#but i didn’t tell the full truth i just said i hate being feminine and i hate being a girl

[the-casbah-way]

i never ever cry in front of anyone ever but there was this boy i was OBSESSED with in primary school when i was like seven years old because he was the fastest boy in the class and he had cool spiky hair and i always thought it was a crush until i came out and realised it was gender envy of some form and today my friend out of the blue told me that i look like him and we looked at his instagram together and i actually do. i look almost exactly like him. and i cried like an absolute wanker because i’ve been so miserable my whole life being perceived entirely the wrong way and i went home today and looked at myself and realised i look like the boy i always wanted to be when i was a kid. and whenever i feel bad about myself i get to remind myself that i look like him so i shouldn’t feel bad because back then i couldn’t have ever dreamed of getting to look like this. and t will only make it better and even though the idea of starting it is still so scary to me i keep having moments like this that make me realise how good it’s going to be even if some of it will suck. i always focus on all of the ways my transition has gone and will go wrong and i forget that it’s going to go right in a lot of ways too

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Part 4 - Consequences (To Meeting Kyle For Coffee)

Let's keep this party going.

Slasher Handler Masterlist

NSFW under the cut.

CW: Under-negotiated kink, impact play (spanking with hand), use of gag, fear play, afab reader, feminine terms used for reader, brief manual penetration

The ride back to your apartment is silent. Eerily silent, because Simon is making so much noise. You can hear him breathing, deep and even. His fingers tap idly on the steering wheel and gearshift. The radio plays something jazzy, a singer who’s voice he likes crooning about being in love. He hums a couple of bars.

“How much trouble am I in?” you whisper, halfway home.

“That depends, luv,” he says. “Why’d you schedule to meet him this morning?”

You bite your lip, consider the consequences of lying. Decide to tell the truth. “You tell me you go to the gym on Tuesdays, but you don’t. You follow me to the park.”

Simon makes an amused sound. “Do I?”

“You make the dogs nervous,” you tell him. “And sometimes the squirrels run up from behind me on the path, if they’re not in a tree already. So… I thought I’d ask to meet him. I thought he wouldn’t say anything if you were right there. And,” you admit. “I thought you’d try to keep me from meeting him, if I told you.”

“So you did it, knowing it was against the rules,” Simon says, serene like a glacier.

“It’s not against the rules,” you point out, crossing your arms over your chest. “You said I have to keep my routine. Tuesdays are my mornings out of the apartment. You said not to do anything reckless, so I met an old friend at a coffee shop. You said not to do anything without your knowledge, and you have been going through my phone and reading my messages since before your last lesson. You knew, Simon Riley, and I haven’t done anything against the rules.”

By the end, your voice is high and frantic and there are tears welling up. You hate it. Hate that he loves your eyes full of tears, so you turn to face out of the window. You’re so tired. Staring down the inevitability of the push-pull of trying to keep control, knowing that the rules don’t really matter if he doesn’t want to play by them, you barely restrain a sob.

“Aw,” Simon drawls, and you can see his smirk in your mind’s eye. “What are those tears? Haven’t even punished you yet.”

When you do make it to the apartment, you’re slow to get out of the car. You dally before entering the building. You hesitate at the bottom of the stairs. You watch Simon watch you think about running. You shouldn’t run, you know, but you turn halfway, look back at the improbable escape route, each time. He tilts his head and gives a rough equivalent of an indulgent coo. You want to punch him in his smug face. You take the first stair.

Simon matches your slow pace, two steps behind and hugging the wall. Even if you didn’t know you were walking to your (hopefully) metaphorical death, it would be a deeply disturbing experience. When you’re not facing him, you almost can’t hear him. The stairs barely creak under his weight. Every now and then, you think you can feel him touch your back, your sleeve. You refuse to play that game with him. The refusal doesn’t make it feel less dangerous.

You stop at your door. Simon gives you a solid nudge toward his.

You’ve only ever been in his apartment once before. Four weeks ago. After the ski-lodge-turned-blood-bath.

Just like the first time, you’re surprised and disturbed by how normal it is. A mirror flip of your unit, the kitchen and living room are bland off white and beige. Simon shuffles you over to the big, brown couch, hand firm between your shoulder blades when your feet don’t want to move.

“Sit,” he says. So you sit. You hate how nice the cushions are. He stares down at you, head cocked, eyes cold, before stalking away into his bedroom.

The last time you were here, shaking and crying, he’d put a cuff around your ankle. You’d been chained to the foot of his bed, an anchor point under the couch, or, bafflingly, his own leg. The cuffs had been thick leather, with a very soft lining. You only tried to escape once.

It had been a miserable week.

When Simon emerges again, shutting the door firmly behind him, you think you recognize the brown leather strips in his hand. But when he holds it out for you to inspect, you feel the color drain from your face. One of them is a collar, with a shining silver tag. The other is a ball gag.

“I’m not wearing those,” you say, automatically, then cringe.

“I think you will,” Simon answers, “because if you don’t, your punishment will be doubled.”

You clench your jaw before looking up into his eyes. “That’s not fair. I didn’t break the rules.”

He chuckles, smooths a thumb over your cheek. “Stop being so cute.”

That makes you pause and narrow your eyes at him. You try again. “I don’t want to wear the gag.”

“Your apartment isn’t soundproofed, luv,” he points out, like he’s open to bargaining and being reasonable. “So unless you want to play here, in the guest room with Brandon…”

You try to snatch the collar and gag from his hand, but he catches your wrist, unnaturally quick. You glare up at him, anxiety roiling the coffee in your stomach. He caresses your face again. His hand is so warm, and his eyes are a frozen lake.

“Up,” he orders, forcing you to stand with an iron grip on your jaw. Instead of putting the collar on, he hustles you back out into the hall, then to your own door. Arches an eyebrow and says, “Well? Let us in?” like he doesn’t have a copy of the key, hasn’t been keeping you from opening your own door every day for the last month.

When you enter, he takes his time to shrug off his coat and boots. Lets you do the same. He tells you to drink some water, so you do. Dawdle by getting him a glass before following him to where he’s sat on your couch. He’s laid the collar on the arm of the sofa and is running his fingers over the gag when you approach.

“I’m going to spank you,” he says, matter of fact, without looking at you. “For drinking something offered to you by a man who knows how easy it is to poison a person.”

“It was fresh!”

“That silly, stupid little barista would have done anything Garrick asked,” Simon counters, drawing you into his lap. “Because Kyle is just that kind of man. And if you ended up in the hospital, he’d have unfettered access to you. And then you and I would have to be in a hospital again. Seems a bit soon to be repeating dates, don’t it?”

“I knew what I was doing,” you protest, but you don’t fight when he tilts your head to kiss the corner of your mouth.

“I know, you did, luv,” he agrees. “And I know Garrick - you’re not his type. But you still drank the coffee. And you still did something you knew I wouldn’t like. Spirit, not the letter, and all that. So I’m going to spank you. Then I’ll give you a reward.”

Your eyes snap to his. “R-reward?”

“Oh, I’ve got your attention now,” he chuckles. “Asked for advice for your man, didn’t you. No silly little articles about better blowjobs for you. Went to ask a killer about a killer, to help me find a hobby. Precious.”

You flush hot, all the way to your toes. “If he stopped, then you can.”

“He hasn’t stopped,” Simon says.

“He’s…” You frown. “He said he doesn’t do that anymore. He took up gardening.”

Simon wraps a hand around your throat, dead eyes boring into yours with a smile. “Not everyone likes going all the way to a ski lodge in the middle of nowhere, luvie. I wouldn’t’ve if you weren’t so damn sweet. Garrick works at a hospital because hobbies are so much easier in your backyard.”

He gives you a few quiet moments to think back, play Kyle’s words back in your mind. If you’re honest with yourself, it’s not a surprise. You’d hoped, and you heard what you wanted to hear.

“Open your mouth,” Simon instructs, when he’s done waiting.

“How will I safeword?” At his unimpressed stare, you double down.

“I’m not playing without a safeword. It’s bad for both of us.”

“You are the most stubborn, odd, little duck,” he says, and kisses the corner of your mouth again.

“I want to feel safe,” you insist, without pushing him away. You remember how his pupils had practically swallowed his irises once, before everything went wrong, when you told him he makes you feel safe. After a moment of thought, you add on, “Safer. Safe-ish.”

He arches an eyebrow. “You think you’re clever.”

You arch an eyebrow right back. “Pretty sure that’s why I’m getting punished.”

That gets him. Simon barks a laugh, and some of the tension leaves both of you. “Snap your fingers twice and I’ll check in with you.”

You snap your fingers twice. “And then you’ll stop?”

“If you’ve learned your lesson,” Simon answers cryptically, bringing the gag to your lips.

Simon being cryptic means you’re back on familiar ground, so you open your mouth. He dips his thumb in to press down on your tongue, unexpectedly, and doesn’t let you flinch away. When he leans in to lick into your mouth, you let him, even open your mouth a slight bit wider. He rumbles his approval, kisses at your upper lip like that, until your spit is dripping down his wrist. Then his thumb is gone and replaced by solid rubber that sits behind your teeth.

He makes quick work of buckling it in place, careful not to pull your hair or secure it too tight. His care is familiar, in an odd terrible way. Back when he was just your weird neighbor, he’d been very careful to never hurt you. In his apartment, he’d never hurt you except for very intentionally. Once, the third week after the ski-lodge, you’d cut yourself with some cardboard packaging and he’d been so gentle and meticulous in cleaning and bandaging you up. He’d choked you on his cock, later that night, the whole time holding your hand up and away to keep it from getting dirty.

Now, he holds up the collar for you to see the tag. It’s a heart. Now that you can see it properly, it’s not really a dog tag, more of a simple pendant. You’re looking at the back, where it’s simply stamped with his phone number. He flips it to show you the stone inlaid on the front, a pretty green. Then he wordlessly secures the soft leather around your neck.

When he’s done, he just breathes against the side of your face. His hands knead at your skin, one where your neck meets your shoulders, the other on your inner thigh. You feel where he’s hard against your hip. You shiver.

“Sweet, precious, clever thing,” he whispers, moving one hand to wrap entirely around your throat. “See the good in everyone. My kind-hearted girl.”

And then you’re up in the air, flipped, and over his lap so fast you get dizzy with it. Your heart rate rockets, and you try to get your legs under you. He’s there, of course, elbow between your shoulder blades and one hand yanking your pants and underwear down to mid thigh. You kick, uselessly, startled when he runs a hand over the sensitive place where your ass meets your thighs.

He starts without preamble, hand cracking down hard, but not as hard as you know he could. Tears instantly jump to your eyes, and you clamp your teeth down on the gag around a quiet groan. His answering groan is loud, appreciative. And then he hits you again, and again, and again.

Around the twelfth hit, you realize that he never told you how many he was going to give you. Your ass is on fire, tears and drool and snot streaming down your face. His hand is unrelenting. Worse, there’s no pattern, so the strikes are unpredictable. And you have no idea how long you’re going to be here.

You’re suddenly seized by a thought: Will he actually stop if you snap your fingers?

The first hiccuping sob shakes your body, and just like that, you lose control. You can’t stop sobbing, and he gathers you somehow closer into his body. He’s hard against your ribs. The hand not spanking you grips bruises into your opposite hip. He growls something you can’t hear over your own moans and sniffles, and then his hand is no longer spanking but rubbing. His fingers find where you’re slick, rub down and forward to find the bump of your clit.

You buck in his hands with a startled cry, and he slaps at you, gentle but startling. He hikes your hips up, and it’s awkward. You’re balanced in his arms, braced on his left leg and one foot when he pushes a finger into you. He bites, too hard, at your ass, and you squeal, thrash.

And then he’s taking his finger out, lowering you back down to his lap with gentle strokes up and down your spine. You get your breathing under control enough to hear him shushing you, praising you. You try to gulp air, eventually figure out how to regulate your breathing around the gag.

“Pretty girl,” Simon eventually coos. “See, didn’t need to tap out. Not that kind of lesson today.” When you whimper, he turns you and gets you settled on your back on the couch. He crouches down between the couch and the coffee table to wipe your eyes and nose with a couple of tissues. He leaves your mouth messy.

With a kiss to the apple of your cheek, he says, “I think you’ve learned your lesson.”

You nod with a whimper. You’re not 100% sure what lesson you’ve learned. But you’ve learned it.

“Good girl,” he praises. “Then lets get you ready for your reward.”

[authormahimistry]

Dirty Wild Sultan

5

Zain

I hummed, burying my nose in the warm skin, taking a deep breath of the subtle scent of jasmine with something musky. Hair tickled my face, my hands gliding up the curve of soft skin. I squeezed the tenderness, opening my half-lidded eyes, and smiled. 

Jasmine. That was the name of my wife. The beautiful brunette who was sleeping beside me. Her lips were parted as she breathed deeply, clutching the pillow and nuzzling her body towards mine. 

A small smile made its way to my lips. It was three in the morning, white curtains flowing as the cool breeze swept into the room. Making sure not to wake her up, I shifted, pulling away from her, and stared up at the ceiling. 

My thoughts were all over the place. I was conflicted, yet somehow relieved. I didn’t know why. But the reality that I slept with her, a stranger, was like being splashed with a bucket of ice water on a winter night. Twenty-four hours ago, I didn’t want to have sex. I was comfortable being abstinent all my life. 

Yet, just one look at her. I couldn’t stop myself. 

Something shuffled. I looked down and mentally groaned, running a hand over my face. I had to get hard at this hour. 

Surely it couldn’t be because she’s beautiful. There was something familiar about her, but I had been seduced by the most beautiful princesses and daughters of sheikhs and royals in the past. Since the day I was crowned as the Sultan. Then why did I lose all my senses as soon as I saw her?

Her face looked so serene when she was sleeping. The taste of her musky feminine scent lingered in my mouth, and I hated that I wanted to wake her up and taste her again. I hated that I was so physically attracted to her. A stranger. I hated that I wanted to have sex with her again and again and again until I had my fill. But the one thing that I hated the most was that I might never have my fill after what had happened a few hours ago. 

Is this how my father felt when he saw my mother in the market? Saw her, wooed her, and married her? Only to harm her years later because he wasn’t happy. Would I turn out just like him? Love someone and hurt them once I had enough? 

How far does the apple fall from the tree? 

“What are you thinking about?” 

My eyes averted to the sultry voice of the woman staring up at me, her eyes half-lidded as she yawned, leaning closer. The subtle scent of jasmine wafted in my nose. I don’t know why I wished to tell her the truth. 

“I was thinking about my father. How… angry I am at him for being him, if that makes any sense,” I said, my heart beat increasing waiting for her response. To laugh at my awkwardness and the fact that I was thinking about my father and my past when a stunning naked woman was sleeping beside me. 

But she didn’t laugh. 

Her deep brown eyes blinked at me as she nodded. “Yes… I understand what you mean. I have a terrible relationship with my father.” She grinned, poking my cheek with her finger, “In fact, you should be glad that I am angry at him.”

“I should?” 

“Yes. That’s why I came to the club to drink and hopefully… you know.” She looked around, waving her hand. My eyes dropping to her breasts when the blanket slid down.

I hummed, reaching my hand out to touch them. Her eyes flashing towards me, no longer sleepy as she bit her lip when my fingers rolled around the hardened nub. 

“At least we have hateful fathers in common,” I said, leaning down to kiss her neck, wrapping my hand around the back of her neck, and urging her closer. I hissed when she palmed my length. The blanket pushed away as we both sighed and moaned, teasing each other. 

“Turn around,” I whispered, my teeth grazing the shell of her ear. 

Her eyes were wide with lust when she turned on her stomach, her arms and knees supporting her. My hands greedily trailed over her back, kissing the spine and fondling her breasts until she was bucking and moving back to have some friction. I spread her knees, settling myself between them. 

“Zain,” she said, her voice full of need when she pressed her ass back towards me. 

She didn’t need to plead again when I plunged myself inside her warm heat. The sounds of skin slapping against each other and our groans mingled together in the room. The air heavy with the musky scent of sex. I didn’t stop moving inside her, holding her hips, her neck, her hair, kissing her until we both were sated and exhausted from the release. 

I held her close, rubbing my hand on her back as we both slept peacefully in postcoital bliss. 

***

I didn’t plan to wake up before Jasmine. Or whatever her name was. Watch the way her body was pressed against mine, her curves soft and inviting in the stream of morning sunlight that fell through the gaps of the curtains.

It was odd that I wanted to know things about her. Things like her favorite ice cream flavor. Which films she preferred. If she enjoyed horror or rom-com. If she was a night-owl or morning person. I wanted to wake her up and ask her.

Who are you? What do you do? Would like to go on a date—

Woah. 

I sat up straight on the bed, my hand rubbing the little ache in my chest. Thankfully, she was still sleeping, her plum lips in a small pout as if she was angry at someone in her dreams. 

Shaking my head, I got up, ignoring the loss of her warm body. I splashed my face with cold water and stared at my reflection. My hair was tousled, my eyes and face glowing. I traced the hickeys on my neck and collarbone with a small smirk. I had marked her body just like she had marked mine, and I wished I could wait and see how she would react to the indecent places I had left them. 

But I knew I couldn’t wait. I had an important physical training session with my trainer for the men’s health column in a famous magazine and if I wasn’t present, then it would be covered in the interview and media article. I couldn’t tell them to reschedule it or Rahim would be disappointed in me. 

As I got dressed, I thought back to Khalid’s words last night. How I had taken a few more glasses of whiskey than necessary just to spite him. I felt childish, as if I was getting scolded by my father and not my brother. 

Shaking off all those thoughts, I picked up her clothes from the floor and placed them on the armchair near the bed. Placing an order for a full breakfast for her, I gazed at her gorgeous face one last time, brushing a lock of dark hair behind her ear before leaving the bedroom.

Taking a piece of paper I wrote,

You were an amazing fuck. Let’s not see each other again. Tootles xoxo with a little heart—

I am kidding. I am not a total asshole, I swear. Even though that is the exact sentence an asshole would say. 

Instead, I wrote, 

My lovely wife,

I apologize for leaving early without waking you up, darling. You looked simply too adorable, drooling on the pillow that I didn’t want to wake you up. Yes, I took a picture and no, I won’t delete it. Unless you wish to meet me again and ask me politely to delete it. Don’t forget to finish your breakfast and I hope I get to see you soon. 

Like a true romantic that I am, here’s my email: zain.al@azmiaemail.com 

Your handsome husband, 

Zain

Folding it neatly, I placed it on the coffee table and left her room before I regretted doing anything else.

Read today: https://www.mahimistry.com

Or Join my Patreon to read it: https://www.patreon.com/mahimistry

Patreon * Website * Ko-Fi * Instagram * All Links

[cherienymphe]

Mistakes of the Heart (Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes)

WARNINGS: NON-CON, murder, violence, arranged marriage, mentions of infidelity, mafia!Steve, mafia!Bucky, jealous!Steve, BUCKY X READER

DNI IF ANY OF THIS OFFENDS YOU

➥ {page breaks done by @whimsicalrogers}

➥ Final part to Regrets of Yesterday

summary: your arranged marriage to the infamous Steve Rogers isn’t what you initially thought it would be, but things have worked out better than you could have imagined. However, your arrangement with your husband becomes complicated when feelings, and circumstances, that neither of you anticipated come into play.

~

Steve pulled out of you, and you winced, heart racing at the predicament you found yourself in. You were a little in shock, having a hard time wrapping your head around what had just happened. Your eyes widened when Steve grabbed his gun after getting dressed, shaking as he told you to do the same.

“…what-what are you going to do?”

He threw you a cold look and getting the hint that he wasn’t going to repeat himself, you put your dress back on. You could feel him between your legs, dripping down your thighs, and disgust filled you. You didn’t have a chance to think about that anymore before Steve fisted his hand in your hair, yanking you up just as Bucky’s panicked voice called your name. You knew then that he’d seen Jarvis’ body.

You stumbled as Steve dragged you along, your nails digging into his skin, but he paid your resistance no mind. The two of you appeared at the top of the stairs just as Bucky took the first step to ascend them, and his eyes widened at the sight of Steve. He was confused, that much was clear, but one look at your face had his jaw clenching.

“Steve…”

Steve pulled you closer.

“…Bucky.”

“Did you kill my housekeeper?”

“I did. I figured he’d get in my way,” your husband told him, and your eyes pleaded with Bucky as they met his.

It was clear he’d noticed the gun in Steve’s hand, and you grew nervous when he took a step towards you.

“Let her go. I’m sure we can talk about whatever your problem is without your hand fisted in her hair,” he sneered.

“Sorry, Buck, but I’m taking my wife home,” Steve told him, tightening his grip.

“She’s not your fucking wife-.”

“See, that’s where you’re wrong. We’re not divorced, and I want my wife at home with me.”

Steve descended the stairs, pulling you along with him, and you shook your head when you saw Bucky reach for his own gun. He looked conflicted, torn between listening to you and attempting to shoot Steve before he shot him.

“Bucky, please…”

You would rather endure Steve for just a little bit longer if it meant that Bucky wouldn’t get hurt. You would rather he live to see another day to deal with this rather than rashly doing something now that would get him killed. Reluctantly, Bucky took a step back, and you didn’t miss the smirk Steve threw him as he walked past. Steve didn’t leave his back to him as he neared the door, and he waved his gun towards Jarvis.

“You might want to do something about that before he stains the carpet.”

Your struggle was renewed the minute you were outside, only pausing when he forced you into the limo. You slapped him as soon as he shut the door, and he glared at you, jaw ticking as he stared you down.

“I hate you,” you forced through trembling lips. “I hate you so much.”

Only the slight twitch in his cheek indicated that he was bothered by your words, but you didn’t care. You sat back, hand on your stomach as you looked away from him. Your chest was tight the whole ride, tears blurring your vision and wetting your cheeks, but neither one of you said another word to each other.

Steve’s grip was rough as he pulled you out of the car, and you stumbled more than once, wincing. You snatched yourself out of his hold as soon as you were inside, back inside of the place you never thought you’d set foot in again. It looked exactly the same, and that brought you no comfort.

“Get cleaned up.”

You threw him a look, but Steve wasn’t even looking at you. He was taking off his jacket and, getting the sense that he wasn’t going to say anything else, you turned towards the stairs. You could feel his eyes on you as you ascended them, and you clutched your stomach. Under the impression that things would remain as they were, you made your way to your old room.

You were surprised to find it completely changed. It was now a nursery, the colors in a gender-neutral pastel green, and your heart skipped a beat. You frowned, disgust and confusion warring within you as you wondered just how long he’d been planning this. You heard Steve’s footsteps, and you whirled around to face him.

“What the hell is this?”

He grabbed your arm as he passed, pulling you along.

“What does it look like?”

“Have you lost your mind? Do you honestly think I will still be here by the time this baby comes?”

He didn’t answer, opting instead for pulling you into his room. You had never stepped foot in it, never desired to, and you were surprised when he pulled you into a closet on the far side of the room, forcing you to come face to face with a room full of feminine clothes. Part of you wondered if he was really going to put you in the clothes of one of his mistresses or something, but you paused when you noticed that a good number of them were maternity clothes.

You took a shaky breath as he nudged you further into the closet, and you shook your head in disbelief.

“Why are you doing this?” you demanded, looking at him.

He simply turned away, and your frustration grew.

“Get cleaned up and put on something nice, then come downstairs and join me for dinner,” was his only reply.

You heaved an exasperated sigh the minute he was gone. You knew that Bucky wasn’t going to waste any time before coming up with a plan to make Steve let you go, but you didn’t want him to put his life in danger. It was crazy to think that the two were best friends, and yet, Steve didn’t look like he’d hesitate to shoot him. You’d had no idea, never could have guessed that he’d had this much animosity towards yours and Bucky’s relationship.

How could you?

Steve hadn’t just ignored your existence until it was convenient for him during your marriage, but he’d acted as if you were a burden. He didn’t even like you as a human being, let alone romantically. You wondered if you could talk Steve out of this. Surely the man was going through a midlife crisis or something. With that thought, you made your way to the bathroom to wash the feel and stench of Steve off of you. You found a simple maternity dress in the closet, disturbed at how well it fit.

Not wanting to bring on anymore of Steve’s wrath, you were quick to make your way to the dining room. Steve was waiting for you, murmuring something to the cook when you arrived. You were disappointed to see your plate next to him on his left as he sat at the head of the table. You hesitantly sat down next to him, avoiding his eye as you eyed the healthy baby safe food before you.

“I hope you like it,” he said. “I made Gwen research healthy recipes for expecting moms.”

“Why are you doing this?” you sighed out, repeating yourself.

You didn’t want to play along in this horrible game. Steve’s jaw clenched as he looked at you, seemingly upset that you weren’t going to do just that. He sat his utensils down with a sigh.

“I told you…I want you here with me,” he said, reaching for your hand.

You snatched it away, trembling hand falling to your lap as you glared at him.

“Husband and wife and the husband’s several mistresses…how romantic,” you sarcastically threw out.

Steve leaned back in his chair.

