting who Dick Grayson is’....but because they literally. Did not. Happen. Until fandom for some reason - ‘despite’ HATING canon for having Bruce do THESE VERY SAME THINGS - put their own interpretative or transformative spin on things and MADE those things happen in such huge numbers that a lot of new fans coming into fandom by way of fics honestly believe that THESE are the canon moments and its the ones attributed to Bruce that are just fans of other characters having their sour grapes moments.

I mean....

You gotta laugh.

Anyway. So I mean, unless I’m just totally reading the room wrong, I’d have to hazard a guess that the only real reason we NEVER see fics addressing things the way I outlined in my earliest examples at the start of this post.....is that a whole lot of fandom just kinda decided over the years that it was just waaaaaay easier to just redirect peoples’ ire at other characters, away from Bruce, than it was to go to the trouble of like....actually ADDRESSING Bruce’s pesky little canon mistakes.

Cuz see....writing a happier, more united Batfam in the years before Jason’s death is only a fix-it fic if the problem you’re fixing is the family’s relationships.....and not ‘Bruce acknowledging - let alone taking ownership of - his mistakes.’ If the latter is the REAL problem, well a more ‘together’ family isn’t something you actually need at all....you just need someone else to pin its divisiness on.

But I digress.

Aaaaaanyway.....now standard stock disclaimer that as I’ve always always always said....I don’t actually hate Bruce nor do I have anything whatsoever against Good Dad Bruce.....my issues are always just with peoples’ approach to his canon mistakes or poor writing being to double down on the problem but just make it someone else’s. And that one little thing where the Smartest Man In The World can come up with a way to fight Doomsday with a paper clip and some chewing gum, but goshdarnnit if he’s not completely helpless and powerless when it comes to fixing his own mistakes or interceding in his childrens’ emotional problems. 

(As in by just y’know, parenting them. Sitting them down for a conversation. No, bugging their apartments and calling that his love language doesn’t count.)

Also, an Honorable Mention Pet Peeve goes out to all the fans who love to dismiss Dick Grayson stans raising this issue because ‘this sort of thing happens with all the characters’ when lololololol, no, it really actually does not. Given the weeeeeeeird similarities and parallels in the very specific things we tend to gripe about Bruce doing in canon and others tend to gripe about Dick doing in fanon, like, I’d actually think some of you would be a bit more empathetic about how much it sucks seeing your fave character condemned for stuff like this, given the lengths you go to when avoiding acknowledging Bruce doing it. But then again, that would defeat the point of attributing all that to a Bruce scapegoat instead of a Bruce in the first place, so I mean, I guess not actually.

But whatevs. I guess I’m just not able to grasp the nuances of how people criticizing or even fixating on some of Bruce’s worse actions in canon gains the ire of fans who are like, I am just here rolling my eyes at you guys for being so addicted to your shitty misery porn that you like, just loooooove going with the takes where Bruce is just the worst person ever and a totally shitty dad....

While meanwhile.....many of those exact same fans.....

Two seconds later: Now if you don’t mind, we have to get back to making up scenarios and bad faith interpretations that paint Dick as being just the worst person ever and a totally shitty brother or son. But in a not-that-we’re-addicted-to-shitty-misery-porn kinda way or whatever, because we’re obvs SO not, that’s YOU guys, this is totally different. We don’t LIKE doing this, we’re only doing it because we HAVE to. It has nothing to do with us not actually minding the writing or the content of what’s being written whatsoever, we just don’t like that it makes Bruce look bad, and as long as you keep fixating on how it makes Bruce look like, duh, what other choice do we have but to make someone else look worse instead? When you think about it, this is all your fault, really.

Anyway. You just gotta love the takeaway.

Us: Griping about something Bruce does in canon and how the writers portrayed it and any resulting followup.

Others in Fandom: manufactures a parallel scenario with Bad Brother/Son Dick Grayson out of a single out of context panel, tinfoil and some dental floss.

Fandom: These two situations are the same.

Us: Okay but see they’re really fucking not tho, is the thing....

[girlmeetsliv3]

Lilies of the Valley I

A/B/O!BTS x Reader

Flowers can have different meanings depending on the flower’s shape, color, and method in which they are presented. Lilies are my favorite for such a simple flower can have so many distinct meanings.

Chapter One: Hatred & Pride

“Lilies are considered a beautiful, popular flower but the orange variations actually symbolize hatred, pride, and disdain.”

Release Date: 05/18/20 @ 7 pm

next

 YN stumbled haphazardly into her apartment, as she tried to kick off heels and steer her way into her apartment's small bathroom. In her hand lay a crumpled up business card that scorched her skin, yet she couldn't let go of it. As she reached the bathroom, she flickered the yellow lighting on and stared at herself in the dirty mirror. Mascara and eyeliner were smudged making her resemble a panda, a frown etched between her brows, and colored lips turned downward. It was not her wretched appearance that had her sorrowful, but rather the bite that was visible right where her neck met her shoulder. It looked fresh, harsh red marks that displayed to the world that she was taken. "What a fucking lie."

She took off her makeup and jumped into the shower scrubbing off every trace she could of the alpha. Not wanting his scent permeating on her body any longer, then it would truly prove people's perception of her to be true. A small ding as she was exiting the shower alerted her towards her phone.

           Mark Lee: Sorry about how I acted. I just don't understand, but I don't think we should see each other anymore.

"Great," YN grumbled. There went another one that she'd managed to drive away. It would be a lot easier if she could simply date someone like her - not that it would ever be allowed. Still, there would be less judgment and she wouldn't have to feel like a let down to society or her family every time a holiday passed and she failed to present with a mate. "Fuck society." Though truly it was more like fuck Jeon Jungkook. None of this would've happened if it weren't for the alpha and his hormones. Truly none of this would've happened if his mates kept a tighter grip on the newly presenting alpha, but she couldn't blame the others for his mistake.

           On second thought, fuck them all. Why the fuck are sub-genders a thing anyway? This wasn't the first time said thoughts had filled her head. Presenting as an Omega in a family full of beta's had been difficult, not to mention the events that followed afterward. YN dragged her feet into her bed, thankful for once that she lived in such a small apartment that things were never so far apart. Though her current apartment was about the size of the kitchen in her parent's home, she couldn't complain. Few people rented unmated omegas. She was lucky that her landladies were two female betas with small children. YN doesn’t have anything against alphas but she’s aware enough to know how they perceive her: a means to an end rather than a human being. Or half of one at the very least.

           Her cell phone screen lit up again, but YN was far too tired to check it. Until it stayed on as a plethora of messages appeared. Rolling her eyes, YN grabbed her phone and unlocked it planning to send to hell whoever sent so many messages this late at night.

           Unknown: Please consider it.

           Unknown: I know you blame me for a lot of things and it is my fault, but I’d like to fix things.

           Unknown: or help at the very least.

           Unknown: Please just answer me.

           Unknown: I’m very sorry. You know I am. It was a mistake, I was presenting and couldn’t control myself. Please YN.

           Unknown: You’re my mate.

YN slammed her phone down on her bed with tears in her eyes. She regretted ever going on the date tonight, regretted ever meeting Jungkook, regretted presenting as an Omega. YN regretted being alive. She knew others felt the same way, she'd seen the look in her father's eyes when he had gone to the police station. None of this would've ever happened if she were a beta. YN would be able to get a good education, a good job, a decent place to live. She wouldn't be treated like a third-class citizen because of her sub-gender - she would just be YN. The way she'd been in school before all this happened. The way she spent seventeen years of her life living. Sobs racked throughout her body and she bit into her arm to keep the sound from reaching her neighbors. She didn't want to get into any more trouble tonight.  

           Exhaustion eventually won over and YN slipped into a restless sleep, plagued by the events of her past and the ones that occurred a few hours earlier.

          “So there was nothing you did in high school? No clubs or anything like that?”

YN shook her head, shrugging slightly. "I helped some teachers, dabbled in a couple of things but wasn't like the head cheerleader or class president." Tentatively she reached for her drink, making sure Mark didn't notice her smelling it for anything. It wasn't that he wasn't nice, but one could never be too careful. Mark laughed, "Alright you got me there, but I'll let you know the only reason I became class president is that I promised I'd get us a pool."

           “How did that work out?”

           “Terrible. The school was convinced our stupid asses would drown or something. Can’t say it wasn’t true.”

           YN giggled, taking another bite of her food. Mark was cute and he seemed aware of things, enough to not try too hard. He hadn’t asked to pick her up or asked about exes, he’d agreed to meet at the restaurant and even arrived early. Then again it might also be because they have a friend in between and it was Rosé who’d set them up together. “So YN what school did you go to?” Mark leaned forward resting his face in his hands. The warm lighting in the restaurant cast a nice glow on his features, it made him look more attractive. Or perhaps the alcohol had finally set in.

           “I went to Yeong-gwang Academy.” As soon as YN uttered the name Mark’s eyes widened exponentially. “No way, I’ve heard about that school. Isn’t it like a rich kid central or something? Wait didn’t you go to school with the Kims?!” It was an involuntary reaction the way she shivered whenever she heard that name, but her date must not have noticed. He stood waiting for her confirmation and all it took was a curt nod, for the man to begin rambling about all the rumors he’d heard over the years. It was difficult to keep up with them all, but she did manage to correct a few.

           “Haven’t you guys been ranked number one school in Korea for like thirty years or something?”

           “I think it’s only twenty.”

           “I heard all your sports teams are national champions.”

           “We only really had like five or so.”

           “Don’t you have the largest private collection of flowers in Asia?!”

           “Um, it’s Lilies and I think that’s an exaggeration.”

On and on it went, YN was now beginning to regret opening her mouth. She'd heard of Academy fans before, but it was mainly people who wanted to go there and couldn't or alumni. The way Mark spoke about it made her seem like she was an olympiad or a part of history. The date was drawing to an end, YN couldn't help but feel disappointed but it could have gone worse. Mark could have seen her mark and it would've caused conflict, hearing the boy ramble about her school was the lesser of the two evils.  

           It was when YN lifted her drink to her lips that she sensed it. A hint of musk and the smell of fresh linen, she couldn’t explain how she knew it was him. It was almost instinctual the fear that spread throughout her. As discreetly as she could, YN cast a glance around the room trying to find him almost exhaling with relief when she didn’t. It’s probably a mistake.

           “Hey isn’t that Kim Jungkook right there?”

