#how do i sort through this and make sure its paced evenly

[dancingcapybaras]

idk how you fanfic writers do it

literally wrote an excerpt for something and i really like it, but i can’t write anything else

it’s like i squeezed all of my brain juices onto something that’s only two pages

like how do i motivate myself more so i can lore drop the silly characters that have made me pace around for hours while talking to the air like a madman

[writingforfishes]

suspending the fact that i should be asleep right now

filler episode scene type shit

one day atty is just playing around with otto's torso during a case, gently poking and squishing him to see what happens (either getting them hot asf or they're on hiatus and doing it nonchalantly)

otto being ballsy one day and kinda like interviewing atty on what exactly it is about those things that they like so much, nitty gritty stuff idk

I'm not sure if this is even a question idk what this could be asking but these things appeared in my brain and I felt compelled to tell you. am too eeby to figure out how i wanna format this bleh have my 6am crack thoughts

-🪱💤

Otto was reclined on the bed. His body was angled on a wedge pillow wide enough to fit both him and Atticus.

His partner had their head rested against his chest. Their small hand played along his belly. Their fingers sunk into the softness of the paunch Atticus seemed to covet and find comfort in. The writer watched as Otto's stomach popped out every second or two.

Otto's hiccups had returned after they had showered and gotten ready for bed. Both of them had been satiated by the case that had shown up when they first crawled into bed. Now, after Atticus checked Otto didn't need to get rid of the residual case, the writer asked if they could not only massage but play with Otto's belly.

Otto acquiesced easily. He had never realized how much he enjoyed having his stomach played with until Atticus came into his life.

He had once felt shame about his belly. The paunch, which was a body attribute he was self-conscious of but never motivated to change, was something that brought Atty comfort. Atticus' comfort, in turn, brought him comfort. Feeling his own belly became a positive and pleasant experience, not the exasperated grab he did in the past out of embarrassed disappointment at his lack of self-control or holding up some model of what he should look like.

He continued to observe his partner as they raked their fingers through the hair trailing up and around his bellybutton and into the small divot at his sternum and back down.

His vision was disturbed momentarily every time he hiccuped. Atticus' hand would stop momentarily too, holding flat to the movement his body made before continuing its journey, warm flesh of their palm stimulating the sensitive skin of his belly.

HI'UCK!

Atticus would cuddle a little more into him when he had what they called 'doubles'. The sharp double-syllable hiccups seemed to make his body jerk all the more and he felt his partner sigh as if contented.

"Can I HUP! Can I ask you some-MP!-thing?" he asked, breaking the silence.

"Sure," Atticus replied in a low soft voice.

Otto could feel the edge of their mustache brushing his ribcage as they spoke.

"If you need to cure them..." they said tilting their head back so they could see his face.

"No! No-no HI'UMP! I just wondered HIP! if I could ask you ab-MP!-about what you l--like when I hic-HUP!-hiccup!" Otto said. "I know yo--you've sort of HMP! explained it to me in the p-HNK'P!-past. What you like. What HU'UP! What things arouse yo-UP!-you," he said, and cleared his throat enticing another silent hiccup to pop his belly up against Atticus' palm. "But if you're comf-HMP!-ortable, why um...HU'UCK!...well, I mean, what is i-HIP!-it about them that...HNK!...ugh, I don't even r--really know what I'm HUCK!HUP! ask-HUCK'L!HIP!-asking. HUCK'M!HILK!HI'IP!"

Otto startled at the sudden clusters in the middle of a case of hiccups that had otherwise been calm and evenly paced. He'd felt deliberate pressure before each one.

"Are you HU'UP!-Are you doing that?" he asked as little bewildered by the possibility.

"Yeaaaah," Atticus said sheepishly. "I think I accidentally found your hiccup-button."

Experimentally they pressed into his solar plexus again around where his diaphragm might sit underneath and was rewarded with another cluster as they released the pressure: HMP!HU'UCK!HULP!HU'UH!

Otto found himself chuckling with a HIP!

"I didn't th-IP!-think that was a th-HIMP!-ing!" he remarked.

"Me neither," Atticus admitted. "I thought it was made up from kink fics!"

Out of an abundance of curiosity, they softly pushed the spot again.

"HU'UUP!HIP!HUP!HILP!HEEP! Oof! Okay. Can we n-HUP!-not do that again? HILP! Starting to kind of HULP! kind of hurt a little. HMK!" Otto requested starting to feel soreness where his abdomen had been pressed.

"Oh! Yeah. Shit, sorry!" Atticus apologized. They rubbed his belly gently over the area and focused on being less aggressive with their exploration.

"Thanks. You're for-HERP!-given. It was am-HMK-amusing the first HMP couple of time th--ough!" he admitted.

Atticus gave a nervous chuckle.

"About your question though..." they started.

"It's okay. I know it's aw-HUCK!-awkward. You don't HMP! have to talking about MK! about it if you don't want," he said.

"No, it's okay. I...I think I want to talk about it. Share it with you. Maybe...it would help me process it, too. Understand it more. Cause, you know, essentially, I think you were asking why? Like, why am I aroused or what about the whole thing arouses me?" they said.

Otto took a moment to process that and nodded. Then, realizing Atticus was still facing his stomach and not him he spoke.

"Yeah, I gue-HEH! I guess so," he replied.

"Yeah. Sure. Okay. So...so, you already know what things arouse me. Like...like the movements is one, right?" Atty paused not expecting an answer to the rhetorical question.

They moved their hand up and down Otto's abdomen as it jerked again. Their fingers paused at his sternum.

"You know, it kind of starts here. When you hiccup...when you hiccup it starts here, and it dips inward 'cause those intercostal muscles at your ribs and back are trying to breath in really quick. So, this, yeah, like that," Atty said as his chest dipped inward subtly with another hiccup. "This happens and it sort of chain-reacts to go all the way down here."

Atticus' hand landed at his bellybutton and a little below. They let another hiccup happen and felt and watched their hand jump in response.

"It's like a wave, Otto. Sort of...like a buoy on the water. Your chest bobs down in the middle and it pops up at your belly. See?" Atticus said as another hiccup demonstrated.

"Yeah," Otto said bemused. It was accurate. He'd never realized the motion his body made was less of a whole-body jerk and more of a chain-reaction. "But it's qui-HIP! quicker!"

"Yeah! Exactly. It's like a pop! Like a snap or something. Unexpected. And even if you know you have the hiccups, every one of them is like that. It's a...it's a shock. Like a little surprise each time. But-but it's more than that. The movement is one thing, right? And really it starts in your neck. And, gawd, Otto your neck is amazing, you know that? Like, a lot of the times when people hiccup it's only right above their clavicle in that little hollow where those bones meet? But yours, man, yours is just your whole bottom of your neck. It just punches in and it's no wonder your neck and throat hurts like it does when they go on for a while 'cause you do that thing where your head jerks back and your chin tucks in. I know that's weird to find attractive, but damn," Atticus said as they squirmed a little.

Otto couldn't help but notice Atticus pointedly not looking at him while they spoke. Even while they mentioned his neck they stayed with their face pressed against the side of his chest.

Otto found himself rubbing Atticus' back in kind as they spoke. At the pause he gave a moment of thought and was hyperaware when the next hiccup hit, and his head was pushed firmly into the pillow behind it.

"I don't thi-HIGGUP!-think it's weird necessarily," he said. He let another silent hiccup charge through his body as he felt the movements of his body more acutely with Atticus' description of them. "Hm. It's not common. HUP! But I don't think rarity equ--equals weirdness."

"Maybe," Atticus relented cautiously, but they continued. "But it's not just the movements. It's the sounds, too. But-but not just that. It's the...it's the fact that you can't help it? Like, whenever anyone has them, they can't help it. It's...it's sort of hot to see that low-key frustration. They have no control. So, they struggle just a little. It's not-I guess it's a little sadistic. In a way. But when they have them, you just see them so vulnerable? It's sort of like you can get a peek into who a person is when they hiccup, y'know? Who are they when they're thrown off their game? When they don't have control over their bodies because of what they think is a childish condition. Or-or when they're trying to talk, and they get interrupted.

"And there's something arousing about watching a person try to...I dunno...go on with their day with their body defying them over and over again. Again, it's vulnerability. And the worst their hiccups get the more vulnerable they become. But it's not something that is bad, generally. It's something that is an annoyance unless it's, like, medically bad. I don't like that," Atticus said as they fought to contain their scattered thoughts.

"I never HU'UP! never thought about it that w-UP!-way," Otto admitted. "If it's sadi--sadistic it's probably the mo-HMP!-most gentle sort of sa-HUU'UP!-uh, sadistic you can be."

Atticus chuckled.

"I guess," they said. "That little grunt, also? After that harder hiccup that you just did? I like that, too."

"Huh," Otto said, thinking. "I do that somti-HIMK!-times, don't I?"

"Yeah, after harder ones. I don't even think you notice is mostly. Um. Yeah, the sounds though. I could honestly just get off on the sounds," they said.

"What's your favor-HRMP!-vorite sound?" he asked.

"Ooh, that's a hard one," Atty admitted. They focused on capturing a couple more of Otto's hiccups with their hand before they answered, pushing their fingers along the curled hair on the soft surface of his belly. They could tell his hiccups were nearing an end. It was good, though, as they had gone on for a while.

"I like when people try to muffle them. That sound of them thumping in the back of their throat or in their nose. Or sometimes I like when they're silent if I can see the movements. Like, sharp, or those double hiccups you do sometimes. I don't know why that happens, actually. Maybe air slips through that glottal flap right before it closes so you get, like, two hiccups? I dunno.

"When they get a little squeaky, so you know it's a pretty powerful case. And when they go really fast, hardly leaving enough time to breathe or speak. I feel guilty about that. Because I know it's not pleasant. And I used to hate really fast hiccups. But now? They get me going more than most," Atticus said softly. "Is that bad? That I like them when they get violent like that?"

"Nah," Otto said after a beat. He felt his head push into the pillow behind him again with another hiccup. "You always check in with me. hip! And you know I get them pretty fast. Ba-ad, I guess. mk! And if it bothered me, you know I'd tell you. HUP! mm."

Otto continued to give encouraging rubs to their shoulders and into their hair as he scratched lightly at their scalp to their hums of contentment.

"It's kind of poetic," he continued.

"Hm?" Atticus said fading i\nto the sensations of his fingers in the buzzed hair on the sides of their head.

"The way you see mp! hiccups. Or maybe just hiccups in general. huh!" he explained. "I mean, if you think about it hiccups are kind of a poem i--in and of themselves. HUCK!"

He laughed at the unexpectedness of the louder hiccup when the case had gotten so soft. But he continued.

"Each hiccup is like a line or a stanza. hup! Each one a surprise. A note of vuln--erability. Expression of...um...sorta...truth in a way? Something genuine. mk! But also, something inherently human. Just a-uh-a fact of life. Relatable. Kinda?" he said.

"Wow..." Atticus said after a pause. "That's good, actually."

"Hey, what can I sa--say? You're rubbing off on me," he said.

"I do, do that, don't I?" Atty said mirthfully.

Otto guffawed with a sudden HUCKAH!

"Oh! Jeez!" he said, patting his chest. "HUCK!"

"Laughing yourself into more stanzas, huh?" Atticus snarked.

"Ugh, I think I-HUCK'L!-I'm in iambic penta-UCK!-pentameter!" Otto said, chuckling.

"Oof! Gone Chaucer on me! Can't help ya there, bud! English poetry is not my thing!" Atticus exclaimed.

"Heh," Otto said weakly. "It's okay. huck! I think they're calming back hnk! back down."

"Poor guy," they muttered as they gave Otto's stomach a soothing caress. "Diaphragm tried to force structured poetry on him."

"Shh! Stop sto-hup!-stop! I'm trying not to laugh again. hngk!" he said. The last hiccup hit the back of his throat in a near snort. He sighed and swallowed. He felt Atticus squirm a little and push their hand into his stomach in a deeper massage. He sighed again.

"Did any of that make sense?" they asked. "I don't think I've ever said it all out loud before. I feel like I sounded a little manic, honestly."

"No, it did. It does. mk!" he said. "I think you're right. Hiccups make people feel vulnerable. hm! And...vulnerability is a big part of relationships, honestly. If you think about it. It takes a lot of trust to be yourself around someone. And to let someone see you when you can't control what's happening to your body? And you're maybe embarrassed? I mean, aside from the arousal thing, even just that is a kind of a big deal.

