#and if you are good at figuring out plot!!

[spatialwave]

pretty little thing.

➸ ask: “❛ i need you. please. i'll be quick. ❜ with Viktor and a usually bold reader, but who’s right now just so needy for Viktor 👉👈” – ➸ pairing: viktor x fem!reader ➸ word count: 1.2k ➸ tags: mdni! nsfw, fxm, shameless smut, porn w/o much plot, masturbation, oral sex, facials, submissive viktor, bold reader. ➸ notes: i genuinely never felt filthier writing something fjgnsdjfg–don’t LOOK AT ME. 😳 ask came from this prompt! askbox is temporarily open...currently taking a few modern au requests!!

Everything about Viktor drove you fucking crazy.

Those narrow eyes that pierced through you, sending cold shivers through your spine when they flickered up and down your figure. Slender, nimble hands that worked tirelessly to please you, fingers flitting between your legs, pushing inside you and curling against the bundle of nerves that had you crying out. His lips that praised you with words and left heady kisses along your skin and cunt, your thighs clenching on either side of his head as you rode the waves of pleasure coursing through you.

But–you drove him crazier.

A cocky smirk would creep to your lips when you sat idly next to Viktor, both silent as his free hand that wasn’t hastily writing notes over parchment danced along your thigh. Slow, meticulous movements that dipped between your legs, fingers running along the edge of your panties. He was good at silent asks, not much for words or begging, and you were always quick to indulge a man so deserving.

Bold enough to force him back on the bed, riding him until the early morning hours as the warm sun sprawled along your naked bodies and your hips ached and thighs cramped. Until he was a whimpering mess underneath you, strangled groans caught in his throat as he filled you.

You were much better with patience. You preferred waiting for his actions that indicated his desires, absent-minded touches that wouldn’t cease until you were on your knees blowing him. 

Viktor had been preoccupied all week, focusing his energy on the research with Jayce and leaving you to your own devices. The days blended into the next, and tonight, you were a pitiful mess. You hadn't felt this way in a long time. As you sank into the couch, book clutched tightly in your hands, you squeezed your thighs together, and you ached longingly—desperate.

You fixated on the words, but they danced along each page, twisting into an indecipherable mess and leaving your mind as quickly as they came. Pages and pages were left unread as frustration bubbled up in the back of your throat and a loud groan came through. 

Fuck this.

In a swift motion, the book was discarded to the floor and your hand slid between your legs, eyes falling shut as they slipped into the fabric of your underwear with familiarity. Tentative touches, gentle fingers circling your clit that was throbbing. Your other hand slipped into your shirt, fondling your breasts and pinching your nipple, wishing so badly that it was Viktor’s hands making you feel so good.

It was easy to fall into the rhythmic motions, an idyllic smile lifting the corners of your lips as your desires were met. Not in the way you would have preferred, but taken care of nonetheless.

Two fingers slipped inside easily, your cunt eagerly enveloping the digits. Not quite long enough to make the lasting impact Viktor could.

The click of a lock snapped your body upright.

Widened eyes shot to the door that creaked open, and your heart soared. A rare occurrence that Viktor would make it home before you had fallen asleep. Adjusting yourself, you pulled your hands from your body and stood up, the slick between your legs coating your panties and seeping through to the satin fabric of your sleep shorts.

“Hi, baby,” you chirped, voice laced with lust as hands haphazardly fixed your hair that knotted from your position on the couch. You were uncertain why physical presentation mattered when your lover’s face was covered in signs of exhaustion. Dark under eyes, tousled hair, and buttoned shirt untucked.

He looked far too good to remain casual. Fuck, you were feral.

Viktor locked the door behind him, a smile gracing his lips as soft eyes settled upon you and his weight shifted back to his cane, “Still up? I hope you weren’t waiting for me.”

Your eyes flickered to the clock, it was well past midnight.

“No,” you shook your head, wondering if your hot cheeks and heavy breaths hinted at your previous state. Surely, he noticed. “Just… couldn’t sleep,” you lied.

Oh, he noticed.

Interest flickered in his eyes, and a curiosity settled in his chest, but gods, he was tired. He couldn’t even think straight, surprised that he hadn’t fallen asleep at his desk in the lab like he had two nights before.

Viktor stepped forward, cane clicking along the wood, and he pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek, “I’m sorry, love,” his gentle words heavy on your heart, “I’m exhausted.”

Two impatient hands flew to his vest, fingers toying with the buttons eagerly.

“Viktor,” you whimpered, pulling your head back so you could look into his eyes, pleading.

It was an unusual act to see you standing before him with your knees quaking as you begged. His cock stirred in his slacks, hardening at the mere sight of you acting so pitifully, ready to do whatever you needed to earn his attention. 

“I need you,” you mewled, fingers beginning to undo the buttons of his vest. Shaky fingers expertly removed each one with practiced ease.

“I–shit,” he hissed, cheeks burning a deep red as you began to sink onto your knees once his vest popped open.

“–Please, I’ll be quick.”

Viktor didn’t make any moves to stop you, his free hand lifting to cover the bottom half of his face as you dug past his belt. A moan muffled behind his fingers when his cock sprung free from the layers of clothing that had felt far too restrictive, and he fell back against the closed door. Your eager hands stroked him, milking out the pre-cum that you lapped up greedily on your flattened tongue.

He whimpered, cane discarded to the floor as he worked hard to keep his knees from buckling beneath him. Your only response was to keep going, lips wrapping around his cock as you took him in as far as you could. A repetitive movement as you bobbed your head and swirled your tongue around him, and fuck, you loved his moans.

“Fuck,” he mumbled, eyes fluttering as they rolled back, a hand reaching down to grab at your hair to coax you along him. Pushing himself down your throat, knowing very well you could take it.

You choked on him, the gags and whines from your throat sending heat right into his gut. The coil in his abdomen tightened as you swallowed around him, trying to milk out his cum that you were desperate to taste on your tongue. 

You were deserving of it, weren’t you?

Two hands pressed to his bare thighs, scratching at his pale skin as tears stung your eyes when he hit the back of your throat. You were greeted by a pleasantly hard tug in your hair, yanking your mouth from his cock just as he felt himself hit his release.

Groaning deep in his chest as he grabbed the base of his cock with his other hand, stroking as the splattering of hot cum decorated your face. He had been pent-up for so long that it didn’t seem to end, strings of it clinging to your tongue that you had cheekily stuck out, over your closed eyes and down your chin and jaw.

A pretty little painting.

Viktor was rendered breathless, his hand slowing as his cock twitched, and the remaining cum he pushed out dripped down to the floor between your knees.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, hardly able to make the words come to fruition through his heavy breaths.

Your eyes opened, smiling blissfully up at your lover.

“Let me fuck you, and I’ll forgive you.”

[onyxbird]

Even outside romance novels and the use of those specific terms, let's be real: Knowing generally what the end state of a book will be is very normal (not universal, but normal) and not "spoilers," even if you're expected to infer it from genre conventions instead of it being stated outright.

If you pick up a Sherlock Holmes story, do you really expect that it's a toss-up whether Holmes will crack the case or throw up his hands and say "Well, Watson, I guess we'll never know"? If you read a book marketed as a teen getting pulled into a fantasy land as the Chosen One, do you think "Gee, I wonder if they'll be able to defeat the Dark Lord or if they're gonna get smashed into paste in their first fight and the rest of the novel will detail the Dark Lord cementing his cruel and now unopposed dictatorship?"

It's not a "spoiler" for genre conventions to tell you that in a typical mystery novel marketed as such, you can expect the sleuth to solve the mystery by the end. A blurb that paints it as tense and uncertain in a way that is itself conventional for mystery novel blurbs, like "It's [Sleuth]'s hardest case yet--can they catch the killer before the killer catches them?!" doesn't change the fact that the target audience goes in expecting them to catch the killer. That is where typical mystery novels are supposed to lead; it's the solution of the mystery, how it's figured out, and what difficulties (and associated resolutions) are encountered along the way that are supposed to be a surprise. Likewise, it's not "spoilers" for the blurb to outright tell you what type of mystery is being solved (e.g., murder mystery vs. solving a museum heist) and the setting/tone (e.g., gritty police detective vs. elderly amateur sleuth vs. kid detective)--those are the starting point, and they belong in the description because those different subtypes of mysteries appeal to different audiences.

IMO that seems like the fundamental misunderstanding about thinking "enemies to lovers" or "friends to lovers" is inherently a spoiler. In a romance story, those don't tell you anything new about the ending, because romance stories are supposed to lead to "lovers." What "enemies to lovers" vs. "friends to lovers" tells you is where the story begins, and "slow burn" tells you something about the tone/pacing. All of those are telling you aspects of the plot of a romance, with plenty of room for variation in the details of how the story gets from one to the other. If you didn't know "lovers" was the endpoint because you weren't intending to read a romance and didn't know that's what the book was, then good news! The description has fulfilled its purpose by communicating to you "This is a romance story, and that fact isn't intended to be a surprise," so that you can make an informed decision about whether that's what you want to read.

Stating just a trope with zero other context or just stringing together trope names aren't likely to be compelling or informative descriptions for a book, but in that case the problem isn't that "enemies to lovers" is a trope also used in fanfic. It's the hypothetical attempt to sum up an entire book with just three words or not bothering to include any original writing in the blurb intended to convince people they want to read an entire novel of original writing.

Sorry it’s early but you really can’t use fanfiction terms in a non fanfiction context like if someone is trying to sell me a book to read and they tell me there’s an enemy to lovers I would be annoyed because why are you spoiling the story lol

[narnian-neverlander]

What Could’ve Been [Viktor x GN!Reader]

Plot Summary: In which you find yourself in a world so similar yet so different to your own and are simply too tired of life knocking you down again and again to still play the selfless hero.

Word Count: 3,9k

Warnings: spoilers for Arcane Season 2, talk about character death and illness, suicidal thoughts, slightly suggestive at the end

A/N: I saw that alternate timeline and went ‘Ekko’s a stronger man than I am’ and went with that; actually wanted to write sth fluffy and happy, and this is wholesome-ish, but with some very bleak undertones so I might have to write some actual fluff to compensate. Also, the religious imagery wasn’t planned from the get go but it kinda happened and it is on brand for this man, I just decided to turn it on its head a little 🤷

“Interesting. When I told you about this last, you advised the exact opposite.”

You freeze mid movement, plate hovering an inch or so over the table you were setting. “Well I… I suppose I’ve changed my mind.”

The soft tap of a cane against the floor alerts you to him crossing the room, appearing in your peripheral as you put down the porcelain with shaky fingers. “A rather… hm, siginificant change in such a short time, wouldn’t you agree? Not to mention you acted like I was telling you for the first time.” He doesn’t receive an answer, so he keeps going. “I’ve had a theory for a while. I don’t believe I’ve told you about it, because really, it’s only a pipe dream at this point, but entertaining for the duller moments nonetheless: alternate timelines. The possibility of several different realities, all co-existing with each other simultaneously. Some would call the mere idea preposterous, I’m fully aware, but then again, how would we know for certain? How could we know? Unless one or more of said timelines happened to… overlap.” The silence that follows is deafening and heavy; a precursor of what’s to come. “You’re not originally from this world, are you?”

While he knows this is a conversation that needs to be had, the way you curl into yourself and seem to wither and grow small before his eyes makes him wish he could take it all back. He tries to catch your gaze, but you purposely avoid his as you drag yourself over to the couch. Body heavy and tired, you all but slump down into worn cushions, blankly staring into space as you weakly reply with “No. I’m not.”

He doesn’t move, nor does he speak, cause while he’d been expecting your answer to a degree, now that it’s out in the open he’s… unsure what to even do with it. It isn’t a worry for long, though, as you continue speaking, slow and weary. Like you had been expecting, dreading, this moment just as much as him.

“It wasn’t a… conscious choice. To come here, I mean. It was an accident really, I didn’t even know what had happened at first.” A weak chuckle. “This was a shock to me as much as it must’ve been for you.”

And what a shock it had been for you. To have been standing with your friends in the bowels of the Hexgates one minute and to wake up in an unfamiliar bed the next. Dizzily traipsing through a space that had felt familiar yet foreign all at once; pictures and mementos from times you couldn’t remember staring at you from every surface. And to have had Viktor come through the door, bag of baked goods under one arm, to find you in the living room of what should’ve been your home, looking every bit as lost as you felt. It had been a miracle you’d stayed standing then and there, with the way he’d looked: same lanky figure supported by a cane, same messy chestnut locks, same two beauty marks against the pale skin of his sharp face, same concern in his honey colored irises when he took in your state. But no dark circles borderlining bruises under his eyes, no hollowed, sunken in cheeks, no blood on his lips to betray another attack. And no Hexcore devouring him whole. Your downfall had come in the form of slender fingers gingerly wrapping around your forearm to try and steady you; a silent question and a gentle offer of help. One of those fingers wearing the very same ring you usually kept on a chain around your neck, because you’d always been too busy or too in your own head to just ask him. To offer him your heart, your life, your everything, if only he wanted it. Always too terrified of rejection, of losing him to his illness; too scared of fucking something until it was too late. And when your hand had come up in search for said necklace, a nervous habit that had developed at some point, and you’d found a matching ring on your own finger instead, you’d finally dissolved into a wailing, sobbing mess against his chest, never wanting to let go again.

And what a shock it had been for him. To have talked to you, not twenty minutes prior, an exchange of sleepy, lazy kisses and quiet murmurs, telling you he’d go get breakfast and be right back, watching as you’d curled back up under the blankets with a content sigh. To come through the door, expecting you still in bed and instead finding you in the middle of your living room, looking utterly lost and misplaced in your own home, an almost manic look in your eyes, staring at him like you’d seen a ghost. He’d approached you, carefully, like one would a wild caged animal, and then a simple touch of his had sent you into a meltdown. And at an absolute loss, he’d simply held you. Let you cry yourself to utter exhaustion in his arms, the both of you a heap on the floor, propped up against the back of the sofa. When you had finally, finally calmed down, you’d played it off as the aftershocks of a nightmare. The kind that makes you believe they’re real and keeps you trapped in them for what could feel like a lifetime. And Gods you’d looked like you had aged a lifetime while he was gone. And ever since that night you’d been… different. Getting lost in your own head more often than not. Suffering from nightmares almost every night. Migraines and something akin to epileptic seizures every once in a good while. He had let it go on, assuring you that if you needed anything he would be there for you, and in the following months, you’d seemed to settle and things had gone back to normal. Relatively. But it had been the memory loss that had made him suspicious. Or more so the fact that while some things remained, others seemed to have happened differently for you and some had never happened at all. Never having been able to leave well enough alone, he’d started digging for explanations. And now, at the end of his research, his most impossible theory proven right - he’s yet again at a loss of what to do. How to help you.