It was said a little too loudly, just enough that YN knew he'd heard it. It didn't take long for her to feel eyes peering at her, goosebumps rose through her arms. Her bite began to throb and YN could feel her heart skip a beat. Mark's eyes focused on him and eventually crawled up, letting her know the alpha was approaching. Now the scent hit her entirely, shaking her to her core. YN gripped the table to steady herself but found that near impossible when the alpha kept sending his pheromones at her.  

"Does there seem to be a problem here?" His voice had deepened over the years, no longer the voice of a teenager but that of a man.

"Oh sorry, I didn't mean to call your name so loudly. Um, I'm Mark Lee. A pleasure to meet you." Mark turned his attention towards YN expecting her to acknowledge Jungkook or greet him as a classmate. YN couldn't. She couldn't look at him. It didn't help that there was a tense atmosphere between the two, the tension was palpable and it seemed Mark had enough.

           “Aren’t you going to greet him, YN?”

           Greet the man responsible for everything wrong in my life, sure. Yn’s eyes trailed upwards from the table to Jungkook’s face until her warm eyes met his golden ones. As YN parted her lips to speak, she felt it: the heat spreading throughout her body. An uncontrollable feeling that raked throughout her body. The fucker was trying to trigger a pseudo-heat. Instantly YN’s grip tightened on the table, her fingertips becoming white as she fought with nature to keep control over herself.

           “Do you two know each other?” It seems Mark was catching on and truly she couldn’t blame him if he misunderstood. She would too if the roles were reversed. Suddenly Jungkook turned to face Mark, holding his hand out to greet him.

           “I’m Kim Jungkook, her mate.”

"What?! No, he isn't. Don't listen to him, Mark." Her outcry had caused quite a few patrons to turn her way, now all paying close attention to what was happening.

"Uh -" Jungkook quickly interceded whatever Mark was going to say. "Did you not notice her mark? Or do you make a habit of seeking mated people?" At this a few people gasped, Mark looked between the two of them confused. YN snapped, "It's a partial bond. It was never completed so it doesn't mean anything." Her words only confused Mark even more. Whispers from surrounding tables began to reach her ears and it only fueled YN's rage more. This was all a big misunderstanding, but Jungkook was thriving off it. Mark and YN's eyes met as she silently pleaded with him to listen to her.

"Hey beta," Jungkook snapped his fingers together, "look at me." YN should've known she'd lost then and there. As a beta, it was impossible to resist the order of alpha, not to mention one that exuded the stench that Jungkook did.

           “You know who I am right?” Mark nodded, eyes wide as if aiming to please. “Then you know don’t you? You know…” When Mark looked back at her, there was sympathy in his eyes. “I’m sorry YN.” was all the beta said before standing up and walking away. YN had so many things to say, so many more explanations, but they all died in her tongue.

           Jungkook tsked, “What an asshole. Could’ve at least paid for the meal.” That was the final strand for YN, she gathered her stuff and threw all the money she had down on the table. Walking fast out of the restaurant trying to avoid the judgemental stares directed towards her, she swore some people hissed at her under their breaths. Once outside YN leaned against the side entrance of the restaurant trying to steady her breath and stop the incoming tears.

"YN. Hey!" Jungkook raced out the front, staring around panicked until his gaze landed on her. YN tried to walk away, but his long legs gave him an advantage and he reached her in a few steps. "Please YN. I'm sorry, I just- I couldn't control myself." YN rolled her eyes, trying to push the alpha aside.  

           “No please YN look.” His hands gripped her forearms and tugged her close to him. “I’ve been trying to find you, we’ve been trying to find you. But you disappeared off the map.”

           “That’s because of you. I left because of you.” YN tried to get him to release her arms, but his hold was too tight. “Wasn’t it enough for you? Isn’t it enough for you? You ruined my life and my reputation Jungkook. The least you could do is leave me alone.” She was begging at this point, trying to make him see reason.

           “I can’t leave you alone, YN. You’re my mate.”

           “You already have mates Jungkook. Fucking six of them! How could you want more?!”

           “It isn’t like that and you know it. You’re all our mates. You're the pack omega, you just don’t see it yet.”

           This wasn’t the first time Jungkook had tried to excuse his behavior by using the pack bond. Yes, it was true all seven of them shared it but that didn’t mean she did too. “Omega’s don’t have the pack bond, Jungkook. Stop trying to lie.” YN couldn’t see what he gained from this.

           “I’m not lying. It’s rare but it happens, please if you just speak to Namjoon you’ll see-”

           “Leave me alone Jungkook.” YN mustered all her strength and managed to finally push him off. The alpha looked shocked at her display of aggression, YN strongly desired to hit him but knew it wouldn’t end well if she triggered his instincts. “I’d rather die alone than be mated to you.” YN could see the spear driven through the boy’s heart because she felt something similar go through hers. YN let out a shaky breath, she leaned over resting on her knees for fear of falling over.

"I get it. I'm sorry, I ruined your date. I embarrassed you in front of all those people and that wasn't right. I'm sorry YN, I truly am. For everything, I've ever done to you. But it doesn't change the truth. You know this isn't something I can lie about: you are my mate. Our mate."

YN groaned and went to walk away, knowing that there wouldn't be an end to Jungkook's madness. As she walked past the shaken alpha, he grasped her hand placing something in it. "If you ever need anything, don't hesitate, please." YN didn't even spare him a look as she walked away. It wasn't until she could no longer smell him that YN broke down, her body shaking as she tried to hold it all in. She was still in a public place and a vulnerable omega might draw unwanted attention. YN took a deep breath and steadied herself. Heading straight to her apartment and refusing to look back.

           A loud abrupt ringing awoke YN from her sleep, she jumped so high she practically touched the ceiling. Grabbing the phone, she saw Rosé’s contact picture pop-up on the screen. It was rare for her to call, especially since it was nearly six a.m.

           “Hey.”

           “YN? Oh my god.” Rosé’s tone was panicked and YN could hear the way she panted. “Someone broke into my apartment while I was sleeping.”

           “What?! Are you alright?!” YN jumped out of bed and raced to put on pants and hoodie, before grabbing her keys and wallet. “Where are you?”

           “I’m at the police station. I couldn’t see very clearly, but they’re looking at security cam footage from around the area to figure out who it is.”

           “I’m on my way. Did you call Lucas?” Lucas was Rosé’s foster sibling, his husband worked in the police and was certain to make the whole process smoother.

           Rosé hesitated, “He isn't answering. Please come, I’m here alone and I-”

           “It’s alright I’ll be there soon I promise.” YN had managed to wave down a cab and told him to drive as quickly as he could.

The sight of her best friend in tears triggered something innate in YN. She pulled Rosé into a hug and refused to let her go, terrified at the thought of what could have happened to her friend. "It's alright, I'm here." Rosé dug her head into YN's neck using her scent to calm her nerves and trying to muffle her cries. Already she could feel the sympathetic stares of some of the officers. Out of the corner of her eye, YN saw someone approaching his bloodshot eyes, and the tall way in which he stood made it seem like he owned the place.

"I told you to call your mate, not your girlfriend." He remarked voice dull yet mocking. Rosé stepped away from YN turning towards him, "I don't have a mate and my brother isn't answering." Her tone was meek and eyes were downcast, YN knew she wasn't a confrontational person and this event likely further caused her to become more introverted. The cop rolled his eyes, "Where is your mate then?" He turned his attention towards YN, now she could see the name inscribed on his uniform: Officer Hwang. "I don't have one." Her tone was too blunt, YN knew she could see the way his eyebrows raised at it.

           “Don’t lie to me, I can see your mark.”

           “I don’t have a mate.”

Annoyance was now visible in Hwang's tone before his eyes widened. "Ah, now I get it." The officer turned back towards one of his colleagues and called out, "Bo, it seems we have a cat house on our hands." Rosé's eyes widened and YN spoke quickly, words tumbling out of her mouth. "No. You're misunderstanding." Bo had already stood up from his desk and was making his way towards them.  

           “Ladies if you could please follow me.”

The two of them were talking over each other trying to explain the situation, but the officers had made up their minds about what was occurring. YN cast a glance around the room trying to find anyone who could help them, but everyone kept their eyes downward. They'd been titled as prostitutes and it would be difficult to change people's minds. Officer Bo guided them, pushed would've been a better term, towards the basement where the holding cells were.

           “Please sir, you’ve misunderstood.”

           Officer Hwang shrugged, a cruel smirk on his face. “Call your alpha then and everything will be solved.” YN resigned herself as they were dragged downstairs and locked up.

Rosé and YN were separated in different cells while a guard stood watching. Tears streamed endlessly down her best friend's face, whilst YN told herself that hers were tears of frustration rather than humiliation at everything that had occurred tonight. Eventually, as they hit the two-hour mark the guard spoke up, "I'd call your mates if I were you. The boarding house bus swing's by at nine." Both omegas stilled in fear at his words. YN turned towards Rosé, "Ro can't you try your brother?" She was pleading with her friend, but Rosé shook her head. "He won't come." There was something she wasn't telling her, but YN figured now was not the moment to press it.

           “Don’t you know someone who can help YN? What about Mark?”

Mark would be no help, considering everything that went down at the date it would be a further embarrassment to ask him to come to pick her up at the station. If he even answered that is. Unless? No, there was no way. Her pride wouldn’t be able to take it.

            "Thirty minutes, girls."

It seemed as if fate was pushing her into a corner. YN had heard about what kind of things occurred to Omega's who were taken to the boarding house, it was not a nice place. It certainly didn't provide the comfort or protection that was promised to unmated troubled omegas. Hesitantly YN cleared her throat, "Can I please make a call?"

~ Please lmk if you would like to be added to the tag list. Thank you

[blushnote]

rich girl | m.

⟡ word count: 6,708. ⟡ genre: smut, a bit of angst if you squint. ⟡ contains: a blowjob, facefucking, overstimulation, squirting, dirty talk, shower sex, copious use of petnames, just a whole lot of sin.

summary: wonwoo likes to call you a rich girl, and you hate it because it’s true. in fact, you hate a lot of things: your friends, your parent’s attitude, the way your life is supposed to be perfect even though you’re miserable. not much makes you happy, except for a punk boy who you can’t even be with.

a/n: this is a reupload because for some reason tumblr wasn’t showing me my own posts? anyways, sorry for the wait!! enjoy hehe. 

your parents don’t like wonwoo.

even better – they don’t like the fact that you like him.

wonwoo isn’t supposed to be someone you like. he’s kind of foul-mouthed, awfully conceited, and he probably makes deals with the devil in his spare time. he likes to hang around those dimly lit corners at night, just outside the local shops, puffing from a cigarette beneath the dusty street light and chuckling amongst his friends. they all hang out together. they’re very tightknit in the way that they only meet on the corner to smoke and laugh and then head their separate ways when it gets late enough.

honestly, you didn’t think you were going to like wonwoo either. most friday nights you go out for drinks with the daughters of your mom’s friends. she’s a business lady, very professional, makes good money, and has the politeness and etiquette of a true monarch. her friends mirror her every quality, and so do their daughters. you like them, even when they snap at you to sit straighter or give you unnecessarily stern glances while you swallow your alcohol in inhumane gulps. they’re great, but they give you a headache.

also, they’re the only friends you have, even if they’re not very good ones. they once left you to get home by yourself when you got too “drunk” for their liking. not wanting to soil their sophisticated reputations, they literally abandoned you after your wobbly trip to the bathroom to fix your makeup. you came back to an empty table. when you left the bar, this unknown man tried to take you by the arm, promising that there was a telephone just around the corner for you to make a call. your cellphone was dead anyways.