“It won’t be like that,” he told you, and you laughed.

“You expect me to believe that you just…gave it all up? Do you remember the things you said to me the last time we saw each other?”

The hardening of his eyes told you that he did, but you continued anyway.

“Let me remind you. You accused me of coming up with some grand scheme to force your hand. The idea that I genuinely didn’t want to be with you anymore was so outlandish to you that the only possible explanation was a trick on my part.”

You chuckled, finding genuine humor in the situation.

“I don’t know if you just think that highly of yourself or maybe you think so lowly of me to think I’d ever beg a man to stay faithful to me, but it was hurtful. You were completely malicious, accusing me of jealousy and telling me to suck it up and make the most of my miserable life-.”

“I know what I said,” Steve snapped. “I don’t need a recap from you.”

“Well, you’re going to get one. You are going to sit here and listen to what I have to say!”

He glared at you, something unrecognizable in his eye, and you returned the gesture.

“You are not a good husband, Steve. You’re not even a good man. I accepted our marriage for what it was. Truth be told, I was very happy with our little arrangement, and if you had come to me to tell me that you wanted a real marriage, that you wanted both of us to only be with each other…I would have laughed in your face.”

Steve’s jaw ticked, and you sneered at him.

“I would have laughed at the sheer audacity. Now somehow, after misleading me into thinking we were divorced, after killing Jarvis, after raping me…you think I’d ever entertain this? I want nothing to do with you, so…” you leaned back in your seat. “Tell me what I have to do in order for you to let me go…”

Steve smirked.

“I’m not letting you go. I know you think this is all one big joke-.”

“Because it has to be! What do you want? A baby? Do you want me to publicly humiliate myself to salvage your own image after the divorce?”

“I want you here with me,” he said, tone leaving no room for arguments. “We’re not getting a divorce.”

You didn’t listen.

“…and my son?”

You watched as Steve’s brows furrowed, a frown taking over at the reveal of your baby’s gender. He slowly exhaled.

“I’ll raise him as my own. That should be my son, anyway,” he added.

You didn’t miss the bitterness in his voice, and you sneered at him.

“He isn’t your son though. He’s Bucky’s,” you told him, taking great satisfaction in the way his face clouded over. “You really expect me to believe that you’ll just…overlook that? Raise him like he’s yours even though he isn’t?”

He didn’t respond, and you continued.

“What will happen when he looks nothing like you? How will you really react when you stare into the face that’s the perfect mix of me and your best friend? As a matter of fact, how in the world are you going to do business with said friend now? You truly didn’t think about any-.”

Your words died in your throat when Steve wrapped his hand around it, chair falling over as he stood to tower over you. You simply stared at him, jaw clenching as he glared down at you, blue eyes stormy with rage.

“You can rile me up as much as you like. You can use every trick in the book to remind me why this isn’t a good idea, but I don’t care. You are mine,” he spat through clenched teeth.

He suddenly let you go, and you sharply inhaled. Tears kissed your eyes as he sat back down, returning to his food like nothing had happened.

“I should have done things differently, I will acknowledge that, but I can only make up for it now. So…”

He reached over to wipe away a stray tear, a smirk dancing along his pink lips.

“We are not getting a divorce. As far as everyone knows, that baby is mine, as is his mother. There won’t be anyone else from here on out, only you.”

You turned your head away from him with a frown.

“You’ll learn to be happy with me as you were with him. Now, finish your dinner before it gets cold…”

Resigned to accept his words until you, or Bucky, could come up with a plan, you did as he said.

The hardest part, the true test, came later that night. Even though clothes that were meant for you were located in a closet in his master bedroom, it didn’t occur to you that he expected you to sleep there.

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “There are at least 3 other rooms in this house. There’s no reason I have to lie next to you.”

You and Steve had been staring each other down for minutes. You’d almost thrown up once you realized where he intended for you to sleep and sleeping without Bucky at your side was one thing but sleeping next to the man who’d ruined your life was something else entirely. Steve seemed to be out of patience, and you fought against him as he reached for you.

He was firm with you, but somehow still careful, and you gasped when you found yourself on the bed. Holding you down with his body, Steve reached over to turn out the light, drowning the room in darkness. Overwhelmed with everything, you couldn’t stop the tears from collecting in your eyes, a quiet sob escaping.

You fought against him, but eventually, you found your back to his front with his arm tightened around you. Your shoulders shook with quiet sobs, stomach churning when you felt his lips against the back of your neck. You didn’t want to fall asleep, you didn’t trust Steve as far as you could throw him, but your body betrayed you.

Between the events of the day, your physical exertion from fighting with Steve, and your pregnancy, sleep claimed you whether you welcomed it or not. You dreamed of Bucky, apparently saying his name in your sleep, something you only figured out when you woke up to the feel of Steve sliding into you.

You gasped, hand reaching up to grab his wrist, one hand on your neck while the other rested on your stomach. The soft rays of sunlight were gradually brightening the room, and tears collected in your eyes with every thrust. His breath on the back of your neck made you cringe, and you pushed your elbow into his stomach.

“Steve,” you protested, moving to get away from him but he had you in a tight hold, chest pressing into your back.

“Be grateful I’m going easy on you,” he murmured, breathing labored. “You think I like to wake up to my wife calling another man’s name?”

You couldn’t even speak, chest tight, a sob caught in your throat as he brushed his lips over your cheek.

“I want to wake up like this every morning…coming inside of my beautiful wife,” he groaned.

You couldn’t even register the fact that that was the first time he’d ever complimented you. You squirmed against him, core throbbing under the ministrations of his relentless cock. You wanted to get as far away from him as possible, and Steve seemed to only want to get closer.

“…the only thing that would make this better is if I had put that baby in you myself,” he breathed, groaning against your skin as he spilled into you.

He remained still for a moment, the only sound in the room that of your labored breaths. You were shaking, fear and disgust filling you, and he eventually pulled away. You could feel the mess he’d made between your thighs, and you laid there, face wet as he moved to get ready for the day.

You didn’t leave the bed until long after he’d gone, parting with a kiss on your cheek. You felt dirty when you sat up, and it took everything in you to get up and shower. You cried the entire time, and when you exited the room, you were met with a quiet mansion. You knew the staff was around though because fresh breakfast was waiting for you when you entered the dining room.

You ate alone, nibbling at your food as you forced yourself to eat despite your lack of appetite. When you were done, despite your suspicions, you tried the front door anyway. It was locked from the outside somehow. Every other entrance was no different. You couldn’t even get the windows to budge. You had made your way to Steve’s office, a room you had never set foot in, only to find it locked as well. You had kicked the door in frustration, telling yourself not to cry.

It seemed you had no choice but to wait for Steve.

This went on for days. The staff practically ignored your existence as they cooked for you, and you sat around waiting for Steve to return. You two would argue, even resorting to begging him to let you go, but he never budged. It would trickle into dinner, sometimes ending the affair early, and he would proceed to take his anger out on you.

He fucked you until you were on the verge of sleep, paying no mind to your tears and pleas. Sometimes, he woke you up the same way. Only 4 days after he’d taken you, there was a pounding on the front door. You could hear it all the way upstairs where you were avoiding Steve, and you slowly made your way down the hall. You were around the corner, looking down into the entrance as Steve opened the door, only for your eyes to widen as Bucky forced himself inside.

“Where is she?”

You watched as Steve reached out to stop your fiancé, but Bucky shook him off. Neither of them had noticed your presence.

“I’ve offered you shares, all of the money I have, hell, even my business, but you’re being as stubborn as ever. I’m done trying to negotiate. Where is she, Steve?”

The two men glared at one another, and you swallowed, about to make your presence known when Bucky continued.

“I know it kills you that she wasn’t as miserable with your arrangement as you grew to be. I know it kills you even more that I was the man she turned to, that I’m the father of her child, but she chose me…so deal with it,” Bucky said, sounding all kinds of exasperated.

“You have no right to her-.”

“She’s a person, Steve! Not one of your possessions you can hide away from the world,” Bucky sneered.

“She is still my wife. That isn’t going to change, and you are trespassing,” Steve snapped.

“You don’t even love her!”

Your heart clenched as you watched the way Bucky’s face twisted, nostrils flaring as he frowned at your husband. His chest heaved, and he threw up his hands, a scoff escaping him as he shook his head at the blond.

“You don’t even love her,” he quietly repeated. “You don’t know what it’s like to love her, and what’s worse is that…I don’t believe you even want to. You just don’t want her to be with anyone else.”

You gripped the railing, carefully moving downstairs, drawing Bucky’s attention before Steve could say anything. Steve followed Bucky’s gaze and moved before he could. You both called Steve’s name as he blocked you from each other, but you were screaming it with wide eyes only seconds later when Steve pulled out his gun, forcing it into your mouth while he curled his fingers around the back of your neck.

You couldn’t see Bucky from your angle, but you heard the way he paused, heard his breath hitch. Your own heart froze, fear seizing you as Steve tightened his hold. You were too afraid to even swallow, and tears kissed your eyes as you blinked.

“You’re right, Buck. I don’t want anyone else to have her, and if you keep pushing me, I’ll make it so that no one does.”

Steve’s voice was cold, not just icy, but venomous too, and something in you told you that he was serious. That he wasn’t just trying to scare Bucky into leaving, scare you into staying. You truly believed that Steve would kill you just so no one else could have you. There was brief silence, thick with tension, before Bucky eventually spoke.

“This isn’t over, Steve.”

Steve took a step back, taking you with him, and you clutched your stomach.

“This is far from over, and if I find out that you harmed her in any way, this will be more than just a severed friendship. I’ll hunt you down like you’re my worst enemy,” Bucky sneered, sounding like the complete opposite of what you were used to.

“That’s all very touching, but you’re still in my house…and I still have a gun in her mouth.”

You could hear your fiancé’s harsh breaths before eventually, and reluctantly, moving towards the door. Steve only took the gun out when Bucky exited, but you felt no relief. Stomach churning, you couldn’t prevent your food from coming up, and your throat protested as you threw up at your feet. Steve reached for you, and you shoved him away.

You stumbled towards the door, ignoring him as he called your name. You knew he wouldn’t let you walk out, at least not alive, but that didn’t stop you from collapsing at the door, leaning your head against the expensive wood. Your vision was blurry as the tears finally spilled over, chest tight as you fought not to cry harder. You heard him approach you, standing in the entrance to the foyer as he watched your huddled form. You don’t know how long you sat there crying, nor how long he stood there…just watching you, but eventually you spoke.

“You could have any woman you want,” you whispered. “You could have any woman who would be happy to be with you.”

You turned to look at him, eyes puffy and lips trembling.

“…but it’s me you choose to torment. My life you choose to ruin.”

Steve’s jaw ticked, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was offended. His blue eyes flashed with something you couldn’t name, and you glowered at him.

“I know that deep down, you don’t actually care about whether or not I love you. I know that my staying with you is what matters most,” you started.

You pulled your thighs to your stomach, resting your hands on your knees as he stared at you.

“So allow me to make myself clear in terms that you’ll understand, Steve. You can lock me away until I give birth. Hell, you can do so until I get pregnant and give birth again, but it will never make a difference because I will never want you.”

Steve straightened, looking down his nose at you as he fingered the gun in his hand.

“I will never desire you, I will never need you, I will never even dream of you. Every time you kiss me, I will imagine its Bucky. Every time you touch me, I will wish it is his hands instead. Every time I am far too quiet, and you find yourself wondering ‘what she’s thinking about’, know that I am thinking about Bucky. When you watch me in my sleep like I know you do, know that I am dreaming about him. It will always be him.”

The silence was deafening, and for a moment, you wondered if he was going to shoot you and be done with it. However, despite the fact that Steve’s face had clouded over, fearfully so, he simply took a step back before walking away, leaving you alone to lean your head back against the door.

It was late in the night when you were roused from sleep by a noise that passed through the many rooms of Steve’s mansion. You were surprised that you’d woken up at all. Steve may not have reacted to your words then and there, but he was sure to let you know how he really felt once night came. You had cried yourself to sleep like you did every night since he’d taken you, and even now, your body still ached rom his harsh grip, cum dried between your thighs.

You thought that you were imagining things, but when you heard it again, you carefully slid out from Steve’s hold. The house was quiet, the soft carpet cushioning your steps. You slid your hand along the wall, the other clutching your stomach as you picked up on another noise. Nervous and afraid, you reached out to turn on the hallway light only to realize that it didn’t work. Pausing, you noted that the house was colder, and you knew then that the power was out.

You wouldn’t dare attempt to go down the stairs, but even if the power were working, something in you told you not to. You discovered why when moments later, multiple gunshots could be heard, quickly followed by the sound of breaking glass. You flinched, stumbling back against the wall as multiple things became clear at once. Several people were breaking into the house, they were armed, and Steve was awake and calling your name.

Taking advantage of the sudden chaos, you slipped into a nearby room, shutting the door just as Steve’s voice filled the hallway. You hurried towards the closet, shutting yourself inside as your mind whirled. Several of Steve’s own men stayed on the property, just not in the main building, and it wasn’t long before you heard different kinds of guns join the fray. You didn’t exactly know what was happening, and you smoothed your hand along your swollen stomach in an effort to calm yourself.

You could still faintly hear Steve calling your name, but it eventually faded away, and you surmised that he went downstairs. You briefly wondered if this was Bucky’s doing, and you frowned, wondering why that hadn’t initially occurred to you. Of course, you knew that he was in the same business as Steve, knew of the ugly side he never allowed you to see, and that was precisely why the idea that Bucky was behind this was a foreign one. A shocking one.

Still, in case it wasn’t, you cursed yourself for not searching for something to protect yourself with. You knew where Steve kept his guns, and you would feel much safer with one right now. That thought only increased when you heard the bedroom door open. You were no longer alone, and the other person in the room was just as quiet as you were. The commotion going on was louder now, and you reached out to grip the wall when you heard the bathroom door open.

You could faintly see light from beneath the closed door, and the way it moved told you that it was a flashlight. You could feel your stomach churning, fear and confusion and anxiety filling you. The stranger in the room had yet to say anything, give any sort of indication as to who they were. Your heart dropped when the closet door swung open, and a blinding light filled your vision. You squinted, unable to see a thing and wondered if you were going to be met with your death or another assault and kidnapping.

You were met with a third option.

“Doll?”

You didn’t have time to feel relief before familiar arms pulled you into a warm chest. A bit dazed and in shock, you absentmindedly pressed your fingers into his back, wide eyes staring ahead. You hadn’t even realized that you were trembling until Bucky started rocking you.

“Shh, shh, you’re okay. I’m here now,” he whispered.

“I thought-.”

“I know.”

“Steve-?”

“Outside. That was the last time I saw him,” he answered.

You breathed him in and felt him do the same before he started walking backwards, taking you with him. The room was bathed in darkness once again, and he maneuvered you so that you were behind him as he moved to make his way out. His hand was tight on yours as he weaved through the halls gun first. You gasped when he led you down the stairs, the recognizable shapes of bodies on the floor even in the darkness.

One of his cars, one of the bulletproof ones, was parked further down the driveway. His steps were hurried as he pushed you in front of him, and as you neared the car, you thought to yourself that this seemed too easy. Nothing involving Steve was ever easy, and you were disappointed to be proven right.

You fell to the ground when Bucky was shoved against the car, landing on your back. You winced, and the sound of fists meeting bone reached your ears just as the unmistakable sound of a gun hitting the ground did too. With a struggle, you pushed yourself into a sitting position, watching as Bucky slammed his fist into Steve’s nose, the two of them on the ground before you.

Ignoring the pain in your back, you looked around, eyes zeroing in on the black weapon not far away. You forced yourself to your feet, quickly wrapping your hand around it. Steve was on top of Bucky now, slamming your fiancé’s head into the ground, and you didn’t hesitate. Steve fell against the side of the car, face twisted into pain from the bullet wound in his back.

His blue eyes met yours, and you felt no remorse as he struggled to stand. You could hear Bucky pushing himself to his feet, and you hurried to his side. You wiped the blood from his face, swallowing when he slid the gun from your grip. You pressed yourself against him, shaking your head.

“He’s not worth it-.”

“He won’t stop,” he argued, teeth clenched.

“He’ll have no choice. He’ll never find us if we leave. Killing him will start something neither one of us want to be involved in,” you told him.

You could see the conflict on Bucky’s face, and you knew that he knew you were right. Everything would go to you, and many people would dispute that, claiming that you were unfit to run the business. Even worse, you could only imagine what people would think of you and Bucky publicly getting together after your husband’s death. They would suspect the worse, and they would be right. You’d make enemies out of people you had never even met.

With a sneer, Bucky opened the passenger door before ushering you in. You massaged your stomach as he slid into the driver’s seat, relief only filling you when the mansion started to grow smaller. You leaned back, the stress of the past few days getting to you. Bucky, sensing this, took your hand, rubbing his thumb over your skin. He brought it to his lips, a shaky breath escaping him.

“You don’t know the weight that’s been lifted off of my shoulders,” he whispered.

You could see that he was struggling to keep it together. The stress of seeing you get taken by Steve, powerless to stop him, and powerless again when he threatened your life and that of your son’s. You reached for his face with your free hand as he drove down the street, determined to put as much distance between you and Steve as possible.

“Hey…I’m okay,” you quietly told him, fingers ghosting over his cheek.

“…are you?”

You knew what he was asking, and you knew that if you had told him what really happened to you, he would have killed Steve on the spot. More so, you didn’t want Bucky to have to carry that burden, to blame himself for what Steve did to you. You brushed your thumb over his lips, sending him a small smile.

“I am now.”

You leaned your head against his shoulder, Bucky’s soft breaths lulling you to sleep more than the purr of the vehicle. Steve was finally behind you, and although you weren’t as free of him as you would like to be, it seemed insignificant with Bucky and your son at your side.

 ~

tags:   @mcudarklibrary @sherrybaby14 @harryspet @xoxabs88xox @darkficreposter @opheliadawnwalker3 @honeychicanawrites  @nickyl316h @captainchrisstan @sebabestianstan101 @readermia @villanellevi @lokislastlove @notyourtypicalrose @coconutqueen21 @hurricanerin @buckybarnesplumwhore @quaksonhehe @nerdygirl8203 @patzammit @mandiiblanche @cocoamoonmalfoy @gotnofucks @alexakeyloveloki @vogueworthy-barnes @supraveng  @doozywoozy @ventinglation @oneoftheprettynerds​ @supernaturalwintersoldier​ @what-is-your-wish​ @vicmc624​ 

[theclockworkmonk]

Out of the Mouths of Babes — Chapter 4

Read on AO3

Read on FFNet

Chapter 1 on Tumblr

Chapter 2 on Tumblr

Chapter 3 on Tumblr

Written for Hinny Ficfest 2021

Prompt: “Uncle Ron said something about Harry knocking Ginny up, but I don’t know what he means,” Teddy said.

*******

Ginny had disappeared, dragged through the kitchen door, before Harry could come up with an excuse to keep her by his side. He sighed and took a long gulp from his glass of firewhiskey, welcoming the burning sensation down his throat. Whatever his family was so wound up about, Harry knew he wasn't in danger here, so he hoped the drink would dull his overactive auror instincts so he could enjoy the evening.

"So...how's the shop?" asked Harry, choosing to focus on George, "any accidental new body parts I can't see?"

"Harry, I'll have you know that we ascribe to only the highest of safety standards at Weasley Wizard Wheezes," said George with his nose in the air, "We strictly adhere to a dual-fault system to make sure a trained wizard is on-site to intervene in case of emergency."

"By that he means that he doesn't try any weird shit on himself without me there to rush him to St. Mungo's," said Ron with his mouth full, wincing as his mother smacked him in the back of the head with a wooden spoon for his language.

Harry's eyes narrowed at his best friend. "So you two are already partners now? Really wasting no time on bailing on me, aren't you?"

"Don't be a prat!" grumbled Ron. "No, like I said, it was just a thought that I had. You know, the kind of thought you would hope you could share with your best mate without him jumping down your throat?"

"Well I think it's a marvelous idea," Mrs. Weasley announced loudly from her place at the stove."

George's eyebrows shot up. "Who are you and what have you done with my mother? You're glad that another one of your sons is considering wasting his life at this silly business, instead of a respectable job at the Ministry?"

"Well, if said Ministry job involves chasing after Death Eaters every day," huffed Mrs. Weasley, "Then I suppose my nerves will take any alternative."

She sent a stern look towards Harry and pointed a threatening spoon at him, making him jump back. "You could do well to learn from Ron in that regard, Harry."

Ron was grinning ear to ear, bouncing in his seat from being the favorite child of the moment.

"There's nothing wrong with Ron doing the responsible thing." she lowered her voice to a grumble so Harry barely heard, "at least someone is."

Harry surveyed the tense atmosphere in the room again.

"Okay, what's got everyone in such a mood?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

"No one's in a mood!" said Mrs. Weasley quickly.

"Harry," Mr. Weasley spoke up for the first time, and his voice too was less assuring than Harry usually found it. "I'm having trouble with a fascinating new muggle device I've discovered, would you mind giving me a hand out in the shed?"

"Oh. Sure," said Harry easily. Mr. Weasley got up from the table and led Harry outside. They entered the man's infamous tool shed, and Harry noticed new mechanical and electronic devices in various states of disassembly. Mr. Weasley gestured to his work table, where a VCR sat.

"I've heard that muggles use this to see recorded images, like a pensieve, but I've put in those black blocks, and nothing happens."

"Oh, well," said Harry, trying not to laugh, "You need to attach it to a television. It can't just work on its—"

He was interrupted by the door opening again, and Harry was surprised to see Mrs. Weasley entering the shed which he always knew her to avoid, wanting nothing to do with her husband's "nonsense" tinkering.

"Molly, what are you doing here?" Mr. Weasley asked crossly, "We agreed we wouldn't. The boys—"

"I told them I was getting apples from the orchard," his wife said dismissively. She crossed the shed and looked beseechingly at a very surprised Harry.

"Harry, dear, you know how we think of you as a part of this family. We've been wanting to say….we hope that you don't think that has changed because of you and Ginny's relationship. We know young men have trepidation about 'the girlfriend's parents,' but you're not just our daughter's boyfriend to us, you're one of our own."

Harry was as touched as he was confused. "Th-Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," he said softly. "I can't tell you how much that means to me."

"And one reason we had no objection to you and Ginny dating," Mr. Weasley continued, "is that we trust you to always do right by Ginny. To always do what's best for her."

Harry looked back and forth between them, their expressions pointed and expecting.

"Well — ehem — I'll remember that. I promise to never do anything to hurt her." He meant it.

There was another moment of silence before Mrs. Weasley spoke up again.

"Sooooo…." she prompted. "We just want you to be aware that….should you decide to propose…you wouldn't have to worry—"

"What!?" Harry's heart leapt into his throat and he knew his face had turned scarlet. "Oh, no no," he said, putting his hands up. "I'm glad to have your blessing, but we're not ready to think about that yet."

Harry rubbed his neck nervously. It was only a half-lie. In truth, Harry was ready to think about that. He thought about proposing to Ginny damn near every day, in fact. But he was fairly certain that Ginny was still years away from being ready. She was fiercely proud of her independence and she was still dealing with the papers referring to her as "Harry Potter's girlfriend" before "star Harpies Chaser," even without marriage.

Mr. Weasley sighed in what seemed like disappointment and Mrs. Weasley's mouth thinned and her expression turned sour.

"Well...the roast should be done, we should all head back inside."

The Weasleys led the way out of the shed and Harry cautiously followed them. When they arrived back in the kitchen, Harry saw Bill shoot his father a stern, questioning look, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Mr. Weasley shake his head grimly, and Bill and Charlie gave Harry a glare that would make Mad-Eye Moody quake in his boots.

Harry froze and all the breath left his body. It suddenly all made sense. He was the thing that the Weasleys were so on edge about. Ginny's parents inquiring about him marrying her.

They had somehow found out that he and Ginny were living together.

Harry suddenly felt like a sheep in a cage with several wolves.

"Hey mum," said Charlie, "while you were outside, Aunt Muriel floo-called and said that the gnomes are in her attic again. Apparently she's upset at the way dad tried to take care of it last time."

"Is she sure it's actually the gnomes, or is it the doxies nesting in her hair?" Mr. Weasley grumbled as his wife shooed him into their sitting room and through their fireplace. Harry's heart was thudding in his chest as the few Weasleys he could count on to not murder him due to this secret getting out abandoned him with the curse breaker, dragon tamer, master prankster, and Ministry power-broker.

Several murderous eyes turned towards Harry.

"Look...er…" Harry stammered. "I really thought that, after everything, we had all moved past the whole 'overprotective big brothers' routine."

"Yeah, we thought we had too," said Charlie darkly, "but mum and dad's diplomatic approach clearly didn't work, so the gloves are off. I guess we never figured that the savior of the bloody wizarding world would do this to our sister."

George snorted, still finding this whole thing quite amusing. "Sorry, do this to her? Harry's the real victim here. Ginny's a nightmare already, can you imagine what living with her will be like now?"