"And, listen, I'm lying here on my back and letting you touch one of the most vulnerable parts of my body. That's kind of a big deal, right? If you think about it. And-and loss of control being hot isn't anything new. Shit, why do you think I find people struggling with or succumbing to arousal so attractive? And there's definitely, I mean I think there's an embarrassment factor to that, too. Even if I don't experience the same thing you do when someone hiccups, I can understand it. And even if I didn't understand it, I could respect it. It's just, y'know, we all have our things," he said.

Otto waited a bit, but Atticus' deep breathing was the only response.

"I accept your hiccup fetish and..." he sighed, "...you accept that I am apparently so boring that I can lull you to sleep with the sound of my voice."

Still no response. A curious sensation tickled his chest, and he released a long-suffering sigh to it.

"...And I also accept that you are drooling on my chest. Because I love you. And I'm very patient." A beat. "And I'm talking to myself. Goodnight, my little freak."

Atticus gave a small snort in a huffy snore and Otto turned off the bedside lamp.

[mbti-notes]

Hi mbti-notes, love your blog! Can you type the main characters from Everywhere Everything All At Once? I thought that Evelyn seems to have Te and might be a TJ, and her daughter seems like an ENFP, but I'm clueless about the others. TIA!

***Spoilers Ahead!!!****

One thing that makes this film a bit hard to analyze is that we don't really know which reality is most true to the characters. I'm just going to assume that every version of the character is an important part of the larger whole. They are all the same person but each reality brings out a slightly different perspective on their personality. The film was quite fast-paced, so I'm sure I've forgotten a lot of the details.

Evelyn ESTJ

Yes, Evelyn is a fairly typical ESTJ, given that she came from a cultural background which discouraged "unconventional" lifestyles. The ESTJ stack does a good job of explaining her character arc and her pattern of growth.

Perhaps her life is best described as "functional". Work was the main focus. She always kept the wheels turning, very disciplined, structured, and routine... except for the way that other people interfered with or ruined her supposedly perfect plans. Her Te was held back by poor Fi development in that she hadn't yet learned how to work well with people.

There were several signs of simmering Si vs Ne tension. On one hand, she enjoyed the sense of control that routine gave her, but on the other hand, she found the monotony extremely boring and even demoralizing at times. (Te allowed her to rationalize that it was necessary to live this way to achieve her goals.) She's quite traditional in her way of thinking, but not so rigid as to be completely closed-minded. (Te allowed her to make big change whenever change was imperative, i.e., when demanded by empirical evidence and/or sound reasoning.)

In terms of misguided Fi, she was very outspoken, blunt, and judgmental about other people's vulnerabilities. But it was exceedingly difficult for her to access her true feelings and allow herself/others to know her at her most vulnerable, so it was quite extraordinary when she finally achieved contact with Fi (inferior function resolution). This basically resolved every problem in her life. She was able to rekindle her love for her husband. She was able to accept and validate her daughter. Most importantly, she was able to give up on a very unhealthy lifestyle that had long outlived its usefulness.

Joy ENFP

The ENFP stack does a good job of explaining Joy's problems as well as the nature of the conflicts with her mom. She felt held back by an oppressive environment. Her Ne call for variety and progress was suffocated by Evelyn's adherence to Si convention and stability. She felt held down by a mother who not only didn't get her, but worse, was constantly trying to change her. There was little opportunity for her to develop or express Fi when Evelyn so forcefully repressed or banished everything evenly remotely related to Fi.

Joy's inferior Si insecurities were constantly being triggered because she didn't know how to be true to herself without losing her family, and this left her at a complete loss for how to proceed. She descended into villainy and lashed out (Te loop), and proceeded to pick apart everything and throw around blame at everyone for making her life turn out so miserably (Si grip) - nihilism easily follows from hopelessness. Yet, she easily returned to being bright, optimistic, and good as soon as she was given the freedom and validation to be herself openly (Ne+Fi restoration). Her chosen method of villainy revealed that her mind was well-nigh bursting with possibilities, but she couldn't do anything meaningful with that latent talent until she resolved the underlying conflict with Evelyn.

Waymond INFP

It's important that Waymond was portrayed to be very meek and weak at the start. This is how he was seen through Evelyn's eyes. As the film progressed, we discovered, along with Evelyn, that he was nothing of the sort. The real reason she saw him that way was because 1) she was rather blind to his strengths, due to his high functions being low in her stack, and 2) she was only able to see his supposed weaknesses, due to her high functions being low in his stack.

This suggests that the two of them should be functional opposites. Functional opposites are often first attracted to each other because of their differences, but then later repelled by them, due to the way they trigger lower function development issues:

-She was attracted to his unique and creative approach to things, when she herself was only capable of the most expedient, obvious, or conventional way of doing things. Later, she grew to dislike his quirkiness because it either interfered with her plans or did not produce anything of value (by her superficial standards). Actually, throughout her trials and tribulations, he was the one who offered up good ideas and kept her on the right path.

-She was attracted to his empathetic way of seeing people, supporting them, and bringing out the best in them, when she herself only ever saw faults and harshly criticized failures. Later, she grew to dislike his optimism because she judged it as unrealistic and unhelpful (to her goals). Actually, throughout their life together, he was the one doing all the difficult tasks that required emotional labor/intelligence, such as connecting with clients, smoothing over conflicts, negotiating compromises, or consoling hurt feelings.

It would've been very easy for him to be broken by this marriage (to give in to Si loop and Te grip) because her personality was so dominating and she was so dismissive of him for years. The fact that he always managed to find little unsung ways to do good things revealed the power of his idealism. The fact that he never truly crumbled revealed the strength of his inner spirit.

Deirdre ISTJ

I think Deirdre served a very important role as foil. Evelyn understood the necessity of following certain rules in order to achieve her goals. However, Deirdre's audit revealed the truth that Evelyn never truly respected or honored the rules. She was using underhanded shortcuts and cheats to create the appearance of success. She trapped herself in a self-sabotaging pattern. In other words, Evelyn's fake Si was no match for Deirdre's real Si. Deirdre is the quintessential bureaucrat who lives and breathes the rules. Her calling in life is to be an obstacle to anyone who is careless or arrogant enough to flout the rules. She is the last line of defense on that razor thin border between order and chaos!

[devilrainbunnie]

Midnight Train

Dabi x Fem!Reader

cw: smut 18+ minors DNI, chikan, dubcon/noncon, pet names, pervy dabi

You stood in the train station, feeling a bit out of place. Looking around at your surroundings, and wondering when your train was going to arrive. It was running a little too late for your liking. Not to mention the fact that it was late, and cold, you didn’t even have a coat. You were wearing a long sleeved shirt, a short black skirt, and matching thigh highs with some simple school girl like shoes. Which was kind of ironic for you to wear. At the moment, you were currently in your second year of university. Just coming back from an outing with your friends, and cutting it off early because you had work the next morning. You were always overly cautious anywhere near trains, just due to the nature of pervy men, and the amount of times you’ve had experiences with them. Not even to mention how intense it is around this area. You berated yourself internally for deciding to wear something like this out, but now you had no choice but to just try and deal with it for now.

Absent-mindedly you scrolled on your phone, to give you some sort of distraction from the anxiety you felt beginning to stir in your stomach, tightening your thighs together, and keeping your purse close to your body. Then soon, the sounds of a fast moving vehicle, and wheels breaking to a halt brought you out from beneath your phones gaze. Looking up to greet the train. You patiently waited until it’s gears locked into place, and the doors opened. Waiting until the small crowd of people walked out of the cart, and then following into it. The cart was decently full of people. But to your absolute demise, there was some substance on some of the seats that looked like a spilled milk tea boba. Which was why you had to stand. Opting for the back of the cart that had some people also standing around. One of them meeting your gaze. Hooded, cerulean eyes following behind you, as you reached your spot to stand. He must’ve got on with me, you thought to yourself. The person was a bit of distant from you, staring at you without remorse. It was hard to make out their features with the large hood they wore over their head, and it made you anxious. Holding your body closer to itself.

He was looking at you like a predator stalking prey, hungry, and ready to devour. A look that quite honestly was making your heart absolutely flutter against your rib cage. Then you did something kind of stupid, pulling out your phone again, and trying to focus all of your attention on it. Trying to pay the hooded man no attention, out of your peripherals, you saw him lift his hood back. But again, you were too scared to see what he looked like. No matter how intense your curiosity was. After a short while into the trip following that, you checked again to see if he was there, and surprisingly he wasn’t. 

That’s when you froze, instantly recognizing the feeling of someone standing just behind you. Too scared to gaze behind you, and the train suddenly causing the cart to jolt, your body mushed right against his, as your wobbly knees made you unstable on your feet. Perfect timing.

“S-Sorry!” you cried out, lurching yourself forward. His body following yours.

“It’s quite alright, doll face.” a husky voice whispered behind you. “I like your skirt, it’s cute on you.”

You didn’t respond to this, your blood was running cold, and your breath hitched inside of your throat. He made it a point to step closer to you, the heat radiating off of him was almost too much. The stranger was only an inch or so from touching your body, a hand reached to you hair, tucking it to the side as he leaned in. Body flush with yours, as he whispered to you. “It’s not nice to ignore people when they compliment you.”

“I’m s-sorry.”

“Is that all you know how to say?”

“I-I’m sorry I’m not trying to offend you--”

“Oh baby, you already did though. You hurt me real bad. Don’t you think I deserve something for my bleeding heart?” he taunted. Hands traveling in different directions, his large hand groping the flesh of your ass. This stranger just reached under your skirt to grab you, and  you to let out a little yelp, and his hand colliding with your mouth forcefully. “I don’t think you want to find out what happens to little girls who are loud, and bratty. I’m not gonna hurt you baby, just be a good girl, an’ let me take care of ya.” he raised the hand from your mouth to show you the tiny blue flame in his palm. Instinctively you shuddered, gulping down the lump in your throat. “Am I understood?”

You nodded, he grabbed your jaw, which forced you took look at him as his head appeared by you shoulder. “Use your words, like a good girl. Remember what we talked about?” he was quite attractive, despite all of the deep scars on his face. His black locks framing his face evenly, and looked quite fluffy. His scars looked painful, and so did all his staples. The piercings on his nostrils were cool though-- despite that, he looked like he had been through hell and back. It made you all the more confused, he was good looking enough to score any girl he wanted. Even with all of the scars and staples, girls probably drooled over it. So why did he bothering harassing you on a train? The man was probably just a full blown predator, and it made you start to panic worse.

“Y-yes, I-I’ll be quiet. I’ll be good.” you said with a wavering voice, tears forming in your eyes at the situation. 

“Mmm, such a good girl. Nice an’ sweet, just like I like ‘em.” he murmured against your neck, leaving a wake of wet kisses across it. Taking some experimental bites to try to find your sweet spot, and when he did, you writhed against him. Letting out the cutest little whimper. “Look at you, you’re so fuckin’ sexy.” he was thankful he spotted you initially, he really found a prize that night.

He was walking back from a bar, and he saw you approaching the train station. You looked so sweet, so soft, and so easy to taint. The way your squishy thighs looked in your socks, and how your ass’ curve was more prominent due to the skirts little ruffling drove him to you. Eyes lingering over ever inch of your body, he needed you the second he saw your cute face too. He just knew you were a sweet little girl, and he wanted to taste you before he lost you for good. Honestly, you were such a good girl for him right now he debated on taking you home. Sure, you’d be a lovely little pet to have around the house. He could sure use the company, and you were just so goddamn cute. The man would love to wake up every morning to face fuck you, or violate you a little bit before he started his day. I mean how could he not— just look at the way your pretty e/c eyes leaked tears out, and your plump lips pouted as his fingers dove for your pussy. So pretty.

This sick man decided to lick your face to wipe away the tears from your stained, heated cheeks. His long, calloused fingers rubbing against your clothed slit, making your hips buck at the pleasure of it. Little strangled moans being held down in your throat. Waiting for your slick to seep through the pretty light blue cotton, and keep it for later. “Has anyone ever touched you like this before? Hmm? Does it feel good?”