“what the fuck are you doing?”

there was a deep, displeased voice that echoed from the street corner as the mystery man tugged you away. you couldn’t help but stumble in your saint laurent heels. they didn’t add much height, yet you felt as though you were walking on stilts. quickly, you made eye contact with wonwoo. he stepped away from the pole and removed the cigarette from between his bubblegum lips, just before he adjusted the glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. the air was cold, so he wore a beanie that pulled his hair back.

the man stuttered in response. he attempted to configure a convincing statement, but wonwoo cut him off.

“do you know him?” wonwoo asked you directly. his friends were silent as they crowded the corner, but they looked ready to pounce.

“n-not re-really, no.” you fought to respond sluggishly.

wonwoo then narrowed his eyes at the man who was digging his nails into your skin.

“do you know her?” the man countered. he sounded almost petulant.

“no,” wonwoo admitted impassively, “but i’m not an idiot, and i’ve hung around here long enough to see my fair share of fucking weirdos. go slink back to the other side of the street before i shove my cigarette past your eye socket and into your cranium.”

honestly, wonwoo’s words almost turned you completely sober. the man looked like he wanted to argue, but his pathetic type doesn’t usually put up a fight when their plans are directly thwarted. he released you, and melted away into the night like a sad, shrinking shadow.

“do you need to use my phone?” wonwoo was already revealing it from his pocket.

you nodded. you knew your mother would explode into fumes if you called her at this hour, so you dialled the local taxi service and decided to wait right outside the bar. you wanted to thank wonwoo for intervening when he did. he didn’t necessarily look like a bad person, but his tainted mouth and snarky expressions didn’t exactly shift him into the light.

“thanks,” you told him as you handed over his phone, “i-i appreciate what you dd-did.”

wonwoo made the effort to blow the smoke from his cigarette away from your face.

“it’s fine,” he shrugged, “happens all the time. figured i’d just stand here and be useful i guess.”

so there is a reason you’re always at this corner.

that’s what you wanted to say, but you were too shy, too foggy, to articulate any other acknowledgement apart from a tight-lipped smile. since then, you knew wonwoo would be someone you liked.

wonwoo liked to call you a rich girl. it bothered you, mostly because it’s true. you wore diamonds in your ears, pricey jewels on your fingers, dressed in luxury outfits and designer products. you lived a lavish life because your parents were well off, but it’s not like you tried to rub it in everyone’s face. in fact, you were quite modest, and you only wore the jewelry because your mother never stopped draping you in it. after your first encounter with wonwoo outside the bar, you greeted him again on the street upon exiting the floral shop.

he was alone, not even smoking a cigarette, instead sucking on a vibrant, cherry red lollipop. you could smell its sugary coating the second you stood in front of him.

“hey, rich girl.” he nodded. “how’s life treating you?”

the only reason you approached him was out of gratitude. you had already thanked him for his intervention that one night, but you wanted to thank him again now that you weren’t intoxicated and cloudy in the head. notably, your expression soured at his words.

“rich girl? that’s not my name.”

wonwoo looked you up and down skeptically. his eyes were a strong, earthly shade of brown behind his glasses, but in that afternoon sunlight, they flared up slightly, and the colour was more molasses-like. thick and sweet.

“are you joking?” he seemed like he wanted to laugh, and swirled the lollipop to the opposite corner of his mouth. “babygirl, those heels you’re wearing are more than my rent.”

you didn’t know why, but you were transiently overwhelmed with the urge to drop to your knees and let him fuck your mouth right there on the corner. was that too soon? oh well. you already thought it. remembering you were supposed to feel disrespected at his comment, you crossed your arms, though it only accented the jaded bracelet your friend bought you as a birthday gift.

“i’m going to pretend i didn’t hear anything you just said. i wanted to thank you for getting me out of that situation last week. i thought i should tell you again, now that i’m… well… sober, i guess i could say.”

you then swallowed tightly. “do you really stand there to stop creeps from taking advantage of people?”

wonwoo shrugged. he then tousled his hair, which had been flopping in multiple directions. it was on the longer side, and seemed to be the same colour as dark, silvery ashes, though the roots were pretty much black. his hair looked so soft and springy. you almost wanted to comb it down for him.

“i’m just at the right place at the right time.” he said.

what did that even mean? you simply accepted his response and pressed on.

“well, i wouldn’t mind repaying the favour one day. do you want a coffee or something?”

“no.” wonwoo replied sharply. “you could do me one better and slip me a couple hundred from your pretty bank account. i’m trying to get the local black tar heroin dealer off my back.”

you nearly choked.

“wha-what? are you… serious?”

wonwoo maintained his staid, emotionless expression, and you were really starting to believe that there was a black tar heroin dealer running rampant in the streets that might pop wonwoo if he didn’t pay him off. but then a gradual smile pulled up his lips, and you wanted to retract your entire offer.

“yes, it’s a joke. you’re too easy. the only drugs you’d find in this part of town is the ibuprofen for your grandma’s arthritis. you don’t get out much, do you, rich girl?”

you gaped widely at him.

“careful, baby,” he smirked, and he suddenly brought his hand out, raising your chin with his cold fingertips to close your mouth. “don’t breathe too much of this cheap air. it’s not filtered.”

in a bubbling, festering haze of anger, you snapped his hand away.

“for your information i—,”

abruptly, you heard your name echo from down the street. turning around, you watched your mother exit the floral shop, carrying a pale green wrapping of scarlet poinsettias. they were so huge that the petals almost covered her entire face. it wasn’t her fault, but she couldn’t have picked a worse time to come looking for you, especially when she was cloaked in the thick warmth of her sable fur coat. you sighed deeply and faced wonwoo again. he’d lost his lollipop, attempting to spark up a cigarette instead.

“aren’t these just gorgeous?” your mother swooned, running her fingers over the butter-soft petals. “they certainly cost a pretty penny to get such an exquisite arrangement, but i couldn’t help myself!”

you wanted to sink straight into the earth. wonwoo was looking between you in pure amusement as he crammed his lighter inside a pocket on his jeans. your mother didn’t even seem to notice him until he took his first puff, the distinct potency of the smoke making her nose scrunch.

“a-and who’s this, dear?” she couldn’t even mask her discomfort as she inquired you about wonwoo. at that point, you hadn’t even known his name yet.

“wonwoo,” he introduced himself, “a new friend of your daughter.”

“oh, how lovely,” she nodded at him while forcing a crooked grin. “honey,” she then placed her hand on your shoulder and spoke closely into your ear, “your father is parked down the street. we need to leave soon and get these out of the cold, so please finish your conversation quickly.”

as soon as she slipped past you and began striding swiftly toward the car, you could already taste the muddled defeat on your tongue. if you weren’t protruding the mirage of a spoilt rich girl then, you certainly were now. at least he didn’t blow any smoke into her face, though that didn’t diminish the fact you were going to receive a lengthy lecture in the car.

“why would you say we’re friends?” you scolded wonwoo.

“because you don’t have any.” he responded matter-of-factly while tapping some ash off his cigarette.

“that’s not true! what do you even know about me anyways, apart from that i’m rich.” you made sure to incorporate in-air quotations.

wonwoo pushed back the silver tresses dancing in front of his glasses, embracing the cool, afternoon current against his face.

“not a lot,” he admitted, “you come for drinks every few fridays. sit at the table looking like you hate your life and all the people in it. then you leave with your phony little rich clique.”

“not to be rude, wonwoo—” you almost wanted to laugh; you came here to thank him. now that ship had completely sailed— “but you’re kind of a dick.”

he then had the nerve to roll his eyes. “you’d drop to your knees and suck mine in a second, babygirl. now didn’t your mother say you should hurry up and get in the car? the princess can’t be out of the palace i’m guessing, especially not to talk to assholes on street corners.”

what else could you do apart from swallow your own frustration, bite your lip, and brush past him? there was nothing. it was too bitter to stand outside anyways. a strengthening winter wind was beginning to pick up from the north, the sting making your eyes water. at the same time, your cheeks were hot metal. if no one were on that street, you certainly would have taken him right into your mouth and sucked him dry. he was ridiculous and cruel, but you loved the unhinged nature he unearthed in you. it was liberating in a sense.

you wondered what would become of your relationship.

“where did you say you were going again?”

you looked up from the porcelain dinner plate, in which you’d been picking at the last few crumbs of your wine reduction pineapple cake. it wasn’t your favourite dessert, though you always finished every meal out of respect for the family’s personal chef. you saw your father reach for his water glass. he took a long sip and eyed you over the candlelight and scarlet poinsettias. it was in a way that was completely and unabashedly suspicious.

“ester and i are going to the jewellers to get a custom necklace as aria’s christmas gift. i told you like five times already.”

of course, that was a gigantic lie. you and ester had already gotten the precious necklace last week, you just needed a reasonable excuse.

“and you’re coming straight home, correct?” his voice was stern and unnegotiable.

“i always do.”

“not always.” your mother chipped in as she cut a piece of the glazed cake with her fork. “you’re not going to see that one character, are you?” she always called people with less fortune characters, like they weren’t even considered to be real.

“who?” you acted clueless, and poured yourself more of the sugary, pink lemonade.

“you know who,” there was already a note of displeasure in her voice, “that boy from the corner. the one who smokes. i wasn’t very impressed by his actions.”

you started to squeeze the white cloth across your lap. “he’s trying to quit. i’ve persuaded him.”

“he won’t do it,” your father shook his head, “and he’s not right for you. i don’t want you near him.”