"What the hell are you lot talking about?" Ron cut in, looking around the room in confusion.

"I think your brothers have become aware of me and Ginny's...status change," said Harry.

"Oh, that is just so typical!" huffed Hermione, crossing her arms and adopting her lecturing pose. "Ginny is perfectly capable of handling her own life and she doesn't need a bunch of chest-beating men to defend an outdated notion of her 'honour!' I still can't believe how sexist magical society can be sometimes."

"Yes, Hermione, our world is sexist, whether we like it or not" said Bill, not backing down. "You can pontificate all you want about how it's not right, or a double standard, but once the public finds out about this — and sooner or later, they will," he shot another glare at Harry, as if he wrote to the papers about it himself, "then it will change how people see her. And since she's a Quidditch star, the way people see her matters."

"Yup, can see the headlines now," George sighed dramatically, "the ambitious social climber Ginevra Weasley, raised in a pauper's home, so she used her feminine wiles to land herself this sweet gig."

"Look, ultimately, it's none of our business — no, I'm serious!" Ron finished in response to his brothers' looks of betrayal. "Look, Bill, Charlie, you two were only around when Ginny was a little girl. You didn't go to school with her. You never saw first-hand what happens when you try to meddle in her life to defend her virtue, trust me." He shivered a bit, as he remembered the traumatic memory.

"I don't even understand why we have to meddle," said Percy, "I just don't understand your logic, Harry. There's no question you would be willing to throw yourself into mortal danger all over again to protect Ginny. What you're hesitating to do is comparatively easy."

"His reasons don't matter, he should have thought of that earlier," said Charlie, pointing a threatening finger at Harry. "I don't care if this makes me a hypocrite, but you're going to do the right thing and—"

Ginny suddenly burst into the room, causing every word to fall silent. Harry knew that Ginny always hated it when people were obviously talking about her, but as he started towards her, he was surprised when he saw that her eyes were watery with tears. Ignoring all of the eyes on her, she ran straight towards Hermione, throwing her arms around her friend.

"Erm, is something wrong?" asked Hermione. She threw a questioning look to Fleur as she followed Ginny into the kitchen, but the young mother looked just as confused as anyone as she took Victoire back from Bill.

Instead of answering Hermione's question, Ginny withdrew from the hug and smacked Ron upside the head.

"Ah! What the shit!" Ron cried, rubbing the back of his head.

"Ronald, language!" scolded Mrs. Weasley, re-entering the kitchen along with her husband, making the room quite crowded.

"That's your main concern?" asked Ron, "Not the unwarranted physical assault?"

"It's not unwarranted, it's for being a stupid, forgetful git!" barked Ginny

She walked up to Harry and took his glass of firewhiskey, still mostly intact.

"I need this more than you," she informed him, and began to raise the glass to her lips.

"GINEVRA MOLLY WEASLEY!"

Mrs. Weasley's ear-piercing shriek caused everyone in the room to wince, and Ginny momentarily jumped behind Harry for protection. "Merlin's balls, WHAT!?"

"Molly…" Mr. Weasley cautioned.

"DO NOT 'MOLLY' ME, ARTHUR!" his wife shouted back. She had a crazed look in her eye and she was pulling at her hair. She rounded on Harry and Ginny.

"We have tried to be respectful, but you two are clearly not ready for this kind of responsibility! I am so disappointed in you both for not taking this more seriously! You haven't even given a thought to how this will affect your careers!"

"Our careers?" asked Harry, confused. "How would that possibly—"

Suddenly, everything clicked into place. He had gotten it completely wrong about what the Weasleys were talking about. The talk about responsibility, their careers, affects to Ginny's public image.

Somehow, the family had gotten word about the "honour" bestowed upon Harry by the Wizengamot, and all the implications that had for his and Ginny's future together. He supposed it wasn't too surprising that Arthur or Percy had heard about it through their Ministry connections.

He looked sideways at Ginny, and from one look he knew that she had come to the same realization. Both their faces split into wide grins as relief flooded through them that all of this drama was over something so silly. Apparently, the family somehow had the absurd idea that Harry would keep the title and actually take the status, power, and responsibilities being offered to him.

Harry and Ginny cracked up into delirious laughter, leaning on each other for support, which did nothing to help the livid look on Mrs. Weasley's face.

"Oh Merlin's beard, is that what has you all concerned? Don't worry about that," laughed Harry, waving one hand dismissively and wrapping the other around Ginny's shoulder.

"I mean, come on, we're obviously not keeping it!"

There was a moment of silence, then the entire kitchen exploded.

[ashdumpsterpile]

Ohmygod YES Susan Pevensie is awesome please talk to me about Susan i want to know everything you have to say

Literally THANK YOU for asking me this bc Susan Pevensie is a character I never get asked about and I have So Many Opinions.

I'm going to start by saying that Susan used to be my least favorite character in the series. This goes for the books and the movies. Some of it was for personal reasons--she reminds me of a couple of annoying ppl I know irl--but it was also bc I watched Prince Caspian which shoehorned her into a relationship with Caspian which I hated.

HOWEVER. I ended up rethinking this position after interacting with Susan fans and realizing that there are so many wonderful things to love about her!

(putting under the cut bc this got long)

Things Ash Loves About Susan Pevensie

Aight I'm not going to do a formal analysis yet on her, but instead rant about some of the unrelated things I adore about Susan Pevensie.

Susan the Archer

Look we all love archery here. I don't have anything more to say.

Okay, I actually do have more to say. I love the fact that Susan is a complete badass with the bow. You get the general impression that she's one of the royals in charge of public relations, traditions, foreign policy, etc. and yet she's the most competent archer in the series. One of the few things I liked about the movies is how they didn't downplay this. They actually let her be a badass and show off her skills.

Also the part where she kicks Trumpkin's ass was awesome.

Susan the Gentle

Susan being the most passive Pevensie was something I definitely underappreciated as a teenager. I think my non-ability to see past "I'm not like other girls" narrative and the combination of Susan being described as the most traditionally feminine woman in the Narnia series is what initially turned me off from her.

HOWEVER, now it's one of my favorite attributes! I love that Susan is a badass and the most beautiful woman in Narnia. She has hair down to her feet, every man and woman in the kingdom want to fuck her, and she's still a fucking badass who will not hesitate to kick your ass.

Susan the Sister

Most of my thoughts of Susan as an older sister mostly stem from my own personal headcanons, but she is an awesome sister to her siblings. She's Peter's voice of reason, Edmund's sass partner, and Lucy's big sister.

Susan the Mom-Friend

She is a literal mother-figure for Corin.

"[...] the most beautiful lady he had ever seen rose from her place and threw her arms round him and kissed him, saying: "Oh Corin, Corin, how could you? And thou and I such close friends ever since thy mother died. [...]"

-The Horse and His Boy, 33-34

Most everything I have to say about this ventures into headcanon territory, but I love the idea of Susan basically adopting Corin after his mom dies. The way she trusts Cor--who she thinks is Corin in this chapter--is really sweet and I wish we could've seen more of that relationship.

Susan the Flawed

Something I notice from the fandom is a lot of people who hate Susan tend to because of her flaws. On the other hand, most Susan stans like to wave away these flaws and blame C.S. Lewis for being misogynistic or Aslan for being a "cruel god" and ignore the fact that she is a deeply flawed person.

Susan gets something of a "reverse redemption arc" in The Chronicles of Narnia. This makes her not only a fascinating foil to Edmund--as both are analytical, logical people--but an interesting character by herself.

She starts out in TWW as very skeptical of Narnia and it's whole deal and also very condescending to Lucy throughout. She ultimately does admit that Lucy was right and does get on board with the whole prophecy at the same time Peter does, and ends the book being crowned "the Gentle Queen."

In The Horse and His Boy, she has a very interesting dynamic with Edmund and in even more interesting relationship with Rabadash. They don't even interact on-page with each other, but it's highly implied that she was interested in him when he was a guest in Narnia. His behavior obviously changed when she visited him in Tashbaan, but you have to wonder what their dynamic was like before for her to travel all the way to his home when relations between the countries were strained at best.

Prince Caspian is where the cracks start showing through. Susan has lived an entire life as an adult in Narnia, gets thrown back to England with her siblings, and is yet again in Narnia as a child. This book is what really emphasizes her one fatal flaw: convenience.

(Put a pin in that thought, I'll get back to it.)

Susan denies once again that Lucy saw something that the rest of them can't seen. She continues this narrative until every other sibling finally acknowledges Lucy in the right and only then does she apologize.

The last mention of Susan is in The Last Battle, where all of her flaws rise up against her in the worst way possible. I have a lot of controversial opinions on this that I'm going to address later, but I just want to say that Susan's reverse-redemption arc is something I actually like about her.

(There is also evidence that Susan does get a full redemption arc, just as Edmund and Eustace did, but C.S. Lewis was pretty much done with The Chronicles of Narnia at the point and instead encouraged fans to write their own version of how that went down.)

Okay, back to convenience being Susan's fatal flaw. So the one thing that comes up time and time again in the series is that Susan is very focused on material comforts. I believe it's implied that she's vain, and it's canonical that her own personal comfort spurs her to make decisions.

"[...] I really believed it was him — he, I mean — yesterday. When he warned us not to go down to the fir wood. And I really believed it was him tonight, when you woke us up. I mean, deep down inside. Or I could have, if I'd let myself. But I just wanted to get out of the woods and — and — oh, I don't know [...]"

Prince Caspian, 81

Prince Caspian has the strongest examples of Susan doing this, but certainly there's evidence elsewhere. There are a lot of fans who are distressed by this, claiming that Aslan and the others are too hard on her and shouldn't judge.

Honestly, I like that she's written with this flaw. Not only is it very relatable--(my own personal comfort and convenience is something I highly prioritize too)--but it humanizes a character who otherwise is ridiculously op and basically the Helen of Troy of the series. It may sound like I'm using this as an excuse to rant, but I really wouldn't have her any other way.

Susan As Portrayed by Anna Popplewell

Movie!Susan is a fucking delight.

She's sarcastic and badass and awesome and I could spend hours heaping praise on Anna's acting and her portrayal of Susan, but I can already tell that this post is going to be long so, I'll just stop here.

(10/10 want to be stabbed by her tho.)

Personal Headcanons

Let's talk about my fanon thoughts. I have many.

Susan is Aro

There's canonical evidence for this! Susan is a character who is heavily pursued by suitors everywhere, and even lets herself be courted by many of them, but chooses not to settle down. Even when she gets back to England and is described as only having interest in parties and material things, boys aren't mentioned.

I like to think that in The Horse in His Boy Susan was interested in Rabadash at first because he was a brilliant conversationalist. Nothing she says about him implies romantic interest, before and after she realizes the truth of his intentions.

Susan and Edmund Were Best Friends

This might be my love for The Horse and His Boy showing itself, but I think Susan and Edmund were thrown into circumstances where they interacted the most with each other.

Edmund is the ruler in charge of politics. Susan is the ruler in charge of Cair Paravel's public image. I imagine they spent time as ambassadors to other countries and planning royal functions.

They're also the most level-headed and logical out of their siblings, so they probably found a lot in common.

Susan Fancast

I literally just said I loved Anna's potrayal of Susan's (and I love what they gave us of older Susan too in LWW!), but I read the books in 2008 and my parents didn't let me see the movies bc I was like...nine years old and they thought it would be too scary.

So I had to headcanon my own interpretations.

Queen Susan the Gentle:

For some reason Merlin wasn't too scary for me to watch and I fell in love with Katie McGrath in like. Two episodes so. (On an unrelated note, I also fancast Bradley James as Peter at the time.)

Anyway, fanon Susan is basically Morgana Pendragon pre-evil arc. Sassy as hell, hot as fuck, and can kick your ass.

Unpopular Opinions

Yeah, feel free to skip this part if having controversial fandom opinions is a deal breaker for you.

The Problem With Susan Isn't Actually A Problem

I'm about to start so much discourse in the Narnia fandom, but C.S. Lewis's choices with her in The Last Battle weren't misogynistic. Bear in mind, I'm not saying that all of his writing choices in the series were A++ or excusing away certain racist/sexiest bits, but it's honestly baffling to me that people are so up in arms over Susan's exclusion in the final book.

So the part that everyone loses their shit over is as follows:

"My sister Susan," answered Peter shortly and gravely, "is no longer a friend of Narnia."

"Yes," said Eustace, "and whenever you've tried to get her to come and talk about Narnia or do anything about Narnia, she says 'What wonderful memories you have! Fancy your still thinking about all those funny games we used to play when we were children.'"

"Oh Susan!" said Jill, "she's interested in nothing now-a-days except nylons and lipstick and invitations. She always was a jolly sight too keen on being grown-up."

"Grown-up, indeed," said the Lady Polly. "I wish she would grow up. She wasted all her school time wanting to be the age she is now, and she'll waste all the rest of her life trying to stay that age. Her whole idea is to race on to the silliest time of one's life as quick as she can and then stop there as long as she can."

The Last Battle, 83-84

There's a lot to unpack here and I first want to say that everyone's opinion on this part, no matter how different than mine, is valid. I'm going to be quoting some other ppl's opinions on here and by no means am I bashing them. I just want to address my feelings on the matter and the best way to do that is to cite the thoughts of ppl who have opposing ideas.

Here are some arguments on Tumblr I've heard regarding "The Problem of Susan":

"How about we talk about what might have happened if Narnia hadn't deserted Susan? [...] What if we didn't tell Susan she had to go grow up in her own world and then shame and punish her for doing just that? She was told to walk away and she went. She did not try to stay a child all her life, wishing for something she had been told she couldn't have again."

"Narnia is filled with metaphors (often not very subtle ones) that are supposed to teach us how to be, and the most glaring one for any young girl to absorb is that it's okay to be a girl like Lucy, unthreatening and cheerful and valiant and faithful, but to be a girl like Susan gets you punished - in fact, you aren't just punished, you're destroyed."

"why do we call it ‘the problem’ where’s the problem about a young woman dealing with her trauma and choosing her own path, actively making the choice to keep living and to stay and to carve a life out in England when her siblings couldn’t? what is the problem about susan forgetting to somehow cope with what she’s experienced? why is it ‘the problem of susan’ that she recontextualised her faith?"

And then there's JK Rowling who said this:

There comes a point where Susan, who was the older girl, is lost to Narnia because she becomes interested in lipstick. She's become irreligious basically because she found sex. I have a big problem with that.

It's weird how I'm still finding new ways to hate JKR in the year 2021. Again, there is absolutely zero implication that Susan had sex when she came back to England. ZERO. Did she actually read the books? IDK. If someone shares this opinion pls reply with actual canonical evidence.

Back on topic, I'm a firm believer of death of the author and interpreting art via your own experiences. Which is why I'm also going to share my own interpretation by saying y'all are wrong.

Susan Pevensie was not abandoned by Narnia. She was not barred from Narnia because she is traditionally feminine or because she "owned her sexuality" (another opinion I didn't have time to condense down for this post) or because she recontextualized her faith or even because she deserved to be punished.

I also fail to see how Susan recontexualized her faith, as the entire point of it all is that she has none. Bringing this back to Susan's fatal flaw (personal convenience/material comforts), her prioritizing herself over her own faith is the reason she is "no longer a friend of Narnia." Not...whatever fanon y'all are imposing on her character.

Susan is not being punished for liking lipstick and looking pretty. Susan's not even being punished. Y'all read Neil Gaiman's The Problem of Susan and forgot it wasn't canon.

There are many reasons Susan is not in Aslan's Country (one of them being that she's not actually dead yet), but the main one has to do with this:

"[...] But there I have another name. You must learn to know me by that name. This was the very reason why you were brought to Narnia, that by knowing me here for a little, you may know me better there.”

Voyage of the Dawn Treader, 215-216

Yeah, okay that's why Susan is no longer a friend of Narnia. The implication when the Pevensies are told that they can no longer enter Narnia is that they are to find Aslan in other places. Susan doesn't do this, instead choosing to focus her life on material things. It isn't the lipstick, it's that she only wants the lipstick.

Susan Had Sex In The Books

Oh and not in the context y'all are thinking. (Again, there are no implications that Susan was barred from Narnia for having sex or that she had sex when she came back to England.)

So there's actual canonical evidence that Susan and Rabadash had a sexual relationship. Sort of.

"What think you? We have been in this city fully three weeks. Have you yet settled in your mind whether you will marry this dark-faced lover of yours, this Prince Rabadash, or no?"

-The Horse and His Boy, 35

Edmund calls Rabadash her lover. Not her suitor. I don't know if the word had a different meaning in 1954, but it feels like C.S. Lewis is saying that they're fucking. I'm not really happy with the idea of Susan sleeping with an abuser, but really proud of her for Getting Some as a woman born in a time period where having premarital sex was a big no-no.

This also invalidates the weird opinion going on that Susan was barred from Narnia because she had sex.

Suspian Is The Worst

I haven't really talked about Movie!Susan much, but as long as we're talking unpopular opinions, it's worth noting that I hate Suspian. Some of it is the "Susan is Aro" headcanon screaming inside of me, but it's also the fact that it's written poorly, does nothing interesting for either character and generally comes across as awkward.

I feel like they were trying to make Prince Caspian sexy and relevant to teens. It came across as super heteronormative and unnecessary.

It also gets really really weird bc the next movie then gives Caspian and Edmund mad chemistry and we're all just like........ok.

Final Thoughts

Susan may not be my favorite character in the series, but she's grown on me over the years. I have many issues with fanon interpretations of her--which definately fueled some of my disdain for her initally--and I don't identify as a Susan Apologist.

I do however adore Susan and have many headcanons for her not mentioned here. I love reading fanfic, writing fanfic and meta, and generally having conversations about her and would love to talk more about it.

I welcome criticism (CONSTRUCTIVE) and conversation on all of my opinions and observations. Please drop into my inbox. <3

[postmodernmulticoloredcloak]

So I watched 10.09 recently, and it has that part where Dean tells a story about him basically being almost roofied as a teen, but somehow it ends up framed as the funny joke and yet another proof that John "did what he could", and I kind of hate this? And it's the same episode in which MoC!Dean killed guys that kidnapped and tried to rape Claire, and you'd think writers would've addressed the parallels and acknowledge that Dean could've been triggered by this situation. 1/2

2/2 But in the end, it's never addressed, and the whole situation is framed as the proof that Dean is evil now. And I'm not even sure what I am trying to say, but with that being the show's approach back in s10, I'm not surprised about the finale anymore. Guess we should've known?

That’s an excellent angle to look at the issue because the Mark of Cain arc is a clear example of how people with different experiences will see the same thing in wildly different ways. There’s this phase of season 10 where everyone is like “oh no Dean is Getting Worse” and when you look at what Dean is doing... you actually go “...good for him”.

Let’s give Caesar what belongs to Caesar. It’s not “the writers” in this case, it’s Dabb. Plenty of other writers don’t fall into this John apologism thing. Just look at how the episode before Lebanon, written by Buckner and Ross Leming, says that sometimes John would temporarily kick Dean out because he was “pissed at him” despite Dean always taking his side to mantain the peace. It almost seems like a statement to sprinkle some salt given what Dabb does in Lebanon, you know? Maybe not, but there is a tension between “John was shitty” writers and “John did his best” writers.

In hindsight, we gave Dabb too much of the benefit of the doubt. We were like, weeell, that’s supposed to be way the characters perceive the truth, which is distorted by the trauma... But now it’s obvious that he truly believed in the John-did-his-best version. He brought him back and got Mary back with him. No matter what happened to the finale, the network didn’t print those pictures of John and Mary to hang on Sam’s wall. He never took Dean’s abuse seriously and it shows.

The “anedocte” of Dean getting drugged and “saved” by John from being raped is obviously there to parallel him with Claire. Which works! It’s so weird because it’s like. You are soooo close to getting the point. Younger Dean was assaulted just like this teenage girl is assaulted and Dean saves her... but apparently John yelling at those people is a good way of dealing with the issue, while murdering child traffickers is an overraction thus bad.

That’s the problem, isn’t it? That Dean’s murder spree is framed as an overreaction. Sam is like “tell me you had to do this! tell me it was you or them!” - the answer to which (by the narrative) is obviously no, it wasn’t self defense, he just killed them because he could. He just murdered those men for no reason except he felt like being murdery. And the audience is supposed to be like “oh no! Dean is murdery for no reason except for murderiness! That’s bad!”.

But it’s a power fantasy, isn’t it? Going on a murder spree on rapists and traffickers. I bet any people who’s been violated like that has fantasized of doing the exact thing Dean does here. Killing them all.

Dean had the physical strength and skill to kill them all, why shouldn’t he kill them? (I mean, in real life I’m against private justice because I’m a fan of the state of law, but the Supernatural universe obviously works on different principles than the state of law. Again, it’s a fictional narrative that plays out as a fantasy for the audience, so.)

So what was Dabb’s intention? I’m afraid it’s the worst one. “John Winchester’s not going to win any Number One Dad awards, you know? But, you know, damn if he wasn’t there when we needed him”. What the fuck, Dabb? It’s been established since season 1 that John WASN’T there when they needed him. Which... I’m afraid... leads us to the Cas-Claire plot in the episode. Cas has fucked off with Jimmy’s body leaving Claire on her own. Parallels how John wasn’t going to win wny Number One Dad awards. But! Cas is there when Claire Really Needs Him i.e. when she’s about to be raped by older men. Parallels how John was there when Dean Really Needed Him i.e. when he was about to be raped by older men.

I think the point is to say, Cas kinda sucked because he took Claire’s dad away but hey! He’s actually a good figure for Claire because he gets there in time to prevent her from being raped. Just like (ew) John kinda sucked as a father because hunting and stuff, but hey! He’s actually a good figure for Dean because he got there in time to prevent him from being raped.

It’s pretty yucky. Literally NOBODY wanted a parallel between Cas and John. But he made one. And he made one to absolve Cas from the guilt he carried for what he did to Claire (Claire’s mother is a mother so who fucking cares about her. She’s basically a Blurry Wife(TM), she’s only a tool for Claire’s arc, Cas apparently only cares about the harm he did the child, not the wife, for some reason.) and to absolve Cas from his guilt it absolves John too. Don’t worry, being a parent is hard. You often screw up. But you can *looks at smudged writing on hand* prevent the kid from being raped by predatory adults and everything’s fine now.

It’s not really important if the child suffered hunger or whatever, the only important thing is that they don’t get raped, because that’s bad, everything else is just a little detail.

All Dabb got with that scene was to paint Sam as extremely unsympathetic because he’s no longer a child, he’s a full adult now and still thinks of that episode at the CBGB as a funny story. That’s not a good look. It almost makes you think that the writer himself saw it as a funny story. Lol teenage boy biting more than he can chew. But then why the Claire parallel? The Claire scene onviously is not supposed to be anything but horrific. I'll give Dabb the benefit of the doubt on this specific thing.

It’s weird, yes, because Dabb wrote Dark Side of the Moon where he establishes that John was a bad husband/father even before tragedy hit the family. But apparently that’s the “not going to win any Number One Dad awards” part, I suppose? I guess he intended to write John as this flawed, ~complex~ figure who was imperfect but still brave and whatever blah blah did his best blah blah. I’m all for flawed complicated characters but a horrible father is a horrible father. A rose by any other name... parental abuse is still parental abuse even if the poor guy was complicated and traumatized and did what he thought he had to do to prepare his sons for a violent world.

Also, the story frames Dean’s escapade as a teenager being stupid. “You know what he got for that? Me whining about how much he embarrassed me. Me telling him that I hated him. But then he stopped and turned around looked at me and said, Son, you don’t like me? That’s fine. It’s not my job to be liked.” “It’s my job to raise you right.” This seems straight from a novel about teenagers doing something stupid that they’re too young to realize that their parents are right to be against them doing. But this isn’t just... a parent walking into a bar to stop their child to drink alcohol. Dean literally describes feeling sick from something that was inside the alcohol.

Sure, it makes sense that he’d lash out to John because of the shame and shock. But the scene is... off. Are we supposed to see this as a typical teenage mistake? Are we supposed to read it as something as horrific as what happened to Claire, literally sold into rape? Or, worse, are we supposed to see what happened to Claire as a teenage mistake, ah silly teenager, blindly trusting shady people, no wonder you end up in a situation where you’d get raped if a father figure didn’t sweep in and save you. I hope that wasn’t the intent.

To get back to Dean’s Mark-of-Cain violence, the writers clearly didn’t intend it to come from the Darkness up to a certain point. It was supposed to an arc about your own inner darkness (consider the Charlie episode, a couple episodes later). Then they came up with the idea of The(TM) Darkness, the suppressed cosmic feminine. While it caused a bit of dissonance in the subtext, it doesn’t really change Dean’s narrative, because his inner darkness is the trauma, and his trauma is inherebtly tied to the “feminine” i.e. the parts of him that don’t fit seamlessly into the scheme of toxic masculinity values. That the violence that comes from the Mark of Cain comes from Dean himself and that’s it, or is connected to the Darkness, it doesn’t change what it means for Dean. Dean and Amara have parallel histories, the feminine principle locked away, the trauma the anger stems from.