“N-No, plea-ah, please j-just stop.” you cried out, sniffling after you choked out the words. His fingers began to push your pretty little panties to the side, moving his fingers up and down your cunt. Finally able to feel that you were actually becoming a bit wet, he chuckled behind you. You let out a soft moan, the first one he was able to actually get out of you.

“Mm, you’re getting more wet by the second. You sure?” he teased. His opposing hand sleeping inside of your sweater, pushing a breast out of its cup, and squishing the flesh in his palm. Tweaking the nipple between his fingers, arching your back and wincing at the pleasurable pain. “You’re so sensitive, and I haven’t even put my dick in you.”

“Pl-please. I- just want to g-go home.” you whimpered as he continued to violate you, finding your clit and pinching the bud between his fingers. Watching as your breaths became ragged, and the way your knuckles turned white as you held on to the metal pole. The way his fingers were working against your untouched pussy right now, was making it drool. You hated how much that was turning you on.

“Turn your head.” he commanded, and you did. Meeting once again, his face at your shoulder, this time his hand slipped from your breast. Grabbing the opposing side of your face and slamming your lips against his. Surprisingly, his kiss wasn’t at all overbearing, or forceful as you thought it was going to be. It was slow, and somehow passionate, despite the situation. You kissed him back, just trying to be compliant. His lips were soft, despite his lower lip being badly damaged, and he knew how to use it well. The hand quickly knotted itself in your hair, causing you to gasp, and open your mouth for him. His wet muscle tangling in with yours, and with that, a deep guttural groan left the back of his throat. Combined with your little whimpers, created an odd symphony of pleasure.

With your mouth occupied, two of his fingers began running across your slit. Gathering the arousal between his fingers to act as lubricant. Then plunging the digits straight into your throbbing, and tight hole. Which made your body act on instinct, and you gasped loudly in his mouth. He pulled back, chuckling at how much you were reacting now. Panting like a bitch in heat, biting back a plethora of moans inside of your throat. He really wanted to hear you crying out to him, and moaning, but he didn’t want to cause too much of a scene. Who knows, if he’s really feeling up for risking everyone’s safety, mostly his own for some snatch— he’ll fucking do it.

“Do you feel good?” he asked you, kissing up your jaw again.

“Y-yes.” you whispered, your small hands struggle to stay up against the pole. The pace of his fingers began to speed up, causing a horrid squish-y sound to be heard in the atmosphere around the two of you. He was practically cumming at the sound of your wet sex being violated and how well you were taking him.

“Mm, I wish I could hear all those pretty sounds you’re tryin’ to hold back. God, you are just killin’ me tonight.” he moaned into your ear, taking it upon himself to start feverishly pepping your skin with his kisses as he pumped you closer, and closer to your end. 

He began noticing the way you were starting to clench against him, he assumed you were beginning to enjoy yourself fully now. His other hand snaked its way down your body to toy with your clit again as well, without intent, you mewled at the sensation. One of your hands coming you to cover your mouth, you anxiously looked around the cart. For some reason, no one was looking. Either they really didn’t want to look, or they were utterly disturbed by the sight in the far corner of the cart. Since no one was paying attention, you decided to act purely on desire since you were now worked up. Letting go of the pole you were holding on to, which the man behind you was quick to notice, thinking you were about to try to fight him off, the hand toying with your clit put a bruising hold on you midsection. You winced, both at the sudden loss of your breath, but also the fingers now violently crashing into your cunt, his breath ragged in your ear, causing a chill to run down your spine. “C-can I turn around?” you asked him. His movements stopped, you couldn’t see but he was looking at you completely dumbfounded.

“Why?” he said, sounding a little offended.

“Well t-there’s not a-lot of people in here. No one i-is going to care, I... liked uhm, kissing.” you murmured shyly, feeling pathetic and disgusted with yourself for wanting more. But the throbbing inside of your womb was now becoming almost unbearable, you could use something to take the edge off.

“What’s your name, baby?” he asked, his chin now resting against your shoulder.

“F/n, why?”

“F/n... you’re very naughty, you know that? I mean what kind of dirty slut wants to start kissing someone who just grabbed ‘em on the train? Maybe I was right, you are a special girl, huh?” he was quick to turn you around, pulling his hood back over his head, but not all the way. Your bodies were touching, and resting against the pole. So that way you could actually look at him. The fingers that were inside you, stuck straight into his mouth. Cleaning off your natural essence off his fingers like he had eaten the best meal he’d ever had. “At least you taste good. Sweet. Like fuckin’ honey or somethin’. C’mere pretty, I’ll let you try.” he leered down at you, his jagged scars twisting up in a cocky smile. Grabbing you by the back of your head, and crashing his lips against yours, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth immediately, snaking a hand of his into your hair. The other one traveling down south once again, pushing right into your slippery walls. Mewling against his tongue.

The sight must’ve been so erotic, they way you were pulling his face closer to yours by holding the back of his neck. Moaning, and panting into the heated kiss. His fingers inside of your pussy scissoring, and harshly pressing right against your cervix. God his fingers are so long.

He yanked your head back, looking at your features. Drinking in the sight of your half lidded eyes, kiss swollen lips and flushed expression. Your eyes silently begging him to keep at it, removing your arms from his. The man bit his lip, leaning back a tad to put his hand around your neck, reveling at how pretty and soft you looked like this. His hand never stopping it’s assault inside of you. “Sweet, right?”

“Y-yeah.”

“How close are you?” he asked, picking up his pace.

“Mmm, c-close. So close. Nngh.” The hand around your neck squeezed harder at the sides, making your eyes roll back as the thrusts of his hand picked up. The man stood over you once more, watching how your eyes kept rolling back into your skull, and how you biting so hard on your lip he was worried it might split. 

“Dabi.” he said, waiting for you to reply, and giving your neck a break from the squeezing. 

“H-Huh?” 

“My name, I want you to say it. Say it when you’re cummin’, I want you to remember who made you feel this good.” he kissed your cheek. “Will you be a good girl, an’ do that for me?”

“Yes D-Dabi. I’ll- be good.”

“You’re completely falling apart with just my touch.” he chuckled, leaning to your ear again, his hands dropping from your neck, to your thigh. Feeling to flesh of your ass again, this time he tried to hold your thigh to his hip, like he was expecting you to let him carry you. But in all honesty, it’s so he could rut his hips against your thigh and try to pretend for a second he was fucking you. Dabi reveled in the feeling of your soft skin against his fingertips. Bet it would feel even nicer against his dick. “I could fuck you right now, just whip out my cock, and stick it right in. I bet you’d like that huh? Me fucking you in front of all these people? I bet you wouldn’t even try to be quiet. Dirty, dirty girl. Maybe I should, huh-”

“No! No, p-please not here. Not in public. P-please Dabi.”

“I like seeing you beg like that, so I won’t this time ‘round.” he attached his mouth to your neck. Making it a point now to mark his territory, and watch you squirm. Wait-- this time around?! In that moment, you felt you were seconds away from bursting and his words meant nothing. His fingers inside of you continued to curl, and push you in all the right places. Your body quickly beginning to flood with a familiar euphoric sensation, knees growing weak, and the blissful feeling of stomach growing tight was all you could think about.

“D-Dabi.” you mewled out, mouth left to hang open. Your hands quickly clutching the jacket he was wearing, trying to feel like you had some control. “Please d-don’t stop, p-lease- oh!” 

He stared into your face as you grew closer. Dabi liked how hard you were tugging at his jacket, it confirmed for him that you were actually growing a lot closer than he thought. Despite the feeling of your gooey walls clenching around his fingers as if it was trying to suck them in. “Cum for me baby, you’re so close.”

“Dabi-- oh God, fuck- Dabi!” you cried out, a little bit louder than you intended. The coil in your stomach finally snapped, releasing the overwhelming feeling of your formerly restrained orgasm. Your tight cunny was clenching vigorously around him as he continued to pump into you, enjoying as you struggled to breathe due to how hard you had just came. Every inch of your body was jolting, trying to adjust to the come down of the feeling, and the man above you was watching with a smile. Dabi brought his free hand up that wasn’t covered in slick, and wiped some sweat, as well with stray hairs from your face. 

“Open up.” he said, removing his hand from your aching, and pleased cunt, shoving them into your mouth. Suddenly alarmed by the feeling of tasting your own arousal, and having his fingers try to climb their way down your throat. “Suck.”

So that’s what you did-- suck on his fingers, and he pumped them as well. Watching your pretty mouth try to take all of his abuse, and after he deemed them clean enough, he pulled them out. “You did so well for me tonight. We a couple minutes left of this ride, let’s make out.”

Before you could even respond, his tongue was already in your mouth and silencing you. During the time it took for you guys to get to your train stop, you did exactly that. Passionately making out for all to see, against a pole inside of a train cart. His hands palming your ass under your skirt like before, and your hands running through the tendrils of inky black locks. Honestly, you really should feel more ashamed than you currently are. Making out with the same man who was making you cry not even fifteen minutes ago, and letting him grind his erection against your thigh. But, you needed to fix that ache in your womb. You needed someone, or something, to make that coil snap.

Then soon, the train was beginning to halt to a stop, and the two of you pulled away. Your hands still locked into his hair. Holding his face close to yours. “That was fun, but I oughta head off now. I’ll be lookin’ out for you, so don’t do anything stupid, or run off on me.” you nodded, feeling threatened by his words, but also excited at the opportunity to see him again. Never in a million years would you think this of all things would happen, but it wasn’t anything to complain about. He pulled you in for another kiss, and following it by pressing another one to your cheek. “Get home safe now, ‘kay?”

“Okay.” you said in a hushed voice, as he pulled away from your body. Pulling his hood further over his face. Leaving you a stick, sweaty mess in the now emptying train. Adjusting your skirt, and top, combing through your now horribly messed locks. 

Before stepping out, you got a disgusted look from an older woman in the back of the cart. Shaking her head at you. But it made you let out a little laugh, stepping out of the cart on to the platform. Eyes scanning the scene for any sight of your scarred, and disturbed prince charming. But by that time he was long gone. Which kind of made you sad, but also relieved. Your mind was hazy, and clouded with a confused lust. Wondering if his words were true— were you going to see him again? Did you even want to? Why weren’t you freaking out right now? What is going on?

The entire walk home, was filled with your mind being so loud it was drowning out all of your senses.

Including the one that could’ve sensed the man following you home.

Don’t worry though, he just wanted to make sure his pet got home safely.

[evilwickedme]

ok so to sum up my feelings for leverage: redemption, season 1(a): (long post warning, there’s a tl;dr at the end)

I knew that Hardison wouldn’t be in most of the season due to Aldis Hodge being a busy bee nowadays, but I didn’t realize that meant he’d only be around for the first two episodes. He was sorely missed, not only because of my attachment to him, but also because he’s usually the grounding factor in the group dynamic, and his role as info guy and tech guy was split evenly between two characters who had their own issues.

That said, Hardison is absolutely a highlight of the two episodes he’s in. his speech about redemption was everything I could’ve hoped for (plus, more evidence for the Jewish!Hardison pile...). I wish we’d gotten to see more of his dynamic with Breanna because what we saw was funny and sweet and we don’t generally get to see Hardison taking care of somebody who so desperately needs taking care of. I hope that Aldis Hodge is around for more episodes in 1(b), because what we’re left with feels a little hollow.

Sticking to original leverage characters for now, for the most part the leverage crew still felt true to the original series as characters, even if the show itself was a little bit confused at times. The actors understand their characters and embody them so well that I think one could give them the trashiest script ever and they’d still sell it. Sophie is a particular focus in 1(a) because of Nate’s death, and she’s particularly well written as a result.

That said, I’m super bitter that we saw little to no mastermind!Parker. Parker’s character being given the mastermind role was a big deal and it feels like they’re walking it back because they feel uncomfortable with it. It is eventually given an in-text excuse, but literally in the last episode, and it was not a particularly convincing reason, and in fact contradicted moments from previous episodes (Sophie leaving for a client meeting and ignoring Parker in ep3 comes to mind). It’s frustrating, it makes the end of the original leverage feel pointless, and letting Parker make a decision once in a while is not the same thing at all. The original series repeatedly showed us that while everyone in the team had their strengths, Parker works problems and solves them in unique, interesting ways, and other characters’ days in the limelight tended to be comedic or even failures. It’s a broken promise, and a pretty major broken promise at that.