“and that’s why you’re coming straight home after the jewellers.” your mother continued, not allowing you the breadth to speak.

this family couldn’t get any more ridiculous, you were tempted to scream. instead, you pushed out your chair and collected the utensils sitting on your placemat. a maid passing by had scrambled to assist you, though you told her thoughtfully that you could take care of yourself. in actuality, it was the perfect time to get going, just as you could feel the anger warm your own blood to a boiling crimson. you threw on a long peacoat, a spritz belonging to a vanilla perfume, and your saint laurent opyum heels.

“i’ll be home soon!” you shouted down the marbled corridor, but it was only your own voice that echoed back to you.

your knees were beginning to lose feeling from being pressed against the sponge-like carpet of wonwoo’s bedroom, and they would probably ache like hell whenever you came to your feet again, but for the time being, you really didn’t care. your hands were braced against wonwoo’s knees as his hand tangled possessively through your hair, each of his tugs causing your scalp to burn and tingle. you were crying. you loved to be used by him, and he loved using you. especially the warm inside of your slick mouth.

“ff-fuck, that’s it, babygirl, j-just let me fuck your pr-pretty fuckin’ face.” quickly heeding his words, wonwoo bucked his hips up in a sudden snap, the head of his cock nuzzled deep against your throat.

consequently, you gagged, and there were glossy trails of your own saliva uncomfortably pooling down your chin. he bucked up again, his fingers clasping your hair even tighter. you were struggling to breath around him, white, cottony spots blurring your vision while he forced you to take him even further. you were clutching onto his knees with enough strength to bruise his pale skin. but hearing his voice, lined with lust, heavy and laboured, how it hitched when everything felt too good; you were addicted to it.

“you’re so good at this—,” wonwoo grunted through his teeth upon jamming your head down again, “m’gonna cum down your f-fuckin’ throat, baby. be a good girl n’ m-make sure you swallow a-all of me, huh?”

you learned that wonwoo was really filthy. he didn’t have a preference for where he came, though you had to regulate his carelessness. if any of your clothes even got one rip, one pulled up thread, or god forbid a stupid ejaculation stain, your mother would put your head on a mahogany plaque. wonwoo always made fun of you for belonging to a rich family, having to act like the town’s local sweetheart because one wise crack might cost your parents a lost business partner. but you knew he loved it.

the elegant daughter of a rich heir running around with the outlandish punk? he adored it.

eventually, you had to come up for breath or else you would’ve fainted between his thighs. the air gushed into your lungs and coldly filled your chest. a string of your spit was connected from wonwoo’s flushed, hard cock to your wet lips. you could hardly discern anything that surrounded you. the oxygen had yet to thoroughly circulate and the tears were creating a thick blur. wonwoo started to stroke himself while you prepared to take him once more. the empty void in your mouth was a horrible feeling.

“you look like a fucking mess.” wonwoo grinned as he noted that your body was shaking. “am i being too rough with you, babygirl? should i just jack myself off and cum all over your face instead?”

“n-no,” you suckled in a half-hearted breath, “i-i can do it.”

wonwoo smirked. “you still want it down your throat?”

you could see him clearly now. his cheeks were tinted pink, and his eyes were impossibly dark, glittering in anticipation. without thinking, you nodded eagerly, knowing this was what you wanted. he then tapped his cock against your swollen lips, to which you opened up again and calmly took him as deep as you could. he watched your eyes glister with more tears before he started thrusting up into your mouth. his fingers were gentle. they brushed the stray spindles from your face, now destroyed by tears and drool.

“i’m surprised your tears aren’t pure gold,” he laughed, “i guess you aren’t so special.” your spine tingled as his hand crept back through your hair. “m’gonna make you cry even harder, baby.”

his grip had turned to solid iron against your scalp. you got less than a sliver to brace yourself for his unrelenting treatment, in which he pushed you straight down on his cock and kept your face right where he wanted it. with his hand against the back of your head, wonwoo snapped his hips upward, feeling you immediately gag in response. then, he unleashed on you, using your mouth as a mere fucktoy, getting all his pleasure’s worth from you in each of his hard thrusts. everything was so overwhelming and rapid.

wonwoo couldn’t help the mantra of guttural, taunt curses. he started to moan even, his deep voice cracking the second he felt his sticky cum start to abundantly spurt. without a warning, you struggled slightly to accept and swallow it, though wonwoo was intent on keeping you flush to his pelvis until every drop was polished off. he was still thrusting shallowly into your mouth, and you could feel his length gradually begin to soften. his release was warm, and it was similar to cream sliding down your throat.

after he removed himself from your mouth, he titled up your head by the chin.

“did you swallow it all yet?”

you shook your head. quickly, the side of your hot cheek was met with wonwoo’s hand. he’d given you a timid slap, one that wasn’t meant to hurt, but stung gingerly.

“i wanna see you swallow, babygirl.” he purred. “be good, won’t you?”

your tears were dribbling uncontrollably as you fully swallowed his seed. god, your throat felt like it was on fire. each muscle in your jaw was burning up ardently. your knees were so numb you didn’t even think you could stand. there wasn’t enough time for wonwoo to return the favour. you were sure he could smell the thick scent of your arousal, especially as it ruined your underwear and shone on your inner thighs.

but you didn’t care. having him use you for the night was enough.

“are you alright?” wonwoo asked, getting himself back in his pants.

you didn’t respond, just gripped onto his knee tightly and attempted to stand. your opyum heels were still on, and you nearly broke an ankle as the blood rushed into your legs. wonwoo stood also. he stabilized you by holding your shoulders, at least for a good minute. pulling back your sleeve, you rid the tears that stained your face with a quick wipe from your hand. you were going to have to be very speedy getting back to the house, unless you wanted your father to send the swat team after you.

“god,” you sighed with a raspy, dying voice, “i hate my life.”

wonwoo scoffed at you lightly.

“what lie did you tell them this time?”

you muttered, “i was going to the jewellers.”

“that’s a long time to be at the jewellers.”

“i know that,” you snapped quickly in response.

more tears pushed at your ducts. you couldn’t believe how unhappy you were, even despite having every material thing you could ever want. sometimes that particular thought would just pummel you out of nowhere and you’d fight back the urge to cry.

wonwoo’s hand cupped the side of your face. his thumb stroked gently beneath your eye and he leaned in to kiss your mouth softly. his tongue tasted like a cherry lollipop. he really was trying to quit smoking.

“what are you gonna do, babygirl?” wonwoo hummed, pressing his forehead against yours as he continued to brush your cheek.

you held his waist. “i dunno,” you croaked, “my parents don’t like you. my dad doesn’t want me near you.”

“then don’t tell him i fucked your face, princess. it’s easy.”

there was a puff of meek laughter in your chest. for a few more minutes, you let wonwoo hold you. it was the most comfortable and happy you’d felt all day. you were running short on time. the first thing you’d do when you get home would be to run a hot shower and most likely finger yourself while you thought about wonwoo’s cock lodged deep down your throat. maybe one day you’d really snap and stuff all your belongings in a suitcase and come live with him in the shitty scope of town.

but for now, that seemed unattainable.

you’d have to come up with another lie as to why you just spent two hours at the jewellers.

“the earrings were the most magnificent things i’d ever seen! i’m going to wear them for my modelling gig next month, in paris of course. i’ll even text you guys some photos of them when i get home. they have these little opal centres that absolutely sparkle.”

just one more word. if you had to listen to aria babble one more word about her modelling gig or her stupid opal earrings or her all-expense paid trip to paris then you might have to throw your glass of chardonnay in her face. those were the only three things she talked about. then the month would change and she’d have another three things to drive into the mud, yet everyone at the table ate up her words like they were a slice of chocolate cake. you were starting to develop a headache.

“that’s wonderful, aria!” ester was gleaming as she readjusted the strap on her pearl-white dress. you could just tell she was dying to incorporate tales of her own wealth into the conversation. “i can’t wait to see your modelling pictures. that reminds me, i still have some old videos from when i went parasailing in bali. do you guys wanna see them?”

everyone started crowding around ester’s side of the table, attempting to view the footage she was pulling up on her phone screen. however, you didn’t budge, and continued to stare with a dull look in your eyes out the bar’s front window. through the glass, you could see wonwoo standing at the street lamp with his friends, swirling around another lollipop from cheek to cheek. you wondered if it was cherry. his last flavour had been green apple. you tasted it on his tongue when he’d fucked you in the backseat of his car.

but that was a week ago.

“don’t you want to see?” ester was smiling at you.

winding your fingers around your thin wine glass, you shrugged. “i’ll pass.”

“suit yourself.” ester replied, and started to play her first video.

you hated everything about this situation.

wonwoo was right. you really didn’t have any friends, and that became especially clear as you observed everyone at the opposite end of the table, adoring ester’s cute, ditsy little parasailing videos that her boyfriend took. you wished you liked the same things these girls did. your life would be one-hundred times more enjoyable if you just embraced your sumptuous blessings and shed a couple brain cells to be on the same level as them.

then again, you didn’t want to be exactly like them.

they left you to get home by yourself just because you drank too much. at a bar.

pressing the wine glass against your lips, you tilted your head back and easily gulped down the remaining chardonnay. it was a pleasant coolness that streamed down your throat, and you slammed the glass onto the table once it was emptied; even slouched back in your seat and didn’t bother patting your lipstick dry with a tissue. aria raised an eyebrow at you. she looked like she was itching to say something. you were in the mood for a challenge. if she was going to make a passive aggressive comment, it better be soon.

“i hope you have a designated driver.” she finally decided to chuckle.

you rolled your eyes. “shut up, aria.”

ester and her friends immediately looked up from the phone.

“excuse me?” aria replied while tucking a strand of her behind her ear. she seemed a bit baffled by your sudden disdain. “i don’t believe i’ve ever heard you speak like that.”

you were beyond a point of caring. “what are you gonna do then? tattletale on me? you’re such a fake.”

“that’s way out of line.” ester intervened, staring you down intensely. “why are you acting like this?”

“whatever.” you stood up from the chair and reached for your coin purse, revealing a wadded clump of cash that you slapped on the lacquered table. admittedly, the alcohol concocted with your frustration (not to mention being around wonwoo’s snide personality) had quite the effect on your behaviour. if you never had to see these girls again, it would be too soon. you couldn’t believe that you’d even went through the effort of buying aria a christmas present. the only thing she gifted you was a card with her signature on it.

like that was fucking useful.

“i think you need to leave.” ester announced like you weren’t already gathering your things.