“I didn’t know how I got here, much less how to get back. From what I do understand about all of this, and it ain’t much, the thing that sent me to this world doesn’t even exist here. So at first I didn’t have much of a choice but to just… live. To pretend like everything was normal and I belonged here. But eventually I realized that even if I got the chance to go back, I didn’t want to. I wanted to be selfish, I wanted—“ Your voice cracks, thick with emotion and he watches your head drop forward like a doll’s whose strings have been cut, eyes downcast at your trembling hands. “I wanted to be happy again. And for once in my damn life I wanted it to last. It just never fucking lasts…”

Stride over to you and hold you tight, kiss you and tell you that everything would be alright, that you would figure this out together, like always. That’s what he should be doing. Every bone in his body tells him to, but just like so many other times in the past, his oh so brilliant mind prevents him. Tells him that there is no ‘together, like always’ because the person in front of him isn’t the person he’s known his whole life. Isn’t the person he married. Everything’s an ugly mess and he doesn’t mean for his next words to come across as cruel, doesn’t perceive them that way; blissfully unaware of the implications, he’s simply, truly curious.

“What would you do if you were to go back home?”

An inelegant snort leaves you and you wipe the back of your hand over your eyes in a desperate and vain attempt to stop the tears from flowing.

23 seconds.

You were counting, just to give you something to occupy your spiraling mind with, really.

23 seconds.

That’s how long it had taken him to no longer refer to this world, this apartment, him as your home. To prioritize whatever might be going in your other life. And you know it’s not fair, to be this upset with him, this version of him that you’ve been deceiving from the start; even though he has never wronged you. But you can’t help it. Guilt and regret would soon be all you’d have left again, so might as well leave him with some, too.

“Well… if I hadn’t gotten sucked into this mess, I would’ve killed myself by now. I guess I’d be getting back to that.”

The breath that escapes him sounds like you actually just sucker punched him in the gut and immediately makes you feel terrible about how casual and bitter you’d made it sound, but he’d wanted the truth and that was it. Limbs heavy und unsteady, you rise from your position on the couch and make your way over to the front door. “I’ll go take a walk or… you know, go do… whatever. Give you some space, time to think.” Your hand’s already on the door handle, but you pause and somehow find it in yourself to turn around and at least give him the courtesy of looking at him for what you’re about to say. “For what it’s worth, I never meant to let it go this far. It just became so… easy to pretend like things had always been like this. You made it easy. And while I’m sorry that I lied to you, tricked you, intentional or not, I got the chance to fall in love with you all over again. And I could never be sorry about that.”

You’re fairly certain you’ve never seen him move as fast as he does now and before you know it, you’re wrapped in a hug almost too tight, his cane landing on the carpeted floor next to you with a dull thump. “You cannot say things like that and expect me to just let you walk out of that door, I-“

Readjusting his hold on you, he cradles your head against his shoulder and loops his other arm around your middle, continuing in a hushed, gentle tone. “I can’t bear the thought of harm befalling you. Even worse, you harming yourself. In any timeline. Please, just stay. No matter what might happen in the future, just… stay with me. Right here.”

He means for it to be reassuring, comforting, loving, you know that. It’s not his fault that it has the exact opposite effect.

Wincing, a new wave of tears springs to your eyes and you remove yourself from his hold, but can’t bring yourself to let go completely; hands now linked between the two of you. “Viktor, I stole the body and life of a person you actually love. I don’t want you to force yourself to try and love me out of pity.”

“And why are you so certain that’s what this is?!” It surprises you, how genuinely upset he sounds, and a gasp is forced out of your throat when he wrenches his hands out of your grasp and his palms find your face, to force your gaze onto him and keep it there, wether you want to or not. The expression he’s wearing almost scares you; thick brows furrowed in anger and lips curled back in what could nearly be a snarl, but as soon as gold eyes find yours, red and puffy and so very desperate and grieving, whatever fire seemed to have been burning him up inside goes out all at once.

His shoulders drop and he rests his forehead against yours with a sigh, warm breath fanning over your face. “I’m sorry, moje láska, please forgive me. I’m not angry with you, I just… I can not comprehend why you are so ready and willing to accept rejection, but will not even entertain the possibility that loving you comes as easy to me as your affections for me do to you. Why can you love every version of me, but I’m not allowed the same with every version of you?” He watches you blink owlishly, your mouth opening and closing several times and he’s not sure wether it’s endearing or heartbreaking, how clear it is that this possibility never even crossed your mind. “You act like this entire situation only penalizes me, when in reality, I’m not actually your Viktor, either, am I?”

He expects this to help, to give you a new perspective. To make it clear to you that you are both the same; you are not a villain in his story. And there is a smile on your lips, but it’s so small and sad that his stomach drops at the sight. “No, you’re not. You couldn’t be. My Viktor is gone.”

And all of a sudden, it makes so much sense. How sometimes you’d stare at him with the most haunted look in your eyes, like he was a dead man walking, ready to collapse at any given moment. How you’d grow frantic when he came back late from the academy. How you’d insisted on tagging along on the most mundane of tasks, always under the guise of wanting to spend more time with him, but really just keeping a close eye on him at all times. Though he suspects the former to be true; the chance to spend even a few more precious hours with a loved one you’d thought lost, who wouldn’t jump at that chance?

His world would simply seize spinning if you were no longer in it, he can’t even begin to imagine how you feel. How tormenting it must’ve been to see him everyday, a second chance dangling right in front of you, but never certain if you were to wake up back in a world where he was gone.

You’re in his arms again in a heartbeat, one hand carding through your hair, the other rubbing soothing patterns into your back; whispering sweet little nothings into your ear as you bury your face into the crook of his neck and sob. All so much like the day you arrived and saw him for the first time, and yet… softer. More intimate.

You stay like this until your bawling dies down to whimpers and sniffles at which point he gingerly coaxes you to look at him.

“Miláček, listen to me. As it stands now, you have no way of going back to your original world.” He doesn’t call it your home anymore, you notice. “You did not ask for this, you did not choose this; you had it thrust upon you while going through enough pain and grief you considered taking your own life. For the love of everything, you needn’t feel guilty for wanting to use this chance to find happiness again. And you shouldn’t feel guilty if you continue to do so.” Still sniffling you gently caress his face, thumbs running over his chiseled cheekbones and heart stuttering when he leans into your touch. But then you catch sight of the ring on your finger again.

“I’m not… I’m not the person you married, Vik.” Unknowingly, you parrot his own thoughts back to him, but surprisingly enough, he finds he doesn’t much care anymore. He’s flabbergasted how he could ever even doubt for a second that it would matter which timeline you were originally from. Because it’s still you. Damn it all, it’s still you. “Maybe so. But I’ve seen the same kindness in you in those past few months that I’ve always known. The same wit. The same ambition and passion. All the things that made me love you in the first place. You said this gave you the chance to fall in love with me again; would you allow me the chance to do the same?”

The truth is, while you want to try and build a life here, you feel guilty. Guilty about the friends you left fighting a war. Guilty about taking over the life and joy of someone else, even if they are a different version of you. Guilty about forcing the man you love into a relationship with a person he technically doesn’t even know. All these months, you’d only ever reciprocated his affections, never initiated them, had barely let him touch you at all, because you’d always felt like somehow you were coercing him into cheating on someone he actually loved. But here he is now, telling you that he wants you, this version of you, all of you. Could you really do it? Leave behind everything and everyone you’ve ever known, for a chance at happiness, a fresh start? You had no guarantee that things would go smoothly in this universe either, after all. Wouldn’t you just be playing pretend for the rest of your life?

“So what, we’ll just… pretend like it’s the first time then?” you ask, a quiet breathless laugh accompanying your question. He shrugs and smiles at you. “Something like that. Falling in love with you again and again and again? I could imagine a worse fate.”

So could you. Much, much worse, in fact.

Your expression shifts somewhat without you even realizing and he immediately recognizes that he must’ve triggered some form of painful memory. He places tiny little kisses all over your face, murmuring apologies all the while and when you sigh in contentment it finally dawns on him that this is very much the first time you’ve let yourself enjoy being close with him since you got here. He doesn’t blame you; the moral dilemma that was forced on you would put anyone on edge and make them anxious about what they could allow themselves to experience without some form of consequences. He would prove to you that there would be none, he’d make sure of that; singlehandedly destroy them if they did decide to raise their ugly heads. That you didn’t always need to give and give and ask for nothing in return. That you could take what you wanted and not be punished for it. You’d taught him that after all.

“Moje světlo…?”

Gods have mercy on your soul, you never could say no to him when he used those damn pet names on you.

You crash your lips to his, desperate and practically starved; in direct contrast to all the sweet promises and gentle reassurances you just shared, there’s nothing romantic about it. It’s all tongues and teeth and absolutely filthy and it’s exactly what you need right now. Your back makes contact with the door you’d been oh so insistent on walking out of not even fifteen minutes ago, that thought now the furthest thing from your mind as his hands are already under your shirt, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

Your head falls back against the worn wood with a thump as his lips find your neck, leaving marks and bruises for everyone to see and maybe the moan that escapes your throat with a broken version of his name coupled with how weak your knees already feel could’ve been embarrassing, but you don’t have it in yourself to care; it feels like it’s been years since he last kissed you like this. Touched you like this. The whine of protest as he pulls back is cut short when he drops to his knees in front of you, hands on your hips to keep you in place and placing on last kiss on your stomach before he puts some distance between you both, not more than a few inches really, but still too much for your liking. One hand goes to cover his own, while the other cups his face, trying to tug him closer again, but he refuses. Brows knitting together in confusion and frustration, you’re about to ask him what he thinks he’s doing, but he beats you to it.

“I won’t go further unless you tell me you want this.” You almost laugh, because he can not be serious. How much more obvious could you be? Your own body is doing half the talking for you, really. But of course that’s not exactly what he means. “I want you to admit to me, and more importantly to yourself, that you want this life. I want you to realize that it is perfectly alright for you to be selfish every now and again.”

His words trigger a memory from long ago, when you’d found him passed out on the desk in the lab one too many times. After you’d been done yelling at him, you’d told him that he couldn’t just always give and give and give until there was barely anything left of himself. That it was okay to be a little selfish and take things for himself every once in a while.

Take your own advice, liar.

A voice somewhere in the back of your head purrs bewitchingly and it’s right. You are still lying. Not to him though - to yourself. Telling yourself that you feel guilty for wanting to stay here, when in reality that’s how you should be feeling. But the truth, the real truth, is that you’re scared.

Scared of how little you actually care. About the friends you left fighting a war. About taking over the life and joy of someone else, even if they are a different version of you. About forcing the man you love into a relationship with a person he technically doesn’t even know. You haven’t truly cared about any of it from the get go; always too self righteous to admit it to yourself, though.

Practiced fingers slip from his cheek to the hair at the nape his neck and pull; he goes along willingly this time, head forced back and his eyes lock onto yours, right as fresh, hot tears start to travel down your face. But you’re done grieving; you are livid, plain and simple. “I want this…” you breathe out, so quiet he almost misses it. You don’t stay quiet, though, you can’t anymore, and your voice rises in volume with every sentence spoken. “I want to stay. I want a life with you. All blissful boredom and domesticity. It’s all I ever wanted. Why…? Why was even that too much to ask?!”

He doesn’t have the answer, but he does have the solution, delivered with a slight turn of his head and a kiss to your wrist.

“It wasn’t. It isn’t.”

Breaths heavy and irregular, you simply take in the sight of him: all disheveled hair and kiss swollen lips, pretty blush all the way down to his neck, eyes dark and pupils blown wide, only a thin ring of gold left, looking at you so longingly, on his knees for you and you alone; like a worshipper ready to commit any atrocity for the sake and love of their god.

“You can take what you want, anděl. No one will punish you for it. I won’t let them.”

Angel. Oh, the irony. Irony turned certainty. Certainty turned reality.

So take you would. And you wouldn’t bother looking back at the things you’d left behind.

[hrrtshape]

✶ — INTRO TO MY MAN.

⋆ ୧ CORIOLANUS SNOW — the heir apparent to an empire steeped in wealth, scandal, and some good old-fashioned generational trauma.

CHARACTERISTICS — golden blonde hair (a shaggy mess that somehow still looks like it costs €400 to style). the iciest blue eyes, like he could literally freeze your soul, but he’s too busy daydreaming about you to notice. constantly wearing a nonchalant expression, bordering on “whatever.” yeah, right. he will also most definitely call himself a poet inside the body of a finance guy.

SPECIALTIES (A.K.A red flags) — will literally gaslight me into thinking he’s not interested, while simultaneously plotting our wedding in his head. he’ll never admit it, but he’s been keeping tabs on yours truly. knows coffee orders, childhood dog’s name and who are all of the people i follow on ig. cutie pie.

the rivals-to-situationship-to-we-might-actually-be-in-love-but-you-ghosted-me-again pipeline is insane !!!!

༢ TROPES — rivals-to-lovers-to-limbo™, i’m (just) a fever dream: emotional, mercurial, impossible to pin down. bonus point is that i’m the personification of a manic pixie girl who will run if she isn’t being written love letters to. well, yes. he’s the guy who has everything—money, power, looks—but can’t seem to figure out how to keep yours truly. now he’s rewriting his entire personality to try. tries to frame our situationship as logical and strategic but is literally one soft rejection away from spiralling. also the golden retriever x orange cat dynamics go brr. titled THE COLD WAR by my friend lily because the all-american-boy and judgemental russian girl duo is indeed very apparent.

she’s everything, 💋 he’s just ken.

ib @solanasreality <3

[yowumi]

Hotshot surgeon Gojo x Medical Student Reader Ft. Hotshot Surgeon Suguru [ modern au ] TW. Pregnancy & Love Triangle

Shotgun Wedding Ch. 04 | The Proposal

Summary. Satoru Gojo, The states #1 Neurosurgeon, known for his wealthy clan. He was known for his success, parties, and his willingness to fuck anybody and everybody in a 10 mile radius. Unfortunately, one unlucky night, you make the wise decision to do what any hard working young medical student would do when faced with a sexy doctor…you sleep with him in which changes your life forever.

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Warnings. Accidental pregnancy, no protection (wrap it before you tap it), love triangle, roommates (they all live together), satoru is a bit of a meanie, plot twists, angst, smut, you only end up with one.

A/N. this is my first time writing a fanfic, although i’ve always wanted to! i’m always open to take constructive criticism or any tips to make my writing better! I hope you guys enjoy and definitely lemme know if you have any suggestions, read well luv <3

keep up! // ch. 1 // ch. 2 // ch. 3 // ch. 4 // ch. 5 (coming soon)

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“Ah Megumi what a great surprise, it’s been a while since Satoru has dragged you out here” geto jokes, pulling Megumi into a tight hug leaving a pat on his back.

“Yeah unfortunately”

“Hey! I know you love spending time with your older brother!” Satoru pouts while trying to reference himself in which Megumi responds in a disgusted huff,

“He already agreed to come here, no need to torture him too much, Satoru” Suguru closes the door behind you guys finding his way to glide his hand on the small of your back, sending shivers down your spine.