In 10x09 we’re still in the Before The (TM) Darkness era, before the suppressed cosmic feminine. The Mark of Cain arc is still about... well, Cain. But the shift is the signal that someone looked at Dean’s arc and said... you know what? “Lucifer gave me this curse so now I’m demonic and murdery” is meh. “Toxic masculinity suppresses the feminine and it creates trauma which rage and violence comes from” is more interesting. I don’t know whose idea it was, but it was a good idea, and surely the idea came from seeing how Dean’s MoC narrative was unfolding.

Dean’s MoC narrative was unfolding in a certain way, in fact, because of a pretty simple reason. There’s a fundamental tension in Dean’s MoC arc. We want him to go murdery, but it’s also our main character, so we don’t want him to do really horrible things because he still needs to be relatable. The audience cannot hate him, so he must NOT do something entirely unforgivable. He still needs to be somewhat relatable, even when demonic or demonic-adjacent.

So he goes on a murder spree... but it’s rapists and child traffickers. He’s demon, but he kills a misogynistic dude that wanted his wife dead for cheating on him. He’s a demon, but beats up dudes that harass women. He does a slaughter, but they’re nazi. He’s off the deep end, but works a case of kidnapped and abused young women...

Speaking of which. 10x23, written by Jeremy Carver. Dean works a case where a girl was killed while dressed scantily and Dean makes some slut-shaming remarks, and we’re supposed to think “whoa Dean, that’s bad”. But later he confronts the girl’s father and what does he say?

I’m just doing my job, Mr. McKinley.

By suggesting my daughter was a slut?

I’ll admit that thought crossed my mind. Then I came here, and I smelled the deceit and the beatings and the shame that pervade this home.

You shut your face right now.

And you know what? I don’t blame Rose anymore. No wonder she put on that skank outfit and went out there looking for validation, right into the arms of the monster that killed her.

Back then the episode was super controversial and everyone hated the case because of the apparent slut-shaming but I loved it! Because it’s not about the girl. It’s about Dean. Dean doesn’t think that a girl gets killed because she dresses in a miniskirt so it’s her fault. Dean is projecting on himself and he’s not actually victim blaming the girl, he’s victim blaming himself. And when he absolves the girl by putting the blame on the father... well, subtextually he’s absolving himself by putting the blame on his father. On the deceit and the beatings and the shame that pervaded his own home. He’s textually not ready to absolve himself, of course, he summons Death to ask him to kill him later, but subtextually he’s on the right path.

Rose McKinley basically did the same mistake Dean did at the CBGB when he trusted some older people who offered him drinks and the same mistake Claire did when she trusted a man who sold her for money because he offered him a place and stability. She trusted the wrong people (in this case, vampires, which adds the whole subtext of vampires and sexuality) who took advantage of her. Except Rose had no one to save her. (Her friend, Crystal, gets rescued by Dean, even if he causes the other hunter Rudy to die in the process.)

Carver’s writing is pretty brutal. The girl made that mistake because was abused at home, so she was desperate for validation and that desperation drove her into the wrong hands. (Rose even has a brother who blames himself for bringing her sister to her future murderers, destructive sibling relationship check.) It doesn’t actually even matter if Dean guessed right about Rose’s family situation, because what matters is what it tells us about Dean. He basically relates to a dead abused girl. Actually all through the season Dean is paralleled to “skanks” “sluts” and sex workers. Obviously this happens kinda all through the show, the whole “the business is based on absent fathers” thing happened much earlier in the story, so it’s not new. But s10 draws a picture of female suffering - abuse, manipulation and death. Season 10 was difficult to go through. In hindsight, it was probably on purpose because it was supposed to be darkest hour of the feminine. Summed with some good old fashioned misogyny, but hey.

The Carver era was wonky but Carver wanted to free the feminine. (I believe that Mary’s comeback, while written by Dabb because of the showrunner shift, was planned before the showrunner shift.) We thought the Dabb era wanted the same, with Mary choosing life and Amara being independent and so on, but it evidently wasn’t the case. Not a single woman arrives at end of the story. It’s hardly ~Bucklemming or ~the network or ~covid because it starts before the very end.

I’m not saying that dead sluts are more feminist than living women, but if the women die or disappear anyway (and they did) I’d rather have an exploration of trauma than nothing. And I definitely prefer a dead slut narrative that calls out parental abuse than a narrative where women live but abuse gets the you-did-your-best treatment.

Whoops! I digressed! But feel free to ask for any clarification or send me any observation or thought.

[rivetgoth]

Yes!! Being a GNC trans man doesn’t = not passing. I hope it’s ok to rant about this for a bit lol I never get to talk about it. I came to realise a long time ago that when truscum/transmed/whatever they’re calling themselves now talked about “passing as men” they didn’t just mean passing as men, they meant “passing as the most boring cishet men with the most toxic masculinity ever” lol. I lurked on a lot of transmed accounts and they were telling trans kids that any kind of “feminine” fashion would make them not pass as guys.. like nail polish, colored hair, eyeliner etc. I was like do y’all not know emo cis men exist? Goth cis men exist? I just gave up trying to convince them that you could be GNC and still “pass as cis”/pass as a man if you wanted to. It does really make me sad that so many trans kids are holding themselves back. But I think seeing GNC men who are so unapologetic helps

Yeahhh it sucks I feel like a lot of trans guy spaces really end up pushing this idea that being trans means “transitioning into the most boring generic normie looking guy imaginable” and it’s just so crazy cuz plenty of cis dudes do not match up to the crazy strict standards that trans men impose on themselves and each other. I find it sad TBH cuz it definitely creates a cycle of self hate and repression, it’s really not a surprise that a lot of trans guys end up regurgitating just straight up incel rhetoric sayin shit about how a “real man would never XYZ.” I almost feel bad for them cuz like, I do get the fact that dysphoria and social pressure is really difficult to navigate, but fostering a culture where it’s praised and encouraged to sacrifice any sense of self in the name of passing just like… sucks.

I think there is a LOT of layers of this too, like the fact that many trans male spaces online IME are largely dominated by pre-everything guys or guys who are early into transition who are looking for passing advice and stuff, and realistically it IS hard if not impossible to be GNC and pass when you’re early in transition. Nothing wrong with that at all, it’s just the truth. Cis dudes are often mistaken as women if they have long hair, wear makeup, wear women’s clothing, etc, so of course a trans dude who hasn’t been able to physically transition at all is gonna have a hard time if he does the same… But then it escalates and builds from “having long hair as a pre-everything trans guy might make it hard to pass” to “no trans guy who’s actually dysphoric would ever be okay with having long hair” which is just a ridiculous fucking jump.

But on that note, while passing advice is great when it’s asked for, I also just fucking hate the idea that you have to sacrifice all sense of style to pass and that passing should be your ultimate goal. I mean, I get it. I want to pass. I’ve worked my ass off to pass and live full-time as a man. But I also think there needs to be some level of realization that 1. Transition has to partly be for YOU, not just how society might or might not view you. You will always be disappointed if you expect HRT or surgery to be a miracle cure to your dysphoria. 2. I know this gets said a lot in trans spaces but not everyone’s feelings about their own transition is the same. Someone can be horribly dysphoric but feel like having long hair is worth it because there is more than one facet to every human. Dysphoria can be one, self-expression that involves having long hair is another. And these might overlap in complex ways. It’s just… it’s not cut and dry. I actually have a LOT of thoughts about dysphoria as a diagnosis in general TBH, speaking as someone who is professionally diagnosed and totally identifies with being dysphoric/having gender dysphoria, but that’s wayyyy too huge of a subject. The short version is that I think the trans community does itself a disservice when it acts like gender dysphoria is something that can be perfectly defined rather than a tool used for medical insurances and a broad way of grouping together a series of experiences in order to get insurance to cover our medical needs. So naturally I think it’s silly when people do the whole “you wouldn’t do this if you were really dysphoric” thing.

I can have some pretty strong feelings about trans issues but I don’t think it really ever helps to play the “no trans person/no one with dysphoria would ever do XYZ” game. I cannot convey enough that the thing that made me become confident in my gender and made me find pride in being a man was letting go of my fear of not passing and instead embracing self-expression and prioritizing the style that I wanted to have. I told myself that the testosterone would catch up with me and eventually my body would be able to match the style I was putting it in, LOL, and it was so, so much better than putting my entire damn life on hold until I could transition. I know I keep saying it but transitioning should be about becoming a more authentic version OF YOURSELF! It should not be to become a fucking NPC.

If the especially judgmental trans dudes out there had seen me ~5 years ago they would have assumed I was a trender, despite the fact that my dysphoria and being closeted had been one of the most traumatic parts of my existence. But I had long hair and wore makeup and fem clothes and was pre-everything. But it was because I was finally actually looking at the men who actually inspired me. I was looking up to Nivek Ogre, Trent Reznor, Sean Brennan, Boy George, Steve Strange, Pete Burns, Chris Connelly, Paul Barker, Al Jourgensen… These were men whose expressions of masculinity were ones that actually resonated with me. And I could see a future for myself through them. And I wore fishnets and eyeliner and went out to the club and danced and made friends with the same exact community, the goth community, that down the line would help me pay for my top surgery and supported me during a time when I came incredibly close to suicide due to the reaction my family had to my transition. And at this point in my life I still have long hair and wear makeup and put on fem clothes and go and dance at the club in my fishnets and I have been on hormones for over 3 years and have gotten top surgery and live full-time out in the world as a man and I’m happier than I could literally ever have imagined.

[miraculouscontent]

Didn’t Need Burrow (April 24th-May 3rd)

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Marinette is exposed to the world as Ladybug by the end of the series. This is largely so Adrien gets to bask in everyone knowing that HE ended up with Paris' protector on his arm, emphasizing her status as a trophy that he won.

This feels too likely, I hate it.

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: After being badgered into trusting her with the Fox, Marinette tries to convince Alya that she can't expose herself as Rena Rouge any further, and should take advantage of the Fox's long-range capabilities to stay hidden. Alya dismisses the danger; if she tries hiding at all, it doesn't take long to reveal herself, claiming it's unheroic to hide. Shadowmoth then targets her personally, with Marinette taking the blame.

I WOULD EXCUSE THE FOX THING IF IT STAYED LONG RANGE BUT I’M WAITING FOR THEM TO RUIN IT

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Rather than outing Ladybug, Alya reveals *herself* as Rena Rouge. She claims that this is fine since Hawkmoth already knows her secret identity... and besides, it gives the LadyBlog more cred!

Because why not I guess, the bar for her is already so low.

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Marinette will be forced to give up Guardianship/go through the memory wipe... but continue as Ladybug. This is mined for Sadrien AND resets LadyNoir; she no longer recalls all the annoying shit he's pulled, offering a fresh start. May lead into Reversed Rectangular Romance with Chat Noir pining after the old Ladybug while she develops a crush on her brooding partner. He's so ~dark~ and ~mysterious~ and gives her such ~wistful looks~!

Marinette gets to give up guardianship but at what cost. (also, that last line about Chat being dark and brooding)

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: In a Shocking Twist, Emilie is revealed to have been evil and manipulative like Chloe/Lila, and presented as solely responsible for her husband's jerkassery. This sets up GabNath as endgame with Gabriel absolved for all his misdeeds. (Any similarities between Emilie and her son's behavior are summarily ignored.)

Because Adrien is male, obviously. He gets a pass.

Anonymous said:

Didn't need the Burrow: A lot of Adrien's supposed childhood friendship with Chloe was actually with Zoe. Which is supposed to give the new character some instant connections and serves as another proof of Chloe being irredeemable. Bonus: Marinette finds out and whether or not she spills the beans, it will be something she'll get called out for.

So, either a retcon or Adrien comes off as even more of a liar in “Origins.”

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Su-Han will tell Marinette outright that her responsibilities mean she's not allowed to be happy. This is used to garner sympathy for HIM - Isn't it sad how his duties have completely consumed his life? Clearly he needs help learning how to unwind and relax! Meanwhile Mari's drowning in the background, but this isn't about HER, now is it?

I’M SO SAD

WHYYY

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Adrien discovers Gabriel's secret and hides the truth, forbidding Plagg from telling anyone. Not just to protect his father/family, but because he's not ready to stop being Chat Noir. No villains means no reason for heroes, and he doesn't even know his lady's secret identity yet--! Naturally, his reasoning is treated as totally understandable and sympathetic, even as he enables the conflict to continue indefinitely.

“CHAT BLANC” VERSION 2.0 I HATE IT DX

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Hawk/Shadowmoth starts aiming to *kill* the exposed/temp heroes in order to prevent them from potentially joining battles. This only happens during akuma fights (so that it falls upon Ladybug to 'set things right' with her powers). Chat Noir makes minimal (if any) effort to protect them, relying upon his 'partner' to carry the day instead and bring them back.

Ladybug: *trying to save everyone*

Chat Noir: *filing his claws in the background*

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Marinette will be pressured to make others permanent heroes and let them have their Miraculi full-time. This sets up for Hawkmoth to eventually get his hands on the Miracle Box, meaning any Miraculi that haven't been distributed are now in the villains' clutches. Not only does this dramatically cut down her pool of allies, Marinette gets to be guilt-stricken over failing all her duties and not listening to their demands while she had the chance.

Marinette, you’re such a fAilUrE as guardian!!

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Zoe will turn out to be another love interest for Adrien - only it's as the New-Bee with *Chat Noir*, enabling the dreaded Reversed Romo-Rhombus dynamic with Ladybug becoming jealous of their chemistry.

girls are such jealous types, haven’t you guys heard? :)

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Ladybug gets a new default look (for the sake of selling more ML merch in Real Life), trading the spotted onesie for another form-fitting spandex suit that 'highlights her feminine charms' even more. This is treated as a sign of her 'growing up'.

wow i hate it

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Alya shipping Marinette with both Adrien and Chat Noir after finding out her identity.

I am 100% not here for shipping shenanigans.

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Alya will be responsible for leading Lila to suspect that Marinette and Ladybug are connected. Though Alya may actually *realize* that she slipped up, she won't warn Marinette about the potential security breach, not wanting her to get upset/any more paranoid than she already is.

And of course, this will be used to make people “sympathize” with her. See, she cAreS about Marinette’s feelings, how can you be mad at her for this??

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: There will be more plots where Marinette's 'lesson of the week' is that she must learn how to better control and suppress her emotions, and that she is literally not ALLOWED to be upset because Hawk/Shadowmoth will win if she does. At the same time, Adrien is encouraged to marinate in his own unhappiness over Ladybug not giving in to his advances. If the danger involved ever comes up, it's presented as purely Ladybug/Marinette's fault for rejecting him.

I’m starting to think some of you are ZAG insiders because wow that sounds likely. DX

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: A recurring theme in episodes featuring the 'girl squad' will be Marinette meddling too much, as her efforts to help them cross boundaries THEY aren't comfortable with. If she dares to bring up their past insistence that friends don't keep secrets, they'll call her out as a hypocrite while refusing to acknowledge their own hypocrisies.

“Marinette’s boundaries? Who??? No, Marinette, what about THEIR boundaries???” - the writers

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Adrien will feel sorry for Chloe and regret the role he played in her losing her Miraculous. This is mainly a vehicle to help explain why everything that went wrong with her/Queen Bee is totally, 100% Marinette/Ladybug's fault, along with showing how forgiving Adrien is and how he 'sees the best in everyone', and is clearly right to do so. Bonus: this is combined with him distrusting the NewBee for not being Chloe/making her jealous.

*sigh*

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Chloe will get akumatized out of anger over the New Bee, and Ladybug is blamed for her insensitivity/forced to apologize to her.

I’m still stunned at the mental gymnastics they go through to make Marinette/Ladybug apologize to people.

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Su-Han will confirm the popular fan claim that Ladybug and Black Cat bearers are, in fact, soulmates/bound together by destiny. Chat Noir gleefully rubs this in Ladybug's face; her disbelief and horror is played entirely for laughs at her expense. Adrien's behavior escalates further afterwards, bolstered by the knowledge that it doesn't matter how shitty he gets, as she belongs to him regardless.

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: In addition to confirming the notion that Ladybugs and Black Cats are 'meant to be', it's revealed that other Miracli are destined soulmates, like Foxes and Turtles or Butterflies and Peacocks, and other random Miraculi pairings that 'coincidentally' align with various official ships.

brb, need to step away to scream on my porch

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: At least one episode will have Marinette mess up a potion, preventing her and the other heroes from enjoying its benefits during a big fight. This is blamed either on her anxiety causing her to overthink it or on her being a poor student, lamenting the fact that she didn't have more time with Master Fu. (Bonus if Su-Han takes advantage of this to slam Fu; extra bonus points if Mari defends him by insisting *she* was the one who screwed up, not her master.)

It’s like a main course of Marinette blame, oh my god.

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Su-Han will make various sexist comments about Marinette and the other heroines, implying that they were all poor choices Because Girl. Since nothing says 'Girl Power' like insisting they must prove themselves to doubtful men who will never fully accept them. After all, Marinette is the only one who ever learns lessons; therefore, Su-Han will never grow out of his 'old-fashioned views'.

And when the writers are called out, they’ll go, “bUt hE’s jUst oLd fAshiOned”

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Adrien gets his Ring revoked by Su-Han for misbehavior. This is depicted as a terrible miscarriage of justice, and Marinette must convince Su-Han to return the Ring without learning who Chat Noir is. The more terrible the inciting act, the bigger the bonus points; did he skip another battle like Glaciator? Pull another Syren-level stunt? Cataclysm another innocent? Who cares? Sadrien is Sad, and that's the biggest crisis of all...

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Adrien pulls another Syren-level stunt (or worse); rather than holding him responsible, Su-Han berates Marinette for her poor leadership and failure to keep him in line. Bonus if she confides/vents to Alya afterwards only for Alya to AGREE with Su-Han that she's failed at being a good partner to Chat Noir. Fever Mode activates if Alya implies Marinette's failure is due to her inability to admit her feelings for Chat Noir and/or confess to Adrien.

I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Alya will pull an Adrien re: Lila, refusing to openly support Marinette against her. She'll claim that they need to 'gather evidence' first before exposing her to everyone. In practice, this means that Alya is willing to continue feigning ignorance, pretending that she's taken in by Lila's lies, while Marinette continues to suffer since she won't play along. Any evidence-gathering we see Alya engaging in is minimal, if she's shown doing it at all.

This is 150% one of the most accurate Alya-Lila confrontations I’ve seen from these predictions.

I hate it.

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: When confronting Lila, Alya will insist that 'Ladybug told me herself' that they aren't friends. Lila attempts to convince her that Ladybug is lying to try and protect her; this either works or spurs Alya to declare that LB 'hates liars', making her suspicious of Marinette's potential connections to the superheroine.

Alya

Alya why

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Alya will only treat Marinette with anything approaching a veneer of respect while she's Ladybug. (As in 'Transformed/wearing the spotted suit/actively superheroing'.) Her behavior towards her 'regular BFF', meanwhile, will continue to degrade.

and, as a alternative:

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Having learned that Marinette = Ladybug, Alya shows less and less respect towards the superheroine. (Not that she displayed much in the first place, but you know what they say: familiarity breeds contempt. And Alya's convinced that she knows her SO WELL, despite all signs to the contrary...)

Thanks. Hate them both. T_T

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Alya will end up outing Ladybug in a moment of anger. Though this is treated as impulsive and spur-of-the-moment, the act itself hints otherwise. (For example, she posts it on the LadyBlog; that post had to be *written up* first, and she likely had to think about what evidence she'd use to back up her claim... Not to mention if she includes pictures or video. Showing that Alya thought about it well before her 'tipping point', no matter how she claims otherwise.)

okay but you missed the part where Marinette is blamed for it--

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Tikki's comments about kwamis not understanding love are foreshadowing that they will later claim that Ladybug and Chat Noir's relationship has shown them what true love is. Because none of the other relationships they've ever seen or experienced in their long, looooooong history compare to the Four-Cornered F**kery.

Tikki sure knew a lot about love when she commented on all of Marinette’s love issues.

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Kagami will come to regret 'impulsively' breaking up with Adrien for being a lying jerkface, while Luka moves on and finds happiness with somebody else with relative ease. Because guys are allowed to move on with their lives while girls have to wallow in the miserable mires of wish-you-were-(still)-mine. Woes--!

no but see Adrien is “worthy” of love while Marinette isn’t

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Marinette is either responsible for the secret Juleka's keeping (such as trusting her with a Miraculous) or inadvertently sets Rose on its scent in the first place, making her *supposedly* responsible for the strife which follows.

We already know that it’s not Juleka’s secret at least but Marinette could absolutely still set Rose off.

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Marinette will be taught techniques/given a power-up that shuts off her emotions completely, or simply reaches the point where she figures out how to do so on her own. This is ultimately shown to be a bad thing/another mistake not because of the toll it takes on her psyche, but because the fully repressed Marinette/Ladybug no longer has any interest whatsoever in Adrien, and *we can't have THAT!*

Us getting to see Marinette not crushing on Adrien... but at what cost?

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Alya posts more embarrassing content on the LadyBlog, making it look like Ladybug keeps screwing up/making mistakes. Marinette asks her to stop, worried that she's undermining people's faith in her; Alya blows off her concerns and accuses her of getting a swelled head/becoming a 'control freak' about her image, insisting it's no big deal if people see she's human while refusing to treat her as such. (Meanwhile none of Chat Noir's mistakes/misbehavior make it onto the blog.)

“Bonus” if Alya gets particularly huffy because it’s jOunrAliSm and she’d be bIAsEd if she took down something that made her fRiEnD uNComOFTablE.

elflynns-horde-of-stuff said:

Don't need a burrow: The upcoming episode "Guiltrip" is gonna be 50% Sadrien. And we won't even get any new developments on his character for it.

so the usual

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: It's revealed that Ladybug holders are 'natural good luck charms' for everybody around them, but are punished by karmic backlash for even the *slightest* hint of selfishness (or self-consideration). Hence Marinette's whole plight, which is still presented as her fault for not being able to reach an impossibly perfect ideal. (Anything we learn about Black Cat holders, meanwhile, is purely for Agrestangst and has no bearing on anything observable within the show itself.)

Honestly, with the bad luck Marinette had in “Origins,” you’d think she’d be meant for the cat and been taught about the values of destruction and just being able to Go Off on people, or how to spin her bad luck into something good (or the black cat miraculous in general helps her channel her bad luck, such as making her Cataclysm stronger or being able to give her bad luck to others).

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: The show ends with Marinette and Adrien getting together, with Marinette declaring that everything she went through was worth it and that she's 'incredibly lucky' -- that the fact fate brought them together is 'nothing short of Miraculous!'

The sheer level at which I just cringed in immeasurable.

Anonymous said:

Didn't need the Burrow: A S5 episode will drop before S4 is finished.

Oh! Ahaha, we’ve got a wavelength, anon! I actually already added that one at some point.

Anonymous said:

Didn't need the Burrow: The series will not really make Rose/Juleka canon. They will imply it but the official language used in the episode will be "best friends". Yet on Twitter the creators will pat themselves on the back repeatedly for it

I mean, this already partially happened in “Reflekdoll” so--

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: It'll be confirmed beyond any reasonable doubt that Adrien 100% knows about Marinette's crush when he uses it to manipulate her. Plagg comments on it, and Adrien affirms that he knows, but her feelings don't compare to his own for Ladybug. ('And aren't worth sparing' goes unsaid, but is naturally implied.) Naturally, his manipulation of her is treated as 'clever', and any pain or mortification she feels as a result is just gravy.

Anonymous said:

Didn't Need Burrow: Adrien reveals to Plagg (and the audience) that he's fully aware of Marinette's crush, but refuses to acknowledge it because he doesn't want to 'crush her dreams', comparing it to how Ladybug keeps rejecting him. Making the situation entirely about HIM and how HE feels, even showing some resentment towards her for HAVING that crush for HIM to deal with. Marinette and her feelings are painted as just an ANNOYANCE that he's ignoring, heedless of the impact upon her.

wow i hate them both

thank you, both of you

</3

[the-void-i-scream-into]

White Tulips - a JunJin fanfic 1/3

Full Story: Part 2, Part 3

Hello everyone! I hope everyone who is reading this is healthy and safe. This is a fanfic about my favorite characters, Kang Sujin and Han Seojun. I really love these two together so I wrote what I had hoped to see in True Beauty. This is my first time writing fanfiction so its not that good. But I hope you still enjoy it. I didn’t change anything from True Beauty, rather continued the events from the ending with a focus on giving Sujin the redemption arc she so rightly deserved. 

I really have to thank everyone on the shooters gc, especially @prodmina, for being so amazing and awesome. Never before have I come accross such amazing, wonderful, open and friendly group of people. I’m not that active on the chat, but I am so grateful it exists. Thank you to everyone on there. This is dedicated to you all.

Pairing: Kang Sujin x Han Seojun

Romantic Trope: Haters to friends to lovers

Word Count: 5.9k

Rating: T

PART 1

i.