“exactly.” you falsely commended her.

she probably had a pea-sized diamond in her skull instead of an actual brain. “i’m leaving now before you guys get the chance to ditch me. don’t worry about it though. i can actually walk myself out this time.”

if only you had a camera ready to capture their gobsmacked expressions. it would have been embarrassingly laughable. you flicked past them toward the door and pushed into the nighttime air, which was crisp and wonderfully cold to your warmed flesh. you felt powerful for summoning the courage to break ties with them, and yet, at the same time, you found that you were on the verge of tears. they deserved to have their toxic behaviour thrown back in their face. it was just that you felt a bit broken.

now you truthfully were alone. well – apart from wonwoo.

you approached him as he stood at the corner, still suckling on his lollipop. him and his friends were in the midst of a humorous conversation when you tapped on wonwoo’s hard shoulder. you always wondered what they spoke about. it always seemed more interesting than the lifeless talk you once endured inside the bar. he didn’t seem all that surprised to see you, though he did look with concern at the watery film across your eyes. you could smell the sweetness of his lollipop; it had to be strawberry.

“are you okay?” wonwoo asked, his breath forming wispy cotton against the dark sky.

you ignored his question. “i want to go back to your place.” you told him.

“now?” he raised his eyebrow.

“yes. now would be good. i’ve just been thinking, and i really want you to eat me out.”

you didn’t care if his friends overheard. apparently, wonwoo didn’t care either. he smirked at you and licked his lips, though there remained a bit of uncertainty in his eyes. you had yet to answer his initial question. from inside the bar, you knew those girls were staring at you, watching you talk to wonwoo.

they were definitely going to tattle to your parents.

your fingers clawed mercilessly over the bed, practically uprooting the linens tucked beneath the mattress as wonwoo kept your thighs tightly locked apart. everything felt so dense, so hot, like the universe was pushing down on your chest and igniting flame inside of your body. you lifted your head off his pillow, only capturing a mere glimpse of his pink tongue gliding past your slit, the muscle coated purely in your arousal. he started to fuck you with his tongue, digging it as deep as he could within your heat.

unabashedly, you moaned, extremely loud and most likely disturbing everyone in his apartment complex. everything about the technicality and purpose of his movements was pushing you toward a climax that would be unlike any other. he was so impatient to get a taste of you that he hadn’t even taken your skirt off, instead bunching the pleated material up against your stomach while your underwear were thrown to the floor. suddenly, you were gasping, and your head collapsed back to the pillow.

wonwoo had managed to wriggle his hand between your thighs. as he ran his tongue in hot, fervent licks against your needy clit, he pushed two fingers inside of you, scissoring you open.

“ffuh-fuck, wonwoo!” you wailed, your hand grasping at his soft hair to keep his tongue against you. “it fe-feels s-so … s-so fucking go-good!”

he’d been taking his sweet time in building up your climax. you allowed him to have his way with you, since he knew how to work your body as though he were magic. his fingers started to curl. it didn’t take him long before they were hitching up into that one golden spot, the one that caused the entire room to whirl. you could tell that he was smiling. he began to messily circle his tongue around your clit. the sensation of the warm, wet muscle pleasuring your most sensitive region was leaving you breathless.

“c’mon, babygirl,” wonwoo mumbled against your core, his fingers thrusting up heavily and abusing that spot inside of you, “you gonna let go and let me taste your cum? you’re fucking dripping all over the bed.”

there was a glimmer of drool leaking from the edge of your mouth. you were so blissed out and crammed with euphoria that you could hardly articulate a response. wonwoo wasn’t giving you much of a chance either. he started a brisk pace rubbing his tongue against your clit, and then he closed his plump lips around you to better flick it with the pink muscle. his bicep was probably burning as he slammed his fingers deep into your heat, making you squelch. your slick had thoroughly soaked the sheets beneath you.

“fuck, fuck, fuck,” you panted, arching your chest into the air, “i-it’s s-so much, w-wonwoo—m’gonna—nngh—m’gonna cc-cum!”

wonwoo kept your hips pressed firmly to the mattress with one arm as your pleasure exploded. the tears easily streamed down your flustered, glossy face as this extreme contraction passed through you. it was incredibly wet, too wet, and you knew exactly what had happened as wonwoo pulled out his glistening fingers and completely buried his face between your thighs. god, it was fucking embarrassing. you would have curled away from him if wonwoo wasn’t so persistent. he kept licking at you, hard and fast.

at that point, your tears were no longer tiny beads. the sensitivity had left your nerves completely raw, and you sobbed helplessly as wonwoo continued to eat you out. his tongue felt like it was lapping everywhere, impatient and hungry. you tried to pull him away by dishevelled hair, but he swatted your hand back and bit down softly on your swollen clit. before you even knew what was happening, wonwoo had somehow forced your body into another orgasm. his tongue was inside of you as the second wave hit.

“pl-please,” you whimpered in utter fragility, the mixture of pleasure and pain becoming too overwhelming as wonwoo attempted to lick you clean, “pl-please, wonwoo… i-it huh-hurts..”

he chuckled against your sore flesh warmly. “are you sure you’re done, baby? bet i could make you squirt again if i was real gentle.”

“i-i don’t want to talk about it…” you said shakily. honestly, you didn’t even know your body was capable of feeling that much stimulation and pleasure. it was cosmic.

“awe, don’t be embarrassed,” wonwoo hummed, “you have no idea how fucking hot that was.”

“i don’t want to know.” you sighed.

wonwoo scoffed innocuously. he pecked the inside of your thigh, then each hip bone, before he crawled overtop of you and let you taste your own sweetness off his tongue. you spent a few minutes idly making out, smearing saliva over each other’s flushed lips, running your hands up and down his broad, hard chest, leaving scarlet rivulets along his biceps. wonwoo began teasing his fingers against your slit again, and you gasped into the kiss as his finger sunk into you, slowly, deeply.

“what’s wrong?” wonwoo asked while pumping the digit at a gentle pace.

“what do you mean?” you squeaked, staring into his brown eyes tinged with his earlier concern.

“you know what i mean,” wonwoo hummed, “why were you about to cry outside the bar? what happened?”

“are you sure we should discuss this while you’re fingering me?”

“baby, just tell me.” wonwoo urged with a comforting tone in his voice. he started to massage his thumb over your clit, and your entire body jolted.

you sniffled. “i-i just, i— i kind of cut ties with my friends. a-and i’m glad i did it but now i’m just gonna be even more a-alone.”

“of course not,” wonwoo shook his head, “you have me.”

“are you sure?”

slight amusement and shock coloured wonwoo’s face. he pulled his hand away from your core and looked like he wanted to laugh. you couldn’t blame him, but you also couldn’t help your insecurity.

“i’m sure, baby.” he told you firmly. “i’ll always be here for you. i promise.”

you smiled up at him, feeling your heart start to soften.

“can we take a shower?” you then proposed. “i want to get these tears off my face before they dry.”

while wonwoo was busy getting the water running inside the bathroom, you noticed your phone start to glow and vibrate on his nightstand. it was your mother’s number on the screen. taking a long, slow breath, you flipped your phone upside down and ignored the call. it was a risky move, but it felt almost healing in a sense to turn away from the stress in your life. instead, you focused on what mattered in the moment.

wonwoo joined you in the shower, the water gliding in silk-like pathways around his lean muscle and smooth skin. he pushed back his wet hair, sparkling droplets sticking heavy to his eyelashes. he pressed you against the tiles, and their icy touch sent a shiver up your spine. in the midst of the steam and heat, he was kissing you again, suckling softly on your tongue and squeezing your breasts in his hands. his aching length, hard and heavy, brushed between your thighs, to which your palm started to glide up his shaft.

he smiled against your mouth, “you want my cock inside you, babygirl?”

the fire slowly rebuilt itself from the embers in your stomach.

“yes please.” you lilted innocently.

wonwoo decided to press your front against the glass wall instead of the tile. his lips were leaving drifting pecks up your shoulder blade, and he didn’t seem to be in a hurry. a rough, deep groan filled your ear as wonwoo rubbed his cock between your folds, allowing your arousal to coat him generously. however, you were yearning to feel how he filled you entirely, until you could feel him nestled right to the brink. wriggling your hips against him, it was your non-verbal cue for him to start sliding in.

he cupped your breasts in his hands, whispering into your ear, “how should i fuck you, baby? do you want it hard?”

as impatient as you were, there was something about the atmosphere that told you to prolong your intimacy.  “n-no,” you mumbled as the fog swathed around you, “s-slow, i want to feel you.”

your moan was almost louder than the water spraying against the tiles when wonwoo started to push inside of you. once he was buried as far as could fit, he started to grind into you, extending his pace so that you could truly feel his every inch and vein. his fingers were massaging your chest, the round flesh almost like velvet to his touch. everything about your body was endearingly soft and warm. he loved it.

“does it feel good, babygirl?” wonwoo purred. he was situated at such a pleasurable depth inside you that you felt like complete gelatine. he thrust into you a little harder, but it was enough to make you cry.

“s-so good,” you stuttered, licking the water off your lips. “do i feel good t-too?”

wonwoo smirked. he moved his hips at a shallow pace. “mmhm. you’re so tight and warm around me, baby. feels so perfect. how pretty do you think your pussy would look with my cum dripping out of it? should we try it?”

you pushed yourself back against his pelvis, “fill me up, wonwoo, please.”

“of course,” he grinned, and slowly dipped a hand down your stomach until you felt him begin to rub soft circles into your clit.

“let’s see how much you can take, babygirl.”

you were exhausted. you were sore. but you felt safe. you made an audacious decision and decided to spend the night at wonwoo’s rather than going home, where you knew you’d be greeted by an equally displeased mother and father that aria had snitched to. it was the first time you’d gone to bed without wearing pyjamas that weren’t expensive, pink satin. you were clad in nothing but one of wonwoo’s old t-shirts. he tried to give you one that didn’t still carry the scent of stale cigarette smoke.

his arm was around your waist, your spine resting comfortably against his chest while you lay together beneath the bedsheets. the sheet that was stained in your arousal had been tossed in the laundry hamper. you knew wonwoo would never stop teasing you about it. anyways, life felt different at his apartment; in fact, it felt better, especially when wonwoo kissed your temple before shutting off the light. your wealth had never been a defining factor in your personality, but it did make you consistently miserable.

that night, it was just you and a boy, a boy who you were quite positively in love with. maybe he loved you too. you weren’t completely certain yet, and you didn’t want to rush anything; however, you felt fairly confident his heart was likewise when he buried his face into your neck and wished you goodnight in his low, sleepy voice.

whatever your parents had to say, you’d find out tomorrow morning.

right now, you weren’t the rich girl, but a happy girl, and that mattered more to you than anything else.

[ibijau]

you’ve managed to give me an unquenched taste for nhs/jzx, and now i’ve come crawling back for more. them with 69 please (maybe a/b/o, you do a good job with it)? love your stuff!