You try and ignore it as you walk into the living room, Suguru guiding you to the kitchen where he has food prepared for laters dinner, which makes you eye ball the delicious food being teased in your face.

Megumi pulls Satoru the side with a small, “We’ve got to talk.” leaving Satoru confused as he follows behind him.

“What’s this all about?” he asks in confusion as they are both now pulled aside.

“I know” He pauses trying to find the words, “I know that you’re the father of the child she’s carrying” He raises his voice a little.

“I figured that much considering you didn’t talk to me nor her for nearly 2 months, I understand you may not like me but it has nothing to do with her” He says, his voice becoming more calm compared to the hyper playful voice he usually kept around Megumi.

“What the hell were you thinking? Knocking her up like that? She deserves better than you, you know you can’t commit to her and give her what she deserves so why the hell would you do it, why?” his voice struggled to stay consistent feeling emotions trying to tear their way out of his throat.

Why was he so upset about this? Why did he care so much who you were with? Why the hell couldn’t he control his emotions.

And it was almost as if Satoru reads his thoughts because his face falls with a new look of realization, he stutters for a moment, “Wait..this isn’t about me, is it? you like her, Megumi…Oh.” He says looking down in guilt.

He cared about you. He cared about Suguru. But Megumi…he took care of Megumi the best way he could as a teenager, seeing the look on Megumi’s face truly made him realize the damage he had inflicted on him.

He would have never done it if he knew Megumi had still loved her.

“This isn’t about me. This is about her and I understand what’s done is done but promise me that you won’t leave her alone with this, promise me you won’t hurt her or fuck around like you do with everything else.” His heart feels heavy, he can’t even keep eye contact.

“Listen…I know i don’t have a good history with relationships and that stuff but I do care about y/n. I wouldn’t do anything that would jeopardize her happiness, trust me on that.”

Megumi takes a few seconds to process it before slowly nodding, “I think we should head back inside.” He says before walking past him.

MEANWHILE IN THE KITCHEN WITH Y/N & SUGURU:

“So…” You start,

“So!” He says cheerfully, putting his elbows down on the counter in front of you, with an interested expression on his face.

“I actually have a question…it’s about Satoru’s parents.” You say nervously hoping he would give you any tips or warnings on what to expect.

“Well, they’re great people as one would say while talking about one of the most popular and rich families in Tokyo but honestly…They can be a little rough on Satoru, and I wouldn’t take anything they say to heart, They seemed to have had an effect on Satoru’s last girlfriend.” He trails off suddenly not wanting to talk about it at the mention of his last girlfriend.

“What happened to his last girlfriend…?” You didn’t want to push any boundaries but you couldn’t help but feel curious on the sudden change of mood at the mention of her.

“Uh…Well-“ He’s cut off before hearing a rowdy Satoru enter the room excitedly, placing a hand beside you.

“Heyyy so what are we talking about!”

“Oh we were just talking about-“ You are about to say before getting cut off by Suguru, “Oh it’s nothing Satoru, just talking about your parents.” He says.

Satoru looks at you looking for any concern before putting a comforting hand on your shoulder, “Oh don’t worry, they aren’t that bad, just ignore most of what they say and you’ll hold up just fineee” He trails off his words playfully as he picks at the food in front of him, earning a slap on the hand from Suguru causing a wince from him

‘ Knock Knock ‘

A knock that seemed to make the room go dead silent, as if everyone went still knowing who was at the other end of the door, making your nerves rise as your hand begins to shake a little.

Satoru notices this and gives you a pat on the head, “Don’t be nervous, everything will be fine.” He says before opening the door, on the other side stood his parents.

His mother, a woman who aged beautifully, long white hair down to her back waved carelessly in the wind outside and his father, who Satoru must take from, being a spitting image of each other, only his fathers face much older and less peaceful, his father held a serious blunt expression. Making you feel intimidated.

You can see where Satoru gets his good looks from, his parents were both jaw dropping.

His mother walks in as Suguru gives her a hug and friendly kiss on the cheek, “You look not a day over twenty, Ms. Gojo, you amaze me.” He compliments her, causing her to chuckle as she walked towards Megumi in which she asked how the boy was doing.

“How are things Megumi? You know you always have that offer if you’d like to get out of that small apartment of yours.” She says, causing Megumi starting to fail hiding his expressions,

“I think i’m fine with where i’m at, thanks.” He says wanting to move on from the conversation.

Meanwhile, Satoru’s father gave out handshakes to the men, greeting them firmly, almost business like.

Once they had both got to you, they paused. You felt unaware of what to do in the moment, wanting to play it safe, you start up words, “Hello, I’m-“ before being interrupted by Satoru.

“This is my girlfriend Y/n, I thought you should meet her.” He says, making you furrow your eyebrows at him almost offended at the thought of being his girlfriend.

“Girlfriend? You never mentioned a girlfriend before or the times we’ve talked on the phone?” His mother questions suspicious as his father gives you a look of judgement. Suddenly you felt conscious of how you looked and appeared.

“Ah well yes it’s a little new.” He says trying to play it off. You wait for him to mention the part where you are pregnant with his child, yet it never seems to come. Did he really not tell his parents yet?

“Ah well uhm okay, it’s nice to meet you uh, y/n was it?” His mother asks giving you a fake smile as her and her husband shared a look or perhaps, the look.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both Mr. and Mrs. Gojo!” You say trying to give them a friendly smile in which they choose to ignore your presence.

“Well then, i smell food and you know how much I miss Suguru’s cooking, I assume we shall eat now” She says clapping her hands as everyone followed along, Satoru’s father still glaring at you.

At the table, small talk was made about how Satoru’s career was going along with Suguru in which received positive feedback in which everything felt okay until the conversation was brought up about Megumi and the past.

“Oh i remember how skinny and fragile he was, jesus the kid was living in such poverty, thank god his father passed or else he would’ve been stuck eating scraps if it weren’t for Satoru.” She says laughing as she sipped her wine.

The talk of losing his father and how he grew up seemed to cause Megumi to go quiet.

The attention seemed to now be turned towards you as Mr. Gojo finally speaks up for the first time since they’ve sat down, “So y/n, I assume you don’t come from money, correct?” He asks bluntly, taking his fork to carve his meat.

You feel yourself start to become uncomfortable which doesn’t go unnoticed but you decide to answer, “Uh well no i suppose i don’t.” You say looking down at your plate, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

“I’m going to be blunt about this, what is it that you’re using my son for? sex? money? or perhaps do you think satoru will raise your status so you could become a surgeon?” He asks crossing his hands over each other.

“Father-“ Satoru starts before his father puts his hand up as a sign for Satoru not to speak,

“Let her speak.” He says and the room became quiet.

You felt offended by what his father was saying. As if money, sex or a title at work would make you want to deal with Satoru on a daily basis. But what boiled your blood more than that was the fact he was asking this only because you didn’t grow up rich.

“None of the Above.” You state, the boil in your blood causing a sudden rise of confidence.

“Oh no need to be humble darling. Just tell me what you want from him or our family and you can get it now rather than distracting my son.” He says leaning back in his seat.

“I am telling the honest truth, I don’t want his money or his-“ You get cut off by Satoru. “Okay dad I think that’s enough interrogating, He’s just joking-“ Satoru says trying to lighten the mood.

“I’m asking an honest question and I would like it if you’d stop interrupting her, Satoru.” He says, almost as a warning as you see Satoru’s change in emotion at the mention of his father saying his name.

“Listen, I don’t want shit to do with your money or using Satoru as anything, Id appreciate it if you stopped accusing me of this bullfuckery” You blurt letting your hormones getting the best of you…or perhaps your temper.

“Tell your whore to watch her mouth.” His mother commented causing your blood to boil as you got up from your chair, Satoru rushing to hold you back, “The fuck did you just say?” You said heated.

In the corner of your eye you can see Megumi with a surprised yet slightly amused expression at the sight of someone standing up towards the Gojo’s.

“I think we should all just calm down, okay?” He says looking at everyone.

“Get your whore a leash and a muzzle while you’re at it. How dare you let her speak to your mother that way!” Satoru’s mom says sipping her glass on wine carelessly.

“Oh i can say a lot worst-“ You say before satoru pulls you back cautiously so he won’t hurt you standing between you and his mother.

“I demand you to leave this woman at once.”

“I can’t do that mother.” He says trying to avoid eye contact.

“Oh sure you can, you can do much better than this whore with a mouth on her!” His mother starts to raise her voice.

“You don’t understand mother, I am not leaving y/n and that is final.” He says and his mother grows furious.

“Oh enlighten me! what’s so special about this woman, because you two haven’t interacted with each other all night so don’t bullshit me that you two are in love.” She yells.

“I- I-“ He stutters wondering if he should just say it. He looks at you looking at how furious and offended you were and the disappointed look on Suguru’s face across the table. “y/n is pregnant.” He says.

His mother seems to not understand as she goes on, “So? You don’t need to take on charity cases-“ She gets interrupted by Satoru who blurts out, “No mother, the baby is mine. I got her pregnant!”

His father’s eyes widen before him and Mrs. Gojo look at each other, them both deciding to stand up.

“Satoru. A word. Now.” His father demands as he walks out of the room, his mother trailing behind him as Satoru looks worried down at you before following his parents.

From the dining table you could hear the faint sounds of yelling and arguing coming from Satoru’s office causing a sudden guilt to fill your stomach, this all felt like so much. You needed fresh air.

You walked out of the room going outside to the snow as you lay on the ground, slowly making a snow angel. Something so childish yet comforting in the moment. You couldn’t quite figure out what about this action made you feel so warm yet you were in the cold.

“I can go-“ Suguru says before trying to follow after you outside before Megumi Interrupts, “I’ve got this one, thanks” He says as Suguru respects that as he begins to clean up the table.

You hear the door close in which you see moments later a familiar black haired man in front of you, hands in his pockets before settling down on the ground next to you, laying still compared to you who was making motions in order to make a snow angel.

“I have a question for you.”

“What?” You asked confused as Megumi isn’t typically the type to ask questions so suddenly.

“Are you happy?” He asks concerned, looking at you in the corner of his eye.

“I mean considering what just happened moments ago, i wouldn’t exactly say i’m too-“

“You know that isn’t what I mean.” He says firmly. You sigh, “Yeah, I know.”

You take a few moments to let the silence take up space as you think about his question.

“I don’t think it matters if I am”

“I think it does, you should be able to choose what life you want to live.”

“I have to do what’s best for this baby, if i chose how to live based on my emotions, I wouldn’t be having this baby. Don’t you think i’m scared? Scared of being a mother, scared of being something that i’m not even familiar with.” You say, a tear breaking its way out of your eye causing you to sniffle a little.

Megumi seems to understand now, “I understand. But just give me the word and i promise i will pick you up from this dump and you can leave it all behind” He says, casually calling Satoru’s million dollar mansion a dump, causing a small choked up laugh to come out of you making a small smile appear on megumi’s lips.

Surprisingly, Megumi’s hand find its way to yours. An act of comfort.

Megumi is suddenly filled with the slight hint of nostalgia having an old feeling hit him hard, making him remember.

MEGUMI POV SWITCH: 7 YEARS AGO

‘ knock knock ‘

he hears the frantic knocking coming from the door, knowing exactly who it was. he opened the door expecting to see her but there was no one there.

he walked out expecting you to have forgot something from your car or for you to be hiding yet no sign before suddenly being hit by a snowball right in the chest, his gaze turned towards y/n, his next door neighbor and best friend.

“gotcha!” he watched her laugh as she ran away as he walked behind her, her keeping a slow enough pace for him to see where she was going yet not slow enough for him to catch up.

she finally stopped in her tracks, tumbling down on the floor with a ‘thump. her body motioned back and forth attempting to create a snow angel as she laughed.

he would watch in awe before she grabbed a hand out to him encouraging him to join her, in which he didn’t refuse.

“cmon!” she dragged him down in a hurry, “okay okay” he says falling down on the floor next to her as the sound of her giggles filled the air, him listening silently.

she turned to look at him, in which she she smiled up at him as he laid down next to her,

“hey”

“hi”

a few words could be spoken between you two yet he always felt so comfortable and used to your company.

“I don’t ever want to grow up” she suddenly admitted.

“why?” he asked suddenly curious of her unfamiliar change of mood and speech.

“because then you’ll be all grown and won’t want to hang out with me” she said jokingly yet her eyes seemed to express an almost worried expression. was she worried he would forget about her?

“you don’t have to worry about that.” he stated.

“why not?” her gaze suddenly turning towards him, the simple act of looking at him so innocently suddenly made his heart heavy,

“you can stay with me however long you’d like.” he says reverting his eyes fully towards her , looking at her straight in the eyes.

a moment that felt like forever passed before the sudden feeling of her lips were felt against his. he takes a few moments to process it before cupping her face gently pulling her into the kiss.

it wasn’t long before the heat between the two teenagers got heated, them both now retreated to the treehouse they built as kids that was near their previous snow angel spot, him now on top of her.

as they kissed he felt the warmth of her clothed cunt grinding against his knee that laid comfortably between her legs. he watches with a shaky breath before breaking the kiss.

“what’s wrong?” she asked trying to catch her break

“are you sure you want to do this?” he asked showing concern for any discomfort or second thoughts she might have.

“i’m sure megumi. I want my first time to be with you.” she said bringing a warm hand up to his cold cheek.

his hand travels down to your thigh as his breath hitches. he takes off his big jacket and puts it beneath her on the floor to make things more comfortable for you.

she began to strip in front of him, his gaze never leaving her eyes before she finally finish, allowing him to avert his eyes down her body, thinking that if perfection was anyone, it would be her.

he trailed soft loving kisses down your body, admiring and touching you like you were art, a beauty that should be praised and admired.

he felt that in that moment, nothing else had mattered. it was only you and him.

afterwards you two were left next to each other comfortably as he held you in his arms, an act he dreamed of doing for the longest.

“what you were saying earlier, i wanted to tell you that you don’t have to worry about me forgetting you because i will spend the rest of my life by your side.” he said feeling confident in finally exposing his true feelings towards you.

you took a few moments before you gave him a soft smile, “thank you megumi, i couldn’t ask for a better friend.”

friend

friend?

friend.

his heart dropped, he felt as if it had been stomped on. after taking her virginity just moments ago, after spending years by your side, as you laughed, cried, sobbed, smiled, it felt like a brick was just brought down on his heart.

THE PRESENT:

Megumi is brought back to the present after reliving the memory in his head. he’s now aware of his surroundings, wondering how he could be so close to you, holding hands with someone would be considered such an intimate act yet he felt so far away from you. As if he could never, would never break that infinite barrier that separates the two of you. A world he could see but never enter. A wet painting he could see but never touch.

he’s interrupted by Suguru who suddenly walks outside causing you both to separate hands.

“They’re done talking and asking for you, id ask that you come inside if you will” He says in the calm voice he always kept.