If you asked Han Seojun why he loved Lim Jukyung, he wouldn’t be able to answer. His feelings for her overwhelmed him to the point of inarticulation. His heart still skipped a beat every time he saw her at dinner with their group. He still found himself staring at her from time to time, unable to look away from her beauty. He even wrote songs about her, his only form of expressing his love for her.

He still thought of her in every free minute he had between practice, performance and recording sessions. When he couldn’t see her, he would watch her make-up tutorials online. He was proud of how far she had come with her career as a make-up artist. Her popularity was a source of delight for him. It was only appropriate that everyone see how amazing she was.

The only problem was, Lim Jukyung didn’t belong to him. She belonged to Lee Suho, his best friend.

Seojun was happy for the two of them. They were the best people he knew and even he had to acknowledge that they belonged together. Which was why, having these feelings were burdensome for Seojun.

It was burdensome, seeing them all lovey-dovey with each other and talking about their lives together. Normally Seojun would have faked a smile, but when they were all together in a group he scowled without reserve. He got away with it because right beside Suho and Jukyung, sat Taehoon and Suah who were the kind of cheesy couple that made anyone barf.

In fact, just the thought of Suah and Taehoon fawning over each other made him cringe. Even now as he walked into the special private room they frequented for their gatherings—private due to Seojun’s and Jukyung’s popularity—Seojun was pushing back his gag reflex at the squealing he could hear outside.

He scolded them as he entered the room. “Guys! I can hear you all the way from the front entrance. Why are you always so—” He stopped in his tracks. There, between a giggling Jukyung and beaming Suah sat the worst person Seojun had ever known.

Her.

He had heard peripherally about how she had changed now, having reformed as a charity worker. She had apparently apologized to Jukyung about the shitty things she had done before. As if an apology could change anything.

Han Seojun knew Jukyung had forgiven Kang Sujin. That woman had even attended Heekyung’s wedding. But Seojun didn’t understand why she had to invade their special gatherings.

The room had fallen silent. Everyone awkwardly stared at Seojun, then Sujin.

“It’s been a while, Han Seojun.” She said with a polite smile. Her voice deeper than most girls’. He always hated her voice and its lack of femininity.

Ya Han Seojun, are you a gangster?!

Seojun pushed the memory away.

“Ah-aah! Han Seojun. You must be surprised.” Jukyung said with forced cheerfulness. “I invited Sujin to join us today.

Seojun merely flicked a cynical brow at Jukyung and took his usual seat besides Suho. Suah and Jukyung nervously returned to their conversation.

The uncomfortable air in the room subsided after a while and everyone chatted cheerfully with each other. Everyone except Han Seojun.

“I saw your performance on TV. You looked good.” Suho told Seojun.

“Why the hell have you invited Kang Soojin?” Seojun asked Suho in a hushed tone.

“She’s a friend, of course she’s invited.”

“Why are you friends with her again?”

“Seojun, its fine.”

Seojun opened his mouth to protest but before he could, Sujin interrupted him.

“Ya, Han Seojun. I saw your performance on TV. I didn’t know you could sing so well.” She said, not sounding too impressed. “You were great.”

It was a peace offering. A way to start off on the right foot.

Seojun gave a sarcastic smile and tilted his head. “You should have known I was that good. I performed in school, didn’t I?”

“Oh right. I guess I didn’t really pay attention before.”

“You were too busy giving all of your attention to Lee Suho. I don’t expect you to have noticed anybody else.”

This time, the silence in the room was palpable. Taehoon audibly gulped. The only person unfazed was Sujin.

“Yeah. I was obsessed with Suho.” She said simply. “But now that I look back,” she made a frame with her forefingers and thumbs, “I think what the hell does Jukyung see in you?”

“Ya!” Suho protested so seriously that Jukyung giggled, breaking the tension.

“Honestly Jukyung. You’d be better off with me as your boyfriend.” Suah and Taehoon joined the laughter.

“Ya Kang Sujin, you stay away from my girlfriend.” Suho protested, pouting.

“You’re too serious, Lee Suho. Jukyung needs someone more fun.”

“At least I don’t go around kicking people in the face.”

“You wouldn’t be able to do it, even if you tried.”

“I know jujitsu, you know.”

“Okay, okay!” Jukyung said. And that was it, the friends were back to normal.

Seojun kept out of the conversations, eating and drinking on his own. No one dared to bother him lest he say something else to ruin the mood.

Han Seojun didn’t care to maintain a good mood. He had no tolerance for people like Kang Sujin; people who were bullies. And especially not when said bully had hurt someone he cared about very deeply. He didn’t buy this act that Sujin was pulling. He knew, that people never changed.

The conversation turned to Sujin and her charity work overseas. She talked animatedly about the children she and her non-profit group worked for. It made Seojun’s blood boil, how she was using a noble cause as a front for her true cold-hearted personality. That angel bullshit may work on others, but it would not work on Seojun.

He kept a close eye on her the entire time, almost glaring to the point where Suho had to poke him with his elbow to get him to look away. But Suho was blind, he should have seen how Sujin’s face gave the barest of glances of pain when he and Jukyung kissed each other and pulled each other’s cheeks and talked about living together.

“Oh, you guys share an apartment?” No one else noticed the high-pitchiness of Sujin’s voice when she asked this. No one, expect Seojun.

And then there was the stolen glances at Suho. That was the final nail in the coffin. Seojun was convinced that Sujin was pretending to be over Suho. She was still in love with him. And that was a problem.

“What’s wrong with you?” Suho confronted Seojun outside, when it was just the two of them waiting for the others to leave.

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you? Don’t you know the kind of person Kang Sujin is? How can you let her in again?”

“Calm down, Seojun-ah. That was all years ago.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that she hurt Jukyung.”

“She’s not a bad person. I know her better than you. She made a mistake.”

“She knew what she was doing.”

“Haven’t you ever made a mistake before? Or are you telling me that blaming me for Seyeon’s death was the right thing to do?”

Seojun was quiet.

“Seojun-ah, don’t take this the wrong way. You have a tendency to judge too quickly, and misunderstand. If you really hate her that much then talk to her and ask her about her reasons. Don’t just go on assuming something is the way it is because you think so.”

Seojun grit his teeth.

“Shall we go?” Jukyung came up from behind, taking Suho’s arm. The rest of the group was behind her.

“Yeah. Bye everyone. See you next time.” The couple waved as others waved back. “Seojun, I hope you’ll think about what I said.”

Seojun just nodded and waved too. He watched Jukyung and Suho disappear into the crowd on the street.

The rest of them said their goodbyes and went their way, Seojun leaving after giving Sujin a distrusting side-eye.

ii.

I don’t want to be a fool like you and be just friends, only to like him one sidedly.

It had been such a long time ago when Kang Sujin had said this to Han Seojun, but he remembered it like it was yesterday. That and a couple of other memories that played in his mind, causing whiplash.

Ya Han Seojun, are you a gangster?!

Those words especially felt like a slap on his face. He could actually feel his cheek burning at the image of Kang Sujin standing there in her uniform, telling off him and his boys about bullying Jukyung.

He had respected her back then, for having the guys to stand up for her friend. Even though she had been all haughty like some arrogant princess and thought him a fool, he had still respected her. He had never expected her to turn out to be such a vile person.

Am I handsome?

Yes.

No, no, no. That was one incident he refused to remember. It meant nothing. Only a source of surprise at her bluntness, nothing more.

“Seojun, we’re going to hit the showers now, are you done?”

Seojun didn’t hear Chorong as he ran on the treadmill. His body was in the gym but his mind as fully occupied by Kang Sujin, as it had been for the past week.

“Han Seojun, are you listening?”

She must have had a reason for suddenly showing up out of the blue. She had disappeared completely when the truth about her had been revealed online. Obviously, she ran away like a coward. If she was back now, it must be because she wanted something. Kang Sujin could be very calculating and manipulative.

Was it because of Lee Suho?

“Han Seojun!”

Chorong’s voice snapped Seojun out of his thoughts and he fell backward from his treadmill.

“OOOH! Are you okay?”

“YA! Why would you do that?!” Seojun snapped at Chorong as he got back up. He checked himself for bruises though his dignity caught the worst of it.

“Ah-nee, I called you so many times. You were totally checked out.” Chorong explained.

“Does that make sense? Why would I be checked out?”

“Well… you have been out of it this past week. Has something been bothering you?”

Something had been bothering him; something with silky, black hair and long legs.

“What? You met Kang Sujin?” His entire posse sounded as he told them about her return. Seojun put a finger in his ears as he was bombarded with questions.

“Did she apologize to Jukyung? Are they friends now?”

“Did she tell where she was all that time?”

“Is she still pretty?”

“Is she single?”

“What is she doing these days?”

Seojun ignored all of these useless inquiries.

“Hey! Did you al forget the kind of person she is? How could you ask if she is still pretty?”

“She must be. I bet she’s still the same.”

“She was never pretty.” Seojun declared. “I can never understand what people see in her.”

“That’s because you only have eyes for one.” One of them teased and the rest of them Ooh-ed like school girls.

“Ah, shikkeureo! Shut up!” Chorong said in defense of Seojun. Out of everyone, Chorong understood best how much Seojun still pined for Jukyung. “So, what exactly is bothering you about Kang Sujin?”

“I don’t trust her. Especially around Jukyung.”

“Wae? Do you think she might still be after Lee Suho.”

“Yes. At least I suspect so. I’m not sure what game she’s playing at but I’m not buying this angel persona she has on.”

“So? You can’t exactly stop Jukyung from choosing to be friends with her.”

“I feel I can convince Jukyung if I talk to her.”

“She might just tell you to try to get along with Sujin.”

This was true. Jukyung was too nice and trusting with people. Seojun thought long and hard.

“I’ll have to protect her. I’ll have to keep Kang Sujin away from Jukyung.”

iii.

He had been on his way to the studio, casually riding by on his bike, when he saw her. She was in some blue vest, clearly a uniform of some sort. She was handing out fliers to people who passed by, smiling widely with that fake innocent look she had perfected. What a crock of shit. Seojun swerved around and parked his bike, then sauntered up to her with an amused expression.

She lit up when she saw him approach, waving animatedly at him. Her happiness upon seeing him surprised him so much that he stumbled and almost fell. He played it off as nothing, hoping she hadn’t noticed.

“Ya Han Seojun, gimme your autograph.” She grinned as she pushed forward a petition to help kids in Africa.

Seojun didn’t take it. “What are you doing?” He asked rhetorically, looking at the pictures of children she had set up for people to see along with information as to how to donate. So she’s using these poor kids for her own selfish reasons?

“Huh?” Sujin hadn’t missed his tone. “Just sign it, its for a good cause. And being charitable will help your image too, no?” She tried appealing to his logic.

“Ooooh,” Seojun mocked, “So you keep up the pretense even when you’re not around Jukyung? Isn’t this a too much, Kang Sujin?”

Sujin’s smile dropped into a snarl, “What?”

“I’m on to you, Kang Sujin.” Seojun got up in her face. “Ah-nee, if you’re going to pretend to be all reformed then you shouldn’t make it too obvious. Charity work is a little too on the nose, don’t you think?”

Sujin stared at him in shock and anger. Seojun suddenly recalled how well Sujin had kicked those thugs who had kidnapped Jukyung back in high school and gulped. He hoped she wouldn’t try to kill him in public but it was too late to take back what he said.

“Han Seojun…” Sujin said through clenched teeth and Seojun prepared for the worst.

Ya Han Seojun! Are you a gangster?!

But she said nothing. Instead she calmed herself, exhaling through her mouth.

“I probably deserve that.” She said, not backing away or cowering from him. She pushed the flier in his chest, “But don’t make these kids suffer because of your anger towards me. They could really use the support.”

Seojun looked down at the flier. He couldn’t sign anything without the consent of his agency. So he folded it up and pocketed it. Along with his pride. He could put his ego aside for a good cause.

“These kids deserve a better person representing them than you.” Seojun said. Sujin pressed her lips tightly.

“Aren’t you being a little too harsh? I’m not the same person anymore. And Jukyung has—”

“You may have everyone else fooled, Kang Sujin. But I will always remember what you are.” With that, Seojun walked away, his hand twitching.

 iv.

The next time they all met up, Seojun made sure to sit between Sujin and Jukyung. He felt uncomfortable because he had to bump shoulders with her, but he would bear it for Jukyung.

Suho gave Seojun a warning look when they all sat down. Don’t do anything excessive, the look said. Seojun ignored it.

He could feel Sujin’s stiffness beside him. This was uncomfortable for her too. Good. If I’m suffering, she should too. But she kept up her polite façade, smiling like nothing bothered her.

Seojun made sure to keep her isolated from Jukyung. He didn’t let her speak to Jukyung, didn’t let her participate in the competitions. He even didn’t let her eat properly.

“Jukyung-ah, did I show you my pictures from—”

“Jukyung-ah, has your sister told you about the tour we’re planning?” Seojun interrupted.

Jukyung would be at a loss as to who to answer and Seojun would move forward, blocking Sujin.

When Suho or Jukyung tried to ask Sujin what she wanted to eat first, he took the first dish he saw and shoved it in front of her.  

“Here, have this Kang Sujin.”

“I don’t want it.” She said with an unamused look.

“Take it.” He ordered in his intimidating baritone.

They glared at each other , Sujin’s face twitching with annoyance. Seojun mentally dared her to snap at him but she swallowed her pride, quite literally, and put on a fake smile.

“Thanks.” She said dryly.

By the end of dinner, Han Seojun had successfully managed to annoy Kang Sujin. Her fake persona was slipping as she clenched her jaw and exhaled excessively to keep her temper in check. Seojun guessed he would have her true personality on display by the end of the night.

“Han Seojun what are you doing?” Suho confronted him outside.

“What did I do?” Seojun feigned ignorance.

“You need to sto—”

“Han Seojun. Let’s talk.” Sujin strode up to them from behind, her face set with determination.

“No.” Seojun said.

“I wasn’t asking. I was telling.” And there she was, the old Sujin. Gone was the politeness and friendly demeanor. She stared boldly at him, almost challenging him to refuse again.

“Seojun-ah, just hear her out.” Jukyung broke through their staring match. Seojun could never say no to her. But he didn’t get a chance to say yes either.

Sujin simply commanded, “Follow me,” and grabbed the collar of his jacket, dragging him away.

“Ya! What are you doing?!” But Kang Sujin was stronger than she looked and Seojun found himself being pulled against his will.

The rest of them could only stare.

“Do you think they’ll be alright?” Suah asked, concerned.

“Nope. I’m certain they’ll kill each other.” Suho replied nonchalantly.

“My money’s on Sujin.” Taehoon and Suah said together.

“You’re on.” Suho replied.

iv.

“Are you crazy? How could you grab me like that?” Seojun smoothened the collar of his coat that Sujin had bunched up in her fist. She had let go when he had said that he would follow enough times. They walked together, Sujin going ahead of him. He quickly put on his mask. “How can a girl be so strong?” He said under his breath. Then spoke aloud, “Is this any way to treat an idol?”

Sujin suddenly turned on her heels, stopping Seojun in his tracks. She was a little too close for comfort and looked intimidated with that unfiltered anger on her face. “Just shut up and follow.”

Seojun put his hands on his hips, tilting his head. He was unimpressed by her tough attitude. He gestured forward with his chin, “Then move.”

He followed her, keeping a small distance between them. She marched forward, taking long strides with her long, long legs. She looked like a general going to war.

“She calls me a thug. She should look at herself.” He mumbled.

Sujin led them to a secluded pocha, street food vendor with small plastic seats housed inside a plastic tent. Seojun adjusted his mask.

“Relax, no one here is going to recognize you.” Sujin said, sensing his discomfort. Indeed, when Seojun looked around, all he saw were hold ahjusshis getting drunk and babbling nonsense. None of them seemed like his fans.

Still, Sujin led them in a corner table and sat where he was hidden by her. She ordered two bottles of soju and side dishes for him. He simply watched with his arms crossed.

The silence between them was awkward and heavy. Neither of them said anything. Han Seojun openly stared at Sujin. Kang Sujin looked everywhere but him. The lady brought them their order. Sujin effortlessly opened a bottle and moved to fill his glass. Seojun put his hand on top of his glass to stop her.

With a sigh, he took the bottle from her and poured for himself. She followed suit. They both took a shot.

Sujin sat up straight, shuffling in her seat. She first looked down at her hands in her lap, then looked up, straight in his eyes.

“Mianhae.” It took him by surprise. More than that, the regret on her face moved him. If only by an inch. “I’m sorry, Han Seojun. What I did back then… I was going through some personal issues, and I took it out on Jukyung. But even that is not a good enough excuse. I shouldn’t have done what I did. And even what I said to you… even after you gave me a chance to delete the video… I’m sorry.” She gulped and Seojun mirrored her. “You were right. I was only destroying myself. I should have seen that. But I have changed now. I’m not the same person. I know you’re important to Jukyung. So I hope we can get along from now on.”

Seojun took another shot. He took a minute, considering her words.

“If its forgiveness you want, then Kang Sujin, there is nothing to forgive between us. Your fight was with Jukyung. Not me.” Sujin appeared relieved till Seojun added, “However, my problem with you isn’t because of old grudges. I just can’t trust you, Kang Sujin. I believe you still will hurt Jukyung, even if you don’t mean to. And I can’t let that happen.”

Sujin’s mouth became small. She jutted her jaw, pouring another shot for herself. She downed it aggressively before responding. “I’m not the same girl anymore. I’m not in love with—”

“I keep hearing that you’ve changed. But have you really? Can you honestly tell me that you’re over him?”

“I am over him.”

“Bull shit. I saw the way you were looking Suho. All throughout dinner—”

“Aren’t you just projecting your own feelings onto me?” Sujin interrupted.

Seojun laughed incredulously, “What?”

“The one who’s not over their unrequited love is you. You’re not over Jukyung.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. All these years you’ve been pretending to be her friend. Aren’t you the one being two faced?”

“I’ve already confessed to her. We even went on a date.” Seojun crossed his arms with a smirk.

This was news to Sujin, “Aah. Is that so? Then isn’t that more pathetic? Even though she clearly doesn’t want you—”

“Ya, Kang Sujin.”

“—you’re still not over her. I too saw how you looked at her. With that pathetic puppy dog expression on your face. Don’t you think this is awkward for Jukyung? Sitting there with her boyfriend and—”

“Shut your damn mouth.”

“Wae? Don’t like it when the tables are turned on you?” Sujin and Seojun glared at each other with hatred. Seojun poured and downed a shot. Sujin swallowed and looked away. This was not how she imagined this conversation going.

“I’m not in love with her.” Seojun declared.

Sujin snorted, “Hul. Then why is it you who is giving me this lecture and not Lee Suho? If I’m really such a threat to Lim Jukyung, then shouldn’t her boyfriend be the one to confront me? What gives you the right to treat me this way?”

Seojun paused. “I can give you a million reasons; that I’m her friend, that even though I’m not her boyfriend, she stills relies on me, that I’m doing this out of humanity.”

Sujin scoffed.

“That I don’t want to lose another friend because of bullying.”

Sujin’s face fell. She licked her lips as she considered his point of view. Then, wordlessly, she poured him a drink.

“I’m not a bully. I never was. I did a shitty thing that I’ve apologized for and now I’d like to move on with my life.” She poured herself a shot of soju too. “I care about Jukyung. I will always regret what I did to her. But I still have a chance at friendship and I am going to take it whether you like it or not.”

They both took the shot. Sujin poured them another.

“We both care about Jukyung. And she would want us to get along, or at least pretend to for her sake.” Sujin gave Seojun a pointed look. The ball was in his court now.

Seojun remembered how uncomfortable Jukyung had been because of his hostility towards Sujin. True, Sujin wasn’t the kind to be trusted. Seojun was a man of action, he didn’t believe in hollow words. But it was also true that fighting with Sujin all the time would cause problems in their peaceful little group. And although he was sure that when it came to it, everyone would choose him and not her, he still held up the shot glass and said, “For Jukyung’s sake.”

v.

The two drunken enemies staggered on the sidewalk, each supporting the other while trying not to fall; a drunk trying to steady another drunk.

“Ah-nee-ya, I’m not *hic* not in love with Jukyung. I don… I don…”

“Arassssso. And I’mf the Pwincess of England.” Sujin slurred, pushing Seojun upright as she tried to hail a taxi.

“Na ah-nee-ya. I’m not. Nope.” Seojun hiccuped.

“Ah just sstand still!” Sujin pushed his body away but his arm was still draped over her shoulder.

“Ah sshutup! Shut up you stupid Suijin!” Seojun started snickering at his own statement, “Hehehe. Stupid Suji. Sujinnie phabo.” Seojun pushed his weight onto her, still chortling.

“Ah stand still!!” Sujin wrapped an arm around his waist to hold him up. She was suddenly very aware of just how tall he was. Even with her own impressive height, he seemed too big.

A taxi finally stopped and Sujin struggled with pushing Seojun inside. She pushed him in with her legs when he bent over on the seat but refused to move further to give her room.

“Where to?” The driver asked when they both were seated.

“Han Seojun, tell him your address.”

Seojun fell to the other side, passed out. Sujin, who herself felt like passing out, leaned over to tap his face, “Han Seojun? Ya! Wake uuup.” He did not.

“Are we leaving or not?” The driver asked impatiently.

Sujin shook Seojun again. He stirred, only to mumble Jukyung’s name and pass out on her shoulder again. Sujin looked at the driver helplessly.

 vi.

The first thing Seojun felt was the pounding headache, it brought him out of a very nice dream he’d been having that he promptly forgot. He could feel his legs sticking out from the side of the bed. In turning over, his elbow punched into something.

“Oof! Ow! What the hell!”

Sujin kicked at him as she pressed her ribs in pain. They both were surprised to find themselves tangled in each other. It took them exactly three seconds to start screaming.

They both flew off the bed, Sujin hitting Seojun repeatedly with her pillow.

“Ow! Ow! Ah! OW!”

“Why. Are. You. In. My. Bed?!”

“Why am I here? Why are you here?”

“This is my room asshole!”

Seojun grabbed Sujin’s wrist to keep her from hitting him. He looked around and indeed it was Sujin’s room.

“What the hell happened?” He asked.

She kicked him in the shin, “How the hell would I know? Explain yourself, Han Seojun!”

“You explain! How can I end up here if you didn’t bring me?”

Sujin’s raised foot, about to kick Seojun, slowly lowered. She was suddenly hit with the memory of last night. Drunkenly trying to enter the code to her door as Seojun whined about missing Jukyung, stumbling into her apartment and dragging Seojun by his collar to the couch, falling on top of him as he fell and then immediately picking herself up and going into her room to pass out.

Seojun put his hands on his hips defiantly, “Kang Sujin. We got drunk last night didn’t we? Aish, chincha. I never thought you’d be the kind of girl to take advantage of a guy like that.”

“Ah-ni-godun! That would never happen! I only brought you here because you wouldn’t tell me your address.”

“Ah, what a nice excuse. And whose idea was it to go drinking any way? Was this your plan all along? Of course, its understandable that you’d want a rebound with the most handsome guy around.”

Sujin scoffed in disbelief. “That’s not the case!” She protested. “And what handsome? I find you laughable.”

“And I find you detestable.”

“Then why did you come into my bedroom when I left you out on the couch?”

A flash of memory sparked in Seojun’s mind; of getting up, using Sujin’s bathroom and going into the bedroom thinking he was at Chorong’s place.

The red spreading on his cheeks was a dead giveaway to Sujin that she had him.

Seojun cleared his throat, “No matter what, this isn’t what it looks like.”

“Of course, it doesn’t.”

They stood there awkwardly for a moment as they wondered what to do next. They both spoke together.

“You should probably go.”

“I should leave.”

A rare agreement. They both nodded in sync.

“But… is there a back door to your apartment? I can risk having my face seen leaving a girl’s apartment.”

Sujin licked her lips as she considered this. “I think I have an idea.”

From the outside, Kang Sujin’s apartment door cracked open, just enough for two heads to poke out to check if the coast was clear. One of those heads was wearing a beanie, a mask and sunglasses. The other was Sujin. They both sneaked out of her apartment and beelined for the emergency stairs.

“Why is your apartment so up high?”

“We can always go in the elevator where my neighbors can see you.”

“I hate you.”

Finally making it out the back exit, the two relaxed.

“How are you going to get home?” She asked him.

“I’ll take the bus. Nobody will recognize me when I’m like this.”

“You shouldn’t underestimate fangirls.”

Seojun chuckled, “Never do. Bye then.”

Seojun turned, then paused, then turned back. “Kang Sujin.” He called out to her just as she was about to go in. “Thanks… for not just abandoning me last night.” It was the most difficult thank-you he had ever said.

Sujin simply nodded. “Get home safely.”

 vii.

Sujin didn’t remember going back up to her apartment, just the click of the door shutting behind her that pulled her out of her daze.

She had just spent the night with Han Seojun. Admittedly, it meant nothing, but it still felt weird and she didn’t know what to do about it.