“This is all your fault anyway,” Nie Huaisang grumbled, burrowing himself further into his pile of embroidered cushions.

Jin Zixuan, kneeling next to the bed, made an effort not to roll his eyes. He had learned, over the past few months, that it was a dreadful idea. Nie Huaisang, already capricious because his brother spoiled him, had become quite temperamental as of late. It was bad enough when he started shouting and arguing, but sometimes he started crying when he was upset, and that was just the worst.

Besides, he knew that Nie Huaisang didn’t really blame him for this situation. It had been Nie Huaisang who had suggested they fool around, after Jin Zixuan’s engagement had fallen through, and it was Nie Huaisang again who had professed that there really wasn’t much of a chance of any consequences for said fooling around. An omega outside of heat wasn’t that fertile, Nie Huaisang had said, and neither were betas in general, he’d added. Between a mother who had ordered him to never share anyone’s bed until marriage and considered she’d done her job educating him, and a father who’d given him a list of brothels for his fourteenth birthday and told him to figure things out himself (a list Jin Zixuan had promptly burned, terrified his mother might find it and punish him), Jin Zixuan hadn’t been in a position to do anything except trust his friend.

A mistake, as it had turned out.

A huge mistake. Nearly as huge as Nie Huaisang’s round stomach.

“More tea,” Nie Huaisang demanded.

Jin Zixuan immediately obeyed, pouring some fresh tea for the other boy.

“How was the archery contest then?” Nie Huaisang asked after taking a sip. “Da-ge said you placed well?”

“I came third,” Jin Zixuan confirmed, picking a slice of peach from the tray he’d brought, and holding it for Nie Huaisang to bite into, which he did. “Only because Lan Wangji threw a tantrum though, so I feel I didn’t do so well. Everyone wondered why you weren’t there, by the way. Jiang Cheng was very cross.”

“He’s always cross anyway,”  Nie Huaisang retorted, before opening his mouth to silently demand another slice of peach. Jin Zixuan obeyed of course. “Did they figure anything was off?”

Jin Zixuan shook his head. Although Jiang Cheng had seemed somewhat suspicious, when Nie Mingjue hinted that he just didn’t like to bring his brother in Wen territory, not even for a discussion conference, everyone bought into it. Who would have imagined the truth, anyway? Nie Huaisang acted a little flirty with everyone, but he was the one person everyone would have assumed to be knowledgeable enough to avoid such a situation. 

Even if somehow the news breached out, who would suspect Jin Zixuan of fathering that child though? Although they had become quite close in private, in public Jin Zixuan had still acted aggravated by his friend’s antics in public, to the point of usually refusing to acknowledge they were friends at all. It would have been easy to pretend this situation had nothing to do with him, to leave Nie Huaisang to his trouble and go on with his own life without ever thinking of his bastard child, except to remember in the future that it couldn’t be used as a match for the legitimate children he’d have with a spouse chosen by his parents.

It would have been easy.

It would have been what his father would have done, what his mother would have encouraged, still hoping for an alliance with the Jiang.

Instead Jin Zixuan had run to Qinghe the instant he’d received a letter from his friend hinting at his predicament, and hadn’t left again for months, not until his father threatened to come get him by force if he didn’t show up at the discussion conference in Nightless City. Even then, he’d refuse to go home with his parents, pretending he was tired of Lanling and wanted to explore and Night Hunt on his own. He’d managed to convince his mother that his father’s behaviour disgusted him too much to be around him lately, and his father that he’d found a pretty face to have fun with in Qinghe.

It wasn’t even a lie. Nie Huaisang really was pretty, and Jin Zixuan really despised his father for all the bastards he’d sired and abandoned over the country.

“I wish I had been there with everyone,” Nie Huaisang sighed. “It would have been fun.”

“It really wasn’t,” Jin Zixuan insisted. “The Wen were furious to have lost their own tournament, your brother says they’re probably going to retaliate in some way.”

Surprised to hear this, Nie Huaisang sat a little straighter in his nest of cushions.

“Da-ge said told me there was nothing to worry about!”

Jin Zixuan winced, and offered his friend another slice of peach as a distraction. It didn’t quite work, Nie Huaisang pushed away the piece of fruit and frowned.

“Since when does da-ge even talk to you? Wasn’t he mad about…” Nie Huaisang gestured at his round stomach. “Did you two make up?”

Jin Zixuan shrugged. He didn’t know where he stood with Nie Mingjue. The man had punched him in the face hard enough to break his nose when Jin Zixuan had told him he was responsible for Nie Huaisang’s predicament, and then refused all of Jin Zixuan’s offer for an honour marriage. But at the same time, he hadn’t kicked Jin Zixuan out of the Unclean Realm yet, and didn’t seem to mind that Jin Zixuan was spending most of his time in Nie Huaisang’s room now that Nie Huaisang couldn’t appear in public.

It would be a far cry to say that Nie Mingjue liked Jin Zixuan, but he might have somewhat approved of him, at that was already more than Jin Zixuan would have expected.

“I wonder if this is it,” Nie Huaisang sighed, flopping back against his cushions with a sour expression. When Jin Zixuan threw him an inquisitive look, he clarified: “I mean, if there will be a war. I know Qinghe Nie is ready for it, da-ge made sure of it, but the others… well, first of all, for small sects it’s a big risk. And then… the Lans are pacifists, Jiang zongzhu is the backbone of overcooked noodles, and your father…”

Nie Huaisang hesitated, but there was nothing he could say that Jin Zixuan hadn’t already thought.

“My father is pretty likely to side with the Wen, unless they insult him somehow,” Jin Zixuan said, and while Nie Huaisang grimaced, he still nodded a touch too fast.

“If he does, what will you do?” Nie Huaisang asked.

The question, asked with affected casualness, took Jin Zixuan by surprise, but not as much as the speed and intensity with which the answer hit him.

“I’ll fight alongside your brother,” he exclaimed, taking one of Nie Huaisang’ hands in both of his. “I’ll protect your and our… and your child, no matter what.”

Nie Huaisang’s eyes went wide at that earnest declaration. He quickly looked away, trying to discreetly blink away a few tears.

“Nobody’s asking you to do that,” Nie Huaisang mumbled. “I’m… you don’t even like me all that much. You don’t need to turn against me for someone you just happened to fuck once or twice, someone’s that’s not even your friend.”

It was Jin Zixuan’s turn to stare with wide eyes.

There was that funny thing about Nie Huaisang. Because he was the first one to point out his faults, the first one to laugh at his own expense, because he never took himself seriously, it was easy to think he really didn’t care what others thought of him. But he listened and memorised everything that was said or done, and took it to heart.

“You are my friend,” Jin Zixuan retorted. More than a friend, perhaps. He’d really enjoyed Nie Huaisang’s company even in Gusu, and after several months in each other’s company, with this child they’d have in just two or three weeks… maybe it wasn’t only friendship anymore, though it definitely was that as well. “And do you think I could ever look at myself in a mirror if I abandoned my friend, my child?”

“And since you’re so vain, it’d be hard for you to live without mirrors,” Nie Huaisang said with a devious smile that made Jin Zixuan want to… but they hadn’t kissed since he’d rushed to Qinghe months ago. It used to be Nie Huaisang initiating everything, but he hadn’t started anything all this time, so to Jin Zixuan the message was clear. He might have started feeling more than he ought to, but Nie Huaisang probably didn’t want anything but friendship. “You really would stay here with m… with us?” Nie Huaisang insisted. “Against your family?”

“At this point, aren’t you family as well?” Jin Zixuan asked, one of his hands letting go of Nie Huaisang’s to come and rest on his round stomach. Right then the child was quiet, but he could still feel its bursts of spiritual energy now that the date of birth was approaching. “Both of you are who I want to be with.”

“You’re so stupid,” Nie Huaisang grumbled, putting his free hand over Jin Zixuan’s on his belly. “If you keep that up, I’ll tell da-ge to say yes if you ask again that we marry, and then where will we be?”

“Together,” Jin Zixuan replied, his heart thundering in his chest. “So maybe I’ll ask again, while we can.”

“Idiot,” Nie Huaisang grumbled, turning away as if that could hide how red his face was turning. “I hope the baby is smarter than you.”

“Hopefully it’ll get your brain, my good looks, and your brother’s good sense.”

Nie Huaisang, still looking away, still red in the face, laughed. It was the most beautiful sound in the world, and Jin Zixuan hoped he would continue hearing it for the rest of his life, however short or long that might be.

[inkstaineddove]

Man as Mirror

Ships: PruAus if you wish; background PruHun and FraAus

Characters: Roderich, Gilbert; mentioned Erzsi + Francis

Summary: Arriving home early from Paris, Roderich encounters a shirtless Gilbert in his kitchen, leading them to have a conversation Roderich could've gone without.

Vienna, 1774.

Once his carriage safely rolled to a stop, Austria stepped out of it and stretched. While even he could not deny the beauty of Paris, nothing pleased the heart quite like home. Servants rushed about him, ushering in his extensive luggage. Sidestepping away from them, he gazed up at the early-morning sky and allowed himself the luxury of taking it all in. The fading purple of night, the sun shyly poking its face out through his hedges, and the birds singing their daily hymns. Truly, there was nowhere quite like home.

Feeling sufficiently uplifted, he entered the home and mindlessly made his way up the stairs. He froze once his hand hovered above the doorknob to his bedroom. He had been burned once before doing this and while, thankfully, all other parties had been asleep, the event had caused him enough mental anguish to power him through another three decades. Still, the desire to change out of his travel clothes was nigh impossible to dismiss. Leaning an ear against the door, his decision was made for him when he heard something like a moan come from Erzsébet. Changing could wait.

All remnants of his good mood dissipated as he silently grumbled to himself about their guest. While it certainly came as no surprise – Erzsébet did this every time he was out of town and, honestly, Roderich had grown to expect it – but hearing them was different. Sure, he was no fool and they made no effort to pretend but having indisputable proof of their trysts was another. Roderich was cursed to have found a spouse and enemy full of cunning. He noted that, if the two of them ever put their powers to good use, he’d have to compliment them for it. For now, while he was their target, any appreciation was out of the question.

He felt his body yearning for caffeine and knew what the next item on his agenda must be. Still lost in his thoughts, he was completely caught off guard at the sight of a bare-chested Gilbert standing over the kitchen counter. It was comical, really, watching such a brutish man delicately pour cream into two dainty mugs, mentally measuring out the right amounts. Roderich stood back and watched the whole performance in domesticity, studying the man before him as he never had before. The way his back and shoulder muscles shifted with each movement; how he never slouched even when it would be far more comfortable to; how the whole time, he never stopped humming marches to himself.