On a more positive note, Parker’s dynamic with literally everyone was fantastic. She’s possibly the best written character this season. They’ve taken the autism out of the subtext and into the text (although obviously still undiagnosed), and given her coping mechanisms that were taken seriously in the text even when they were played for laughs, which I appreciated. Her attempts to mentor Breanna were sweet, her friendship with Sophie was electric and at times (CRIMES) hilarious, and as usual, she has a fantastic dynamic with Eliot that makes my heart burst. If you don’t think they’re romantically involved, at least acknowledge there’s a life partnership here. They’ve spent the last decade together.

(We’ll get to Harry.)

Eliot isn’t given much arc-wise, which is frustrating since he’s my favorite. He’s being presented as the goal at the end of a redemption arc, ie to keep working at it every day until your soul heals or whatever, and it doesn’t reflect the message they’re trying to convey via Hardison’s speech and our two new characters. He’s got his moments, but I think they under utilized his potential.

Breanna!!! Breanna’s my new favorite, except for Eliot. She’s hilarious, she’s insecure, she’s nerdy and excited in a way that’s similar to Hardison but still distinct in its inherent teenage-girl-ness and I LOVE IT. Unlike the previous series, where Hardison’s “age of the geek” was often a joke played on Hardison, we’re at the point where Eliot and Parker are both right there with him, and so they accept and even appreciate Breanna’s nerdiness. Also, canon gay character? In YOUR Leverage? It’s more likely than you think.

(No, I never thought they’d make ot3 canon on screen. I hoped, but I didn’t think it would actually happen.)

I think Breanna’s the character that will be the most interesting to see grow. She’s got a lot of potential and a list of crimes a mile long (or more). I adore her with all my heart. I want to see her tiktok account.

Harry. Oh, Harry.

It took me a while, but I do like Harry. It took a while, because the narrative positioned him at the same level as Nate back in episode 1 of original Leverage. But in episode 1 we didn’t know the other characters. We had Nate as the POV character, and so we cared about him because we were seeing the world through his eyes. (This is TV Studies 101. I know this, because I took TV Studies 101 in 2019.) In Leverage: Redemption, we no longer have a POV character, for several reasons:

Nate, previously the POV character, is dead.

As it is, by mid-season 3 of leverage Nate was no longer a POV character. This is, coincidentally, the point where the leverage writers realized they had four other characters in the main cast they could do something with, and in-universe, Nate accepted that he was a thief, not a special Good Man.

Sophie is sort of a POV character for the first episode of the revival, but only for the first few minutes. Afterwards, the series settles into the groove of seasons 3-5, i.e., the entire crew is our POV. We know our crew, and we love them as is.

Narratively, however, Redemption insists on positing Harry as the POV character, because it is his redemption we are pursuing most vehemently. And I think they really relied on us already knowing the actor - I’ve never seen him in anything before, so to me he was a completely fresh face and they put almost no effort into selling him to me. Beyond being competent and consistently mildly baffled by the antics of the leverage crew, I honestly don’t know who this man is by the end of EIGHT episodes with him. I have a much better handle on Breanna by the end of 1(a), and I can tell you I knew all five of the original leverage crew better by the end of the first episode of the original series than I do Harry. What’s the name of his daughter, John Rogers. Is he still married. How old is the daughter. Why is none of this worth mentioning. Give him a sense of humor that isn’t reacting to other people’s shenanigans. I’m so frustrated. It’s bad writing.

I did manage to grow to like Harry by the end, but I’m pretty sure this is down to Noah Wyle’s charismatic portrayal of an under-developed character, at least partially. And I never stopped being frustrated at not knowing who this man is at all.

The two highlights of the season are undoubtedly episodes five and six. Episode five was the first time I felt like the episode was more than a collection of good moments between the main cast and mediocre moments between the main cast and also the main plot. The issues with pacing and tone that I suffered through for most of the season were mostly non-existent in ep5 and 6, and at least in episode 5 I attribute that to the pared down cast. They had time to focus not only on our actual characters - Sophie, Parker, Breanna - but also on the case. This is the only client from 1(a) I am going to remember next week without googling it first, mark my words.

Episode six worked for the exact opposite reason - it completely disregarded the client and plot and immersed itself in the characters. Breanna gets a moment to shine, but everybody else gets their bits and I wouldn’t be surprised if that was the script that was most fun to write. The characters felt natural, real, and captured the found-family dynamic that’s been missing all season for the first time.

While episode 2 is the weakest episode, I don’t actually have much to say about it. I am disappointed in episode 8. For a mid-season finale, I really expected them to do something. Instead, it was an episode about Nate Ford that copped out of being about Nate Ford (both with fake-Nate and with the new version of him being relayed to us). I would have told the writers to give that energy back to episode 1 and write an episode that’s about anybody who isn’t Harry, oh my God. I know I said I grew to like him but so many episodes were about Harry. He’s the newbie! Why didn’t Hardison get an episode that was actually about him, considering he was only around for two episodes? Why does Eliot have to be the butt of the joke when the theme of the series should directly tie back to him in a much more meaningful way? The last episode parodies their own tagline by saying Eliot isn’t just a hitter, but it deftly avoids noticing that they’ve turned him into nothing more than very muscly comic relief, including in that very episode!

Also, I hated the Marshal. Eliot actively looked uncomfortable around her.

tl;dr

The season took a while, that’s definitely true. But it did find its footing eventually, and by the halfway mark of 1(a) it finally felt cohesive again. The characters were played fantastically even when they weren’t well-written, and if nothing else, the humor landed every time. It still has its kinks and problems to work out, but if you look at it as a brand new show rather than a continuation of one that went off the air over eight years ago, it’s actually doing rather well. I’m choosing to judge it in both lights - according to its own standards, it establishes its identity in episode five; according to Leverage standards, it establishes its connection to its roots in episode six. Either way, I thoroughly enjoyed 1(a), and continue to have high hopes for 1(b).

fic writing will commence in three, two, one...

[yoondoze]

make a wish | jjk - 2

jeongguk didn’t know it, but his wish came true. as the best things in life do, it comes back around.

alternatively: a compilation of scenes in the after of “make a wish” and how they pile up and weigh you down until it’s too much to handle.

pairing: jeon jeongguk x reader

word count: 6.4k

genre: angst, fluff, romance, best friend!au, mutual pining... shh

warnings: language. besides that, this is pretty tame! only slightly edited bc its 2 in the morning and i just want to get this up lol

a/n: didn’t mean for this to be so long but i got a little carried away. this wraps up make a wish, so i hope you guys like it! also, feedback is always appreciated in any way shape or form <3 muah!

It’s just as you’re leaving when Jeongguk’s phone rings. His eyes widen in disquiet as he stares at the number displayed at the top of his phone. In preparation, he shakes out his limbs dramatically and takes a deep, exaggerated breath. Considering it’s for your entertainment, you roll your eyes and wave him on.

He picks up.

“Hello?”

The voice on the other end is muffled as you try your best to listen in. Your heart pounds in anticipation, gripping onto the straps of your purse with white knuckles.

“Yeah. Okay. Okay, great.”

He paces around the room aimlessly. His fingers fiddle with a loose thread on his sweatpants as he listens closely. You’re sure he’s already sweating, more nervous than you could imagine despite the playful act he put on before answering.

“Yeah. That’s fine! Okay, thank you so much. Alright, bye.”

He’s facing away from you as he clicks the end call button. Just as you’re about to ask, he spins on his heel, lips pursed as he holds back a grin.

“Guess who got the job?”

A toothy grin spreads across his face as he singsongs. Jeongguk’s expression of pure excitement is a privilege to see. It’s impossible to deny how it lights up your own.

“Oh my god, you got the job?”

“I got the job!”

His bangs bounce as he jumps with both fists raised in glory. You squeal, going in for a tight hug and swaying back and forth as you congratulate him.

“I’m proud of you, Gguk,” you say into his shoulder. “Really, I am.”

And when you say it, you mean it. After so many months of struggling at his old company, he took the leap and applied for a position at a more well-known film studio. The late night introduction practices with you, which included him reciting prepared resume-esque lines and weeks of tiring interviews had paid off like you knew he deserved it to.

“Okay. I should get home,” you try, voice strained as his arms crush your diaphragm like walls in a deadly escape room. Upon hearing your winded sentence, he loosens his grip.

You don’t even think about what it might mean before you place a departing kiss to Jeongguk’s cheek, fueled by the elation running through you at the upward turn of events. It’s an accident, it just happens naturally as if it was something you’ve done a thousand times. It only hits you that you shouldn’t have after it’s already done.

Sure, you make out and kiss all the time, but the difference is that’s only when you’re taking advantage of the benefits you worked out. That kissing is all attraction, nothing chaste or romantic like this. So when you pull away from the hug, you expect to see his eyebrows furrowed in confusion and giving you a look of disgust.  

“Uh-” you sputter, ever a wordsmith, trying to think of some rational explanation to excuse why you might have kissed him like that. The previous bouts of joy sparking in your heart fly out the window.

However, his eyes only show a mild, innocent surprise. At his silence, it doesn’t seem like he’s going to address it, and you assume he’ll assume it was just congratulatory. You can work with that.

“Bye. I’ll text you when I get home,” you blurt as untroubled as it can come, spinning on your heel and hurrying out the door. After closing it behind you, you slump back against it for a breath.

God, what were you thinking? Were you fucking stupid? Your fingers find your forehead finds as you try to convince yourself it wasn’t that bad. You’re prone to over analyzing, anyway. Jeongguk’s too occupied to think about it like that. He just got his new job, he has a thousand new things to worry about. He won’t read into it. If he does, he’ll think of it as a heat of the moment sort of thing.

Right?

Inside, Jeongguk pauses, staring at where you were standing just a second ago and scratches the back of his neck. The corners of his mouth turn up slowly. 

He finds himself checking his phone every five minutes for a text from you, which never comes.

☆☆☆

At the end of the day, it was your fault. 

It was your thoughtless action that made Jeongguk think that incorporating romantic gestures like that into your relationship could still be platonic. You rocked the boat with that one, but it wasn’t enough to completely capsize your vessel, and for that you were grateful. 

Still, your heart now tore itself into smaller and smaller pieces every time he kissed you goodbye or grabbed your hand to swing it back and forth or wrapped his arm around you after cleaning up. 

“By the way,” he says, tossing you one of his shirts from his place in front of his dresser. He pulls on a clean pair of boxers as you cover up. “There’s this work dinner I have to go to next week for networking and stuff, and it’s a buffet-type thing so they charge you for a spot. But, I found out that there is a couple’s discount and was wondering if maybe… you’d want to come with me?”

The hopeful sparkle in his eyes is one you just can’t ignore. Doing so would feel like a one-way ticket to hell, the only valid consequence for such a rotten crime.

“Yeah, sure.”

His smile at your compliance takes away all the apprehension you might have had, at least for a second. He wears it like a medal.

“Okay, good. I have to talk to a lot of people so I’d just feel better if you were there.”

Your brows draw together as you watch him get dressed. “But Gguk, you’re good at talking to people,” you say, going as far as to admit teasingly, “You’re fairly charming.”

He laughs, hopping into his slacks. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I don’t freak out inside. It’s scary!” The dark brown mop of hair atop his head jostles into his eyes as he adds, “There’s gonna be a lot of well-known people there so it’s my chance to make some connections.”

Despite that, you’re sure he’ll be just fine. By nature, Jeongguk is inviting and easy to talk to. That is one of the reasons why you became such fast friends, and probably why you lasted so long. Along with his agreeable presence, his captivating looks probably wouldn’t hurt in striking up a deal either, though you’d never say that to his face.

“What’s the dress code?”

“Semi-formal I think?” He says, looking out of the corner of his eye. “I don’t know what that constitutes in terms of dresses but…”

A certain memory tugs at the back of his head. He considers just leaving it there, maybe slightly sentimental for his usual image, but what’s the harm in bringing it up?

“Do you remember the dress you wore for my brother’s graduation dinner? The blue one?”

You, on the other hand, are just surprised he remembers something like that. It must have been years ago by now. Still, it’s a good memory. It was a breezy evening by the shore to celebrate his brother’s graduation from college. The dinner was nice, but the best part was when you and Jeongguk ended up sneaking off to go sit on the beach later on in the night.  