Maybe I should have asked him to eat before he went. He must have been hungry. She thought. And then scolded herself, Ah-nee, why would I care about him? He doesn’t matter to me anyway.

Traces of Han Seojun still lingered in her apartment; the bedsheet that had fallen on the floor, along with the pillow she had assaulted him with, his spicy scent on the bed and a metal ring on her bedside table that he must have taken off during the night.

Sujin held up the ring, looking through it. She would give it to him later, if they met again. She hoped they didn’t. She was already dreading the thought of encountering him again.

Kang Sujin didn’t let herself think too much about last night. She changed her sheets, showered and firmly put all thoughts of a certain idol out of her mind. He was just a silly twerp who had been a thug in high school and was now just an idol. He had nothing to do with her, nor she with him.

She had better things to do, like her work.

If you’re going to pretend to be all reformed then you shouldn’t make it too obvious. Charity work is a little too on the nose, don’t you think?

Nope, she wasn’t going to let that idiot get to her. Who was he to treat her like this? Next time she saw him, she would kick him in the face. Yes, that’s what she would do.

I keep hearing that you’ve changed. But have you really? Can you honestly tell me that you’re over him?

All day long Sujin’s hand twitched with the need to be scrubbed clean. They kept getting clammy and sticky. She wanted to scrub, scurb, scurb them of all the dirt and the grime and the filth of her past self. Sujin had believed that she had kicked this bad habit of unnecessarily cleaning her hands, but apparently she hadn’t.

My problem with you isn’t because of old grudges. I just can’t trust you, Kang Sujin. I believe you still will hurt Jukyung, even if you don’t mean to.

“Well who the hell wants your trust?” Sujin argued with the wind.

“Is everything okay?” One of the girls she worked with asked.

“What? Oh-um-yeah. Everything is fine! Just… talking to myself.” She put on a fake cheery attitude and shook her head.

It was only when Sujin’s day was finally over, and she was back in her empty apartment, leaning against her front door, that let herself feel the misery she had been suppressing.

Of course that Han Seojun hates me. What reason does he have not to?

Even the person who had been obligated to love and protect her, had only ever seen her as worthless. If her own father, couldn’t treat her with decency, then why should she expect a stranger to?

Her small apartment suddenly seemed so much bigger now. Big and empty, with shadows extending from the ground to the roof.

Kang Sujin, were you always such a piece of trash?

She hadn’t answered him back then. But in these quiet moments, she allowed herself to admit, “Yes, Han Seojun. I was always such a worthless piece of trash.”

Back when she had been a kid—running away from her problems in school, from what she had done to Jukyung—she would let this darkness take over. It would eat her inside and out till she was just a shell. However, now that he had grown up, she had learned how to deal with this on her own.

Sujin pushed herself off of the door and walked into her room, turning on all of the lights. Rest, she needed rest. And food, before anything else. Most of the time her depression would just be weakness caused by hunger. She was indeed careless with her health.

Her phone buzzed suddenly. It was a message from Jukyung. She would respond later. First she would spend time on herself. But then, almost immediately, there was a message from Suah. Then Suho. Even Taehoon. Then the phone lit up with a call from Jukyung.

“What’s going o—”

“Kang Sujin, have you seen the articles?”

“What?”

“There’s articles about you and Seojun dating.”

“WHAT?” It took Sujin a full minute to process what Jukyung was saying. She was speaking but Sujin didn’t hear the rest. Jukyung’s voice was muted from the speaker as Sujin searched through Naver for her and Seojun’s name.

“It’s all over the internet.” Jukyung was saying. “Someone’s posted pictures of you and Seojun together. Sujin-ah. Is that really you? Are you and Seojun dating?”

The room began to spin and Sujin had the urge to kick someone in the face.

“Jukyung-ah. I’ll call you back.”

What the hell happened?”

The articles Sujin found showed her and Seojun exiting her building. It was from this morning. Seojun’s face was well hidden but she could be clearly seen. From the way the pictures were taken, it looked as if the two were involved in something together.

Sujin’s phone suddenly lit up with an unknown number. She knew it could only be Han Seojun.

She pressed answer.

Some JunJin images I came up with just for fun

[thewitchandtheassassin]

That World (Natasha Romanoff x Reader)

Summary: Part two of “Alone With You” happy ending style.

Words: 3171

Warnings: Uh, alcohol, language and some angst? Lemme know if I missed something.

A/N: Holy shit. One hundred percent wasn’t expecting a longer fic to be my coming back fic but this thing had a mind of its own. And, I just really want to thank y’all for sticking around. It means so much and I’m happy to say I think I’ll be staying for a while this time. But either way, WE GOT A NEW STORY HOLY FUCK!

-X-

She knew she shouldn’t have walked out. She knew it wasn’t what she’d wanted, but the words had gotten stuck in her throat and she couldn’t bring herself to let them slide off her tongue. So, instead, she’d taken the coward’s way out and left.

Left you broken just beyond the door closing behind her.

You’d never just been a way to pass time. Well, maybe in the beginning it had started out like that, but after the third time you’d let her in, something warm started creeping into her chest. You’d always assumed multiple people kept her company but the truth was…

There was only you.

She hadn’t meant to keep you in the dark – to make you feel the way you did – but she’d wanted to protect you (or maybe she was protecting herself. Those lines were a little blurred, if she was being honest with herself). She thought letting the distance hold you apart would keep you both safe but all it seemed to do was break hearts.

-X-

Hours became days and before Natasha realized it, it’d been a month since she’d heard you, seen you. She’d ignored it at first – the longing gripping her chest – but it was becoming overwhelming. She was reckless and withdrawn (more than normal). She was snappy and irritable and the team was worried.

“Nat, seriously, what’s going on?” Clint asked, flopping down beside Natasha on the couch in the common room.

Rolling her eyes, Natasha jerked to another page in her book, eyes scanning but not seeing the words printed. “Nothing.”

He reached out, grabbing her wrist calmly. “That’s a lie and we both know it. Talk to me.”

Natasha swallowed drily, fingers flexing around the book in her hands. Her tongue felt like it weighed a million pounds inside her mouth, threatening to suffocate her if she dare speak. A familiar pain traveled through her, the icy memory of the Red Room’s punishments creeping up her veins and pooling in her stomach.

Clint was startled to see tears filling Natasha’s eyes and he ripped the book from her, tossing it aside and gathering her in his arms. One hand stroked her hair while the other kept her close, murmuring soft reassurances to her.

“I fucked up,” Natasha hiccupped. “I-I should’ve stayed. I should’ve told her…”

His brows furrowed but Clint remained silent, waiting for his oldest friend to continue.

“All she wanted was for me to stay and I didn’t,” she whispered. “I never wanted to hurt her.”

Something dawned on Clint. “Is she who you used to go see after missions?” he inquired carefully, ignoring the tension that seemed to stiffen her muscles.

“…yes.”

Nodding, Clint leaned back and brushed a lock of hair from Natasha’s face. “If you’re this upset, you need to go to her. Tell her you regret leaving that night – that you regret leaving her. Wallowing isn’t doing anyone any good,” he advised, smiling sympathetically.

“I’m afraid she won’t forgive me,” she admitted brokenly. “I never told her anything. Not about missions or my life or anything. I kept her so far in the dark that I don’t know how to bring her into the light now.”

“You’ll never know until you talk to her,” Clint said. “If you care about her this much, you need to talk to her. Otherwise it’ll be entirely your own fault that you lost her.” He knew his words were harsh, but she needed to hear them. If he tried sugarcoating it, she’d never leave the couch.

Natasha’s face scrunched as she forced back tears. He was right. As much as she wished he wasn’t, he absolutely was.

“Okay,” she breathed, determination befalling her features. “Okay.”

Clint smiled, patting her shoulder as he stood. “C’mon. I’ll drive.”

-X-

The drive to your apartment was silent aside from the incessant tapping of Natasha’s fingers on her thigh. She was trying to prepare her speech, like she was readying for battle, but she knew the moment she looked into your eyes it’d be useless. This wasn’t something she could sweep under the rug with a seductive look or a sensual kiss. She had to actually talk.

She was going to throw up.

Sudden terror gripped her as they stopped in front of the building. “I can’t do this.”

Clint chuckled and shook his head. “Yes, you can. Go talk to her. I’ll wait here until you say otherwise.”

Bottom lip snagged between her teeth, Natasha inhaled sharply and tossed open the car door before storming inside and up to your floor. With every step her heart thudded a little harder, but she ventured on, blinking sporadically to keep the tears at bay. Fist balled tight, she knocked twice behind rocking on her heels.

Silence.

One…

Two…

Three…

Four…

Natasha’s head tilted. Only stillness greeted her as she stared at the door mocking her. She couldn’t hear anything on the other side, which was bizarre considering your floor creaked just at the entrance.

Her eyebrows nearly touched as she tentatively reached forward and knocked again. It was well past nine at night, so where the hell were you? A nasty thought crossed her thoughts and she faltered. What if you’d already moved on? What if you were on a date? What if they were in there?

The old woman who lived next door peered out of her apartment and stared at her. She could see the emotions warring on the beautiful woman’s face.

“Excuse me, miss,” the woman called, garnering Natasha’s attention. “She’s not there.”

Natasha’s head snapped around. “O-oh. Do you know when she’ll be back?”

The woman’s pursed lips concerned Natasha. “I don’t think you understand, sweetie. She doesn’t live here anymore. Moved out about two weeks ago.”

All the blood drained from Natasha’s face and her lips parted slightly, a deeper concern blossoming in her stomach.

“None of us know where she went either,” she admitted. “We just saw her leave one day and the next, the landlord was trying to find new renters. It’s a shame too. She was lovely. Always helped me with my groceries.”

“She’s…gone?” Natasha repeated slowly, glancing at your door like she expected you to throw it open and laugh at your elaborate joke. This was just a joke…right?

Smiling sadly at Natasha, the old woman studied her. As a former nurse, she’d seen many people walk into her hospital with a similar expression; regret and devastation marring their features, waiting for someone to yell “surprise” or hoping to wake up from a bad dream.

She silently prayed this woman would someday find you and right whatever wrong caused that look; she’d always hated that look.

“I’m sorry, honey,” she mumbled before closing her door, the quiet click sounding like a thunderous boom in Natasha’s ears.

The urge to slump to her knees was crippling but Natasha forced herself upright and staggered out of your (former) building, dragging herself towards Clint’s car. Her fingers felt numb as she gripped the handle, dropping into the passenger seat. She said nothing and he didn’t push.

You were gone.

-X-

Traveling the country had never been something you’d really considered before. You liked having a steady home, steady relationships – a steady life. But two weeks after Natasha walked out of your door, you decided to throw caution to the wind and try it. You had more than enough money to survive for a while so you tossed your bigger items into the storage and began a trek across the country, headed west.

Was it irresponsible to quit your job and break your lease all because a woman didn’t love you? Probably, but you didn’t care. You needed something new; something wild that could help mend the shattered shards of your heart.

So you found yourself in a little town in Ohio two weeks into your trip, a cheap beer in hand as you looked around the bar. You weren’t trying to catch anyone’s eye, merely curious of your surroundings. Plenty of people were scattered about, filling the air with small-town liveliness.

A feminine hand caught your attention out of your peripheral and you discretely glanced over. Long digits traced across the edge of the wood.

“I might be mistaken but I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen you around here before.” Her voice was like a warm breeze in the middle of September and you couldn’t stop yourself from gazing at her.

She was pretty, relatively speaking, though she didn’t hold a candle to the woman who’d prompted this trip. But she might be pretty enough to help you forget.

“You’re not wrong,” you smirked, sipping your beer as you watched her eyes flicker to your lips.

She offered her hand, skin smooth and gentle against yours. “I’m Lucy.”

“(Y/N),” you replied, letting your fingers brush the palm of her hand as you let go.

Hopping onto the stool beside you, she raised a finger and the bartender handed her a drink. You weren’t sure if he’d been simply waiting for the gesture or if it was just a lucky coincidence but you weren’t going to question it. You were a stranger, what did you know?

“So, what brings you here?” Lucy asked, raising her glass to glossed lips.

You shrugged. It’d sound pathetic to admit all of this started because of a woman, right? An Avenger but still…

“Road trip,” you hummed, eyes drifting through the crowd again.

Lucy chuckled, smirking at you over the rim of her drink. “I’ve heard a lot of people say that but that’s never the full story, is it?”

Your gaze jerked back to her and her smirk deepened.

“Boyfriend troubles – or girlfriend?” she wondered, her glass thumping on the bar as she set it down.

Sighing, you acknowledged her probing with a humorless laugh. “Technically? Neither. She was never my girlfriend.”

Lucy’s brow arched, curiosity brimming in green eyes. “Oh?”

You downed your beer. “Yeah…” you didn’t exactly want to offer information but the need to vent was pulsating into your bones. No one knew the story; hell, no one had even known you had an occasional bed partner. “I had feelings for her but she walked out and never came back, so I decided a trip across the country wasn’t such a bad idea.”

Lucy gave an apologetic hiss and patted your arm. “Ouch.”

“But,” the corner of your mouth tugged up, “I’m sure some good company would help take the sting out a little.”

-X-

Finding out you had left was a blow Natasha hadn’t anticipated. She’d considered calling you from Clint’s car but the idea you had blocked her number gave her pause. You’d left for a reason, so she should honor that…

And she did try.

But, as another week drifted into two, she was crumbling inside. She’d spent many years trying to correct all the mistakes she’d made over in her youth but now she had no idea how to fix this one. You’d never been hers – though through no fault of your own – but it felt like you’d taken a chunk of her heart wherever you had gone.

In the end, it wasn’t even her who found you.

Tony Stark was many things: arrogant, a billionaire playboy, but not stupid. He’d seen Natasha losing herself and, while he might butt heads with her often, he hated the misery that lingered on the outskirts of green. So, as any friend would do, he stole her phone.

Your number was easy to find since it was the only “civilian” number on there, aside from Laura Barton. Natasha was nothing if not minimalistic.

Minutes later, he pinged your phone and had FRIDAY tracking it.

“Boss, what should I do with this information?” the AI wondered, curious – well, as curious as an AI could be.

“Send it to Agent Romanoff and tell her I better be her best man at the wedding,” Tony replied coolly, wandering off to go bug Pepper before Natasha could come skin him alive.

When FRIDAY alerted her of Tony’s meddling, she did consider hurting him for less than a second before she was racing out of the Compound and towards a jet. Yes, flying a million dollar get to win back her not-ex’s heart was dramatic but she was an Avenger.

And Avengers were good at dramatics.

-X-

You hadn’t left that little Ohio town yet, which honestly surprised you. After spending a night drinking with Lucy, you’d followed her home…

And slept on her couch.

She’d been wonderful to talk to – and you’d been right about the company – but sleeping with her had never been an option. You weren’t going to use someone like that, even if she was a stranger. But, she’d offered her couch and nearly two weeks later, you were still there. She’d argued with you about finding a motel, telling you she liked having someone to fill the silence of her little apartment.

So you stayed.

Right now, you were tucked in a little coffee shop, a mug in front of you as you waited for Lucy. She was off getting things ready for her upcoming art gallery in town so you’d been left to your own devices (which was fine). You were absently flicking through your social medias, listening to the locals discuss a plane that had touched down outside of town. You weren’t really paying any attention to it but the silence that enveloped the shop as the door opened certainly caught your notice.

You peeked over your shoulder, eyes widening as a disheveled – but still unnaturally beautiful – Natasha strolled over. She looked dress for war, but the uncertainty in her eyes left you frozen. In all the months you’d known her, she’d never looked so scared before. Like you were a wild cat that would either spring at her or dash away if she got too close.

“Hi,” she greeted, voice raspy and alluring.

You gaped, your throat suddenly so dry that it burned. You could tell your silence hurt Natasha but your lack of running away helped lessen the fear swirling inside her stomach. She cautiously grabbed the chair across from yours and dragged it closer, though she kept a respectable distance between you.

“W-why…how…um, huh?” you sputtered, trying to gather your thoughts. You had so many questions that wanted out and no idea how to ask them.

“You left New York,” she stated plainly, as if that explained everything – which, it did not.

“Yes?” you replied, though it definitely sounded like a question at that point.

Natasha cleared her throat, green dancing between your mug and the floor. “I was a coward,” she muttered, “The night you said you couldn’t do what we were doing anymore. I wanted to stay, but I was scared. Scared of what happens if I let you get too close; scared you wouldn’t like the real me. So, I left. But when I came to talk, you were gone.”

Her gaze almost felt accusing but you both knew she wasn’t angry with you.

“I –” you stopped yourself from apologizing. You hadn’t done anything wrong. You were the wounded party.

But looking at her, you wondered if maybe you weren’t the only one hurting.

“I shouldn’t have left,” she continued, lip trapped between perfect teeth. “I should’ve stayed when you asked and I’m sorry I didn’t. I should’ve told you I wanted more too. I should’ve given you everything instead of taking it. You were never just fun for me – and I wish I’d told you that sooner.”

“Nat,” you exhaled, watching her shoulders slump. “I wish you had too.”

She nodded, her hair obscuring your view, hiding that face you loved so much. “I know I don’t have a right to ask, but can we try again? Try to have something real this time? I can’t promise I’ll be perfect but I really want to give us a shot. Because losing you? It was one of the worst things I’ve ever felt.”

Your tongue was lead in your mouth, pressing it to your teeth. Thoughts swam through your mind at millions of miles per second and you wondered for a moment if you were dreaming. The air felt ten degrees hotter and you were fairly certain everyone was looking at you but you didn’t dare look away for even a millisecond.

“Hey, everything okay?” Lucy.

You didn’t even know she had arrived and suddenly the world felt like it was tipping on its axis. Natasha’s hair fluttered as her head snapped to the new arrival and you could see her heart turning to dust as she assumed the worst. Lucy’s eyes were on you but yours never left Natasha.

She didn’t say a word, merely kicking out of the chair and rushing from the shop, leaving you stunned. Another flurry of emotions and thoughts erupted in your brain but you knew one thing: you had find her.

You couldn’t lose her again.

Bolting off your chair, you lurched out of the shop and glanced about frantically. A glimpse of her black outfit was the only sign she’d ever existed in this little town and you surged after her, pushing your muscles in a way you hadn’t since you were forced to run a mile in gym.

You weren’t going to let her leave you again. If she left, there wasn’t going to be a third chance – and you knew it.

Catching her arm just outside of the trees that you assumed lead to her jet, you dragged her to a halt, breath escaping you in pants as you stared at the back of her head. This felt like something out of a stupid romantic comedy but that wasn’t your biggest concern.

“Natasha,” you started, though she hurriedly cut you off.

“It’s okay,” she sniffed, clearly fighting off her sorrow. “I get it. You don’t have to explain.” She was silently begging you not to. She couldn’t handle it if you did.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” you assured her, tugging on the skin-tight material clinging to her body. “Lucy’s just a friend I made when I stopped here. She’s not…we’re not…”

Instead of struggling to find the words, you simply jerked on Natasha’s arm, bringing her crashing into you. Her hands found your shoulders and yours cupped her face, thumbs brushing the stray tears away. You had so much you wanted to say but you’d been taught actions speak louder than words so with a rush of courage, your lips brushed hers.

She gasped, her lips still against your own and you wondered if you’d made a mistake. But, as she sagged into you, she fervently brought her mouth to yours, kissing you desperately. She clung to you like you’d disappear, arms coming around your neck to keep you close.

When air became a necessity, you pressed your forehead against hers and smiled. “Want to take a road trip with me?” you asked breathlessly, giggling as she nodded without hesitation.

“Yes.”

Maybe this was that world after all.

[witchbitchheadedtoaditch]

Shadow Work Prompts Part 2

Hello my loves! I'm going to add some more shadow work prompts (primarily because... Kaye needs to do shadow work and maybe this will convince them to do it. (It won't. We all know it won't. But we can hope....))

I'm gonna put these below the cut just so people don't have to scroll through this long as fuck list on their dash if they don't want to see them lol

Some of these are really, really heavy, and do touch on things like sexual assault, abuse, death, etc., so this is the trigger warning for you.

A lot of these are also focused on women and AFAB folks because I'm trying to reconcile with my femininity and whatnot.

Anne Carson Quotes

You remember too much, my mother said to me recently. Why hold onto all that? And I said, Where can I put it down?

Why does tragedy exist? Because you are full of rage. Why are you full of rage? Because you are full of grief.

Words bounce. Words, if you let them, will do what they want to do and what they have to do.

Eros is an issue of boundaries. He exists because certain boundaries do. ... Eros: the boundary of flesh and self between you and me.

Desire is no light thing.

It is easier to tell a story of how people wound one another than of what binds them together.

Reality is a sound, you have to tune in to it not just keep yelling.

All mortals owe a debt to death.

...sex is a substitute, like money or language.

...your story begins the moment Eros enters you. That incursion is the biggest risk of your life. How you handle it is an index of the quality, wisdom, and decorum of the things inside you.

Myths are stories about people who become too big for their lives temporarily, so that they crash into other lives or brush against gods. In crisis their souls are visible.

Philosophers say man forms himself in dialogue.

There is no person without a world.

If there is anything dearer than being alive, it's dark to me.

We humans seem disastrously in love with this thing... life.

The underworld's a blank and all the rest just fantasy.

Caught between the tongue and the taste.

What is mortality after all but divine doubt flashing over us? For an instant God suspends assent and poof! we disappear.

Girls are cruelest to themselves.

What really connects words and things?

Blessed be they whose lives do not taste of evil

Perhaps the hardest thing about losing a lover is to watch the year repeat its days.

Consider incompleteness as a verb.

You can get used to anything, my mother was in the habit of saying.

I am talking about evil. It blooms. It eats. It grins.

I don't want to be a person. I want to be unbearable.

Beauty makes me hopeless.

The dead... are victims of love, many of them.

To live past the end of your myth is a perilous thing.

You read a hundred military manuals you won't find the word kill they trick you into killing.

I went mad, a god hurt me, I fell.

Those nights lying alone are not discontinuous with this cold hectic dawn. It is who I am.

Love does not make me gentle or kind.

Your grief is as great as your splendor was: some god is weighing the one out equal to the other.

You can never know enough, never work enough, ... never leave the mind quickly enough.

Language is what eases the pain of living with other people, language is what makes the wounds come open again.

Where does unbelief begin?

Everything that is me is with me.

A wound gives off its own light...

I began to think I was someone thirsting for God.

You are a person in love with the impossible.

When we are denied a story, a light goes off.

Some conversations are not what they're about.

I lack myself.

Who knows what will happen if I'm alone with my grief.

I... forbid that you should ever lose your screams.

You are not a god. You are not that enlarged self. Indeed, you are not even a whole self, as you now see. Your new knowledge of possibilities is also a knowledge of what is lacking in the actual.

There is a loneliness that fills the plain.

The women of mythology regularly lose their form in monstrosity.

We live by waters breaking out of the heart.

Time as hunger. Time passing and gazing. Time as perseverance. Mountain time. Time as paper folded to look like a mountain. Time compared to the wild fantastic silence of stars.

What are we made of but hunger and rage?

When I look at you, even for a moment, no speaking is left in me.

Kelly Cherry Quotes

I didn't find my story; it found me.

There is blood everywhere and I am lost in it. I breathe blood, not air.

The story of [their] great-grandfather [or any ancestor]... was [their] own story, too.

Ashe Vernon Quotes

Don't you dare, for one minute, believe that my kindness makes me anything but insurmountable.

Understand that I am not your next victim in a laundry list of broken girls.

I will eat you alive before I let you make a meal of me.

What they don't tell you about standing up for what you believe in is that your feet will bruise and your legs will ache.

I'd like to take a moment to submit a formal apology to my soft parts because they kept me warm when I was trying to freeze to death, and I hated them for it.

I let myself be afraid.

When you learn you are only as good as your beauty routine, you forget how to define yourself by anything else.

I will know how to be vulnerable with you, but I won't know how to not regret it.

I know how to put my body inside someone else's but not how to make it beautiful.

I love better at a distance.

I am as much lion as I am lion tamer.

I got good at inflicting pain the same way I got good at soothing it.

Quit picking old wounds and going tor walks in the aches and pains you already made it through--you call it healing, but it sounds like a good way to take a haunting home with you.

I am a cathedral of almost-lovers

Louise Gluck Quotes

We look at the world once, in childhood. The rest is memory.

I thought that pain meant I was not loved. It meant I loved.

The soul is silent. If it speaks at all it speaks in dreams.

Intense love always leads to mourning.

You will never let go, you will never be satiated.

It will feed you, it will ravish you, it will not keep you alive.

Why love what you will lose? There is nothing else to love.

I speak because I am shattered.

I don't need your praise to survive.

Whatever returns from oblivion returns to find a voice.

Nakedness in women is always a pose. I was not transfigured. I would never be free.

The unsaid, for me, exerts great power.

I am tired of human... I want to live on the sun

Death cannot harm me more than you have harmed me, my beloved life.