When you both make your way inside and the mood has changed drastically, the air felt heavy as you now saw Satoru sitting silently across the table looking down, not saying a word nor acknowledging your presence at all.

“We have came to an arrangement in which you have two options.” Mr. Gojo speaks once again,

“As you know the Gojo is a class name and our reputation to the public is very important, it helps us keep our status and remain a good name. See now having the newspaper say ‘Gojo Clans’ and Tokyo’s beloved top neurosurgeon Satoru Gojo knocks up young intern’ doesn’t exactly hold up a good reputation, but ‘Satoru Gojo’s new fiancé seemed to have been getting quite busy with a baby on the way’ seems very more delightful.” He says making your eyes widen in shock of his words, he didn’t seriously think you would agree to marry Satoru, did he?

“and the other?” You ask considering your options.

“The other option is that you can get an abortion and we will pay you 5 million up front to keep your mouth shut and disappear from Satoru’s life, it will all be on the low.”

You felt trapped, abortion wasn’t an option. You chose to have this baby and you want to stick with that choice. Yet marrying Satoru felt like a nightmare, you never even considered marriage let alone with Satoru.

Before you could find the words to speak you hear Suguru speak up, “Listen Mr. and Mrs. Gojo, you guys are respectable people and I wouldn’t go against your beliefs but-“ He states before being interrupted by Satoru’s mother.

“So then don’t.” She bluntly says, glaring at him.

He stops for a moment before starting up again, “I believe this is a decision she needs to make on her own and is something her and Satoru should talk over, they are both young and no offense but times are different now and i don’t believe marriage is necessary as Ms. Y/n is only 2 months in her term, a lot can happen from now to then.” he waited for a response,

“Suguru Geto, you’re parents would agree with this just as much and you know that. This simply will be for business, If some skank decided to get my son into this situation then she should learn the consequences” Satoru’s fathed spoke.

Suguru takes a few moments trying to collect himself the best he can, you began to become nervous not knowing how to answer mumbling a bit trying to stutter out an answer before Suguru interrupts you,

“Don’t worry about it y/n, I believe their stay here has been extended, I would kindly ask you two to leave” He says getting up to get ready to greet them out as the Gojo’s agree, leading themselves out before his father stops.

He places a hand on Satoru’s shoulder trying to say goodbye in his own way before Satoru pulled away from his hand.

“Don’t act out son. You’re lucky we aren’t doing to her what we did to your last girlfriend.” He finishes and makes his way out the door.

Megumi stands silently for a few moments before seeing his way out, waving you a goodbye before heading out. His phone dialing a number waiting for a number to answer.

“Hello?”

“Hey, I need you to pick me up” Megumi speaks from over the phone.

“Sure! is everything alright fushiguro?”

“Yeah…” He stays silent for a few moments thinking, “Actually, are you free tonight?” He asks

“Yeah! why?”

“I was wondering if you’d like to get some drinks”

“Sure! Should i invite everyone?”

“I think i’d like it if it were just me and you.” Megumi says suddenly feeling a little nervous.

“Okay if you say so!”

“Okay, i’ll see you then…thanks itadori.” He says before hanging up.

-

Satoru and you sat in silence for a few minutes, crossing your arms waiting for a response out of him. After a while you realize he just wasn’t gonna say anything so you finally speak, letting anger take over you,

“What the fuck, Satoru.”

He looks up at you but doesn’t respond, he just stares emotionless at you.

“Don’t just sit there! Say something! you couldn’t even say anything while they were sitting there calling me a skank and whore all night, so please enlighten me with your fucking words.” You feel tears trying to make their way out of your eyes but you wont let them.

He pauses before looking back down at his lap, “Are you sure you want to keep our baby”

You huff in disbelief of his words, there’s no way he could seriously be considering that.

“What, are you having second thoughts? having second thoughts now at the thought of marrying me? You aren’t scared of becoming a father but you’re scared of the thought of marrying me, god fuck satoru!” You shouted at him feelings tears fall down your face.

He doesn’t say anything before excusing himself from the table as he walked into his office, locking the door behind him.

Suguru walks in to you with your hands on your knees as you quietly sobbed on the floor, he rushes towards you pulling his arms over you in a hug as tears spilled even more.

You look up at him with teary eyes as he cups your face gently pulling you into him. You try to form words but they don’t come out and Suguru notices this as he spoke gentle words, “It’s okay, I know.” His words came out softly against your ear as he held you.

Your gaze turns towards him, looking up at him as you stare at each other for what felt like forever before you did the unspeakable.

You kissed him.

You hadn’t known why you did so, in the moment it felt so right. And with that, he returned it, he kissed you back passionately before the maid walked in, her stepping back trying to pretend she didn’t see anything before Suguru pulls away.

“Let’s take you to bed, a lot has happened today. I think we all need rest tonight.” He says helping you up offering you a kind smile as he helped you walk to your room.

He leads you to your room before letting you enter yourself before wishing you goodnight as he looked away.

The kiss you shared just before had felt so right yet somehow now things felt so awkward as you laid in bed silently as you thought over the fact that you kissed Suguru in the middle of a breakdown which now made you feel a bit embarrassed.

You began to shut your eyes, choosing not to dwell on it too much as you already had a long night deciding to try and get rest.

Or atleast you try to do before you hear the door open, you figure it may be the maid who forgot something in your room as it’s happened before, an honest mistake so you carry on with your sleep, keeping your eyes shut.

That is until you hear someone sit on the bed next to you placing a hand on your hair, brushing it gently. You don’t dare to make a sound or look who it is, you figured it may have still been the maid checking on you.

A careful arm hugs over your body barely before hearing a whisper “I’m sorry.” the familiar voice of Satoru Gojo fills your ears as you still pretend to be asleep. He presses a soft kiss to your stomach before leaving the room.

The room suddenly felt empty, cold. The interaction was so short, so little yet you found yourself missing the warmth of his hand against your stomach.

.

.

.

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A/N. this chapter has by far been my favorite one i’ve written, and the fastest yet longest one i’ve written so far. (I spent my whole thanksgiving righting this up LMAO, who needs to cook a turkey when I can cook up a new SGW chapter!!) I already had an idea for this chapter knowing that i wanted this to be the chapter where reader meets Satoru’s parents and their marriage would be arranged but I changed a lot of things and I honestly like how it turned out. I hope you all enjoy and Reblogs and Asks are appreciated! happy holidays luvs <3

let me know if you guys would like to be added to the tag list for ‘Shotgun Wedding’ updates!

tags: @jeannieboys @maskedpacific @muimuiwisteria @baileebear

[yannisdesk]

I don't think Vi becoming an enforcer and fighting for Piltover is the worst part of her arc this season or even a bad writing decision; it's the reasoning we got that makes it come off half-baked. It was known this is where her arc would lead, and I while no, I'm not rooting for anyone to become a cop, I was interested in understanding her choices and hopeful that the arc would do her justice.

What I got instead was more so confusion. And that's the thing with season 2: it lays the ground work for interesting stuff, but it doesn't elaborate enough in my opinion. Stuff just happens and then it's on to the next plot point, especially when it comes to Vi.

What we get in the show is:

Vi is offered the position of enforcer by Caitlyn and she turns it down because of her own bad history with enforcers, and how they treat Zaun.

She has a run-in with Maddie, a junior officer, who hypes her up and says she's excited to work with her on the force.

Vi attends a memorial for Cassandra and the other councilmembers who were killed in Jinx's attack in S1E9. Renni crashes the place and wreaks havoc.

Vi decides to join the enforcers.

What we can infer from this is that Vi joins the enforcers because she feels guilt over the things that are happening, as they are directly tied to her sister, Jinx. It was Jinx who bombed the council chamber, and the people of Piltover believe it was Jinx who sent Renni to attack the memorial (that is later revealed to be Ambessa, but Jinx is never cleared from this). So Vi, seeing Caitlyn in so much pain, which she can relate to due to losing her own parental figures tragically, decides to join the enforcers to put an end to her sister's shenanigans.

And we next see her badged up, and an episode later, using The Grey, a poisonous gas, on her own people and sister, and in the episode after that, defending it.

Oh lord, where to begin...

For one, Vi shouldn't really be that shook up at seeing Renni out for blood. She and Jayce led the raid that killed her son, which while accidental, was the work of Jayce, and afterwards, Vi defended her son's death by justifying it as collateral damage, but we also clearly know that Vi did feel sympathy for the death of the child by her expression after her argument with Jayce and in how she was so insistent on not letting Isha be collateral. Vi knows what Caitlyn is going through, yes, but she also knows that Renni, too, is also going through immeasurable loss, and that it's her fault by proxy, as the raid was her idea. But this is never mentioned, or even hinted at. I'm not saying this to let Renni off the hook, I'm saying that for this to lead to Vi being so staunchly pro-Piltover that she seemingly has no qualms about gassing her own people, is so much of a leap that it's whiplash-inducing. We're shown in the "Hellfire" montage that they're not just roughing up the chembarons, but people who are associated with them, including sex-workers. They gassed an entire brothel. They gassed her childhood hangout spot, and they gassed these places in the hopes of finding her sister.

We know Vi joins, out of guilt. Yet when confronted with Jinx she says that she's done feeling guilty and blaming herself for Jinx's issues. While on paper, that is good - Vi shouldn't be feeling guilty over Jinx's mistakes; Jinx is her own person and makes her own decisions, so Vi finally distancing herself from the burden of responsibility is a good thing. But in saying this at that particular time, knowing the entire reason she became an enforcer, well, if you're done being guilty, then, in the words of Flo Milli: ho, why is you here?

Granted, this could just be a case of Vi saying one thing and doing/feeling another, but still...I'm unsure where I stand on that.

Ultimately, Vi's reasoning for joining the enforcers falls flat. I could see if she were a more privileged Zaunite that probably didn't have too many negative run-ins with the enforcers, but this is someone who'd been on the receiving end of their abuse for years. She witnessed her parents die at their hands. She and her sisters were repeatedly roughed up by enforcers as kids for no reason. She spent the greater part of a decade in prison where she was beaten by them so much that the warden lost count of how many times he'd personally physically assaulted her. Oh, and she was put there as a literal child by a corrupted enforcer who's part of the reason why Silco was able to swoop in and gain power like he did. If she's going to join the enforcers, she needs to have a damn good reason to in order for the narrative to work. Feeling guilt-by-proxy is just not enough.

There are so many different angles they could've taken this that would add up way better. And, given that the show is canon to the game, we know what Vi's LoL personality is like. If you don't, here are some quotes:

"Come on! Resist arrest already!"

"Vi stands for violence."

"Punch first, ask questions while punching."

"Why can't I get a straight answer? It's always 'oh no, stop hitting me, ow, my face!'"

"Piltover's finest."

"If I want your opinion, I'll beat it out of you."

These are all quotes she makes as an enforcer btw. When people say that Vi in LoL is A-Okay with performing police brutality, they mean it.

So Arcane didn't show us that, they didn't even hint that she will become that in her final scene. The Vi we see at the end of Arcane is very subdued and not at all like what she's going to become according to the show-game canon, so what gives?

There are many more sensible reasons Vi could've been motivated to become an enforcer that align more with her character. I'll present two. The first is more of a villain-y turn and less in-character, but definitely could be made believable with the right execution. As we've seen, she's always had an insecurity around her status as a Zaunite. Zaun's inferiority complex was actually laid bare in season 1; it's why so many got sprung out on shimmer, as told by Huck, who tells Caitlyn the reason why he started the drug was because he was tired of being afraid, he wanted to know what it was like to make other people fear him for once. Teen Vi says in season 1 episode 2 that she "grew up knowing" that she "was less than them [Piltovens]." Silco even discusses this sort of inferiority when he talks about his drowning. Vi was placed in Stillwater where she gained a fearsome reputation, outside of Stillwater she doesn't have that. She's just another Zaunite with a chip on her shoulder which makes her just like everyone else, but she'll never join Silco for obvious reasons, and maybe the Firelights just don't have enough pull for her to see them as more than just Ekko's last-minute-hope project, so she doesn't see a good way out for Zaun and has a "if you can't beat 'em, join 'em" moment. She's sick of being constantly backed into a corner, and she sees becoming an enforcer as the only way to make sure she'd never end up like her parents: a victim of state sanctioned violence.

The second version is way more believable. Let's say, you want Caitlyn to be an influence on her decision. That makes sense because Caitlyn is the closest enforcer in Vi's life. She secured Vi's release, and was the first person to show her kindness post-release, as well as probably, the first enforcer to ever be remotely kind to her. It also pays subtle homage to the game lore because Caitlyn offering Vi an end to her prison sentence if she joined her on a case is how she becomes an enforcer in LoL. She could be moved by Caitlyn's idealism when it comes to being an enforcer. Caitlyn was influenced by Grayson who did have altruistic reasons for becoming one - she told Caitlyn herself that she joined the force because she wanted to help and protect people. That was a major motivator for Caitlyn to consider joining the enforcers, and given that a key aspect of Vi's character are that she is a protector, that could very much be what gets her to change her mind and join the force. She thinks she can do good by both Zaun and Piltover by joining an organization that, on paper, exists to "keep the peace." So in a way, that makes her personality as an enforcer an extension of that desire. She becomes someone who's willing to engage in brutality because she unironically thinks this is the way to achieve peace and protect people. It becomes less about guilt, and more goal-oriented. And it could tie in to what Vander said about there being no winners in war and that resistence isn't worth it; and that could be portrayed as Vi tragically taking those words a bit too seriously, and thus joining the opposition and oppressors because she thinks that's the best way to save people and she'll use any means necessary to achieve that. Not only does this make sense for Vi, it also makes sense for Caitlyn, who in the show, stupidly tries to convince Vi to join the enforcers by comparing her mother's loss with Vi's, when, no, they're not the same situation. Vi didn't ask you to join Silco's gang after Cassandra died, so what makes you think that asking her to join the enforcer's on this basis is remotely appropriate? Caitlyn may be privileged and ignorant at times, but she's not that dense. That's some "your head echoes when I knock on it" level of reasoning.

Again, these would not be excusing her actions, but it would make her joining the enforcers have way more impact than "feeling a bit guilty about everything, guess I'll do war crimes now."

EDIT: grammar, clearer phrasing, conciseness.

[kiragecko]

So, it's the early 2000s. I'm hanging out with the first friend I've managed to make in half a decade, my now-husband. We're both trying to make good impressions, because friendship is hard! Now-Husband does this through the evergreen autistic method of 'let's share my special interest'.

(I would later do the exact same thing, slightly more successfully, with the Discworld books. This can be a good method!)

He does have enough social awareness to realize that sticking me in front of the Final Fantasy VII video game will not work. But, Advent Children is a MOVIE! He can share THAT with me!

-

Now, a more social aware person might ask themselves (and maybe even me) some questions first. Questions like:

Has Gecko ever played a video game?

(Answer: Yes, I have played parts of Super Mario World and two Donkey Kong Countries! Also, a snakey Tetris clone?)