Jeongguk is intertwined into nearly every lasting memory you make. It’s hard to imagine a world where he isn’t a part of each story you retell or each thought that crosses your mind.

“Oh, yeah, of course. It’s probably buried in my closet somewhere.” 

He’s relieved you don’t question him.

You might have to do some digging when you get home to find it, but you definitely still have it. It’s not like you have the money to be purchasing new semi-formal dresses for every occasion.

“That would be good. Or something like it, I don’t know.” He finishes buttoning up his shirt and tugs on the cuffs to straighten them out. His reflection in the mirror sends you a beaming smile, at this point accepting how his heart rate seems to spike every time he sees you in one of his shirts nowadays. He’s gotten very good at lending them to you casually.

He continues after a glance at the clock tells him he’s been letting his time with you slip on for more time than he can afford even though he wishes he could stay. “Anyway, I have to get going so make sure you lock the door behind you when you leave.” And then he’s padding out the door, car keys jingling in his hand as he picks them up from the dish on the kitchen counter.

“Oh, and Y/N?” He pokes his head around the hallway entrance to see you. “There’s coffee out here for you when you want it.”

He dashes off before you have the chance to react or even say thank you, a sheepish grin tugging at his features as he walks to his car. When you go out to see, it’s already made with cream and sugar, just the way you like.

☆☆☆

“You look really pretty tonight, Y/N,” Jeongguk says, voice soft as ever, eyeing your dress as you step out of the car. “Seriously, I mean it.” The heels you wear click evenly like a metronome’s beat on the pavement as you walk around to join him at his side.

You ignore the heat in your cheeks, rather offering an endearing grin as you grip the clutch in your hand. “You too, Gguk. You’ll do great tonight. I wouldn’t be surprised if you made everyone here fall for you while you’re at it.”

His initial thought is to ask if that includes you, but his better judgment tells him it’s too bold. Instead, he just laughs and hands his car keys to the valet.

The dinner is a week later at a stunning three-floor, dimly lit fine dining restaurant decorated with dark hardwood and intricate chandeliers that make the soreness in your neck seem worth it while observing them.

Jeongguk cleans up nice, and even though you’ve already known this for a long time, you consider it a treat since this attire rarely, if ever, sees the light of day. 

He props out his elbow and nudges for you to take it, which you so graciously do. Together you walk to the glass doors, through which you can see the party has just started. You can already hear the muffled music and chatter in the background.

“By the way,” he says, leaning down to your ear, like what he’s about to tell you is no big deal. “I… might have told my coworkers that we’re engaged-”

“Engaged!?” you whisper, eyes wide and staring at him incredulously. 

So maybe he should have told you earlier. In his defense, he needed the extra time to produce an irrefutable excuse. In the end, it was only sort of reasonable, but he was hoping you would just roll with it. Isn’t that what the two of you always did?

“I know, I know! But listen. It just makes more sense in terms of you being my plus one and it also makes me seem like I have my shit together. And it’s always good for me to seem like I have my shit together, right?”

You sigh, narrowing your line of sight at him. “Okay. What do I do if someone asks why I’m not wearing my ring then?”

He mutters, “Oh, yeah.” Then he’s fishing through his side pocket and out comes a shiny silver ring with a small diamond placed into the center, held so flippant between his fingertips. “It’s my grandma’s. Borrowed it from home for this weekend.”

His heart pounds. Was that smooth enough? He has a lot of talents, but he isn’t sure if this was one of them just yet. Jeongguk tenses as he waits for your reaction. Best case scenario, his carefree attitude about it will rub off onto you.

“I figured it’d fit you,” he adds.

When it slides on perfectly, you know there’s no going back. Yet somehow, it is completely in character of him. You should have expected something like this because Jeongguk always has and always will be a man of spontaneity.

You’ll have to ask him how he knows your ring size sometime.

Inside, he introduces you to his coworkers. There are too many to remember but you catch a few here and there that you recall him talking about before, like Namjoon, the diligent Production Assistant and Taehyung, another member of the crew who he often eats lunch with. It’s an initial blur of faces and few-worded exchanges before you can take a breather off to the side.

“Not bad?” he asks, his thumb tracing circles over your knuckles. The way it makes your heart flutter is addictive. He has you in his palm and he doesn’t even know it. Unfortunately, you don’t know if it’s something you can give up yet, not without it being messy.

There’s a short line behind a board that displays the seating arrangement, and though it’s moving quickly, it allows you a moment of space from the other guests.

A tired smile pulls at your lips. “Not bad.” You squeeze his hand in yours.

The people in front of you move from the board into the dining hall so both of you can inch up. Jeongguk’s eyes trace the small handwriting, eventually spotting the two of you in the far corner of the room.

Dinner goes well, and Jeongguk does the most of the talking. It’s nice to see him so bright as he laughs with his coworkers. It’s that part of him that he’s had since he was a kid, the part that made him fit in so naturally and charm every person around him. Seeing it out in the open and no longer repressed from emotional baggage is heartwarming. Compared to a few months ago, you might not recognize him at all.

After a while, Jeongguk wipes his mouth with his napkin and pushes his chair out from the table. “Alright, I’m gonna head to the bar lounge for a little while and see who I can talk to. Are you gonna be fine on your own?”

He’s nervous, you can tell. By the way his eyes dart around the room, the way he’s biting the inside of his bottom lip. 

“Yeah, go ahead,” you nod, taking a sip of water. “I’ll just stick around here.”

He gives himself a once over and wipes his palms on his slacks.

You tap his shoulder, bringing him down so you can whisper to him a small, “You’ll do great.”

He pulls back with a shy, one-sided smile. “Thank you. I hope so. Text me if you need anything.” Effortlessly, he plants a chaste kiss to your cheekbone that has your face ablaze and excuses himself from the table. The feeling of his lips on your skin sticks well after he’s gone.

Ryujin, the script supervisor, puts down her drink with a roll of her eyes. “Finally, all the boys are gone. I’ve been trying to talk to you the entire time but he’s always butting in!”

It pulls a laugh from you. “No, no, he’s just trying to help,” you explain, “I’m new to everyone here so he just doesn’t want me to feel awkward.”

“Yada yada,” says a bubbly Chaeryoung, a PA, waving it off with her hand. “I expected him to be protective with how much he talks about you, but wow. It’s cute though. Sometimes I wish I had someone like that.”

“Yeah, I’m really lucky,” you nod, reminded that you’re just pretending. You’re lucky, but not that lucky. “But… wait, what kind of stuff does he say about me?”

Ryujin chortles at your worry. “Oh, only good things. Just stuff you do together, jokes, those kinds of things. You’re involved in a lot of stories in some way or another.”

“Like, “This one time in high school, Y/N and I got in a fight...” or “Last week, we went to this new brunch spot and Y/N got this sandwich…’” Chaeryoung clarifies, but it only makes you want to pry further.

As she says it, both of the memories come floating back clear as day. You can’t remember what exactly you argued over, but it had been when you were paired as partners in a history class. The sandwich, you recall, was heaven on earth. The images are picture-perfect despite how they’d been buried.

The fact that Chaeryoung remembered things you didn’t is mildly startling, but you’re more surprised that Jeongguk shared so much. Not that it’s an issue, you just didn’t think you’d find yourself being perceived by so many people you had no prior knowledge of. The idea of him spilling your high school gossip fits like a puzzle to his persona, but the thought never occurred to you that he might think about you when you’re not there.

But you won’t let yourself become too optimistic.

“Yeah,” you laugh, “I think it’s different since we grew up together as family friends. He’s in a lot of my stories, too.”

“Ugh, that’s cute,” Ryujin sighs. If only. “So when did you start liking each other? Or start dating?”

You take a deep breath as if you’re looking back on the day when in reality you’re just trying to come up with the most believable love story you can manage. It’s also your most ideal. Maybe if your current situation went the way you wanted.

“I think we liked each other at different times over the years. Y’know, I liked him when we were kids, he liked me when we were teenagers, kind of on and off like that. But sometime after college, I think the cycle lined up once and for all and…“

Do you think you could manifest it by speaking it into existence?

“...here we are.”

That thought was stupid. You make yourself forget about it. Stop with the hope, remember?

When you finish your spiel, you think you’ve finally made it in the clear. Until another question comes.

“So what was your first date like? Was it weird?”

You know they’re just trying to make conversation, but god, you’re not ready for this. You’re preoccupied with other problems. If only they knew how your brain was short-circuiting in an effort to think up an explanation that will make you sound versed and most importantly, convincing. You go with what you wish had happened. 

“Um, a little bit, but since we had been close friends for such a long time, I think we had that mutual understanding of how things were so we could laugh about it. We just…” you say, shaking your head along, lips pursing as your train of thought rolls through the detailed daydream you know so well. “...went out to dinner one night... and it was sort of a process to transition to something more romantic, I guess, but it just kind of happened.”

But it feels nice to be Jeongguk’s girl. Even if you’re just playing a part. If you sink yourself into the atmosphere, tune into the clinking of the glasses, and the relaxing jazz in the background, you can pretend you’re really engaged and sharing your love story to whoever will listen.

Would it hurt too much to hold out on it one day become reality?

“I’m always so happy when the company hosts these events,” Chaeryoung comments, leaning back in her chair to take in the room. “It’s the only time I can come to a place like this since you know I can’t afford it with my own money.” A small talk sort of laugh bubbles up from her as she says it. There is an inkling of confusion that strikes you at her words, but you think you’ll just brush it off for the sake of being casual.

Ryujin looks to you as she adds, “And they even let you bring a plus one for free! You know, I was thinking of bringing my boyfriend, but I just felt like it might have been too soon…”

Your brows furrow as you recall the conversation with Jeongguk. Didn’t he say that it was a pay per guest scenario?

“So the company pays for these dinners?” you ask out of pure curiosity and with no hint of suspicion weaved in your tone.

“Yeah!” says Chaeryoung. “It’s all from the company’s budget since this is technically a networking event. Usually, people swap ideas or come up with deals that turn into projects a couple of weeks down the line.”

You nod along as she explains eagerly, but all you can hear is that there never was a price to pay to begin with, and more importantly meaning that there never was a discount. Not one that Jeongguk needed you around for. 

But why would he lie? 

Maybe Jeongguk was embarrassed asking for your company or didn’t want his ego bruised by telling you it was free and he wouldn’t have to pay for you. It’s the benefit of the doubt for your best friend (and love of your life, but that’s a separate issue) that makes it your first thought. In reality, thinking about the boy you know, it doesn’t make sense. At this point, he shouldn’t have to feel like that when it comes to you. 

Whatever the case may be, you hope that he knows he’d never need an excuse to invite you somewhere. It’s not like you’d ever refuse. You’d never refuse him, not in any life.

☆☆☆

It’s the middle of the night when another bad dream jolts you awake with a pounding heartbeat. Your eyes flutter open, brimmed with tears, to reveal that the moon is still high in the sky above the towering buildings, and a shift to the side facing the nightstand lets you know you have another three hours before you have to start your day and leave Jeongguk’s apartment.

The last few weeks, the dreams have been growing more and more common. Not enough for you to dread going to sleep just yet, but definitely something you’re quickly getting sick of. At this point, you’re tired of going to sleep just to wake up freaked out in a cold sweat. You chalk it up to the stress piling on you, not only that of regular adult life but that of your messy relationship with your best friend.

How ironic that must be, considering the whole reason it started was to relieve stress when now it’s your main source.

You empty your lungs with a shaky sigh and slide to the edge of the bed, intending to fetch a glass of water to calm yourself down. Before you can reach your feet, Jeongguk’s arm catches you at your waist, and then you’re being reeled back under the covers.

“Easy,” he mumbles, his voice grainy and low from sleep, “You’re fine. Talk to me.”

You swallow thickly, the scenes from your subconscious flashing back to you. “Um, that’s alright. Not a big deal.”

You wish he’ll just leave it at that and fall back asleep like he usually does. When his breathing steadies, you think you’re in the clear, but you are horribly mistaken when he yawns and adds, “You’ve been having a lot of nightmares recently.”

Is it another prompt for you to talk? You’re not sure what to say. 

In fact, you’re never sure what to say anymore. Never sure what’s too much, what’s too little, what the difference is between what you say and what you mean. The line blurred months ago and now you’re wandering blind.