There are places like this... you enter as a young girl... you never return.

Writing is a kind of revenge against circumstance, too: bad luck, loss, pain. If you make something out of it, then you've no longer been bested by these events.

The riddle was: why couldn't we live in the mind. The answer was: the barrier of the earth intervened.

It is true that there is not enough beauty in the world. It is also true that I am not competent to restore it. Neither is there candor, and here I may be of some use.

You're not a creature in body. You exist as the stars exist, participating in their stillness, their immensity.

And then, suddenly, something is over.

You must be taught to love me. Human beings must be taught to love silence and darkness.

Sappho Quotes

Someone will remember us/I say/even in another time.

Their heart grew cold. They let their wings down.

What cannot be said will be wept.

What is beautiful is good, and who is good will soon be beautiful

Once again love drives me on, that loosener of limbs, bittersweet creature against which nothing can be done.

Love shook my heart like the wind on the mountain rushing over the oak trees

Love is a cunning weaver of fantasies and fables.

I know not what to do, my mind is divided.

The female creature is a letter.

No holy place existed without us then

She who loves roses must be patient and not cry when she is pierced by thorns.

Because I prayed this word: I want.

If you had a desire for good or beautiful things and your tongue were not concocting some evil to say, shame would not hold down your eyes but rather you would speak about what is just.

Wealth without virtue is no harmless neighbor.

I am weary of all your words and soft, strange ways.

Paisley Rekdal Quotes

Does it offend you to watch me working in it, touching my hands to the greening tips or tearing the yellow stalks back, so wild the living and dead both snap off in my hands?

I can wait longer than sadness.

It is such a small thing to be proud of.

Should I, too, not be loved?

We are even now still so young

I loved him. I loved forgiving him.

Yasmin Belkhyr Quotes

Contrary to wound, I still know nothing of defeat.

Contrary to ache, I still know nothing of guilt.

I help: a good daughter.

Someone always ends up holding something mangled.

It wasn't enough to feel... he had to see, to know.

Adrienne Rich Quotes

There must be those among whom we can sit down and weep and still be counted as warriors.

Lying is done with words, and also with silence

Responsibility to yourself means refusing to let others do your thinking, talking, and naming for you; it means learning to respect and use your own brains and instincts; hence, grappling with hard work.

When a woman tells the truth she is creating the possibility for more truth around her.

My heart is moved by all I cannot save: so much has been destroyed

If you are trying to transform a brutalized society into one where people can live in dignity and hope, you begin with the empowering of the most powerless. You build from the ground up.

Until we know the assumptions in which we are drenched, we cannot know ourselves.

The truth of our bodies and our minds has been mystified to us.

It will take all your heart, it will take all your breath. It will be short, it will not be simple.

You look at me like an emergency.

The unconscious wants truth. It ceases to speak to those who want something else more than truth.

In a world where language and naming are power, silence is oppression, is violence.

There is no 'the truth', 'a truth'--truth is not one thing, or even a system. It is an increasing complexity. The pattern of the carpet is a surface. When we look closely, or when we become weavers, we learn of the tiny multiple threads unseen in the overall pattern, the knots on the underside of the carpet.

The moment of change is the only poem

There is nothing revolutionary whatsoever about the control of women's bodies by men. The woman's body is the terrain on which the patriarchy is erected.

The scars bear witness but whether to repair or to destruction I no longer know.

Not biology, but ignorance of ourselves, has been the key to our powerlessness

What kind of beast would turn its life into words?

Truthfulness, honor, is not something which springs ablaze of itself; it has been created between people.

You touched me in places so deep I wanted to ignore you

Silence can be a plan rigorously executed, the blueprint to a life, it is a presence, it has a history, a form. Do not confuse it with any kind of absence.

Most women have not even been able to touch this anger, except to drive it inward like a rusted nail.

We have lived with violence for so long.

This is my body, take it and destroy it

We have been raised to fear the yes within ourselves, our deepest cravings. And the fear of our deepest cravings keeps them suspect, keeps us docile and loyal and obedient, and leads us to settle for... many facets of our own oppression.

Every journey into the past is complicated by delusions, false memories, false namings of real events.

A language is a map of our failures.

The more I live the more I think two people together is a miracle.

Poetry is, among other things, a criticism of language.

How do you make it, all the way from here to morning?

An honorable human relationship--that is, one in which two people have the right to use the word "love"--is a process, delicate, violent, often terrifying to both persons involved, a process of refining the truths they can tell each other.

You grieve in loneliness, and if I understand you fuck in loneliness.

We write from the marrow of our bones.

The liar has many friends, and leads an existence of great loneliness

We must use what we have to invent what we desire.

William Styron Quotes

We're all in this game together.

In depression this faith in deliverance, in ultimate restoration, is absent. The pain is unrelenting, and what makes the condition intolerable is the foreknowledge that no remedy will come-not in a day, an hour, a month, or a minute.

It is hopelessness even more than pain that crushes the soul

We each devise our means of escape from the intolerable.

Reading--the best state yet to keep absolute loneliness at bay.

Judging whether life is or is not worth living amounts to answering the fundamental question of philosophy.

Let your love flow out on all living things.

Loss in all of its manifestations is the touchstone of depression--in the progress of the disease and, most likely, in its origin.

Kai Cheng Thom Quotes

I wanted to protect you, but I'm starting to think that the best thing you can do for people is teach them how to protect themselves. Every girl needs to be at least a little dangerous.

A sanctuary is a place where the door only locks from the inside.

Sometimes to be somebody else, you have to be nobody first.

You will be able to stop hurting people when you stop hurting yourself.

When you're a child trapped in a situation of physical or psychological depravation, you learn shame as an efficient, elegant mechanism of survival: shame simultaneously shields you from the reality that danger is out of your control (since the problem is not that you're unloved and deprived; it's that you're Bad) and prevents you from doing or saying anything challenging that might provoke a threat.

It's good for you to cry sometimes. Even if there isn't a reason.

When you live in a community of queers, anarchists, & activists, crisis is the baseline and stability an outlier.

You are mine like nothing has ever been before.

Safety is, I believe, an inherently classed, raced, and gendered experience that frequently runs the risk of being used for regressive ends--ironically, for restricting the freedoms of the vulnerable, those who are never really safe. Often, we see the call for safety actually reinforce the power of oppressive institutions, like the police and the prison system, in our lives. When we choose safety over liberation, our movements fail.

When they looked at me and my sister, even their love was hungry.

Some people will cling on to anything that makes them feel even a little bit free.

Forget, if you can, all the promises you've ever made and the lies that you've told.

Once you start hurting people, you can't stop

I feel tired. I don't want to be myself anymore.

Sometimes it's important to be alive.

Sometimes, there is nothing you can do but surrender.

You are always disappearing in the hope of being seen. You are always shrinking to fit into someone else's arms. You are collapsing ever inward, a galaxy to become smaller.

Gregory Orr Quotes

If we're not supposed to dance, why all this music?

Even hell is holy.

I was born with a knife in one hand and a wound in the other.

Maybe she loved me, maybe not--who knows? Not even the gods can see into a human heart--it's that dark.

Writing often reveals us to ourselves, lets us name what's important to us and what has been silent or silenced inside us.

And to live only once--what if that's not enough?

Maybe it was always simple: loss surrounds us. Who would deny it? We ourselves are loss, are lost.

I want to study the book of the world: every vanishing page.

The dead sing us songs I'm learning to answer.

[purple-phantoms]

Happiest Place on Earth

Modern!Reggie Peters x Gender-Neutral!Reader, Luke Patterson x Alex Mercer

Based off of: #95 from my bucket list, Spend the whole day at Magic Kingdom

A/N: This was requested by @i-should-be-writing-my-own-fic ! This is mostly going to be based off of research and memory. I’ve been to Magic Kingdom before, but only when I was 7 so I barely remember anything. In school a couple years ago I used to plan out which hotel I was going to stay in and which rides I wanted to go on lol. It’s such a shame that the pandemic had to hit. Also I’m basing this off of Disney World in Florida because I’m more familiar with that one. This is super long and not great, but hope you like it!

Summary: Y/n, Alex, Luke, and Reggie spend the day at Disney’s Magic Kingdom. Y/n and Reggie stay together while Luke and Alex pair up. Both groups try to hide their relationships from the other, until everything magically unfolds.

Masterlist

For reference, if you’ve never been to Disney World and have no idea what the rides are, I’m including links to pictures I used to write this.

For “Peter Pan’s Flight”: Youtube video, Google Images link

For “Be Our Guest”: Disney World website, Pinterest image

For “Pirates of the Caribbean”: Youtube video

For “Splash Mountain”: TikTok from Pinterest, Youtube video

The warm sun rose on the concrete. Thousands of people lined up outside the gates to purchase their tickets for the giant themepark. Them and the boys waited anxiously. They were just about to get to buy their tickets but there was a giant family of 7 in front of them. It felt like years before they called the next people. It felt like centuries before they were allowed to enter the paradise. The four of them split up into pairs; Alex and Luke, and Y/n and Reggie. They wanted to go their separate ways and go on all the rides possible and occasionally meet up to get food and relax.

The first stop for y/n and Reggie was to Cinderella’s castle for pictures. Reggie dragged them by the hand to get as close to the castle, pushing past a lot of people in the process. In their bag was a polaroid camera. It probably wasn’t the best idea to bring something like that to a theme park where it could easily be misplaced or stolen, but memories, right? Y/n took pictures of Reggie first. He did some poses both facing away from the castle and facing the castle. Next was y/n’s turn. Now, y/n was smart. They bought some Disney related things way before the trip. They bought Mickey Mouse earrings and ears for their outfit. Y/n did the same as Reggie and took pictures facing away and towards the castle.

Next stop was to It’s a Small World in Fantasyland. Y/n and Reggie sat in the boat together and swayed to the music as they started moving in the ride. The animatronics were cool but really creepy at the same time. “What if one of those just exploded like in a sci-fi movie,” y/n laughed. Most times y/n was capable of correctly anticipating what would come next in a ride. They could tell that this was just a chill ride, but it’s always fun to imagine the unlikely.

“If that happens, you should just snatch one of them up, and then we just have to run,” Reggie smiled as they laughed. Y/n and Reggie were always the ones in the group who thought that way. Obviously, they wouldn’t actually do that, but that doesn’t mean that it wouldn’t be cool if they did.

Next they went to Peter Pan’s flight. Peter Pan had always been one of Reggie’s favorite characters because of his youth. Obviously before getting in line y/n had to take a picture of Reggie. God, he was gorgeous.

The wait was longer than what they had expected but it was worth it. The scenery was a beautiful sight. When they finally got to the end of the line, they gingerly entered their cart. The ride was chill like the one they had been on before. Reggie kissed y/n on the cheek before laying his head on y/n’s shoulder as they travelled through Neverland. All the animatronics looked so life-like and accurate to the movie. It would be crazy not to take just a few pictures.

The pair got off the ride and went on to the next one, then the next one, until they got hungry. Reggie texted Luke and Alex to find a place to meet up. They decided on the Be Our Guest restaurant. Once they all arrived, they felt underdressed. The restaurant looked exactly how you’d expect it to if you were living in the castle. The walls and tiles were yellow and blue, and the ceiling was painted with a renaissance-like picture. 

“You guys seriously couldn’t have picked a more low-key place to eat?” Luke grumbled. This kind of thing had never been his style. He “hated” talking about the Disney princesses, he said they were too “feminine” for him.

“We came for the vibe, not the reality, loser,” Alex said. Reggie and y/n shook their heads. Sitting down for a little bit was quite refreshing. All 4 of them ate all the food they ordered, and it was a lot. But hey, they need their energy! 

They sat in a little silence as they waited for their bill to arrive. They were all ready to go on more rides, but also ready for a nap. It’s too bad they were only spending the day there. A kick to the foot knocked y/n out of their daydream. “Ow,” they shouted.

“Oh sorry,” Alex said. “Me and Luke are going to be right back.” Y/n and Reggie looked at each other and laughed.

“Reggie, get your friends,” y/n laughed. Alex and Luke had been like this for a while now, and it was a little weird.

“I think they just went to take pictures,” Reggie shrugged. Y/n laughed.

“Yeah, of each other’s lips,” y/n said. Alex and Luke being a couple was always a theory that y/n and Reggie would talk about. After all, most times movie nights are with a group of people, not just with one person. Well it’s not like y/n and Reggie could speak on that either. They didn’t want Alex and Reggie to know about their relationship because they just wanted to keep it to themselves. 

Then the couple pair came back. Alex looked completely normal while Luke’s shirt was super wrinkled.... like as if someone was grabbing at it.

“So where did you two go,” y/n asked with a smirk. Bothering Alex when he’s flustered was always a funny sight. He would never be able to say a single thing without chuckling or running his fingers through his hair.

“We uh-” Luke had to pause to think. “We went to go find a map.” Then he pulled one out of his back pocket, which he totally had way before. Le-let’s go on the Pirates of the Caribbean ride,” He stuttered.

“Thought you don’t like that stuff,” Reggie smiled.

“Well now I do,” Luke said as he grabbed his stuff.

The walk to Adventureland was long, but funny. Reggie couldn’t stop talking about that one time he dressed up as Jack Sparrow for y/n’s costume party last year. The same costume party where y/n and Reggie expressed their feelings for each other. The same costume party where they purposely hid in the closet so that nobody would know that they were officially together. The same costume party that nobody knew the full story about. “Guys, it literally was like 7 minutes in heaven,” Reggie beamed. “I felt like I could’ve gotten married right there.”

“Hey Reggie, do you remember how we agreed to not talk about that party,” y/n lied. They never had an actual agreement. Y/n just thought that neither of them would get close to exposing the truth.

“No, y/n,” Alex put his hand up. “I want to hear this one.” Y/n gave Reggie the look, hoping he’d understand and stop talking. He didn’t.

“Are you and this person still together,” Luke asked. Stop egging him on!!

“Obviously,” Reggie smirked as he put his arm around them. 

“WHAT!” Alex and Luke yelled at the same time.

“I knew it, I knew it!” Alex cheered. 

“Can you guys shut up?” Y/n grumbled.

“Yeah, are you guys going to get on the ride,” the operator asked. Woops.

“My bad, y/n,” Reggie whispered. 

“It’s fine,” y/n said.

“It’s not fine,” Luke yelled. “This is huge, why didn’t you tell us?”

“You know what, Luke,” y/n turned around to face him. “In this ride there are probably real skeletons being used as props. If you don’t leave me alone I will donate yours to this ride when you die.” Luke sat back in his seat and fell silent. Saying things like that always worked with the guys. 

When they got to the battle part, Reggie reached to hold y/n’s hand in his. Y/n squeezed his. They weren’t mad at him, they already knew Reggie was an airhead. This would have happened one way or another.

The four of them decided to go on Splash Mountain next. Y/n did this on purpose. They knew none of the boys knew that they’d get splashed on the ride. Perfect payback.

“Luke and Alex, I think you guys should sit in the front for this one,” y/n smiled.

“Why,” Alex asked.

“What, you don’t want to be the first ones to see everything,” y/n said sarcastically. The two boys shrugged in response. 

They got into the raft with Luke and Alex sitting in the front and Reggie and y/n sitting right behind them. “So why are they sitting in the front,” Reggie whispered to them.

“It’s so that they’ll get splashed the most,” y/n laughed. And they did. On the first drop, they were moving their soaking wet hair out of the way of their eyes and screaming profanities. It didn’t help that there were little kids on the raft with parents yelling back at them to stop cursing. Y/n and Reggie sat back and laughed as their friends got soaked.

Luke and Alex were mad when they got off the ride and saw that y/n and Reggie were completely dry. “Y/n you did this on purpose,” Alex shouted.

“Yeah, I did,” y/n laughed. “So when were you guys going to tell us that you were dating?”

Alex and Luke’s jaws looked like they were going to hit the floor. “How did you know?” Alex asked

“You guys literally left us to go make out,” Reggie pointed out.

“Riiiiight,” Luke blushed.

“Yeah, so Reggie and I are going to go do ‘official couple’ things like go find Mickey and Minnie,” y/n smiled. “Let’s go, Reg.” 

Taglist:

@flashoe @carnationcreation @camihoran00 @joyjoyner @prongsy-parker

Add yourself to my taglist!

[imaginejamesandsirius]

Can we get like. A pirate AU where James is the captain of a ship and Sirius is like a Private in the Navy on a ship that James's crew attacks. But instead of killing Sirius James is like 👀 and Sirius joins the crew and they're in love❤️❤️?? You are doing gods work carrying this rarepair on your back.

((A/N: Warning for mentions of slave trade and past child abuse)) 

Sirius knew that he could've thought through his escape plan a little better, but he'd been desperate to get away from his family, by whatever means necessary. He needed to do something that they couldn't pull him back from. Joining the military had been the easiest, most solid answer that he'd been able to come up with. It was bad for their image if they pulled him out of that, but they could do it. Their reach was long and powerful, and Sirius knew that. Military wouldn't just be enough; he needed to get away. 

So he joined the navy. Sailors spent all their time on ships, hardly ever in port. With no war on, they didn't even fight. They were little more than guards to merchant ships carrying valuable cargo, and Sirius didn't mind that at all. 

He sort of minded being told what to do all the time, but he figure out that the better he got at his job, the less he was ordered around; there was no point in telling him what to do if he was already doing it, after all. 

He kind of hated his fellow crewmates, but that wasn't a surprise. Sirius didn't get on with other people, and he was still content to be away from his parents. 

Sirius wouldn't describe himself as being happy with his new life, but he'd never been very happy to begin with, so it was no real loss. He knew that freedom was a dream that could never be attained. He'd been born into a prestigious family, and while he'd reaped the rewards, he wasn't willing to deal with the consequences. His father had called him spoiled, and his mother had said he was being ungrateful. The truth was that Sirius was plenty grateful for what he'd had growing up, but not who he'd had it with. 

He hadn't been a part of the navy for a full year when it ended. He'd always thought that if he was pulled out of service, it would be because his parents yanked him out, or maybe that he finally lost his temper and assaulted a superior officer. In a way, the latter is what happened. He just... didn't get discharged for it because there were bigger events at work. 

Pirates attacked them, and that was around the time that Sirius learned the 'valuable cargo' they were guarding were slaves-- it suddenly made sense why a single ship had needed an escort, but it didn't make it any less reprehensible. They were under attack and the chances of any of them making it out of this were slim, so Sirius figured it was well within his rights to be the shite out of his captain. 

Whether it was considered improper conduct or not-- which, to be clear, it definitely was-- Sirius was rounded up with the rest of the sailors that still lived when the attack was over. The worst they'd do was kill him; pirates didn't have time to be inventive torturers, and any way they could kill him would be quick. Even the more frightening ideas would only last for a couple hours before he died. That being said, he didn't want to die. He rather liked living. They were on their knees, waiting for the verdict as the pirates deliberated. 

He could hear one of the pirates talking to his captain, but he couldn't hear what was being said. All he knew that was one second, they were talking, and the next, the captain was squat down in front of Sirius, peering at him curiously. Sirius met his gaze evenly. "You're not like the others," the captain said. "What's your name, love?" 

Pirates were weird. Who called someone 'love' before killing them? "I'm pretty sure you don't need to know someone's name to kill them." 

"Who said anything about killing you? I know I didn't. What's your name?" he asked again. 

Sirius didn't have a good reason for why he refused to answer. Best he could figure was that he just didn't like being told what to do, and if he was about to die, there was point in being accommodating. This pirate captain could say as much as he wanted that he didn't plan on killing Sirius, but he knew that pirates didn't take prisoners; it simply wasn't feasible. He didn't want to answer, so he just stared into the captain's eyes and raised an eyebrow; if there was one thing he was good at, it was being annoying. According to Regulus, at least, but he had plenty of evidence to back up that claim. 

After twenty seconds or so, one of the other sailors next to him muttered, "For fuck's sake," before saying, loud enough that the captain could hear him, "Sirius Black. His name's Sirius Black." It was one of the lieutenants, which meant that he'd almost certainly known about the slaves in the merchant ship.  

Sirius had the urge to kick him, but he couldn't do it without falling over, what with his hands tied behind his back and all. He settled for glaring at the man. He didn't turn his head quickly enough to catch the spark of realisation in the captain's eyes. 

Instead of the pirate captain saying anything about his family or the hefty ransom he could try to get for giving them back Sirius, he just said, "Like the star." Then his gaze slid over to the lieutenant and down to his shoulder where his rank was displayed, and his face hardened. He looked back at Sirius, his expression clearing again. "Moony?" he said, pointing at the lieutenant. 

The next second, there was a sword sticking out of his chest and he made a horrible gurgling sound. Sirius flinched, and he wasn't the only one. The sword pulled back out, and he fell, lifeless and face first, on the deck. 

"Don't worry, Sirius Black," the captain said quietly, like this was something just for the two of them, "that's not going to happen to you." 

Sirius clenched his jaw. It wasn't the reassurance the captain wanted it to be. Going back to his parents and that sodding house was nothing short of a nightmare. 

All the same, the captain was true to his word, and Sirius wasn't killed. The same couldn't be said for the rest of his crewmates, but a few of them did live to see the next day. 

None of them were prisoners, and that was as strange as everything else about this had been. It made sense that they wouldn't have jailcells, but it didn't make sense that they let them roam free. That just wasn't safe. And it certainly didn't help that Sirius had no idea why he hadn't been killed. The captain had been dead by the time the battle ended-- and it had been a short lived battle-- and the rest of the higher ranked officers had been killed. All that was left of the original crew was Sirius and a handful of other privates. Did the pirates think they were harmless because they were new? But that theory didn't hold because from what Sirius had seen, these pirates weren't stupid. They had a reason for keeping these particular crewmen alive, and he wished he knew what it was. Sirius? He was obvious. Ransom, a grateful reward for transferring him safely, whatever they went with, that was smart. The rest of the privates didn't have those sorts of family connections, though. 

Sirius had never liked being idle, and when he had more reason to be cowed, he had a tendency to act out-- or, as Regulus always said, act stupid. As far as stupid ideas went, this was harmless. He went on deck, and when he saw someone struggling to keep hold of the rope and get down where they needed to tie it off, he went over and said, "Want a hand?" 

"Tie this off," they said, tossing the slack rope down to him. After he did, they gave it an experimental tug, then hopped down. "You must be Sirius," they said with a grin. 

He blinked. "How d'you know that?" He hadn't met any of the pirate crew, and he certainly hadn't been introduced to them. 

"You're not on our crew, and James only cared to mention one of our passengers to me. I believe the phrase he used was 'devilishly handsome'." Now that they were closer, Sirius could make out all the freckles dotting across pale skin. He guessed that some people tanned, and other people just freckled. He caught sight of coppery red hair tucked under their hat, and that explained the resilient paleness, at least. 

Sirius blinked some more. "Who's James?" 

Their grin widened. "He must really be in it if he forgot to introduce himself. He's the captain. I'm Lily. Normally, I would follow that up by saying that I'm available to someone like you, but I think James would get pissed with me if I even thought of stealing you out from under him." 

"I'm supposed to think fondly of someone that kidnapped me?" Sirius said with a snort. "He'll be waiting a long time for that to happen." 

Lily raised an eyebrow at him. "We kidnapped you? That's news to me. The way I see it, we saved your life. You would've been around slavers for years before they realised you weren't one of them. When that day came, they would've killed you." 

"I find it hard to be grateful when I'm about to be delivered into the hands of my family," he said, even though he was grateful for the save; the Navy crew would've tossed him overboard. 

"You don't miss them?" 

"Not one bit," he said immediately. 

She hummed, then glanced out at the ocean. "If you're going to be up here, you might as well help me. C'mon." 

*

"You did what?" James asked, staring at her, dumbfounded. 

Lily rolled her eyes. "It's not like I went into his cabin and pulled him out with my feminine wiles. And, in case you forgot, you never introduced yourself to him. He asked questions and I answered them. I wouldn't be surprised if he confronted you about it tomorrow," she said with a sly smile. She liked to meddle. Normally, James thought it was funny, but that was because normally he wasn't involved. It was so much easier to find her funny when it didn't effect him. 

"Please tell me you're joking." 

"Why would I joke about something like this?" Lily asked innocently. 

James narrowed his eyes at her. He couldn't tell if it was genuine innocence or if she was faking. Knowing her, it could easily be either one. "You did not tell him that I thought he was cute. Right? Lily, tell me. I need to hear these words from your mouth, right now." 

She cocked her head. When she had her hair down, it did a fair job of distracting him from the point. With her hair tied back though, James was not so easily deterred. "I thought you told me to stop lying to you." Definitely fake innocence. 

"You are such a pain in the arse. Why do I keep you around?" 

"Because I'm your second best swordsman." She crossed her arms and leaned forward. "Man to man, James. What're you planning on doing with the privates from that ship? We aren't going the direction we do to drop people off. We're going straight to the free colonies." 

He looked at her for a moment, debating if he wanted to tell her or not. Eventually, he settled on not. There was a certain amount of push back he was willing to deal with, but it would be more than that if he told her the truth. "It doesn't matter what order we do it in, Lils. It's the same end result. I'll see you in the morning," he said, heading to his cabin. 