Has Gecko ever watched an anime?

(Answer: No.)

Has Gecko ever had ANY interaction with Japanese bullshit, and it's differences from English bullshit?

(Answer: I have read one manga at this point, W Juliet.)

Does Gecko even know what an RPG IS?

(Answer: No. If the acronym was expanded I would think you were talking about D&D.)

Can Gecko watch things with subtitles?

(Answer: Unknown, but I'm about to find out!)

Does Gecko actually enjoy movies?

(Answer: At the time, I would have said yes. I had been taught to ignore a lot of pain back then, and didn't realize they were sensory nightmares.)

Is this movie a good fic for newcomers to the franchise?

(Answer: Unhinged laughter.)

-

We watched Advent Children.

-

The saving grace of this experience was that Now-Husband LIKES explaining stuff! He got to explain a LOT of stuff. And it was VERY interesting to watch someone try to figure out how to explain,

"Your guess might technically be correct for this movie, but it wasn't that way in the game! ... I don't think. And it's not what I think they're trying to imply! ... It might actually be a plot hole. Or maybe we just missed something with the bad lighting? But also, I'm realizing, in real time, how many of my interpretations are actually fanon and I'm questioning everything!"

And there was a pseudo-vampire. I will never get over Vincent. Every moment of Vincent was overdramatic, trying-to-hard-to-be-cool BULLSHIT. I loved it! Vincent was very easy to understand!

-

The plot of Advent Children, according to Gecko:

The main(?) characters are in a flower church and Aerith glows and rises into the air in a clear death metaphor. Or maybe actually dies? (I was mostly scared all the stained glass would break.)

Cloud and his Large Sword fights the One Winged Angel Music Guy multiple times. Reasons unclear.

FAKE VAMPIRE SHOWS UP AND THINKS HE'S SO COOL! HA HA! I LOVE THE DUMB FAKE VAMPIRE. LOOK AT HIM POSE!

I definitely saw Tifa and Barrett at some point, but I don't even have memories of thinking, "Oh, he is a DADDY! THERE IS A CUTE KID!" So they failed big time, there.

The End.

[bearimba]

Ok wait I have vague GIG(G)S ideas:

Impulse: an Experienced Ghost Hunter(TM)!

He worked for whoever the in-game company is (they don't have a canon name as far as I'm aware?) for a while before going independent.

Accidentally made a pact** with a demon during his early days and is now racing to reverse it before he dies and his soul gets eaten

Something about the pact gives him plot armor so he's lowkey immune to dying (yes this is counterproductive. no I don't know why/how this works yet. probably something happened to make the contract go awry)

Surprise surprise, making deals with a demon goes against company policy, but breaking the pact like they want would also probably kill him. He makes a get-away by stealing their van, and since he's got the equipment and skills for it, he continues ghost-hunting to make a living while on the run.

He also offers services as an electrician on the side just for extra cash, which is great because faulty electronics is often a sign of EMF stuff.

He gets little demon horns? Maybe? It's for the vibe (and maybe a tail too, to hold his lighter with)

The cheat sheet is just a journal (or maybe a collection of journals?) full of notes he's taken over the years

Skizz: a literal and metaphorical angel*!

For backstory and world-building reasons I haven't figured out yet, he forms a sin-eating pact** with Impulse, and that's why they stick together (besides the fact they enjoy each other's company, of course).

He's a tradesman on the side just like Impulse, but he does more home-repair and carpentry stuff.

All his clothes are torn-up because he keeps dying in stupid ways, but he hasn't replaced them yet because he insists it makes him look cool.

He's in charge of taking pictures because his ✨angelic presence✨ counteracts the EMF stuff that messes up the camera. They used to have a much nicer one that wasn't affected by EMF back when Impulse first started, but they managed to break it and haven't been able to afford one like it since.

Honestly I don't have enough headcanons for him yet and it makes me sad :(

Gem: a totally normal… individual!

You heard of not-deer? Yeah, it's kinda like that >:]c Has she been replaced? Was she once Gem but has been transformed into something else? Has she always been this way and no one noticed until now? Who knows!

She and Grian met in middle school while causing trouble in the same arts class and have been buddies ever since.

She liked to spend a lot of time in the woods near her home partially due to a casual interest in botany and partially because she and Grian could get up to shenanigans without getting caught. Even when they moved to a different country for college (it was the only university they could find that offered decent programs for both architecture and medical science, not to mention his cousin offered to let them stay at his place rent-free), she enjoyed driving out to the nearby national park to hang out. That park was also her last-reported location before she went missing.

If you look too close, there's subtle details that hint that something's not quite right---eyes that reflect light, limbs that are a little longer than they used to be, very sparse blinking, and a smile that's a little too wide...

Grian was going to be her first victim. He was an easy target, after all---unlikely be missed under the right circumstances, and scatterbrained enough to fall for her tricks---but there was never a good time to strike without blowing her cover. Eventually, the cravings for human died down completely, and she (mostly) forgot he was supposed to be her meal instead of her best friend.

She likes to study other people and mimic their behavior, and she's gotten a lot better at it than she used to be when she first reappeared.

Imp and Skizz both realize there's something off about her, but she's not exactly aggressive or anything, so they just let her be. It doesn't help that whenever they try to question Grian about it, he insists there's nothing wrong.

She usually stays in the van because for some strange reason, the ghosts don't like to appear when she's around.

Although she didn't get to study anything in-depth, she does have more medical knowledge than the rest of the crew, and getting her to help is cheaper than going to a doctor.

Grian: a blind clairvoyant!

Despite Gem's disappearance, Grian managed to pull himself together enough to continue college in the fall. But about halfway through his degree, Jimmy pulled him along to study in a supposedly haunted part of the library because no one else would bother them there, during which the whole building experienced a blackout. The staff fixed it quickly enough, but when the lights came back on, Jimmy was confronted with a knocked-out Grian. For the rest of the semester, he'd be plagued by headaches, insomnia, sleepwalking outside and sleeptalking about the moon and eyes, paranoia, periods of amnesia, and other symptoms that almost made him drop out of college.

Ever since, he's had has this uncanny intuition for when something's about to go wrong and often suddenly knows things without any explanation as to how. Skizz swears it's like he's got eyes in the back of his head or something.

When Gem popped up right after he graduated and suggested to him that they leave on a long roadtrip, he wasn't really in a state of mind to question it. He just thought it would be a good chance to get his head on straight, and strangely enough, just being near Gem helps him to think much more clearly. He just assumes it's because they're such good friends.

He gets possessed at Point Hope, and although the crew manages to exorcise him, he still occasionally gets the urge to set sail and never come back. He's also noticed a lot more mollusks in strange places since then, though surely that must be unrelated...

Scar: a lovable salesman!

He's also considered an angel*, and he definitely likes to play the part to sell his wares.

The GIGS crew buys their supplies from him since certified sources are rare and trustworthy vendors are even rarer. Scar is still a pretty shifty guy, but he hasn't let them down yet---killing off his customers beloved friends would be bad business, after all!

He lives on the road just like GIGS for his own reasons, so they have to arrange to meet with him way both they run out of supplies.

His previous life is a well-kept secret, but he had an interest in the occult even before he became an angel. He claims it was to contact his old pets from beyond the grave, but unsurprisingly, no one quite believes him.

He loves to make outdated references, but no one knows if it's because he's that old or he's just a nerd.

Sometimes he'll join the crew on an investigation for fun, but he dies more often than not, and recovery is so inconvenient that he doesn't like to be on-site very often.

The crew:

They mostly deal in ghost identification, but they do offer extermination for an extra fee. It's more expensive than companies that specialize in extermination, but that's just the price for convenient/speedy service.

Each person has an unofficial role with Impulse as the ringleader, Skizz as the photographer, Gem as the man in the chair, and Grian as the odd-jobber. Of course, everyone has a little experience with everything, but they're most comfortable like this.

They all live in the van, and will usually stay in a town for anywhere from a few days to a couple months depending on how much work is available.

They tend to stay nights at motels and the like, but when money's short or there's nowhere to stay nearby, Imp and Skizz usually sleep in the cab of the truck while Grain and Gem get to camp in the back with sleeping bags.

Pay is split five ways: each member gets a set stipend for personal stuff, and the rest goes towards "work expenses" such as food, motel fees, gas, and the occasional treat for a job well done.

Other appearances:

Pearl, a mysterious woman with a wolfish grin and strange knack for attracting the supernatural.

Jimmy, Grian's well-meaning cousin who accidentally gets Grian possessed, freaks out when he goes no-contact on a sudden "road trip" with someone who's been presumed dead, and then nearly dies himself after an investigation gone wrong.

Lizzie (Jimmy's cousin on the other side) and her husband Joel, who contact GIGS for help and are surprised to find two old acquaintances among them (which is how Jimmy finds Grian again).

Ze and his new colleague Sneeg, two employees of Imp's old company that they run into at a haunting that got double-booked.

BDubs ("is that even a name?" "shut up. like you can judge, Mr. 'my-name-is-Grian-not-Grain.'" "yeah--- well--- at least I'm not named after some stupid stars!"), a very concerned patron who insists on supervising the investigation and gets roped into helping.

Ghostie-ghoulie stuff:

The supernatural is common enough to be recognized but isn't typically considered a part of everyday life.

"Ghost" refers to any supernatural creature that forms from human souls, which mean their appearences and attributes can vary just as much as human personalities. However, their traits can be greatly affected by the circumstances in which they were created (aka how a person died), so there's enough commonality to classify them.

Just like any other being, ghosts need energy to function. They absorb this energy in the form of heat and expel it and electromagnetic radiation. If they output enough of this radiation, they can create EMFs that can be detected by readers. This is also why haunted areas tend to be cold and events/hunts can be tracked by spikes in EMF levels.

If ghosts aren't formed enough enough energy to subsist right off the bat, they can wither away without intervention.

Most ghosts the GIGS that exist are fairly new, so they aren't strong enough to kill anyone. It usually takes at least a year of residence for enough EMF to gather for them to mess with the environment, and even longer to cause events. However, the older a ghost is, the more its sentience slips away.

The reason ghosts kill can vary wildly and may even depend on the type of ghost. Some ghosts are simply territorial, some hold grudges towards the living (though they aren't always aware enough to realize what/why), and some even want to possess the living.

Possessions are incredibly rare because it takes an immense amount of energy to possess someone, but most ghosts are no longer sentient to want such a thing by the time they've amassed enough power. Possession of a living body is even harder for the exact same reason.

*Angels and demons don't actually have anything to do with Christian mythology. Unlike other ghosts, neither are fully dead. The link between their soul and body is just messed up, though due to the rarity of both entities, how exactly this occurs is severely under-researched. For demons, their soul has been banished from their body (the still-functioning body is called a zombie and can be killed to destroy the demon), and their creation typically happens within an abundance of "bad energy" (ex: violent murder). On the other hand, angels are permanently bonded to their bodies and are created in the presence of "good energy" (ex: heroic sacrifice). They can also be killed by destroying their bodies, but unlike demons, the fact that their soul remains inside the body means they're able to regenerate even though the scars always remain. Both entities can rot (not age) to death within the average human lifespan but can prolong the wait by consuming energy, and both tend to have very clumsy/uncoordinated bodies due to the messed up soul link.

**Also, although it costs demons a lot of energy to form a pact with humans (and again, the manner in which a pact is formed/maintained is unknown), the fulfillment of a contract will grant them much more power than they out into it---it's bascially an investment. Angels can do a similar things called "sin-eating" but it works in reverse: it takes a little energy to make the pact, but the fullfilment will drain them greatly (no I don't exactly know how this works yet either. but it sounds cool so I'm keeping it >:]c )

[ghostgirl-22]

Somehow the conversation coming up that art doesnt know what he likes or knowing his own body because he always did what he was supposed to and no girl has felt the need or want to touch him because "hes the man and shouldnt need all that" "guys take care of the girl not the other way around" iykwim so patrick decides to help him figure it all out

How much pressure he likes, how wet he likes it, if he like gentle or nipping, gripping or biting.. where his erogenous zones are... kissing the sensitive parts of his inner thighs, what roles he likes to take, how he likes to be spoken to...?

U can ignore this part but Maybe pat asks "You never even tried doing it yourself? Like taken your time and see where your hands go?"

art says how would i be able to figure it out when i dont know where to start or what to do. Pat understands there probably a repression aspect to it aswell aand so they discover art together with pat guiding him through this new world/exploration

Omg! Your ask is literally ten times better than what I wrote but I love you for letting me try it dear nonnie <3

CW: 18+ !NSFW! Explicit

Basically this is just yearning and longing and porn with the thinnest of plots. So Artrick core.

——

It all comes out over holiday break. Art is staying with Patrick, it’s a few days after Christmas and Art’s parents are already busy with fundraisers and meetings. To them it doesn’t matter how Art gets back to Stanford, as long as he gets back so they could care less that Patrick keeps him for a few days.

They’re up too late. Patrick is lying on the floor with his laptop, looking up the scheduled matches for this season and who he’ll likely be playing. Art has taken over his bed, flipping channels on the television, going back and forth between American Pie on TBS and ESPN. Patrick is certain the sex conversation starts because they’re watching American Pie but what starts out as Art trying to get more information about Patrick’s sex life with Tashi leads to Art admitting he’s never really explored what he likes in bed.

“What do you even mean, explore?” Art asks, suddenly self conscious. He’s such a little perfectionist, checked off all the boxes, straight As, Ivy League college, division one tennis player, first girlfriend at the “right” age, lost it (many times) before high school finished. Patrick can tell it’s frustrating him to feel like he missed something. “Do you mean… touching myself?”

That’s really all it takes to divert Patrick’s attention. He shuts his laptop and sits up, gazing at Art. “Yeah jerking off is one part,” Patrick says, “But I meant what do you like?”

“I like having sex,” Art shrugs, “it’s simple. What else is there to explore?”

“Oh come on,” Patrick smirks. “It’s anything but simple. Do you even know your favorite position?”

Art rubs his arm, its so obvious he’s never even thought about it. “I don’t really… I mean um… I like… you know… the usual way.”

“Yeah that checks out,” Patrick says teasingly and Art’s gaze darkens.

”Why? How do you fuck Tashi?”

Patrick grins because he knew it was coming. “Nice try.”

Art huffs an irritated sigh. “Whatever man. Just because I’m not trying every position or whatever. I mean what difference does it make? She still…everybody still leaves happy.” Art picks up the remote and switches channels again like he’s done with the conversation but his skin is starting to flush.

He’s so easy. Patrick decides to push a little more. He shoves Art’s legs over and settles next to him on the full sized bed. Art just sits up, crossing his legs, he rests back on his palms.

Maybe it’s because Patrick helped him with his first sexual experience or maybe it’s because he has some kind of corruption kink but he loves whenever their relationship shifts back around to this show-me-how dynamic.