You’d enjoy moments like this if it wasn’t for the stark fact that the person you’re with doesn’t love you like you love him. 

 “Yeah…” you agree. Right now, your chest is heavy and not strong enough to support a conversation. You hope that he’s not too drowsy to take the hint.

A small sound from him makes it seem like another sleepy sentence is in the works, but fortunately, the tension in your chest begins to fade when nothing comes out. His hair shuffles against the pillow and he presses a featherlight kiss to the back of your neck, lips lingering there for a second too long before he sinks back into his position.

When you’re sure he’s slipped under the veil of slumber again, you carefully slide out of his grasp and squeeze into your own space at the edge of the bed. You don’t know how much longer you can last like this.

☆☆☆

“She texted me.”

The sentence makes you stop chewing. Your movements stop aside from an absent blinking, gears spinning overtime to process it.

“She uh, she wants to meet up,” he tacks on. “I think I should go.”

“Why would you do that?”

Jeongguk slowly twists the pasta around his fork, taking a blatant newfound interest in his dinner. He takes a deep breath, but when he opens his mouth, the words catch in his throat.

“I don’t know. I think we need to talk about what happened.”

You scoff, and he takes an immediate offense to it. His eyebrows knit together as a wounded expression takes form on his features.

“What happened? Gguk, she dumped you because you were going through a hard time and she didn’t want to ‘deal’ with it.”

It’s not just you playing the protective best friend role and trying to talk sense into him. It’s not jealousy, either. And sure, maybe you never liked her to begin with, but for good reason. She ended up doing exactly what you thought she would - shattering his heart into a million pieces and leaving it for someone else to pick up the pieces. And considering that’s been you on a multitude of occasions, you think your point of view is valid.

“Listen, I don’t blame her… That can be really hard on someone.”

“So it’s okay for them to just pop in out of the blue, say they can’t handle your emotional issues and bounce? Someone who they claimed to love for over a year and a half? Someone who they were thinking about marrying?”

Jeongguk purses his lips as you speak, a hefty exhale coming through his nose in frustration.

“I just miss her sometimes!”

And you really wish Jeongguk would love you back, but we can’t all get our way, can we?

Not to throw yourself a pity party, though. It’s not like he owes you anything for what you do because you brought it on yourself. He doesn’t control your feelings, even when you want to blame the nerve he has for smiling because it makes you get all jittery. 

“She doesn’t even give a shit about me anymore! She’s out with other guys, doing all this shit, posting it everywhere. I… I loved her so bad and she acts like she has no clue.”

You give him pep talks when he’s about to go out with someone else. You comfort him when he’s distraught over someone else. You love him when he loves someone else. 

And then-

“You don’t know what that’s like.”

You freeze. Your heart leaps to your throat, closing the gate on your lungs until you forcibly open them again as subtle as possible. A stinging feeling you know all too well burns in your eyes as you try to hold back. Jeongguk doesn’t notice in the slightest as his gaze is still fixated on his food.

Your initial reaction is anger. All you want to do is yell, tell him wrong, tell him that you know it all too well because you love him and he’s pathetically oblivious whether by his nature or by choice. Everything you want to say, shouts and confessions, float across your mind and bounce around the walls as each one brings you further to opening your mouth and letting them spill. Then you just want to cry.

But you won’t do any of that. Your situation won’t allow it, not if you want to risk losing him. It’s not a risk you’re willing to take, even if it means suffering in it by yourself and letting the irony of his words go unrealized.

“Yeah, you’re right,” you sigh, the fork gripped by your white knuckles tapping mindlessly against the side of the bowl as you swallow the feeling back down. Your hand comes up to scratch at the corner of your eye, wiping away the wetness beginning to pool composedly so he won’t notice.

“I don’t.”

☆☆☆

It’s on a Tuesday evening a couple of weeks in the future when you next see him. 

Maybe more than a couple. Maybe a few. Maybe too many. Just enough for his tone to turn to something more confrontational than just casual when he sends you a text saying that he wants to see you again. Particularly when he specified that no, he needed to see you again.

He suggests the park by the river. You’ve been there a few times with him for lunches and to hang out, but the energy is different this time around. Both of you know why you’re here, even though you never thought you’d have to be. 

For a while, you didn’t want to make things weird, so you’d come over when he’d ask and leave as soon as you could in an attempt to curb the damage on your heart. It wasn’t until three weeks ago that you actively started flaking on him. You’d let his calls ring until he hung up or left a message and say you were busy when there was absolutely nothing going on. 

He stopped by your apartment at one point, too. You were freaking out after he texted you he’d be visiting, pacing around and wondering what to do, what to respond, if to respond at all. The knock at your door came sooner than you expected. Before you were about to pull it open and face what you’d been so casual about denying for so long, it occurred to you: You could simply not open the door.

So you waited. He knocked a few more times, sighing so loud you could hear through the door. He called out your name softly, as if he knew you were right on the other side. He stayed for a few more minutes. Then came the sound of his footsteps padding away. You were safe for another day, but the awful feeling stuck in your chest for days.

It stuck in his, too. He knew he should have never gone that far, never said anything that night, but he also wondered if he could have done it any other way. Standing at your door and having to face the fact that you were undeniably steering clear of him, because of him, was a nightmare. It was stupid of him, but you’d see past it - wouldn’t you?

And now you’re seeing him live and in person for the first time in god knows how long. It’s a foreign feeling you’ve never felt with Jeongguk before, and you hate it. It’s been long enough for the sense of familiarity to fade, or at least be buried by time. 

Is this how a comet feels when it passes earth again after so many years apart? Does it feel new every time seeing how things have changed, or are they old friends who pick up where they left off?

“ So… what’s been going on with you?” Jeongguk asks nonchalantly, leaning back on his elbows and shaking the hair out of his eyes. “It’s been a while.”

“Uhh, I don’t know,” you shrug, vision focused on the calm waters in front of you. You tug at the grass under your fingertips, loosely hugging your knees to your chest as you sit beside him. “Not much I guess. Just work as usual, you know.”

“Yeah, but how are you?” he presses, trying to find your eyes as you avoid his.

He knew something was wrong from the evident distance and your attitude, but he didn’t think it’d be this bad. He didn’t think he’d fucked up this bad.

Your laugh is awkward and forced. “I’ve been fine. Been good.”

Thinking about the past few weeks, it’s not hard to remember but incredibly hard to grasp. It’s the same moments over and over, sourced from a lonely routine. Day by day spending time with yourself, missing Jeongguk, thinking about texting him but never doing it. Wash, rinse, repeat.

His face turns from you and you miss it the second you can’t see it. The feeling is off and both of you know it. He sucks his lower lip into his mouth, biting at it as he thinks of what to say. If the wrong thing comes out, he’s worried he’ll chase you even further away. It took so much to even get you here.

“Listen, can I be honest with you?” he says.

Honesty is the best policy, isn’t it? He’s tired of beating around the bush. The two of you know so much more than bland small talk.

“Sure.”

He takes a deep breath. “I always thought that nothing could ever be uncomfortable with you and me. Like we could be straightforward and blunt without it being weird. But things right now are really weird and I don’t know what happened. You’re avoiding me and you don’t want to see me. It’s not like it used to be.”

Your nails scrape beneath each other, entangled in your lap. Clearly things aren’t the same, but you don’t have the energy to be snarky. There are so many things to address and you’re ignorant on where to start.

“I know there wasn’t a discount for the work dinner.”

He nods, looking out over the river. “Yeah, figured.”

“So why’d you lie?”

It’s his turn to shrug. “I just wanted you there and I didn’t know how to ask you. I… was starting to feel the shift and I wasn’t sure what to do about it. Saying that just gave me an excuse to take any of the weight off.”

He adds quietly, “Your turn.”

“Gguk,” you start, shaking your head as you try to find the right words. You think of the kiss, the dinner, the ring, the argument.

“We act like a couple. We do things couples do. We pretend we’re a couple. But... we aren’t a couple.”

He’s silent. He knows where you’re going. He knew it before you even got here because if you didn’t bring it up first, he would have.

“I think you already know what’s going on, but if you need it spelled out for you, I kinda caught feelings for you. And then you give me your grandmother’s wedding ring and tell me you love me and it hurts so fucking bad because I know you don’t mean it like that. Not the way I wish you did.”

The words dissipate into the fresh evening air, soon filled by delicate chirps and birdsongs. Distant laughter floats around the park, with muffled ferry horns layered behind it all.

“How do you know?”

Your hand pauses, chlorophyll green blades pulled taut between your fingers. No fucking way.

“What?”

He scratches the back of his neck before locking his eyes with yours. “How do you know... that I don’t mean it like that?”

He’s not playing with you, is he? No, he wouldn’t. You respond slightly confused, hesitant to lean into his words just yet.

“Are you saying that you do?”

He laughs and it makes your chest feel like it might burst open. “You’re kidding, right? I’ve been saying it. I mean, I thought I was being obvious.”

You suppress the excitement bubbling in your stomach for a second longer to throw him a questionable expression with an extended palm for emphasis. “You told me you wanted to go see your ex-girlfriend and were talking about how you loved her.”

He exhales through his teeth as he squints at you. “Yeah, that went a little far...”

“Only a little?”

“I’m apologizing, so let me, please?” He says, eyes wide with a small smile tweaking up at his lips. “It was stupid. I wanted to see what you would say or if you would get jealous. ‘Cause I thought you might have felt the same and at the time that was the only thing I could think of doing.”

Your expression falls.

“Wait, so did you actually meet up with her?”

“No, no!” He exclaims, rushing to refute such a bizarre idea. “Yes, she texted me, but I said no. Everything you said was right, so… it wasn’t worth it.”

He thinks he’s done, until he sees your stare still lingering on him. What’d he miss? He flops over on his stomach, elbows in the grass as his chin rests on his palms to look at you.

“You also said I didn’t know what it was like to love someone who didn’t love me back.”

A cheeky grin grows on him. “Okay... but technically you don’t because I loved you back the whole time.” One of his arms lowers to the ground, his fingers finding your own. He weaves them together with an affectionate squeeze. “You just didn’t know.”

The way your heart flutters is different this time. Gone are the tiring nerves and teary eyes and the weight of stress on your shoulders. It’s a comfortable sort of excitement, one that you’re in love with almost as much as you are with the boy himself.

“Since when?” you ask shyly, feeling the tingle in your cheeks. 

It’s a relief to have Jeongguk back. A life without him wouldn’t be one you could ever get used to. 

He was there at the start, he’s here now, and he will be here for as long as he possibly can. When it comes to you, there’s no doubt. He’s yours every time.      

His deep brown eyes sparkle under the setting sun, golden and glowing, as he makes a point to find your own. Tone dulcet and tender, he says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Since always.”

[btsmosphere]

The Web | PJM

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

~summary: Nearly dying was just the beginning. While struggling to deal with the direction life has thrown you, you find yourself at the heart of a web of conspiracy. Maybe it will bring you back to Jimin - if you both make it out alive. Jimin x reader ~word count: 4.8k ~mafia au, established relationship, angst, eventual fluff?(in future parts) Rating: pg15 Warnings: violence, breaking and entering, guns, death, injury, lots of running ~a/n: part 3 let’s get itttt! I had great fun writing this part :) I do have to be honest here tho, motivation has been a little low this week, and the interaction on this story is kind of getting to me. Please please don’t be a silent reader if you enjoy the story, comment and reblog! To everyone who has been sharing and commenting, thank you so much!! I appreciate it all x

this post is a repost for tags!! i would appreciate if you interact with this part 3

Squashed up against the cold metal of the van door, your other shoulder jostled with Sorrell's. There were a small group of you inside, seated on the floor of the vehicle, which was none too comfy as it bumped over holes in the road, making you all sway as one.

Besides the rumbling engine, however, you were silent. You doubted any of them knew each other at all; you were perhaps the only one with a connection here.

Earlier on, Sorrell had led you to the main warehouse floor where the others would join you. Like you, they seemed to emerge from the woodwork, slipping through doors they were clearly well practised in sneaking through.

You weren't honouring your wish to stay alive as well as you had hoped when you made the resolution.

As you leaned against the wall, hood as low over your face as it could be, you had begun to wish you had kept going last night, and left this all behind. It was a lucky thing you hadn't been a known operative of bangtan, or you may well be dead already.