This scene felt too intimate and Roderich understood that he was not its intended audience. What he needed most from his rival now was hostility and not misguided fantasies of marital bliss. He cleared his throat and stepped into Gilbert’s line of sight. “For me? How sweet of you.” He snatched the mug closest to him and added in his usual five spoonsful of sugar. He held up a finger when he felt Gilbert gearing up to protest. “She’s still asleep. Besides, no one likes waking up to cold coffee. It sets such a tone for the day.”

They settled into a tense silence, neither one wanting to acknowledge the other. It was childish, Roderich understood, but failing to will the other out of his existence was better than devolving into petty insults or a physical altercation. And, if he ignored all rational thoughts, he didn’t even care. When around each other, what else were they but ancient children? There was no reason for them to speak, why invent one?

“Paris again? How many times have you been there over the last three months?” There almost appeared to be a hint of affectionate teasing in Gilbert’s words.

Roderich turned to face him and was surprised to find Gilbert already observing him with mild interest. What a strange morning, one he wished he could find some escape in by returning to bed but felt certain would provide him with no real escape. If anything, the pair would wake him up and demand he leave his own damn bed for another room, that’s how selfish they were. Against his will, he felt himself noticing the strength in Gilbert’s body, all broad shoulders and muscle, the physique of the ideal warrior. All suddenly clicked on why Roderich always found himself flat on his ass whenever they’d begin to trade blows. His arrogance had blinded him to the fact that imperial power mattered little when they weren’t trying to kill each other on the battlefield. With biceps like that, his only chance to get the upper hand would be a swift kick to the groin, which even at his worst he was too principled to resort to.

He was brought back to reality when Gilbert began snapping his fingers in his face. “Jesus, has anyone ever told you how creepy that staring thing you do is? Like you were trying to undress me with your eyes.” He straightened up and shivered. “Commission a portrait, it’ll last longer.”

“Please, don’t be so crass. This,” Roderich flippantly pointed to Gilbert’s outfit, “is already enough. If I imagined you in any less, I’d be ill for at least a month.”

Gilbert smirked as he took a sip. “Funny, most people have the opposite reaction.” He leaned his hips back against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. “Now, how much more stalling can you do? What’s kept you in Paris so much? I don’t recall most treaties taking that much time to…hammer out.” He bit his lip, trying to suppress his snickering.

“It’s rude to talk work at breakfast.” Austria couldn’t be bothered to mask his irritation. Things such as ‘politeness’ and ‘civility’ always seemed to go to waste on Prussia. “And, if you’re fishing for what’s in our agreement, you’ll have no such luck from me. You’re wasting your time.”

“You think I give a damn about what’s on a fucking piece of paper? As if I’d be wasting my time on that. I don’t know who blabs more for the right price, your officials or France’s.” Gilbert’s demeanor was too casual. “Most of the time, we don’t have to go to those damn meetings anyways. We’re little more than decorations, the bureaucrats have everything written before they even breathe a word to us. We know that, they know that. There are always ulterior motives for our little business trips. Whenever I come here, I tell my current minder I’ll be off doing a diplomatic something-or-other in Vienna for a week, don’t wait up.  They buy it even though they know the real reason I come to this shrine of gaudy antiques.”

“Your point, Gilbert?”

“My point is that you’re no different. Sure, you tell everyone that you’re renegotiating this or that little detail and maybe your officials believe it. And you tell it to Erzsi, and she believes it since it’s easier than thinking the husband she loathes so much is just as miserable as her. And maybe you believe it too because you have to lie to yourself first to lie to everyone else. But you can’t fool me.”

The whole time he spoke, Roderich was staring down into the contents of his mug. When all was quiet between them was when he finally looked up, laughing. “You must be desperate if you’re begging to get a morsel of gossip on me from me.”

Gilbert scoffed. “I’m not fishing for gossip. If I was, I would’ve gone through your letters while you were gone. And, before you ask, I’ve never done that. Not for lack of trying, I’m just not good at picking locks.”

The vein behind Roderich’s left eye began pulsating. He rubbed his temple gingerly, wincing. “I think I prefer it when you act like you can’t stand to be in the same room with me. Why the annoying younger brother schtick?”

“Maybe I’m making up for lost time.” For added emphasis, Gilbert made sure to loudly schlurp down a sip. Roderich’s wince at such a noise caused him to snort some coffee out his nose. Wiping it away, he grinned. “Or maybe I just want you to stop thinking you’re any better than me. Get you when you’re unguarded.”

“There’s a glaring hole in your plan. You’ve forgotten that I would never allow myself to be so vulnerable around you, no matter what time of day it is.” He mockingly shook his head, tutting. “I understand that, for now, we’re officially getting along just fine, but don’t mistake that for camaraderie. The first chance either of us gets, we’ll be back to stabbing each other in the back for sport. It’s who we are.”

“Well, aren’t you a pessimist.”

“Hardly. I simply know our natures too well,” Roderich sighed, growing weary at this line of conversation. “So, if this is only temporary, why should I feign tolerance towards you? Quite honestly, you’re not important enough to me for that sort of performance. Even if you were, you would see right through it. No, my energy is better spent on nobler pursuits.”

Gilbert had set his mug down, now drumming his fingers on the countertop. “I’m not asking for friendship; I’m asking for honesty.” He rolled his eyes with the temperament of a teenager. “Whatever. You got me sidetracked. It’s pointless anyways; you’re too delusional.”

“Excuse me?” That was quite the accusation from an unusual source. “At this point, you may as well come right out and say it.”

“If you insist,” Gilbert’s tone lilted up, songlike and jeering. “What you won’t admit is what I started this whole conversation with. All these trips to Paris, they’re not about work or diplomacy or any of your other shitty excuses. I know and you know that the only purpose is to blow a load in Francis’ ass and get away from your miserable life.”

Roderich set his mug down gently. There was no need for it to spill, to make a mess all over the clean marble. “For a moment, I’m going to ignore the vulgar insinuation you’ve made about my relationship with Francis.” He looked up, not breaking eye contact with Gilbert. “You know nothing about my life and my contentment with it. I understand that you are a deeply unhappy and wretched creature and why shouldn’t you be? There is nothing for you to go home and boast about, no shining accomplishments of yours not bathed in the blood of an innocent people, but do not project your misery onto me. For all your crowing to the contrary, we have never been, nor will we ever be, the same.”

Gilbert scoffed. “And everything you’ve ever done, there was only glory to be found there? All the princes you absorbed into your own lands, they were willing? The Bohemians, the Hungarians, they love your rulers? Are you pretending that only Russia and I invaded Poland because I remember seeing you at the table, carving out portions for yourself.”

“I’m not so naïve to believe I haven’t picked up the sword before. And, if necessary, I would again. You’d be wise to remember that.” Roderich straightened up, pulling his shoulders back. “But I’ve achieved just as much without force as with. The home we’re currently standing is a monument to such.”

“Please. It’s a monument to other people’s power and what it can get you. We don’t impact change, we just ride the waves of it,” Gilbert sneered. “This house is a prison for all who come in it. A golden cage is still a cage, Roderich, even for the largest bird.”

Roderich sighed with a roll of his eyes. “Mixing your metaphors doesn’t make you sound wiser, I’ve told you this before.” Needing caffeine for his growing headache, he took a sip. “I assume you’re including yourself among the captives.”

“To a degree. I can leave whenever I want – as you love to point out, I do have my own house – but where would one of us be without the other two? We are the protagonists of our own tragedy.”

“I sincerely regret that old king of yours got you into theater. Next you’ll be telling me how all the world’s a stage and we are but merely players.” When Gilbert opened his mouth to comment on that, Roderich held up his hand. “That wasn’t an invitation for your Shakespearean theories!” He rubbed the bridge between his nose, his prior weariness intensifying. “Why does it matter to you so much? Why must I parade my discontent as you and Erzsébet do? If you make your life’s purpose revenge against an unjust world – there you go! I admit it’s unjust! – you are sure to become more miserable than ever before. Perhaps you should learn that before it destroys you like one of your dear tragedies.”

“It matters because you act like you’re superior to us in every way when, really, you’re no different. And I don’t think I’ll ever understand that,” Gilbert’s voice softened with something akin to regret.

Something in his tone of voice, in his posturing, lit a fire within Roderich. His eyes hardened and he pressed his lips into a scowl. “Understanding is what you want? If it’ll get the defiling power of your pity off me, then so be it! I am better than you in every conceivable way. If I am to you but a mirror, peer close and you’ll realize it too. Where you feel trapped by the circumstances life has thrown us in, with a life that can never truly be our own, I’ve taken what you’ve failed to grasp. While you were slaughtering pagan Easterners in your little bog, I was here, accumulating wealth and power you’ve only fantasized about. I am the seat of an empire that you only have access to through Brandenburg.

“But those are meaningless things, aren’t they? Because here’s what really matters to you – the only thing, isn’t it? I’ve seen how you stare; I know that look – I’ve got what a childhood spent pining among the monks prevented you from getting. Did you ever mention it to them? How young love made that vow of celibacy torturous? How close did you come to breaking it? How many Hail Mary’s did they make you perform for every impure thought? Do you wonder what they’d think of you now, going through all this because you’re in love with your brother’s wife? Phrased just so, they would burn you at the stake again. Ah, but the hellfire is familiar, isn’t it?” Roderich glanced at the clock hanging behind Gilbert’s shoulder. “Erzsébet should be waking now. Go play domestic and bring my wife some coffee.���

Roderich forced himself away from Gilbert, who was left crestfallen with his wide eyes and gaping mouth. He had said enough, gloating would be overkill. He entered his study and locked the door. If there would be consequences for his monologue, let them come later.

The day was still new. Roderich stared out the window. Despite checking the clock, his adrenaline had made him forget the time. He approximated it was no more than nine. He began pouring himself a glass of brandy, but stopped, preferring to drink from the bottle. He gazed around the vast emptiness of the room beyond its sole occupant. He raised the bottle for a toast:

“To the prison of my own making. There is no place quite like home.”

[nakedmossy]

Alone, Together - Chapter 3 [JJ x Reader]

JJ x READER

Description: JJ is not the only pogue on the cut who deals with abuse at home. Reader is an only child who lives with her mom and her abusive stepdad, has a strong relationship with JJ because they share the same home life. Reader experiences physical abuse for the first time, which changes her relationship with JJ irrevocably.

Chapter summary: John B brings JJ back inside to talk to you, things get heated, and then things get *h e a t e d*

Disclaimers: Mentions of physical abuse, swearing, alcohol.