Art is so good at walking this line of self delusion that he’s this perfectly good straight boy… but when he needs something from Patrick. Usually experience. That’s when the lines start to blur. It’s a fucking mess but that’s exactly where Patrick lives.

“Look dude it’s not even about that.” Patrick continues. “It’s about… you remember when we were kids. You were so scared you’d suck at kissing so I—”

“Yeah I was a dumb kid,” Art interrupts quickly.

“Sure but you practiced…” Patrick points out. “And you’re a really good kisser now,” he says, smirking. Art looks away.

Patrick sighs. “I’m just saying if you play around… and learn what you really like. Sex can be really, really fucking good. Besides that’s half the fun of it anyway, right?”

Art chews his bottom lip and then he sighs. “It’s just… I mean I’m a guy… I thought I was supposed to look things up. I didn’t want to look like I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“What did you look up?”

“I don’t know, how to put on a condom? Only the first time. And like there was this article about unhooking different types of bra straps. Shut up,” he adds, shoving Patrick gently because he can’t help laughing at that.

“Okay how about this?” Patrick says, the ghost of a smile still on his lips. He leans back against the headboard, “Do you like it slow? Or do you prefer going fast?”

”Both,” Art says. “I like whatever she likes to do.”

“You don’t have a preference? What about when you’re touching yourself?”

Art plays with his tongue, rolls it back and forth in his mouth as he’s thinking. “Slower.” He says after a while. “Like… when I get the chance I like it…” He glances at Patrick and then looks determinedly back at the tv. “Slower.”

Patrick takes a breath and tries to slow himself down too but he can already feel his cock starting to fill up. “Okay what about touch? What makes you feel good? What gets you up?”

Art frowns. “I um… I don’t—- what about you? Where do you—” he sighs and then shakes his head. “Patrick, this is ridiculous.”

“No it isn’t, what’s ridiculous is you really don’t know what you like.”

Art is gripping the remote too tightly. “I know what I like,” he says.

“What?” Patrick gazes at him.

“Lots of stuff,” Art says.

“Like?”

Art rubs his thighs, Patrick looks down, following the anxious movement.

“I know something you like,” Patrick says after Art doesn’t say anything for a minute. “You want me to show you?”

Art starts playing with his tongue again, he takes a deep breath and nods and Patrick sits up so he’s close.

“You like it when someone kisses you here,” he brushes his knuckles along the junction between Art’s neck and collar bone and he shivers, pulling his shoulder up towards his ear. Patrick considers going in for the kiss but getting Art in a headspace is a delicate thing. It can lead everywhere and nowhere depending on how Patrick handles him.

And he knows Art… fuck… apparently he knows things about Art’s body that he’s not even aware of. This messy little “friendship” is gonna drive him crazy.

“Can I—“ Patrick lets his fingertips settle along the nape of Art’s neck where his curly hair is fine and baby soft. Art closes his eyes momentarily and takes a little breath.

”You like that too,” Patrick says.

“Yeah,” Art says softly.

Patrick licks his bottom lip to keep himself from licking at the flush on Art’s throat. “Do you like being on top? Or on the bottom?” Patrick asks, carefully.

Art opens his eyes and bites his lip again before taking a deep breath. “I think I prefer it when she… when she’s on top.”

“What do you like about it?”

“I don’t know… it’s hot. I mean…” he looks at Patrick. “I like looking at her tits when she….” He looks down shyly. Such a stupidly, pretty boy.

Patrick smirks. “So you're a boob guy.”

“So are you,” Art says, like he’s been caught doing something bad and doesn’t want to be the only one to get in trouble.

Patrick shrugs. “I love everything. I’m more of an ass man. But if you want to kill me show me a great pair of legs… I mean… fuck.”

Art rubs his thighs again. “I really like Tashi’s legs.”

“I bet you do,” Patrick smirks, leaning in. “What about you? You ever let her touch your chest?” He teases his fingers over Art’s t-shirt where his pecs are. Art gasps lightly as Patrick pinches just the right spot and the nipple starts to harden immediately. Patrick circles it lightly and Art shifts on the bed, pressing one hand into his lap and pushing Patrick away with the other. “Fuck no. That’s weird right?” Art asks, his voice a little pitchy.

God he fucking loves it. Patrick wants to push him down on the bed. But he sits on his hands to make himself behave. “What’s weird about it?” Patrick asks.

“I mean… I’m a guy. Why would she want to touch my… my nipples.” Art huffs a nervous little laugh.

“To make you feel good,” Patrick says softly.

Art licks his lips idly and lets out another breath.

“What about grip… do you like it soft?” Patrick asks.

Art nods. “Yeah.”

“This?” Patrick grips his wrist gently. “Or this?” He asks gripping a little tighter. “Or?” He grips tighter still, until Art squeezes his eyes shut.

“The… the middle… the second one.”

“Just right,” Patrick lets up on his grip. “What about here?” Patrick trails his fingertips…slowly… down Arts tummy.

“Stop,” Art breathes as Patrick’s fingers reach the elastic of his boxers.

Patrick shrugs, letting go of the elastic and smirking. He could do this all night. Touch and poke and prod and feel. He knows it’s turning Art on. He’s flushed so fucking beautifully, worrying his lips all red, squirming on the mattress.

“What about…” Patrick sits up on his knees and plays his fingers into Art's hair. Art looks up at him eagerly. Eyes fully dilated, lips parted, breathing shallow.

God.

Such a fucking pretty, pretty boy.

All Patrick wants now is whatever the fuck he can get away with. “Can I kiss you soft?” He asks as he presses his lips to Art’s mouth. Art nods and opens up, sliding his tongue into Patrick’s mouth right away, wanting it. Even though they’d only ever kissed a handful of times, ever since the first time their lips touched Patrick could tell that for Art kissing would be a Thing with a capital T. Patrick caresses the side of Art’s throat and feels it as he shivers. He listens to the way Art’s breathing. So aware of how Art’s body is moving. He’s opening up, he’s uncrossed his legs, knees pulled up, he’s grabbing at Patrick’s t-shirt trying to pull him closer as Patrick starts to deepen the kiss. Pressing his tongue more firmly into Art’s mouth. Art really likes that. He starts gasping, nibbling on Patrick’s lip before pushing his own tongue back in. When he starts moaning Patrick pulls back. His heart is railing against his ribcage and he’s losing himself. His hips are pressed in between Art’s legs feeling everything. Certain Art is feeling everything.

”Fuuckk,” Patrick breathes. He flops onto the bed resting his head on his pillow. If he were with Tashi right now he’d probably be halfway inside her already. Everything with her is impatient, horny and desperate. Everything with Art is pleading, anxious and pretending he doesn’t want it as badly as he fucking does.

Art is breathless, lips kiss swollen, he scoots back to get distance. “This is… so…”

“You like dirty talk?” Patrick interrupts.

Art smiles a bit and shrugs. “Kinda.”

“What’s kinda?” Patrick asks.

Art kicks his legs, lightly. “I like… I like when she tells me how she can’t wait for me to fuck her…”

Patrick sits up on his elbows. “Like I’m so wet for you baby, can’t wait to feel that big dick inside me?” Patrick says softly.

”Jesus Patrick,” Art says, covering his face.

“What?” Patrick says, smiling slightly at the reaction.

“You don’t have to say it like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you're wet,” Art whispers.

“So what do you want me to say?” Patrick says, he gets up again, abruptly crawling back into Art’s personal space. Art reacts at the sudden movement by opening his mouth… Patrick can see his little pink tongue, desperate for another kiss.

Art is gazing at him, pupils so large the rings of blue are barely visible. They’re so close, their lips are almost touching when Art licks his mouth. A horny little mess, if Patrick tried it now he thinks Art might let him fuck.

Patrick smiles and then leans against Art’s ear. “Can’t wait till you fill me up and fuck me good baby…” he murmurs softly.

“Yeah,” Art says quietly. “I can fuck you good.”

Patrick thinks he’s gonna go insane.

Art’s breathing starts to pick up again.

“Can you fill me up and stretch me… fuck me so hard I can feel you for days…” Patrick whispers.

“Mmhm,” Art hums eagerly, he starts lapping and sucking along Patrick’s throat, it’s so fucking yummy.

Patrick rubs his hand lightly along the inside of Arts thigh, trying to graze his knuckles along Arts cock. Art hitches another breath.

“That feel good?” Patrick asks gently.

“Yeah,” Art says breathlessly.

“You like it when she goes down on you before you fuck her?” Patrick asks.

“Yes, mm, yes,” Art says eagerly, shifting on the bed so Patrick can get between his legs. It’s so slutty the way he opens up so quickly, knowing what Patrick wants to do. Patrick presses a kiss along the inside of his upper thigh.

“Mm,” Art whines, and Patrick’s sure he’s just found another sensitive spot. He kisses it again, this time sucking at the skin there and Art moans properly. Patrick grins and starts palming him through his shorts. His own cock feels so fucking heavy. He’s thought about fucking Art since the first time he watched him nut all over himself but right now he feels like he’ll die if he doesn’t get this.

“You gotta tell me how you want it to feel,” Patrick says looking up at him. “Can you talk me through it?”

“What if your… what if we get caught?” Art whispers.

“Everyone is asleep by now I promise,” Patrick says.

”Are you sure?”

“Fucking yes.” Patrick says impatiently, though if he’s honest he wouldn’t give a fuck at this point if they were all right outside his bedroom door. He can’t help himself, he tugs Art’s shorts down to see it.

He’s still barely got any hair there and he’s definitely still blonde everywhere. He’s so hard, his cock is so pretty and pink and full to the tip, pearls of cum dripping. Patrick laps it up and Art hisses.

“Talk to me,” Patrick whispers. “You like it wet?”

“Fuck,” Art breathes. “I mean yes. Yeah I want it wet. Oh god.”

Patrick fills his mouth.

“Oh— oh— fuck—-“ Art groans, he’s so loud. His hips stutter but Patrick holds him down, swirls his tongue around, doesn’t swallow anything, just drools all over it. Arts toeing the bed, trying to push up. “Mm fuck your tongue can you… can you do it faster…” Art moans. So Patrick moves his tongue faster.

He doesn’t ask, maybe because he’s too far gone but he teases his fingertips up along Art’s entrance and the sounds that Art makes in response, make Patrick shiver.

“Patrick,” Art gasps, his body is practically vibrating. Patrick presses his fingers in a little deeper and he moans like the boys do when Patrick’s on those websites in the middle of the night with the volume down low. But Art can’t be quiet… and Patrick doesn’t want him to stop.

“Patrick! Patrick I can’t—- I think I’m gonna—I’m gonna fucking cum— holy shit—“ Art wasn’t even done saying Patrick’s name when Patrick’s mouth started filling up. And boy does it fucking fill up. Patrick’s swallowing, and swallowing and swallowing. He’s so greedy he doesn’t want to waste a single drop of it. Art is whining breathlessly when Patrick finally lets it drop from his mouth, still so shiny and red and wet, twitching helplessly. Patrick just stares at it, dizzy for a minute before he drops onto the bed next to Art and reaches between his legs and starts touching himself.

Art sighs and pulls his shorts up properly before rolling over. He puts his hand where Patrick’s is and starts helping. “What about you? Art asks softly. “What do you like?”

A/N: Sorry this took hundreds of years my love. I wanted to do better but unfortunately got lots to catch up on so it shall be good enough <3

[thehereticdiaries]

Dead Man Walking: Chapter Four

Chapter Summary: Your group has to figure out what to do about the men that hurt San and Hyunjin

Warnings: Uhhhh none that I can think of, this is a plot building chapter, lmk if i should add any

Series Masterlist

After a tense dinner, you and Wooyoung met with your leaders in their office. The two of you sat on the couch under the scrutinizing eye of Hongjoong while Chris paced by the desk.

“The run group was ambushed by a group of ten men. It could be a coincidence, but it sounds too similar to the group that attacked you. Do you remember what any of them looked like?” Hongjoong crossed his arms, head tilted as he observed you. 

“Hmm,” you rested your elbows on your knees, brows creased in concentration. “It was dark. I only got a good look at the man that tried to grab me. He was a younger guy, not much older than me. He was tall, maybe even taller than Yunho and Mingi. Shoulder length hair, either dark brown or black, and very greasy. He wore a necklace with what looked like a mix of human and canine teeth. And a diamond tattoo under his left eye.”

“Oh, shit,” Wooyoung swore, running a hand down his face. Your heart dropped at the exhaustion that washed over him. 

“No no no, please don’t say what I think you’re gonna say,” you pleaded even though you knew it was useless.

“That’s the guy that shot Hyunjin and cut San,” Wooyoung confirmed your fears. You dropped your face to your hands, squeezing your eyes shut beneath your palms.

“Fuck!” Chan snarled, knocking the small desk lamp into the wall. He stormed over to stand in front of Wooyoung. “They didn’t follow you, right?”

“No,” he shook his head. “I checked behind us every couple seconds. It looked like the psycho with the tooth necklace wanted to, but one of the older guys in the group stopped him.”

“Alright,” Hongjoong sighed heavily. “This is a major issue. Chan and I will start figuring out a game-plan, we’ll talk with everyone tomorrow. Go get some rest.” Once your footsteps faded, the co-leaders stood on opposite sides of the desk to pour over their maps.

“What are we supposed to do about this, Chan? We don’t even know how many of them there are, where their base is, nothing,” he looked up at the older man with thinly veiled panic in his eyes. Chris gave nothing away with his expression, hiding behind a mask of stone.

“There’s no other choice, we’re gonna have to scout them out. Don’t give me that look, Hongjoong, I don’t like it either. But we need to get a handle on the situation before their group shows up on our front step.” Chan was right, Hongjoong knew he was, but the idea made him sick. Two of their members were already hurt. He didn’t want to risk anyone else.

“We can’t make that decision on our own. We’re putting everyone at risk by doing this,” Hongjoong insisted. 

“We’ll have a meeting tomorrow after lunch.”

You didn’t sleep. You glued yourself to Hyunjin’s side, watching his breathing and pulse like a hawk. You didn’t join the others for breakfast, your food being brought to you by Yeosang. As the hours ticked by, your mind wandered to the men that you’d encountered twice now. What would happen if they found your base? Would it be another massacre? Would you be forced to watch the sadistic bastards kill those you cared about again?

“He’s not awake yet?” A voice at your door jolted you from your disturbing thoughts. Jeongin rushed to the desk, cupping Hyunjin’s cheeks and knocking your hand from his neck.

“Jeongin –”

“Don’t use that voice with me, I’m not a child.” He glared at you, but you were way too tired to argue with him.

“I know you’re not, but –”

“No! No ‘but’, why isn’t he awake yet?!” Irritation boiled under your skin, pushing the fatigue out of your mind.

“Interrupt me one more fucking time, Jeongin, and I swear to god you will not be allowed to step foot in this room again.” He snapped his jaw shut and a muscle twitched in his neck. His nails dug into his palms where they hung by his sides. “Hyunjin lost a lot of blood. Combine that with the pain of having the bullet removed, I’m not surprised he went into shock. What matters now is that he's stable. Our bodies heal best while we sleep. I honestly don’t expect him to wake up until sometime tomorrow.”