Though it was a relief to be handed the dark cloth of a balaclava, it still made you pause before putting it on. Staring at the material, gaping facelessly back at you, you recalled how many times you had run from people clad in these, how many had fired at you. How many you had shot in return.

But there was no turning back.

You were yet to receive instructions, but no one seemed too anxious about this so you forced yourself to play along, slouching against the rear of the van. All you could do was wait for the inevitable calming of the engine, the slowing of the wheels...

When it finally came, you followed Sorrell's lead as she stood up, being sure to stay in the middle of the pack as you congregated on a dark path. One you instantly recognised.

So far, it seemed your hunch was correct.

This alley was barely a street away from bangtan's headquarters, somewhere you never thought you would be seeing again.

Stuffing your hands in your pockets, away from the cold, you looked around as the front door of the van slammed shut, splitting the quiet of the night. The only sound that could be heard was the faint bumbling of traffic, over which you could easily hear the darkwater leader stomping towards you.

A pile of fabric was dropped at your feet. Curiously, it clanged as it hit the floor.

"Take these bags," he ordered, "you are burglars, okay? Each of you should have a loaded pistol, in case something goes wrong, but just go in and stick to the areas we tell you. Take stuff if you really want, but don't leave your place. Understand?"

The barest mumble of agreement went up as the bags were collected from the ground.

With a frown, you opened yours. Rummaging inside, you easily found the gun, which you stashed at your waist. However, something else was in there too.

Fishing out the piece of paper, you saw the others do the same. Smoothing out the creases, you studied it.

You had seen these plans before.

Not that you needed to, given you knew the building inside out, but these specific plans. They had been lying on Kwangsu's desk before he tried to kill you. Finally getting to see them up close, you brought them right up to your nose, eyes flicking over every detail of bangtan he had mapped out. Where the vents were, the entrances and exits, even secret ones. He had all the codes, all the hiding places.

Instead of a warm gratification, you felt numb. You would have thought some sort of sense of accomplishment might have eased your worry, after learning you were right all along.

But no.

Because all this meant was Jimin and your friends were sharing their home with a traitor.

"Got it?" the man barked, startling you. Looking around at the vague nods, you hurriedly replicated them and followed the pack as they began to move.

Surreptitiously glancing at the paper in your hand, you turned your attention at last to the actual directions. Your group was set to travel through the main hall and take the middle floor of the building. The designated stations marked on the map formed a border of sorts, a line cutting through the place. The line ran between all of bangtan and the boardroom. And in the boardroom…

Lay le déluge.

Of course, that was not included in the map, but you knew full well where it was.

At a nudge from Sorrell, you upped your pace, having fallen a couple of steps behind the group. Having been alerted to where the cameras were, they made a beeline around the view of one such eager eye, blocked in part by a car that was parked there anyway.

Next, pressing against the cold brick of the perimeter wall, you crept closer to the gate which would lead you down, underneath the main building to its lower bunker. This was essentially used as a garage, but now it was to be your passage in.

Slipping through the gate with easy use of the code, you stopped just inside the entrance.

Though huddled together, no warmth permeated you. Your eyes constantly darted around the space, despite being in near total darkness. And you weren’t the only one. The only thing visible was the small red light of a camera, blocking your path.

A collective breath was released as the light died, leader waving you on.

Passing under the device, you looked up at it with a frown. Kwangsu must be inside, turning them off.

Gritting your teeth, you turned your eyes to the path ahead.

Winding your way up and through passages you had only seen a handful of times, the first few began to break away. Kwangsu had been busy. He knew exactly which paths were rarely used. The downside of having such a well-defended maze of a base: it had deadly potential when used against you.

Finally, Sorrell slipped through a doorway, leaving you completely alone.

Having memorised your intended position, you didn’t need your map to get there. As your feet fell on the carpeted halls, you got the sense you were in a museum. Memories from the past hung on the walls, untouched in revered silence.

At last, the correct door revealed itself and you moved towards it, quickly concealed in shadow.

Willing your eyes to adjust, you tapped your foot slowly. You couldn’t just wait here while Kwangsu was on the move, getting exactly what he wanted.

With no way of telling what the others were doing, you prayed none of them would leave their places. They were supposed to be staging a burglary, messing up their areas, almost certainly as a cover for the real treasure to be taken.

Sucking your lower lip into your mouth, you trod silently across to the other exit of the room. This way lead to the surveillance room.

Your every nerve was on edge as you crept further away from your post, fully aware Kwangsu had been working the cameras not long ago. You didn’t want to run across him.

From somewhere behind you, a muffled crash startled you into stillness.

It could have come from any one of the people in this building.

Not having any time to stop and calm down, you bit your tongue determinedly and pushed on. When the camera room was in sight, you flattened your body against the wall as you encroached.

It was dark inside, like the rest of the house, the light wavering from the computer screens lining the walls.

Holding your breath, you slid right up to the door, as close as you dared, and listened.

Silence.

Hand finding its way to the weight of your gun against your body, you looked around the corner.

And stared in horror.

Recoiling, you pressed the back of your hand hard against your mouth, making every effort not to gag. Even in the low light, you could see the blood oozing from the neck of the person slumped in the operating seat.

But you had to go in.

Averting your eyes, you stepped inside. You didn’t want to know who it was. It couldn’t be one of the boys, but it was likely to be someone you knew.

You were going to make sure Kwangsu paid.

Despite your hatred, you had to admit he was smart. Being the one room without cameras inside, filled with screens instead, this was the perfect place to get away with murder.

Forcing breaths out evenly, your eyes scanned over every screen in turn, noting the ones that stared back, blank, having been disactivated.

The sheer quantity of footage laid out in front of you was overwhelming, but you forced yourself to take the screens in one by one, dark room after empty space, until you finally found motion.

In one of the hallways this side of your border, Kwangsu was practically jogging towards the boardroom. But he wasn’t there yet. Constantly glancing over his shoulder, his hands fiddled with his shirt cuffs as he paced it out of shot of the first camera.

You crossed the room quickly to the next screen he emerged on, trying to assess his route.

The cocky bastard was right out in the open! No secret passages, no hidden corridors – he was hot-footing it up the main staircase.

It was the most direct route after all, and he did have cover.

You had to get to him.

But as you shot one last glare at the screen, preparing to give chase, a flicker caught your eye on the screen beside it. One of the bedroom doors had opened.

Bangtan knew.

You turned and ran.

Following in Kwangsu’s steps, you found the halls empty, silent bar your panting breaths as you rushed through them. The closer you got to the boardroom, the more danger there was of running into him.

At last, your nerve gave out and you broke away, taking another passage that led around the side.

Slowing your pace as you reached the final door, behind which lay the boardroom, you trod carefully, pushing it open softly. Your face was hot underneath the fabric covering it, but you kept your eyes trained on the growing crack of light as the door opened.

Cool metal rested under your fingertips as you readied your gun.

Your muscles were poised to move any second, but you forced them to wait. Once the door finally left enough space to look into the room beyond, you found precisely what you were looking for. If only you had been gifted a camera as well as a gun.

Kwangsu had his back to you, currently lifting the majestic painting from its place at the head of the room.

Your gun raised, finding its target with practised ease. You took a breath.

Time you never should have wasted.

The unmistakeable sound of a gunshot rang out, but it hadn’t come from you. Reacting in an instant, you jumped back behind the cover of the door, only hoping Kwangsu had turned slower.

Somewhere in the depths of the house, the sound of something smashing was soon overtaken by another shot, then another. A burst ricocheted through the building before quiet reigned again.

But only for a moment.

Over the pounding of your heart, the sound of a door.

“Hey!” a shout went up as the main door to the roomed slammed shut again.

Pushing the door as much as you dared, you watched as a man, face covered in dark fabric like you, marched down the centre of the room. It was so alien to see a darkwater in the middle of such a space, a black abyss within the normally warm room.

But where long windows usually shed golden light, now there was only shadow as the man reached Kwangsu.

“They’re onto us,” he muttered roughly, “just give me that and get back there.”

The painting changed hands.

“Hold on, wait,” Kwangsu stopped him as he made to move.

Eyes widening, you froze in place. Had he seen you?

“I’m meant to look like I’ve been fighting you off,” he said instead.

Hurriedly placing the large artwork against the desk, the other man readied his fist. He may have – literally – asked for it, but seeing the punch land on Kwangsu’s face gave you some sort of grim satisfaction.

But now the painting was on the move again, bangtan’s future possibly leaving along with it as the man melted away through a doorway at that end of the room.

Gunshots shattered the night again, scattered and irregular, before fading again.

It was enough to prompt Kwangsu into motion though, and you pulled back once again as he made his way back across the room.

Back falling against the wall, your breaths filled the darkness. Le déluge was going in one direction, and the traitor in the other. One headed out, one back in.

You pushed away, new destination locked in your mind.

As you ran through the halls towards the sound of gunfire, your own stayed firm in your hand.

He had to be here somewhere – as rooms flew past, you looked into each doorway, each time met with emptiness.

Even the shouts and gunshots that grew louder did not deter you. The blood racing through your veins was boiling. Kwangsu was not going to get away from you.

Tearing through a room, knowing it to be a shortcut to the thick of the fight, you spilled out the other side and instantly staggered back at the sight of a body slumped on the floor. Blood was leaking into the carpet, the figure completely motionless.

Your breaths scrambled in your throat, overtaking themselves as you tore your eyes away. You couldn’t even see their face, as it was covered just like yours.

Suddenly, bullet spray littered the corridor to your left, and you were off again, nearly tumbling over as your feet stumbled to get away. Flinging yourself around the next corner, you sprinted past a smashed up desk in the hallway, small shards of glass probably sticking into your shoes as you veered around a fallen artwork.

Chucking a glance over your shoulder as you raced around the next bend, you were oblivious to the startled man in front of you.

When you looked forwards again, your limbs froze in place for a terrifying split-second before you were backpedalling, skidding back around the corner.

Taehyung.

Tae, your friend, who was now chasing after you, bullets flying in the air.

There was no way you could outrun Taehyung. Or any of bangtan, but he was the one you had to worry about right now. At least it wasn’t Jungkook, but that wasn’t much consolation as your feet pounded on the floor, body moving as fast as you could push it.

In a desperate attempt to escape, you dashed through rooms, taking every turn you could, but Taehyung knew this place as well as you, footsteps not getting any further away. In fact, he was gaining on you.

Your burning legs were powerless to carry you any faster.

Flinging yourself into yet another room, you dived to the floor, sliding under a desk beside the door. Keeping your gasping breaths silent was nearly impossible, but you couldn’t keep going. Tae’s heavy steps were about to reach you-

“Taehyung!”

You gulped at the sound of Jimin’s voice.

“We need to get to the boardroom.”

Hobi.

As Taehyung abandoned his hunt, rushing away with the others, you slumped back against the wall. Air left you in bursts as you tried to recover.

Knowing that by now you might well too late, you climbed to your feet, bracing your arm against the wall for support. You had let Kwangsu slip through your fingers. He had definitely had enough time to rejoin the others and tell them his twisted version of events.

You wouldn’t be able to take them all on.

Chewing your lip, you cast your eyes longingly at the hallway to your left, where Taehyung and the others had left for the boardroom.

But you couldn’t risk it.

Jogging away, you let your feet carry you down a staircase, closer to the exit. As you reached the bottom, a figure walked from a doorway, cutting into your path.

“Sorrell?”

“We need to go,” she said, leaving no room for argument as she grabbed your arm.

Allowing her to lead you, the two of you hurried further down towards the bunker level where you had entered. Even as you moved in shadow, you could see her clutching onto her upper arm.

“Are you hurt?” you questioned.

“Doesn’t matter,” she brushed off, voice tense.

Frowning, you hurried after her as she upped her pace. At last you emerged through the gate, thankful it hadn’t yet been secured.

It didn’t take long to reach the sanctuary of the backstreets, but Sorrell didn’t let up her speed, leaving you trailing as you wove your path away from bangtan’s base. Her grip on her arm equally stayed steadfast.

“Seriously, are you okay?” you called.

She looked back, irritated.

“I can help,” you insisted, “please, let me. Did they shoot you?”

“Yes,” she muttered. It sounded like her teeth were gritted.