_________________________________________________________

You trusted John B to bring JJ back before he did something reckless, but you saw the look in JJ’s eyes and knew that not even John B could help him when JJ put his mind to something. This had blown up into a bigger mess than you could have predicted...but, to be fair, you hadn’t known your ribs looked so bad and would have tried harder to hide the bruises if you did.

You and Sarah stood in front of the mirror again and she ran her hands gently over your bones to make sure there were not obvious cracks or bones out of place. You had told her it hurt but not that bad, but she hadn’t listened.

“We should get these looked at...properly. Just to be safe. Don’t want you popping a lung because there’s a piece of bone floating around.” She said as she rubbed some numbing ointment on the skin.

“It’s fine, Sarah. Seriously. I’m alright.”

Sarah looked at you in disbelief and chewed on her lips as she resumed her work. When she was done she helped lift John B’s shirt above your head and pull it down so you didn’t need to lift your arms as high. You followed her into the kitchen and sat down at the table again, grabbing one of the beers and holding it for a few moments as you stared out the window, listening for John B or JJ. 

“We need to find them” You said quietly, bringing the beer to your lips and taking a quick swig. It burned your throat but immediately started to soothe the pounding in your head.

“John B will bring him back” Sarah said, not touching her beer, just staring at you. You looked back at her and raised your eyebrows as best you could without hurting your eye. 

“What” you insisted, tired of her looking at you like you were going to crumble into an ash pile on the floor at any moment.

“I’m worried about you, Y/N. I know that this is...not as wild to you or JJ as it is to me...but this is pretty fucked up. This isn’t normal.”

“I’m aware of that.” You said, slightly bitterly. It was one thing for the pogues to say that to her, but for Sarah Cameron to say it felt different. Lucky her to be from a wealthy family that never put her in these situations. Must be nice.

“I mean...you passed out at the party, Y/N” She continued, leaning forward and putting her elbows on her knees. “I’m worried about you.”

“It was just...a panic attack. I think.” You looked out the window again, trying to squint and see if you could see either of the boys. Nothing.

“Since when do you get panic attacks?” She snapped her fingers, drawing your attention back to her. “How hard did he hit you?”

“What? He hit me...hard, Sarah....look at my face.”

“Yeah, my point. I don't think it was a panic attack. I think you might have a concussion.”

“Those aren’t symptoms of a concussion.”

“Well...still. I don't know. I’ll call my family doctor tomorrow, see what he says.”

“Fine” You said nonchalantly, standing up from the table to see out the window better. 

You could see the top of John B’s hat in the distance now, then his arms go up the air. He was ... flailing. Then you could hear JJ yelling, and his voice getting closer. Suddenly the screen door flew open and JJ burst through, John B tailing him close behind.

“JJ” You said quickly, watching his red face calm slightly when he saw you. He put his hands in the air and sat down at the table, grabbing one of the beers. “John B” You acknowledged him and he nodded once, then told Sarah to come with him outside for a minute. Sarah, confused, stood up and followed him out.

You were alone with JJ in the dimly lit kitchen, the sound of the screen door squeaking shut breaking the silence.

“You okay?” You said slowly, sitting down at the table across from him.

He stared at you for a few seconds blankly before putting his beer on the table and putting his hands behind his head.

“Are you?” He asked before closing his mouth and grinding his jaw.

“Why do I feel like I’m in trouble right now” you said sternly, leaning back in your chair and taking a drink of the beer that constituted a chug.

“Why didn’t you tell me about...” He motioned at your stomach/rib area and grimaced. “You told me he hit you once and you left.”

You took a deep breath and shrugged, looking back at his cold eyes again.

“I left a few of the details out, but it doesn’t make much of a difference.”

JJ leaned forward and put his elbows on the table, frustrated and pinching his fingers together in synchronized pointing motions.

“This was not just a fight, Y/N. He didn’t just lose his cool and smack you around. He beat the shit out of you. If I had known the extent of it when I saw him-“

“What?” You interrupted, leaning forward to match his posture. “You would have what, JJ? Done some stupid shit? Gone after him and got yourself hurt? Psh” You flicked your hand in the air and leaned back, shaking your head. “Exactly why I didn’t say anything.”

His nostrils flared and he grunted before running his hands over his face, exasperated. You could tell he was upset with the situation but right now it felt like he was upset with you, and it was making your stomach and your head hurt more.

“Look, JJ. I appreciate that you are trying to look out for me, but...I can’t be in this position right now. I can’t feel like I need to protect myself and YOU from him. I cant”

You stood up and started walking away from the table when you heard JJ’s chair scratch along the floor and his footsteps behind you. He put his arm in front of you, blocking you from going down the hallway. He was right behind you, so close that if you moved either direction you would bump into him. You turned your head to look up at him, challenging him with your facial expression. His head was hanging, hair falling into his eyes. He normally towered over you when he was slouching, let alone standing tall and trying to block you.

“Y/N, please. Talk to me.”

“What do you want me to say?” You said back, your eyes lingering on his jaw line and neck veins. 

“I don’t know...that you know you’re safe here. That you know you can talk to me.”

Your chest felt tight and you swallowed the lump in your throat. 

“Of course I know that” You said quietly, your voice cracking. You looked back up at him again and felt yourself starting to hold back tears. “That’s kind of the only thing I know right now.”

JJ’s face pinched and before you knew it he was holding you so gently but so firmly that you felt yourself fall into his chest and collapse against him. He pressed a hand to the back of your head and held it against his chest as you started to cry. Being near him, holding onto him, was the closest feeling to home you knew. You felt him kiss the top of your head before you pulled back to look up at him. He held your eyes and brought a hand to the clean side of your face, putting it under your chin and tilting your head so he could brush a light kiss above your bruised eye, around your bruised cheek, and on your jaw line. Lastly, he slowly placed a gentle kiss on the corner of your mouth near where your lip was split. You felt adrenaline pumping through your body, and your head felt light. It was happening so fast but so naturally that you didn’t need to think about anything, you just let your body move with JJ’s. You had dreamed about this moment for years, but never like this, never in this state. He ran his thumb across your bottom lip and waited until you met his eyes again before you both shared a breathless moment and he lowered his lips onto yours firmly. It hurt, minimally, but you didn’t care at all. You moved your lips in sync with his, hungrily latching yourself onto him and feeling his hand move from the back of your head to the nape of your neck, cradling your head. You pressed your body against him until there was no space left between you. Mindlessly he brought a hand to your rib cage below your breast and you let out a sharp breath. 

“Shit, I’m sorry” He breathed into your mouth between kisses. You shook your head and kept kissing him, managing to mutter an ‘it’s fine’ inaudibly. 

You pulled him by his shirt backwards down the hallway until you bumped into a wall, catching your foot and tripping you slightly. JJ hooked a hand under your thigh and lifted you up, cradling a hand behind your back as he lifted you into the air and you wrapped your legs around his hips. He walked both of you into the spare bedroom he always slept in, still feverishly kissing you as if he couldn’t get close enough, fast enough. He was a good kisser, it was fluid and smooth and easy.

You kicked the door shut as JJ walked you both through it, and he gently placed you down on the bed. You watched him as he peeled his shirt off and threw it in the corner, his tanned skin stretched tight over his muscles which glistened with sweat. He leaned down, returning to your mouth and you tangled your fingers into his hair, consumed by him. You felt his hands moving to lift your shirt off, you moved your hands to his belt to start undoing it.

You didn’t want him to take your shirt off, knowing it would expose the bruises again, but JJ’s hands worked tirelessly against you and you relented, lifting your arms slowly and carefully as high as you could without it hurting. He knelt down on the floor in front of where you sat on the edge of the bed and brought the shirt over your head carefully, throwing it in the corner where his laid crumpled in a ball.

With your stomach and ribs exposed, wearing nothing but your bikini, JJ leaned forward and ran his fingers slowly across the tender and bruised flesh, giving you goosebumps. He was eye level with your chest, and started planting kisses first on your collar bones, then in between your breasts, then slowly lower he placed kisses across your bruises, on either side. You kissed the top of his head, then put your hands under his chin and lifted his face to yours. He had tears in his eyes.

“JJ” Your voice broke when you saw his eyes, full of sadness and pain. “Don’t cry, its okay” you whispered, wiping his tears with your thumbs. 

“I love you” JJ whispered back, his voice cracking. “I always have. I know we’ve said it before. But I mean, I really love you, Y/N.”

He didn’t need to say it, you knew what he meant. You knew it was different this time than the handful of friendly “love you’s” you had shared growing up. 

“I love you too” You said back, breathlessly. 

He smiled and pressed his mouth to yours again, lowering you onto your back, climbing on top of you. You were tangled in each other now, legs and arms all over each other, JJ careful not to touch your ribs or bump your face. You felt the butterflies and the tingles and the adrenaline pumping now, you had never kissed anyone like this, it had never felt this good.

JJ’s hand caressed your shoulder, drifting over your chest near your throat, which sent a wave of panic through you, jolting you back and away from him. You covered your throat with your hand, breathing heavily and closing your eyes for a moment. When you closed your eyes you saw a vision of your stepdad holding you against the wall by your neck pass by.

“You okay? What happened? Did I hurt you?” JJ’s eyes were wide and he stayed frozen in place, watching you. You shook your head, shaking the vision away.

“Sorry, I’m sorry” You breathed, stretching your neck around and rubbing the skin.

JJ moved towards you, his hand on your leg, leaving a bit of space. 

“You’re safe with me.” He said calmly, waiting for you to open your eyes. You did, and met his with your own full of disappointment. “It’s okay. We can slow down.”

Frustrated, you buried your face in your hands, letting out a puff of air. You felt JJ’s hands pull yours away from your face, and hold them gently.

“I don't want to slow down” You said in a small voice, sounding as pathetic as you felt.

“What’s the rush” JJ smiled, shrugging lightly. “I want you to enjoy it. I don't want you to...feel that.” He motioned to your throat. You nodded and bit your lip, finding it hard to look at him.

He leaned forward slowly, keeping his eyes on yours, and blew hot breath on your neck before kissing the skin lightly. You swore you felt your eyes trying to roll into the back of your head, you had to close them. 

“Come here” He murmured, opening his arms and letting you crawl into them. He pulled you back onto the bed until he was leaning against the wall, and cradled you in his lap. “This is perfect” He whispered into your hair, kissing the top of your head again.

After the most traumatic, eventful, and tiring day of your life, you fell asleep to the motion of his chest moving up and down and his hands drawing pictures on your back.