“I’m sorry. I just,” he choked on a sob, hiding his eyes behind a hand. Your face softened immediately. You moved around the desk to wrap the youngest member in your arms. He dug his face into your neck, gripping the back of your shirt like a lifeline.

“I know you’re scared. You have every right to be, one of your closest friends was severely injured.” You carded your fingers through his hair. “But I need you to trust me. I’m new, but I care about all of you.”

“I’m sorry for yelling at you,” Jeongin apologized with a sniffle after pulling back from your embrace. 

“It’s okay,” you reassured him, brushing away his stray tears with your thumb. “Do you want to stay with Hyunjin for a bit so I can check on San?” He nodded rapidly and took your place in the chair by his head. You grabbed fresh gauze and tape before leaving to find your other patient. You’d have to change Hyunjin’s bandages later, too. San sat alone in the common area bundled up in a blanket, eyes glazed over.

“San? Are you feeling alright?” You knelt in front of him, dipping your head down to meet his eyes. They were red and slightly puffy. “Did you sleep at all?”

“A couple hours,” he mumbled, looking through you rather than at you. “It’s my fault.” Your shoulders deflated, knowing that feeling all too well.

“You can’t blame yourself. There was no way you could have known those men would attack you.” His eyes hardened, suddenly focusing on you.

“Maybe not, but I should have been able to protect them. I was the oldest in the group, not to mention Changbin and I are arguably the two strongest. I should have done more to keep them safe.”

“God, why am I a therapist today,” you mutter to yourself. “San, I know how you feel, trust me. But –”

“How could you know how I fucking feel right now?” Your eye twitched. You took a deep breath to stamp down your anger. 

“One: do not interrupt me when I am speaking. Two: do not curse at me like that.” San rolled his eyes, turning away at your lecture. You grabbed his jaw, lightly digging your nails into his skin, and forced him to look you in the eye. “Three: I know how you feel because I’m the reason my brothers and their girlfriends are dead.” A heavy silence lingered in the air. 

“I- I didn’t mean to…” he trailed off, guilt eating away at his insides.

“I know. But you got them back. I’m trying to forgive myself, you should do the same.” He slowly nodded as he let your words sink in. “Now take off the blanket, I need to check your cut.” San was shirtless under the blanket, but you were a professional and only freaked out internally. You shuffled around to sit in front of his wounded shoulder. His hand was on your thigh, right above your knee, before you even touched the bandage. You gingerly peeled off the old gauze, setting it behind you to throw out later. The cut was already healing nicely, to your relief.

“How is it?” San winced as your fingers brushed over the stitches.

“Good. I should be able to take the stitches out in a week, but you’ll still need to take it easy after they’re out,” you pressed the clean gauze down to tape into place. He hissed and tightened his grip on your thigh whenever you touched a particularly sensitive spot. The flush rising to your cheeks was the only indicator of how flustered it made you, but it was enough for San to notice. He studied you with a sly grin despite the throbbing pain in his shoulder.

“San,” you warned when his hand started sliding higher. He bit his bottom lip to stifle a laugh, but stopped his movement, leaving his hand to rest on the middle of your thigh. You huffed through your nose as you finished redressing his wound. Someone cleared their throat behind you, and you turned to Hongjoong staring daggers at San’s hand. 

“If you’re done here, we need to have a group meeting. Break room.” The leader disappeared just as quickly as he showed up. You raised your eyebrows.

“Is it just me, or did he look pissed?” You asked while gathering your supplies. 

“Don’t worry about it, for now at least,” San sighed and draped a flannel over his shoulders, walking beside you to the break room. You dropped the soiled gauze into the trash before sitting between Yeosang and Jisung in a large circle on the floor. 

“Where’s Chan?” Minho glanced at the doorway to look for the eldest of the group.

“He’s watching Hyunjin. Listen up, now.” The room fell to silence, everyone’s focus solely on Hongjoong. “The men that attacked our run group yesterday also attacked Y/N a few weeks ago.”

“What? How do you know it’s the same group?” Mingi questioned, eyes flicking between you and the conscious members from the run.

“There was one man that both Y/N and Wooyoung recognized. He had some pretty distinct characteristics, including a necklace made of teeth and a diamond tattoo on his face,” Hongjoong explained. 

“You didn’t tell us you were attacked,” Jongho spoke up next, addressing you.

“It wasn’t necessary for anyone besides Chan and Hongjoong to know. But it is now,” you rubbed your temple to fight back the fatigue creeping its way back into your bones. “I’m not going into the details. Like Hongjoong said, those men ambushed my group while we were asleep. They killed my two brothers and their girlfriends. I only survived because of their sacrifice.”

“The guy that shot Hyunjin also tried to take Y/N and the two other girls back to their group for ‘entertainment’.” You glared at Hongjoong. He had no right to tell them that. “As of now, the only information we have on them is that man’s description and the general direction they came from.”

“So what do we do?” Hongjoong hummed at Felix’s question, crossing his arms and looking at the floor in front of him.

“There’s really only two options. We can do nothing, and wait for them to come to us, or we can send scouts to get more info on them.” 

“We’re going after them, obviously,” Wooyoung stated immediately. 

“Are you insane? We can’t send anyone else after them, not with what they did to Hyunjin, San, and Y/N’s family,” Jisung borderline scolded the older boy, eyebrows flying up to his hairline.

“Oh, I’m insane? No, what’s insane is letting them get the upper hand on us. We can’t let them take everything we’ve built here.”

“I’m with Jisung, it’s too dangerous to risk any of our lives,” Felix chimed in.

“Bullshit, you’re just too much of a pussy to do what’s necessary.” The group devolved into overlapping arguments. You closed your eyes and pinched the bridge of your nose as their voices rose in volume.

“Enough!” Hongjoong barked, stopping everyone in their tracks. “Fighting each other about this won’t get us anywhere. We’re putting it to a vote. Chan and I already say we go to them. Anyone that agrees, raise your hand now.” Only five members kept their hands down: Jisung, Felix, Yeosang, Jongho, and Seonghwa. 

“Y/N, you seriously want to go after them?” Jisung stared at you, looking slightly betrayed.

“Trust me, I hate the idea. But Wooyoung is right. I’m terrified of what will happen if they find us here. These men are cruel. They let you die slowly and in pain.” Images from that night flashed across your mind. Your head felt like it was filled with lead, your eyelids threatening to fall shut.

“The most important thing will be stealth. It’ll be a small group, two or three at most. Our objective is to get information. We need to know how many are in their group and where their camp is. There will be absolutely no attacking these men until we’re at full strength. Are there any volunteers?” Hongjoong’s gaze swept over the group.

“Me.” Wooyoung, Seungmin, and Jeongin answered at the same time. Hongjoong narrowed his eyes on Wooyoung.

“Are you going to be able to keep your cool? Especially if you see the guy that shot Hyunjin?” The younger member bristled at the accusation.

“I will, I swear.” 

“Alright. The scouting group will be me, Wooyoung, and Jeongin.” Seungmin opened his mouth to protest. “No arguments, Seungmin. You’re one of our best with the rifle. You’re staying here.”

“Fine,” he reluctantly agreed. 

“Wooyoung, Jeongin, you’ll be meeting with Chan and I later so we can start planning. We aren’t going until our back-up plans have back-up plans.”

“Can San and I help with the plan? Our run groups always include one of us, we’re familiar with the city and part of the woods,” Changbin suggested with San nodding enthusiastically.

“Yeah, that’s fine. We’re done here, go relax.” Hongjoong left the room with an angered Seonghwa on his heels. 

“I should get back to Hyunjin,” you faltered at the wave of dizziness hitting you when you stood. You swayed on your feet, holding on to a chair for stability. 

“Are you feeling alright? You look pale.” It took a moment to realize that Minho was talking to you. 

“I’m fine,” you insisted, swallowing down the bile burning the back of your throat. Yunho appeared in your blurred vision, his hand holding your shoulder. You brushed him off, repeating that you were fine over and over, as if saying it enough would make it true. Your knees buckled under you at your first step toward the door. You fell onto something warm, hearing several shouts before plunging into darkness.

You woke up feeling dazed, blinking in the darkness of the common room. Soft breaths from the boys sleeping around you broke the stifling silence. It was probably the middle of the night, based on the moonlight streaming through the gaps in the slats over the windows. You vaguely registered the lap acting as your pillow.

“You scared the shit out of us,” Chris whispered from above you. He brushed your hair out of your face when you turned to look up at him. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry,” you mumbled, still waiting for your brain to fully wake up. “What happened?”

“You passed out. Would’ve hit your head on the table if Yunho hadn’t caught you.” He kept his hand in your hair, gently untangling some knots with his fingers.

“Oh. I thought I could last longer than that.”

“What does that mean?” His eyebrows creased with concern. 

“I thought I could handle at least one more night without sleep. Guess I was wrong,” you chuckled at your own attempt at a joke.

“Y/N, there’s nothing funny about this. If I’m right, you were awake for nearly 30 hours. That’s incredibly dangerous,” his voice remained soft even as he scolded you.

“This coming from someone that barely sleeps himself,” you pouted. “You and Hongjoong are both notorious for staying awake late into the night.”

“But neither of us have stayed awake for longer than 20 consecutive hours. We always manage to get a few hours in. What would’ve happened if Hyunjin suddenly got worse and we couldn’t wake you cus you knocked yourself out cold?” You were knocked speechless, gaping at the underside of Chan's jaw as he rested his head against the wall.

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” You turned to look over the sleeping forms of the other boys.

“We need you. Please take care of yourself. I don’t want to see you like that again, it was scary.” You couldn’t tell if it was a trick of the light, but you swore there were tears shining in his eyes.

“I will.”

“Go back to sleep. Seonghwa and Minho are watching Hyunjin. You can check on him in the morning.” You rolled onto your side so you could press your forehead into Chan’s hip. His breath hitched for a brief moment before he relaxed. His thumb traced over your temple, lulling you to sleep.

Permanent Taglist: @furfoxsake22 @babygirlskz98 @miniverse-zen @holly-here @corgilover20 @eastjonowhere @bookswillfindyouaway

Series Taglist: @vampwritesstuff @galaxy4489

[pumpkin-spice-serval]

TADC Episode 4 Predictions

I made these November 9th and shared them on Instagram, they're slighly outdated post-trailer, but I thought I would post them here anyways :D I'll put in orange any new thoughts I had as of the trailer today (btw I had a hunch that this would be the Spudsy's episode due to the whole TADC café thing). I'll also put my new predictions at the bottom:

Caine makes an adventure where the humans have to work at “Spudsy’s” and serve NPC customers (seems I got this one right)

Puts Gangle in the “manager” position (this one too)

Zooble decides to join the adventure for once, perhaps? My thoughts are maybe this is because Zooble is closest to Gangle in the circus, and Gangle wants some moral support from Zooble during this adventure because of her big role, and they oblige (Zooble is part of the adventure and it seems Gangle interacts with them in one of the scenes... so! This might be right! Abstragedy shippers rejoice!)

But yeah I really do have a hunch that they have a good friendship and we will see that in this episode

Gangle uses her power as manager to give Jax the worst possible tasks/jobs, Zooble is very entertained by this and eggs it on, thus Gangle gets a bit carried away (I still think this might happen lol)

Jax snaps and goes to tell Ragatha about the “figurine thing” (nothing about the trailer shows this coming up, but we shall see)

My theory is this is something harmless albeit a bit Tumblr-coded LOLL she probably has mini figures of all the circus members and role-plays scenarios with them, like ships, or her whacking Jax or something, and one time Jax walked in on it and used it as blackmail

I feel like maybe Jax and Ragatha will get into an argument during this episode as a sort of prelude to their two consecutive episodes–I think their characters are heavily linked to one another and we will get more foreshadowing of that in ep. 4 (I was talking about a more serious argument, this might happen, but it seems the episode is very Gangle centric so I might be wrong)

Zooble apologizes to Gangle at the end of the episode, for getting caught up with harassing Jax vs. actually being good moral support, Gangle forgives them of course

Updated Predictions:

Gangle seems to have a very different personality in this episode. She also seems to go through a little bit of an emotional crisis. I have always wondered if Gangle is some type of neurodivergent (numerous possibilities here from social anxiety, to long term depression, to autism, etc., I definitely feel there's something there) and may be "masking" her true self because she's scared to open up, especially because of Jax. That's why she's so nervous without the comedy mask, it's like a security blanket to her, and it also may be why Caine gave her a new mask, trying to help but instead fuelling her issues with self image and giving her a toxic positivity issue.

Adding onto that, I think that's why we may see her having a mental break during the episode, and perhaps confiding in Zooble about it, feeling like a failure or like no one cares about her or would like the real her. Zooble, feeling out of place themself, would definitely be the type of person to comfort Gangle, if in a more calm and pragmatic way.

I noticed Gangle getting into a possible argument with Ragatha, of all people, in the trailer. I also think Ragatha has a sort of fake positivity to her, not in the manipulative sense, but in the people-pleasing sense, and the denial sense. She is trying to cope by being as upbeat as she can but that can only go so far. We can see her suffering with burnout, and Gangle definitely is not helping. I think that Gangle will be a sort of foil for Ragatha in this episode, showing her that being too positive and chipper can cause other people around you to feel worse, not better.

Caine has a "suggestion box" in the trailer, and it seems like it's filled to the brim. I think, as a B-plot, we will see Caine have a bit of his own identity crisis, stressing over the fact that there's so many things the digital circus members want to be done differently by them, and he'll be in a frenzy to figure out how to fix it. Definitely some good potential for his development here!

Finally, I think we will get some more insight into Zooble in this episode, through the lens of Gangle. I already discussed this a little, but I feel like it's implied that they're friends in the trailer (although I have an abstragedy bias, so I could be wrong). I think Zooble may open up more about their identity and insecurities in an attempt to help Gangle work through hers.

Well, that's my analysis and predictions, I hope you enjoyed reading them!! :D

Kit

[thot-writes]

good meowning beautiful babies. would it surprise u to learn i’m a huge solavellan nut??? anyway i didn’t like DA:TV (it was fine but not great) & i especially didn’t like how they resolve the solas/mythal plot, so i quickly wrote this. mayhaps my other solavellan girlies will appreciate it???

quick and nasty solavellan ending edit (SPOILERS FOR VEILGUARD BELOW):

“It is done.”

The battered figure of Solas limps down the steps of the dais, as Rook and their party lay scattered and bloodied on the tile flooring. The teal glow of Solas’ ancient magic emanates from his palm and draws a translucent cord toward the lyrium dagger. With a janky, almost clumsy start, the dagger begins to gravitate towards him.

“This world owes you a debt,” Solas continues, looking mournfully between the downed bodies of Rook, Emmrich, Bellara… and her. “Both for defeating Elgar’nan… and for bringing down the Veil.”