*

As Lily had predicted, Sirius came up to him the next morning. It's what woke him up, actually, which meant he wasn't fully dressed when he stumbled to the door. 

"What?" 

Sirius's eyes tracked over him before flickering back up to his face. It was, admittedly, gratifying, but it didn't explain why he was here so early instead of waiting until after they'd gotten some food in them. "You have some questions to answer." 

"Do I?" James asked, rubbing one hand tiredly over his face. 

"Am I prisoner?" 

"What? No, of course not." 

"Then where are you taking us?" 

"You'll see when we get there," he said grumpily, then he shut the door. He was not a morning person, and what he hated even more was getting woken up before he was ready. If it was an emergency, that was one thing, but this was decidedly not an emergency. 

It took him about thirty more minutes of being awake to realise that he'd been an arse to the bloke he wanted to impress. Wonderful. He meant to apologise the next time he saw him, but Sirius glared at him before he could get close, and he figured some time to cool down might do him good. 

*

James had made mistakes. In life, generally, but specifically he meant today. The way he'd started his day with Sirius had been getting off on the wrong foot, and it had only gotten worse as time passed. Sirius knew how to hold a grudge, that's for sure. 

As much as James would like to say that it was an annoying aspect of someone growing up rich, he liked it. Sirius was bloody fit, and no amount of him glaring at James changed that opinion. In fact, he thought it might've made it worse. His crew respected him, and he was friendly, so there was a decent amount of smiling. As captain, his word was final, so there was a certain amount of distance. Even Remus and Lily, his closest friends, knew that there was a limit to how far they could push him. But Sirius didn't care; he didn't care in a way that didn't take away from James's authority, so it's not like anything had to be done. James had double-checked by telling him to do something, and all Sirius had done was nod and go off to do it. In hindsight, not his best idea, but at least he knew that he didn't have to turn on captain mode with him. 

James was full of bad decisions, but he couldn't get himself to stop. He looked at Sirius, caught sight of his jaw or his thick black hair or his piercing grey eyes, and all rational thought left him. Sirius was hardly the most experienced sailor that James had met, but his competence was hot. He had big hands and he knew exactly how to use them. James knew that getting hot and bothered over one of his crewmen was a recipe for disaster, but he looked at Sirius and he wanted. He didn't know how to turn it off, and he wasn't sure he would even if he did know how. Fancying Sirius put a fire in his stomach that made him feel alive, like a reminder of all the things he loved in life. 

After dinner, James was manning the wheel while Peter got ready for his night shift, and that was when Sirius approached him. He tried not to show how surprised he was, but he wasn't very successful. 

Sirius didn't say hello or give any lead up. He just stomped over to him and said, "You're giving me back to my family, aren't you?" 

"That was the plan," James said, even though he didn't want to and he normally wouldn't have bothered. If anyone asked-- and people had requested it before-- he told them that he couldn't risk it. Which was the truth. He wasn't putting his ship and his entire crew at risk to deliver someone right to their doorstep. Hell, even with Sirius, he wasn't bringing him all the way; he'd never make it back out if he did that. 

"Is there-" Sirius swallowed thickly "-something I can do to change your mind?" 

James blinked at him. Every point of Sirius's posture screamed that he was uncomfortable, but it sounded like he was propositioning James. And this, Lily, is why you should keep your big mouth shut, he thought. "I'd have thought that you wanted to go home," James said, ignoring what Sirius was attempting to offer. "Most people do." Even the people that no longer had homes. It wasn't something they could attain, but they wanted it all the same. It honestly hadn't occurred to him that Sirius might not want to go back. 

The ship gave a long heave, and James braced his foot on the bottom of the railing. Next to him, Sirius put his hand on the bannister, moving easily with the motion of the larger waves. 

"Do you not want to?" James asked. 

"I'd rather die," Sirius said, his answer plain enough that James knew it was true. 

"Then we won't bring you back," he said easily. "Was that all you needed?" The unease was gone from Sirius's posture now, but there was no chance that he wanted to stick around and chat with James. That being said, all he wanted was for Sirius to want to stay and talk to him. Talk on the deck, in the dying light of the sun, and feel like he was falling in love all over again. He didn't expect it though. He knew that Sirius would probably say yes and then leave. 

"Yes," Sirius said, but he didn't leave. He didn't say anything further, not yet at least. He just stayed there, looking at James. 

He'd always thought that he was pretty good at reading people, but Sirius's expression couldn't be described as anything other than closed off. 

Sirius stayed there for several minutes, only leaving when Peter started making his way up the steps to relieve James. As he left, James was struck with the feeling that something important had transpired. Hell if he knew just what it was that had happened, though. 

*

James's interest in Sirius had never been a secret onboard, and not just because Lily had told Sirius flat out that James fancied him. James always let his eyes linger too long, and the frequency with which his eyes strayed to Sirius made it quite obvious. 

What came as a shock to everyone was when Sirius started returning that interest. It wasn't in any way that was as obvious as James's feelings, but it was there. No one was more surprised by it than James, to the point that even when Sirius was kissing him desperately and grabbing at bare skin, he almost didn't believe that it was happening. 

"You like me," James said wondrously. It could've been a dream. He would've been convinced that it was a dream, actually, if not for the little details that dreams never contained. The swollen lips, the too-dry hands, and the fact that there was no amount of practice that made snogging someone new on a ship easier than doing it on land. Until they learned to move together, there was going to be a certain amount of awkwardness that they had to deal with. 

Sirius grinned at him, happy and utterly unashamed. "What gave it away?" 

"You used to hate me," James said, as if Sirius hadn't said anything. 

"I didn't hate you," he denied, tugging James a little closer. 

"It felt that way to me," James said. He wasn't judging. He'd killed a lot of people that Sirius had worked with during their rescue. 

"I thought you were going to send me back to my parents," Sirius said, rolling his eyes. "And you were acting like a total arse by ignoring me and acting like you were better than me." 

"What if I am better than you?" he asked curiously. 

"Don't worry. You're not." 

James laughed, and then Sirius was kissing him, and thoughts about Sirius having hated him at one time was far from his mind. Even if he was right and Sirius had at one time hated him, it was a thing of the past, now. 

*

"Potter!" 

"Which one?" Sirius called down, leaning out from his perch with a shit eating grin. He wasn't holding onto the wood with his hands right now. He was prevented from falling only by his legs wrapped around the nest and linked together, and with the way he was hanging, it made his thin shirt cling to the taut muscles in his abdomen. From where he was standing, James could see a patch of familiar tanned skin because of the way his shirt fell. The spyglass he'd been using dangled from one hand as if carelessly, but they all knew he had a firm hold on it. James looked up at him and could only think of how much he loved him. 

"You know damn well I meant the captain," Remus yelled back. 

"Then just say captain!" Lily said from the front of the ship where she was looking through her own spyglass. "We do this every time!" 

The crew amongst all of them laughed to themselves as they went about their jobs. 

"You bloody well know why," Remus groused. 

"Did you actually need something, mate?" James asked, even though he was always amused by these conversations-- and had been since the very beginning, when him and Sirius had gotten married. He continued working on strapping his sword on; they were preparing for a battle, after all. 

"We're running low on gun powder. Unless you want to buy more from Rosmerta the next time we're in her bay, but there's no point when they should have plenty." 

"We'll check on what they have and see how much cargo space we have available," James said. Fresh water was of the highest priority, of course, and it took up most of their space below deck. That they had to plan for any people they rescued didn't make it easier. The fact was that they didn't often fight in a manner that required gun powder, but if Moony requested it, then he'd check. Plus Rosmerta's blend was more powerful than what the British Navy carried, so sometimes it wasn't worth getting it for free. 

Sirius winked when James glanced up at him again, then pulled himself to a normal sitting position. 

"How's it look up there?" James asked Lily. 

"Looks to be a barge, Captain." she said. 

"Sirius?" he checked. 

"Not seeing anyone guarding them." 

"This'll be easy. Like finding rum in a pub," Remus said, and James couldn't help but agree. Stealing from the government, even when the ship in question wasn't running slaves, wasn't exactly something he would lose sleep over. And, he thought with another glance up at his husband, there was no one else he'd rather be doing this with. 

[m-y-fandoms]

Mondo Oowada x an effeminate male S/O

Request: Oml heyyy may I request a Mondo x male! S/O (imagine or headcanons i don't really know the difference dkfjlds) where the s/o is very feminine and tries to get Mondo to do feminine things? Painting nails, etc.

Of course! This was gonna be a head canon post but I just kept writing so I turned it into an imagine. The bullet points were getting too long LMAO, but it does include some personal headcanons throughout. And thank you for giving me my first ever request! Means the world to me! - Mod Kokichi

Imagine below the keep reading cut! SFW and no spoilers included~

     Your first day at Hope’s Peak Academy as the Ultimate Tailor, you got teased a bit. It was inevitable. You were the new transfer student, fresh meat to pick on, and you were a dude in a skirt, a doubly enticing threat to bullies. Immature high-schoolers were always going to whisper and glare at the ones willing to step outside the norm.

     On one of your first days there, during a particularly ruthless bullying session, the school’s hall monitor and student council president, Kiyotaka Ishimaru, stepped in after noticing the noise, breaking up the situation by standing between you and your oppressors.

     “Bullying is not supported in this progressive and nurturing school environment!” Taka’s loud and volatile personality always made quick work of the school’s trouble-makers. He spun quickly around to you, inviting you to spend lunch at his table for your trouble.

     You hesitantly agreed, but were glad you did in the end. That day, you met Taka’s best friend, Mondo Owada, a toothpick between his teeth and his feet kicked up onto the lunch table as he fixed his perfectly styled hair.

     You immediately found him extremely attractive: the sharp jaw, the bit of chest hanging out the top of his tank top. Quickly, you fell into their little friend group full of excitable and extroverted men. There were random stragglers to your lunch table on certain days, with Akane and Shuichi tagging along occasionally, but the main staples that ate with you every single day were Fuyuhiko, Mondo, Taka, Kaito, and Nekomaru, subconsciously scaring away anyone who wanted to start shit.

     You weren’t nearly as close to the rest of them as you were with Mondo, however. You often found yourself leaning against his chair, sharing your packed lunch with him, entranced when he laughed.

    He found himself always hanging out with you, shootin’ the breeze, smoking up on the roof after classes, putting his hand around your shoulder when you told a joke that made him and Taka crack up at lunch. He kept many secrets of yours, and promised to take them to his grave.

     When you came out to him as someone who likes men, he stuttered his response a little, but pulled it together.

     “It takes a real man to admit what his heart’s feelin’, S/O, you can be sure your secret’s safe with me until you’re ready to tell everyone else.” Feeling the atmosphere become awkward out there alone on the rooftop, he quickly changed the subject “So, Ultimate Tailor, huh? Shit’s pretty sick. Seen some of your clothing designs out in the art wing’s showcase. Don’t tailors just tighten up and fix a person’s clothes, though?” You smiled at his interest in your field.

     “Uh, yeah, normally I think they take in and size up clothes, b-but,” you put a hand to the back of your neck, nervous with his complete attention on you, “ I think some make designs from scratch, I have always loved making my own clothes. Maybe I should just be the Ultimate Fashionista instead of Enoshima…” you giggled, feigning envy humorously. Mondo smirked.

   “Yeah, maybe you should. You gotta design me a new coat sometime. This one’s seen better days.” You both looked at the dirt caked at the bottom of his coat, permanent stains throughout, and loose threads hanging in random places.

     “F-for sure!” You grinned.

     Your days returned to normal, lunch together and group hangouts after school, but something was different...to Mondo at least. He had to admit, to himself only of course, that he felt a little jealous of you. You could just come out and tell him who you are inside. He could never be that open. He usually was the one keeping secrets, not expressing them. But then, he caught himself. Why should he feel jealous...he was a simple guy, he didn’t even have any secrets or desires to share, even with who would listen. He brushed it off as just his normal hot-headed mindset, and packed up his stuff in his bag for the day.

     But the next few days, his eyes would linger on you even more, and he would become uncomfortable, his insides warm, his head clouded with that same envy tugging at his heart strings. In the hallway after last period, he kicked his locker, frustrated at this knot in his head and mind. What the fuck is up with him. Then it clicked…

     “It takes a real man to admit what his heart’s feelin’.”

     The next day, he pulled you out to the rooftop, his cheeks red and his heart beating wildly. You waited patiently, sitting down, figuring you were just in for another hang out session like usual, and pulled out your homework from third period, until he began to speak.

     “L-look man, I have been thinkin’, ever since you told me you’re into dudes…”

     Oh no...your head dropped expectantly. You felt like this was bound to come eventually, no matter what. He was this macho dude and hung around you all the time. It must be bothering him, ruining his rep-

     “That shit takes heart, like I said before, and I owe you my truth too, r-right, since you trusted me with yours?” He startled you, looking for validation. Mondo only stuttered when he was pissed and screaming, but he looked nervous now, a look of begging to be understood that you empathized with all too well.

     “I…” he looked out over the roof. Stop being a little bitch, Mondo, he seethed internally. “Fuck, I don’t know, man. I like you? I want us to be more than just friends. I mean, you’re cool as my bro, but…” He didn’t expect you to reach out and take his hand hesitantly, his cheeks flushing. You didn’t want his evident struggle to drag out until he blew a fuse.

     “I think that sounds ‘sick’ ” you mused, taking up one of his favorite sayings. He nodded, a arm around your shoulder, unable to look you in the eyes. But he felt a wave of peace run over him.

     Your close friends immediately picked up on this new relationship, seeing you lean on Mondo a little harder at lunch, Mondo’s blush as he rested his hand on yours over the table. Nekomaru slapped your shoulder loudly that first day as a new couple, almost shattering the bone there. He laughed, saying he couldn’t wait for you two to just finally admitted your feelings. A team works smoother when everyone is on the same page, after all.

     Weeks passed, and inside school, there was little issue. It’s the 21st century. Most were accepting of your obvious relationship. Those bigots who weren’t didn’t try anything. No stupid ass student was picking on a dude with Mondo, Taka, Fuyuhiko, Kaito and Nekomaru at his back.

     The problems started to arise when Mondo took you on rides on his bike, to his gang’s HQ or stomping grounds in general. That was the outside world, not an institution of modern and formal learning like Hope’s Peak. Japan itself was a little behind western society in terms of LGBT acceptance, and like the rest of the world, had a long ways to go.

     With Mondo being the leader of a biker gang, a setting known for violence, masculinity, grit, toughness, and a yakuza-like brotherhood of men, it just wasn’t an environment most conducive to openly gay relationships, but no one in the gang dared to call out Mondo, knowing how hot-headed he is and ultimately respecting him as their leader. They owed him unconditional loyalty.

     That was, until one day, a rather cheeky second-in-command saw you filing your nails, sitting in Mondo’s lap on a couch at HQ, and decided he’d had enough. He confronted you both in front of everyone, all eyes on you, making you shrink back into Mondo’s chest.

     “Eh, boss. If you’re gonna have a dude in a fucking dress doin’ his nails and twirling like a princess on your dick, why not just date a chick? This is gettin’ a little embarassin.” He spoke angrily. Mondo was taken aback, not used to being challenged by his men, obviously the alpha of his pack. He paused, struggling to find a response.

     “What’s the fuckin’ issue?! Like most of you idiots aren’t so close that you might as well be tuggin’ each other’s dicks anyway!” He spat defensively, refusing to take back talk from a subordinate. He looked down to your shaking form in his lap, seeing that you were obviously disappointed with his response and looked up at him with a bit of anger, tears at the corner of your eyes.

Why was he defending his rep, and attacking the man back? He should be defending the relationship, and pushing forward acceptance. It made you feel like he wasn’t proud of you, ashamed of what you two had become.

     He saw this in your eyes and hated himself, changing his stance quickly. He scooped you up from under your thighs from his lap and set you on the couch beside him. He stood, stepping up to the out-of-line gang member, chest out, looking down on him with malice.

     “Maybe you’ve forgotten your place, yeah? You forget who’s in charge? I’m involved with S/O, he’s with me, so he’s part of the gang. You’re gonna accept that, or there’s gonna be trouble to deal with, got me? What, you such a pussy that you can’t accept shit if it ain’t what you expect it to be?!” The second-in command cowered, breaking eye contact with Mondo, and the rest of the onlooking members returning to what they were doing. “Now, we got any other issues?”

     When Mondo drove you home on his bike hours later, you sat behind him as always, but squeezed onto his waist a little tighter than usual, and his heart beat proudly, knowing for once he was sure he did the right thing. You two rode silently, you pecking his cheek before slipping inside your house. He walked back to his bike, blushing like mad, and you two texted all night.

     The very next week, Mondo was over at your house for the first time, doing homework in your room. Well, that’s what you were supposed to be doing. Mondo wasn’t exactly the model student, much the the chagrin of his best friend Taka, and you just weren’t in the mood. And so you sat, him eating some chips from your pantry, watching you paint your nails on your bed, a towel to catch loose drips under your flattened out palm. You looked up to him, smiling at having his full attention on you as per usual when you were alone..

     “Want me to paint yours next?” It just slipped out. You didn’t really mean it. A guy like Mondo wouldn’t want that, surely, but you figured it wouldn’t harm to tease him. To your surprise, he responded rather quickly.

     “I seen Kaito walkin’ around this week with that shit on his nails. Maki apparently forced him to after he lost a bet to her. Didn’t look that bad, actually. Kinda looked sick with his jacket, all purple and shit,” he paused to think, “ fuck it, sure. But no pastel shit, yeah?” Your heart leapt with excitement. There’s no way you expected him to answer in a positive manner, but in this relationship, you quickly learned that you often underestimated Mondo, and let his macho-biker-gang persona leave you biased. You didn’t want people judging you by your sexuality or the eyeliner you wore, and suddenly felt hypocritical for ever pre-judging your big motorcylce-head of a boyfriend.

     Mondo held his hands out after you finished, observing the slick coat of black polish that covered his once grisly and battered nails. Yes, you had to manicure them real quick to even get the polish to stick. They had dirt under them and the cuticles were disgusting.

     “Hell yeah.” he simply spoke, smirking before pulling you in to lean on him as you finally pulled out your homework.

     Weeks turned into months, and soon Mondo was watching you get your ears pierced again in a new place, then sitting in the chair to get his done. He took you, in turn, to get “ink that matched your bitchin’ sense of style” as he put it. The tattoo didn’t hurt as much as you thought it would, and certainly inspired you to design clothes that showed it off and accentuated it.

[xo-cuteplosion-xo]

Hello! Congratulations on 100 followers!💕 Can I request 12. Are you mad at me? for Chuuya x reader? Angst or angst to fluff. You're writing is great! Have a nice day💕💕

Hope you enjoy it! I tried adding some fluff at the end, but I’m not sure if it falls under angst to fluff with how little I added.

#12- Are you mad at me? |Chuuya x reader|

Words- 1375

The rain pelted down, rumblings of thunder pounding around. Flashes of light spread throughout the sky. In quick flashes, it signaled the next crash of sound. Standing before the large window, a ginger looked out. His head was thundering like the storm outside. He was never one to have a grip on his emotions. Constantly running in circles through his anger. His hands were both gloved and shoved inside the pockets of his hoodie. Alone, he wore comfier, less formal clothes. Still, expensive in name and brand, but comfier and less showy. Behind him sat a bottle of highly expensive wine. With the next flash of lightning, he turned from the window to the empty doorway. The two people he’d trusted the most seemed to easily disregard his loyalty. Popping the cork from the bottle, he didn’t bother with a glass. He was celebrating, he wasn’t upset, he told himself this as he downed the bottle.

~

It had been years since that day. Sitting under the pelting rain, you looked up, cupping your hands before you as the water slowly fell into them. Your hair stuck to your skin, dripping with water. Your clothes were already soaked, becoming slightly see-through. Looking down, your lips parted for a sigh. The night was brisk and cold; it would mark the first time he saw you in years. Pulling the cigarette from your mouth, you leaned back, closing your eyes as the rain pelted over your face. The light drizzle began to fall with heavy splatters. Maybe it would be better if this didn’t happen. Even if you missed him, the shouting, the way he always yelled how he would grow. His feminine figure always struck you as model-worthy. Maybe, just maybe, in some other world, he’d be a model. In an ability-less world, things would be better. Pushing from the gravel, you ran your hands through your hair. Slipping inside the small apartment, you changed your clothing and slid on something more appropriate. You were enemies now, even if the thoughts of what you had once consumed your mind. There was nothing that could change this decision you had made. No amount of drinking could settle the feeling bustling around your heart in a sea of pain.

~

Placing your phone in your coat pocket, you waited for the devastating team named double black. Parted in the light and dark, while you stood among neither; in gray. This would be a reunion worth a thousand words of betrayal. The heavy rock-star-worthy scream of the ginger pierced your ears as you waited for the wall to your current surroundings to fall. With the force of gravity, it crumbled. Refusing to meet his eyes, you forced the smallest smile onto your lips. His voice was held back, a shocked expression claiming his expression. The only sound that parted the silence became the pelting of rain against the roof. The rumblings of thunder and footsteps. “You… why?” his lips seemed unable to form a full sentence. Parts of the emotional outrage threatening to pierce the silence slipping from his lips.

Slipping from where you had been sitting, you moved towards him. His feet carried him away from you with every step forward you made. With a light laugh, you stopped your movements. As if copying you, Chuuya's feet ceased their movement. Standing still as he examined you. The feeling he’d been bottling with alcohol for years, starting to pull up through the ocean of other feelings he was experiencing. His heart beat within the pain, just as you did. Your eyes fell to the floor as you found words to ask. “Are you mad at me?” you knew the answer, but it still felt like a heavy weight being dropped onto you.

With a sudden snarl, his shocked expression contorted into anger and hurt. His hand removed themselves from his pockets as he walked to you, reaching out, his palm connected with your cheek. “Mad? That’s a fucking understatement! What happened to being loyal?! We promised after the mackerel left we would stick together! You don’t say something like that and then disappear to be presumed dead.” The lie he had held onto for years was threatening to unravel. He had celebrated both disappearances. Celebrated being free from the chains that held him down. In truth, he had drunk that wine to feel better. He had drunk away the pain that had consumed him in waves of rage. You could see it in his eyes; a tsunami ready to release and fall onto land.

You let it all go, every dam that had been built to prepare you for those words was no match for your own storm. With the crackle of lightning and the boom of thunder, you bit down on your tongue. The silence was loud against everything. Reaching out for him, your voice acted in desperation. “Chu… I’m sorry! I hated the mafia. You knew that! I couldn’t stay any longer. I was ready to lose everything but… not you.” His eyes were not holding your desperate gaze, but rather he stared at the red mark his hand had placed on your cheek. He could have used his ability, yet he hadn’t. Thinking about why he’d held back was an agony he’d never experienced, an irregular beat of his heart as he looked away from you.

There was silence again before he spoke in a low tone, something irregular for him. “You broke a promise and played with my loyalty. You know, I really hate you for that." So why, why did it hurt to say such words? Why did it hurt so much to look at you?

Suffocation, that’s the only words you could use to describe what it felt like. Not once had he ever used the word hate when describing you. Between any others in the mafia, you two had been the closest. You lifted a hand to your chest before feeling your legs give out. Your knees hit the floor with a harsh thud. They would probably bruise later, but that wasn’t your concern. “Tell me that’s not true.” You hadn’t wanted this. To go so far and lose him along with everything else.

Looking back to you, his chest tightened once again. His hand twitched by his side, threatening to reach out and wipe the soft dots of tears. He couldn’t take it any longer. As the rain began to slow, he fell onto his knees. Grabbing you, he pulled you into his chest. Holding your head in the crook of his neck as he clicked his tongue. A mumbled sentence leaving his lips. Too jumbled to understand what he had said, you let him hold you. As the sunrise began to overcome the night, his body didn’t move. It wasn’t until you tried parting from him that he spoke a clear sentence. “How do you do this to me?” he asked, releasing his grip on you so he could look into your eyes. Smiling you shrugged, losing yourself in the bright ocean of his eyes. Calmer than they had been when you first saw them; the storm had dialed down to small waves.

Tapping his nose, you snickered. “We’re close, closer than anybody else we know. Hate isn’t something we’re capable of…” trailing off as he helped you to your feet, your lips formed a smile. Silence consumed you again before you gathered the courage to kiss his cheek. His face ripened in response, his hands flying to shield himself from your sight.

Rubbing the locks of his hair, you began to walk out. Grabbing the door handle, you shook your head and turned to him. Bowing dramatically, you softly spoke once more. “I never meant to betray you chu, I simply needed away from the chains of the mafia. This was it, the only thing I could think of.” Inhaling you spoke the sentence you knew you'd regret, but would help free the pain in your chest. “I love you.”

He was too stunned to call out after you. His lips didn’t part to reply until you had left his sight. “I…think I love you too.” He whispered, his lips curling to a smile as he thought about you.