He manages to draw his gaze away from the Inquisitor to focus on the dagger. His magic pulls it forward.

“I am sorry for this final betrayal. But I will do what I can to minimise the damage, when you see the old world restored…”

Before it can approach arm’s reach, however, Lavellan wills herself forward despite her myriad injuries and snatches the dagger. She stumbles onto unsteady feet, blood spilling from the gash that disappears into her hairline and coating half her face in a scarlet red. Her eyes are intense, motivated, as if she stands ready to wage war by herself.

The Inquisitor, who saved southern Thedas and faced would-be gods unflinching, faces yet another.

In spite — or perhaps because of — the love they shared, Lavellan makes one last attempt to make him see reason before she resolves to cut him down.

She locks eyes with Solas, who quickly falters under her wrathful gaze. He attempts to school his expression into cool neutrality, but fails.

“Please, vhenan,” he all but begs, his voice quiet and broken. “Do not make me fight you. I can’t.”

Lavellan’s grip on the dagger hardens. “Then stop this bullshit. I won’t let you ruin the world I saved.”

“This world is broken, vhenan,” Solas insists, his words stronger now. “Because of my mistakes.”

Lavellan resists the urge to scoff — barely.

“It is not fucking broken!” she snaps at him, a decade of frustrations surfacing. “Different doesn’t mean broken, Solas! Do thousands of years of history mean nothing to you because the Veil was present? Do thousands of lives mean nothing because they’re not elvhen? Not magic?”

Solas takes pause. He is, as ever, a hopelessly emotional man who cares more for his loved ones than a calculated leader should. The thought of having to fight — perhaps even having to kill — Lavellan is a line he doesn’t want to cross, even though it seems he might have to.

He thinks back to Mythal, to the fragment he killed while it lurked in Flemeth. How he wept over her desiccated corpse. How he wept over Felassan’s. How he wept over Varric’s.

Can he truly do it a fourth time? Kill someone so dear to him — intentionally or not — in order to bring back the glory of the old world? His chest aches at the thought, his stomach twists into knots, no matter how hard the Dread Wolf attempts to drown it out.

“You cannot understand—“

“You don’t understand!” Lavellan sharply cuts in. “This world is real, Solas. The people are real, their lives are real— I’m real. It’s as kind as it is cruel, it’s as beautiful as it is terrible, as broken as it is hopeful. And it’s fucking real!”

Solas stands a little straighter now, his expression a little tighter. Lavellan is trying to convince him not to go through with it, and he’s going to convince her why he must.

“You have seen the elves of today, what they are reduced to. You have lived it yourself!” he argues. “Magic is feared and shunned, the only elves that remain free are but superstitious children who wear slave markings and call it pride! Can you not see that I want a better life for them? For you?”

Lavellan is not convinced, as he suspected she wouldn’t be. “You want us to return to being spirits like the ancients? Stubborn and unable to adapt to the changing world around them?”

Solas pauses again, and Lavellan takes the opportunity to continue.

“Yeah, magic isn’t as prevalent. Elves only live about eighty years, and there’s constant conflicts fuelled by bigotry and power struggles.” None of these are persuasive arguments, just a grim acknowledgment on the world today. “Spirits embody a purpose, but that makes them single-minded. Mortals are flexible— they grow, they learn, they adapt— a person can become unrecognisable from their past self in months, weeks, even hours. How many spirits can say that? How great are the ancients, really, if their rigidity is both their defining characteristic and the cause of their downfall?”

Rook, having helped Emmrich and Bellara to their feet, approaches the Inquisitor from behind to lend their voice in the argument.

“She’s right, Solas,” they echo, confidence radiating from them even as they are exhausted and bruised. A standing testament to the persistence of mortal kind, against all odds. “This world isn’t perfect — shit, sometimes it’s not even good — but it’s the one we got, and we’ll defend it to our last. You want to make amends? Then stop thinking about what you want. Save the world that you endangered, bind yourself to the Veil and stop it from falling.”

Solas wants to argue, to push back against the flawed ideas they’re proposing. How could they want a mangled, maggot-ridden corpse of a world when he could so easily revive it to what it once was?

But his conflicting desires keep him from opening his mouth. Could it be that he’s turned from the path of wisdom to one of pride? Could it be that his devotion to the People and the ones he’s wronged has blinded him from seeing such a simple truth — that the world lived on without Elvhenan, and will continue to do so?

He looks to the tear in the Veil, a slew of greens and blues painted against a starry sky, and he thinks of his goals once more. He’s come so close, he could bring it all down right now, he could avenge Mythal and bring back the world of the elves.

But instead, he weeps.

Overcome by the emotions heaped upon him, the sense of duty that has pulled him from his lover’s side for ten long, agonising years, the atrocities he’s committed in the name of restoring the elven empire.

He hears Cole’s voice, telling him that he can choose better. He hears Mythal’s, angry and righteous and commanding him to tear the Veil asunder. He hears Varric, pleading for him to see reason, to be the hero he knows he can be.

He hears Felassan, his final words expressing how the elves of today are stronger than he thinks.

And Solas breaks.

He drops — not quite to his knees but near enough — and braces himself to keep from collapsing entirely. He quietly sobs and the facade of the Dread Wolf comes crumbling down around him.

Lavellan’s expression softens and approaches him, her prosthetic hand coming to rest on Solas’ shaking shoulder.

“The things that I have done…” Solas trails off, his regret choking him like a hangman’s noose.

“Are not your fault alone,” Lavellan finishes. “Accept your failures, but accept when others have failed you, too.”

“I do not know if I can.”

“You can. I’ll be with you,” she insists, not a trace of hesitation in her voice. With confidence like that, Solas can almost believe her. “Banal nadas. Ar lath ma, vhenan.”

Tears drop from Solas’ eyes, mingling with the blood from his wounds as they drop to the tile beneath.

He’s not sure. He’s not sure of anything right now— whether this is the right call to make or just another regret waiting to haunt him— but he is sure of one thing.

He’s tired. Above all else, he is just so tired.

Tired of being alone, tired of fighting, tired of watching the world from the sidelines and punishing himself in isolation. His mistakes cannot be unmade, but with eternity facing him down, he has a luxury most others don’t: the time to atone fully.

Lavellan finally hands him the dagger as he rises, watching him carefully to see what he does— if her words made it through to him. She prays they did.

Solas looks to Lavellan, then to Rook, then the rift. Perhaps there is a beauty to this shattered world. Perhaps there is a strength in the elves of today, who persevered through atrocities innumerable without the help of gods or the Fade.

Perhaps there is a potential in this fledgling Thedas that grows from the bones of what came before, that stands in defiance of beings like the Evanuris. And in time, perhaps he’ll see what they do— perhaps he’s already far closer than he thinks.

Before the doubts can cloud his mind, he locks eyes with his beloved, with the woman who changed everything, and slits his palm open with the lyrium dagger.

“My life force now sustains the Veil.”

[elenathrais]

DLC predictions for Veilguard:

(Some serious, some less so)

***Spoilers below the cut***

1. A Wintersend Tale

Rook has to save the holidays from one of Ghillie's creations. Includes ridiculous winter outfits (and hats!) for the whole crew, a special romance cutscene, and a side plot where Rook learns how to have that true Wintersend spirit from Manfred, Spite, and Vorgoth.

2. Hearts of Stone

Harding works with Dagna to figure out how to give the dwarven people their groove back.

3. VORGOTH

I don't have a description for this one, I just need more Vorgoth and maybe something about wtf he is since EMMRICH DOESN'T KNOW.

4. As The Crow Flies

A trip to southern Thedas to see how Inky and their LI is doing. Good opportunity to make digs at Lucanis about why the Crows don't visit the south much.

5. Davrin/Harding is not dead but they are blighted af and you enlist the aid of a somniari to ask Solas how to do Blight-jutsu.

6. An Adventure with Nadia and/or Drayden

I'll settle for someone at least realizing that they have ALL MET THE TWO OF THEM and having a little dialogue.

Reblog and add any more if you've got em!

[miriadalia]

Kwon and Draco Malfoy's character archetype and why it makes fans go crazy

(Warning: this post contains spoilers from both stories)

Like it or not, Kwon Jae Sung has become one of the most beloved characters in the Cobra Kai series, and he only needed 15 minutes or less of screen time to do so. Here's my analysis of why his character traits are so interesting to many fans and how this reminds me of the "Draco Malfoy effect" in the Harry Potter fandom.

Cobra Kai and Death Eaters

The first time we see Kwon, he's a student at the Korean Cobra Kai dojo, a place that not only condones but actually encourages young people to be violent, offensive, and merciless. We see how this teenager eagerly absorbs every one of these teachings and puts them into action.

Sounds familiar? In the HP universe, Death Eaters were an elite group created for the sole purpose of terrorizing and eliminating those they considered "the weakest and unworthiest": Muggle-borns and Muggles. They convinced (or forced) very young people to join them in their "mission": Draco, Snape, Regulus… All victims who then became perpetrators of the same crimes.

This scenario is SO attractive from a fictional POV. You have this dark group of adults that use and manipulate these teenagers or young adults for their own selfish purposes, and you begin to wonder: what are these young characters going to do when faced with the real consequences of their actions and way of thinking?

Draco realized (slowly and painfully) how his family's ideals were turning him into a monster forced to torture and kill innocent people. Kwon wasn't given enough time to do that… But I'll talk about this later.

Bad Boy trope and the King of Ships

Now, we can't deny that a huge part of both Kwon and Draco's attractiveness stems from their charisma, quick-witted remarks, and their inflated sense of self-importance, believing themselves untouchable and incomparable. They feel empowered to say and do whatever they want, whenever they want, to whomever they want.

All this, combined with their appealing and recognizable looks, creates the perfect formula for your next fictional Bad Boy crush™. And it also makes them so easy to ship with other characters, especially if their interactions can be interpreted as flirtatious when taken out of context (ahem, Dramione, ahem, Drarry, ahem, Kwon x Tory).

"He's just a boy"

At the end of the day, both boys were just that: 17-year-old boys trying to fit into the world they were raised in, be the best in their class, and achieve great things in life. And this is what makes them so endearing to many fans like me.

Both tried to impress the father figure they kind of idolized.

And both suffered when they faced the reality that they were just as powerless and insecure as any other normal teenager.

But in Draco's case, this moment of realization became the start of his regrets and redemption arc.

In Kwon's case, he was fated to be consumed by rage and die… due to a questionable plot and chain of events.

Now, I'm not going to debate the last 15 minutes of Cobra Kai Part 2 here. I've already written about it, and this isn't the point of this analysis anyway. I respect the people who think that Kwon's death was necessary and that it will help other characters' growth in Part 3, even though I strongly disagree with how the Cobra Kai writers handled it all.

However...

The infinite possibilites of the Redemption Arc

Not giving Kwon the possibility of a future redemption arc was a real waste of his character's potential.

Draco Malfoy wasn't truly redeemed in the original books, but at least in the epilogue, we see him raising a beautiful family, far removed from his racist past. And if you consider what happens in Cursed Child canon, you'll see how much he has grown and how good he could have been as a teen, too, if he hadn't been fed the wrong ideas and morals.

Imagine how cool it would have been if the "There's no such thing as bad student, only bad teacher" theme was applied in a drastically different way than what they decided to do in Part 2.

I'm not saying they should have shown us Kwon's redemption arc in Cobra Kai Season 6. That wouldn't have been good because we only have five episodes left, and it wouldn't have been believable that he changed so fast... But if he hadn't died, then all possibilities were open (for future spin-offs or even just to be coherent with the tone the CK series had until season 6, that is: no dead kids, just adults and only because of an illness).

Sunshine Actors

Lastly, it can't be denied that Brandon H. Lee and Tom Felton have played a crucial part in making their characters fan favorites.

They both have amazing acting skills, portraying charismatic yet tragic characters. And Brandon's stunt and martial arts skills are truly fascinating to watch.

But there's even more to their casting as Kwon and Draco. And even though I can totally separate the actor from the character, I won't deny that the actors being handsome, gentlemen, and the nicest people behind the scenes plays an important part in fans loving their characters.

If you've made it this far, thank you so much for reading!

I often post more character analyses and plot reviews, so if you like this, feel free to follow me and message me with any questions you may have :)

~miriadalia

[intothestacks]

@deeply-unserious-fellow Right?! The number of people who forget who the target audience is for most Disney stuff astounds me.

It reminds me of this one person's reaction to a post I did in another blog about the live action Little Mermaid. I was like "My favourite line in the new Little Mermaid movie is 'You shouldn't have had to give up your voice to be heard'".

And some yahoo was like "Good to know they don't trust their audience to figure that out on their own". Like??? Hello?? To a six-year-old that line is super subtle and deep. Because of how human brain development works, kids are extremely literal-minded and DO need the moral of the story laid out for them because they're still learning how to pick up non-explicit aspects of storytelling.

Storytelling for children is different than for adults because children's needs and abilities are different than that of an adult's.

Just because adults can also watch kids' movies doesn't mean the movie is for us. Not everything is about us.

This was like people complaining about the plot of Ponyo being too simple all over again. (It was a movie clearly intended for toddlers, of course the plot was simple).

Disney's Zombies 2: Why blatantly obvious social commentary in kid's stories matter

It's obvious to grownups, but not to kids, because they lack the necessary experience to pick up on the cues that are blatant to an adult.

Once, while hanging out with some Grade 2s at my work, one of them turned to me and said in a very thoughtful tone "You know, the story about the werewolves in Zombies 2 is a lot like that of Indigenous people's."

If you're unfamiliar with the plot, that's exactly what they're an allegory for. Like, as a grownup you sit there within the first 3 minutes of the show going "Ah, this time they're discussing Indigenous rights."

I've seen videos describing the movie as "Indigenous Rights for Dummies". But here's the thing: you need to simplify things for kiddos so they have the foundational knowledge needed to understand more complex aspects of a topic.

And, based on my interaction with that Grade 2, it worked. They understood the concept of the Land Back movement through the allegory.

Now, you can argue that using monster allegories for minorities can be... tricky at best. Especially when the main character is always a white person. I'm not saying the series is perfect.

But in relation to teaching young kids about a complex topic, Zombies 2 succeeded.

[notbecauseofvictories]

it takes years for terry pratchett's books to get consistently good. I would argue that the series doesn't really hit its stride until Feet of Clay, which means that pratchett was writing and being published for 12 years before he found his groove.

and I genuinely can't imagine that. in part because I do think that pratchett's publication calendar looks different than what's expected of writers today---he had about 2 books published per year for his entire career. he must have been writing furiously, and the publisher must have relatively quickly gotten these to press.

but also....I just can't imagine any modern-day publisher keeping an author on their list for twelve years, unless that author is a prestige get or a constant presence on the bestseller list. And what does it say about the state of publishing that you can't go on publishing someone's good-but-not-revelatory books until they figure out what story they're trying to tell?