“When we get back to the van, I’ll clean it, okay?” you decided, “we can find something for a bandage-“

“The van isn’t here.”

“…what?”

“They don’t pick us up after jobs,” Sorrell said without looking at you. She had a way of speaking that made it sound like you had missed something incredibly obvious.

“They- they’ve left us?”

“Yes,” she was exasperated now. “Let’s just get back.”

“Maybe we should stop? You’re hurt.”

Silence answered you. Her eyes were fixed on the floor jaw locked and lips pursed.

A frown creased your own face.

“Sorrell-“

“I’m fine.”

If you weren’t mistaken, her voice wobbled, but she seemed determined. Sighing, you dropped the matter, resigning yourself to the journey back to the warehouse. Though you kept an eye on her, she stayed at least an arm’s length from you as you walked in silence.

But you were tired too, and didn’t have the energy to fill the space.

The walk was long. By the time you reached the warehouse, you slipped through deserted corridors to the room you had previously slept in. Of course, you were well aware the building was not as dark and deserted as it appeared, since the gang had come away with their intended treasure.

Somewhere beyond the few hallways you saw on your way up, the gang would be hard at work. A nest of hornets, their nectar secured in the centre.

Despite the exhaustion setting into your body, you ended up lying awake on the hard floor. Knowing the fruits of Kwangsu’s labour, the stolen painting, was just floors away, refused to leave your mind.

But you weren’t in any position to make a move now.

It was impossible to prevent your mind replaying earlier events. You had been so close, if only you pulled the trigger sooner, if only you had caught him somehow…

Rolling over, you suppressed a groan for Sorrell’s sake. It was too late now, but you didn’t know what you could do next. Sorrell had been good to you, but the thought of staying with darkwater made you uneasy. Morals aside, they treated people like you so badly you would never be able to build yourself up to anything if you stayed.

However, a small but insistent voice wouldn’t quit reminding you that perhaps you ought to leave bangtan to fight their own battles now. Now they had left you behind.

It was with the constant storm of thought swirling in your mind that you finally found rest, albeit sporadic. Every now and then, you would wake again, same old battered roof staring down at you until you were pulled under once again.

Another such time, your eyes cracked open, internally cursing your inability to sleep-

And then you froze.

This was definitely not like the other times you had woken up.

Someone was muttering something.

“She left her post- that’s how bangtan broke through…”

Through bleary eyes, you came face-to-face with several pairs of boots. Quickly alerted, your gaze travelled upwards.

Standing in front of you, fronted by Sorrell, were three darkwater members. Well, you could only assume that was who they were, as you had no more time to think on it before they were lunging for you.

Springing to your feet, you scrambled away. As your hand automatically found your bag, your eyes travelled to Sorrell, filled with panic.

One glance at her expressionless face was all you got before you were running.

You had done too much running lately.

The thought was only fleeting, just like the floorboards beneath you as you sprinted away from your pursuers, further into the building. Up, up, following the path Sorrell had taken you the night before, the only route you knew – but it could only take you so far.

Flying through the doorway to the room you had slept in before, you turned your head wildly. There was only one way out, and then you were dashing through it and into the unknown territory beyond.

Down stairs this time, and through corridors that gradually looked more modern, like they were actually lived in.

The smattering of noise behind you let you know you still had company. But that soon doubled as a couple of guards strolled from a doorway just up ahead. Skidding to a halt, you launched yourself in the opposite direction, only just making it to another doorway before the group chasing you emerged too.

Before long, you had reached the perimeter of the building again, windows whizzing past as you pushed down the hall.

The next corner you arrived at would only take you further into the building again. You didn’t want to attract any more attention than you already had.

Call it stupid, but your mind was running by itself. Sparing a moment to throw your bag across the floor, contents spilling out as if you had dropped it on the run, you turned to the window instead.

And jumped.

Below, there was a structure built against the main body of the warehouse. It served to shorten your fall, but you still felt the impact as you landed, bruises certainly collecting beneath your skin.

The wooden rood was even less sturdy than that on the warehouse, sagging alarmingly under you. Not daring to stand back up, you scooted yourself as far as you could to the edge and dropped down the remaining few feet.

Though you hoped that would have shaken them off, you could never be sure who was still watching, and so you resumed running, panting now as you forced your feet once more to a blur beneath you.

True darkness gathered around you as you moved further from the highway streetlights.

Still, you did not stop.

A small track ran along the back of the property, a patch of trees beyond it. On the other side of that, you finally allowed yourself to ease up the pace, heading around the fences of the industrial area you found yourself in.

Yanking your hood up, you made your way past factories and warehouses – ones that were actually in use. They probably had cameras.

You almost had yourself convinced that you slowed to a walk to look less suspicious.

Almost.

Really, you were tired.

Physically, your muscles felt the strain of your recklessness, the constant running away from danger. But perhaps that tendence was helping preoccupy you from the real blow.

No destination fixed in your mind, you let your feet wander. It wasn’t until you saw the artificial light from a kebab van on the corner that you knew where you were going.

As you walked below the launderette sign, you trapped your lip between your teeth. Things might have been so much simpler if you had just let that kind woman call Jimin…

Now, things were too complicated. You may well be on Kwangsu’s radar now, a notion that made you shudder.

Perhaps you should have got in touch while you had the chance, before everything spiralled out of control. Of course, there was the slight fact holding you back that Jimin apparently wanted you dead.

But now you saw that was surely another of Kwangsu’s lies.

Yes, you had argued. You had disagreed, but that wasn’t like Jimin. And, yes, he was a mafia operative, well used to killing, but you had shared years together. It made no sense for him to turn his back on you so suddenly.

There was no way, back when you met, that he could have been fake. He would have shown some emotion, anything. You wanted desperately to believe he would have fought for you, just as you would for him in a heartbeat.

Before Kwangsu got involved, you had something real, and as much as he might have trusted Kwangsu (despite your warnings), he wouldn’t put what you had aside for the sake of a friend.

Nearing the bridge, you stared up at the imposing structure. It wasn’t too far above the water, and you remembered having time straighten out, brace for impact-

With a heavy sigh, you let yourself rest at last in the shadow underneath.

At first, your mind had been riddled with Kwangsu’s words, terrified as you were forced to defend yourself and focus on surviving. You hadn’t thought to question the integrity of his words, which you now highly suspected were false.

Though you were wary of him before, this was so much bigger than you had imagined. You had no idea when you went to his study that night that he was a member, a seemingly important one at that, of darkwater. They were probably the only people he had been honest to.

Resting the weight of your head on your hands, you prayed you were right. If you wanted to save Jimin, you had to believe yourself. You had to believe in him.

The remnants of a café. Tables overturned, chairs on their sides, glass shattered.

There are bodies. Bodies clad in black, balaclavas over their faces. You don’t even have to check their arms – it must be the doing of darkwater.

You wished you had checked their arms. Just like the bodies inside their base right now, they would be blank. They were just crash dummies, disposable and faceless.

“Thanks, Kwangsu. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t spotted them on your way here.”

“No problem, no problem at all. I’m just glad nothing happened to you, these guys are scary.”

Jimin laughs.

Folded arms, stubborn across your chest

“I’m just saying, why don’t you send me? You trained me yourself.”

“Kwangsu has enough experience. Back in high school, he was with me at my first ever drug deal. He started at the same time.”

Jimin’s grin, so assured.

“He’s just a petty thief-“

“So no-one knows he’s connected to us. He won’t be recognised. This is in a busy area, Y/N, and I won’t have you getting hurt.”

Your sigh; Jimin’s arms around you.

“Y/N, why won’t you lay off? He’s proved himself enough times.”

“Hey, I don’t want to get in the way of you guys-“

“No, Yoongi’s right,” Jimin defends.

You gape at him.

Kwangsu meets your eyes as you leave the room.

A distant bang shakes you, cutting through your spinning head. Tensing, you turn towards the source of the noise, though it came from well within the city on the other side of the bridge.

The noise isn’t alone. Someone is probably fighting.

As the whirlwind in your head clears, a frown grows on your face. Given the direction the gunshots are coming from, you can only presume the fight is in red clan territory. Maybe they are fighting bangtan.

For a moment, you are reminded of Jimin. You know just how he stands in battle, having fought beside him, hidden breathless around corners with adrenaline pulsing through your veins.

If your body wasn’t quite so defeated, you might have gone closer. Jimin fighting alone wasn’t a thought you could stomach. Right now, there wasn’t too much of the world you could stomach.

And so you let your eyes slide closed, falling asleep to the sound of gunfire.

Thank you for reading! Again, please let me know if you liked it! Don’t be a silent reader💜

Message or comment to be added to the taglist!!

Taglist: @aianloveseven @preciouschimine @kb-bangtanenthusiast @jungkooksbroski @namyoongles @pars-ley @softforpj @chubsjmin @ireallylikefoodandyoutube @veronawrites​ @supertweetycherry @lynnfanficreblogs​​

Find my main masterlist here

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Hi I would love it if you wrote a fic on Harry and Benny finding out about the other’s relationship with Beth

All Hope and No Pawns

Rating: T Word Count: 1382

Summary: A missing scene from Benny's apartment after the phone call to Beth in Moscow.

“Go beat him,” Benny urges.

When he drops the receiver back into its cradle, he unconsciously continues to grip it. His adrenaline’s spiked, his head’s lowered—for all his corporeal clues, it might be him about to face Borgov. There’s even a chessboard before him, styled with the final permutation he and the boys teased out from Beth and Borgov’s positions at the time of adjournment. Only so many ways this can go now. Damn, he just wishes he could watch it happen.

With a final squeeze, he releases the phone and steps away, rubbing a hand thoughtfully across his chin. He’s still uncomfortable moving too far from the phone. Crazy, since it could be hours before the match is decided. As Benny emerges from the depths of his own thoughts, he can hear the others, talking lowly and pacing while the excitement of blurting strategy down the line to Beth burns through them. It won’t last; soon, they’ll be crashing while he makes himself yet another cup of coffee, determined to stay awake. Another of today’s senseless notions: that his ability to remain sharp will somehow help Beth do the same.

He returns. He resets the board and plays out one possibility, all the way through to the fallen king. It makes him feel better. To drown out a skeptical note in Matt’s voice behind him, Benny collects the pieces in his hand and rolls them around, listening to the wood knock. He puts them in formation and plays through another version, searching the arrangement for gaps and his brain for the memory of Beth’s instincts. During their time together, starting with training and turning into… well, she learned to beat him faster and more soundly, but he learned a thing or two as well. Although the way Beth plays is still opaque and elusive, Benny has a sort of feel for it. He studies the board and tries to grip that old conviction of his—she sees things the same way he does.

“Will she call herself, do you think?” Hilton asks, tone as buoyant as ever.

“No,” Benny sighs. He turns away from the board. “She’ll be swarmed when it’s over.”

He doesn’t specify an outcome. The fucking Soviet players make him superstitious.

“She’ll have that asshole from the State Department with her too,” Mike says. “He’ll keep her on a short leash.”

“He’ll try,” Benny counters, provoking chuckles.

“Well, maybe Townes’ll stay between them,” Matt theorizes. “He managed it this morning.”

“Maybe Mr. State Department thought they were doing something he would’ve blushed to interrupt,” Hilton says.

“Beth and Townes?” Benny asks scornfully.

There’s no chance. He and Townes spoke before Townes flew out there, when he agreed to smooth the way for Benny’s call to get through without interception by Beth’s official government handler. Townes didn’t try to pull any bullshit territoriality where Beth was concerned—and he didn’t flinch when Benny did. (He hadn’t meant to, but a whole string of things had left his mouth as he verbally worked through his tips and encouragements for Beth, immediately afterwards hoping that Townes wouldn’t pass any of it on.)

“Aren’t they… close?”

“We shouldn’t be talking about them like this,” Harry says firmly. “Especially Beth.”

“If either of them has feelings for the other, it’s Beth,” Mike says.

“It’s true,” Matt adds, backing his brother up. “We were there when they met, more or less. She had such a crush on him.”

Benny frowns.

“Guys,” Harry pleads.

“Nobody’s saying anything against either of them! But don’t you think Townes is her type?”

“No.” Benny and Harry speak the same adamant syllable at the same moment.

Benny’s never wanted attention less than he does in the seconds immediately following, when the others’ eyes bounce back and forth between him and Harry. He twitches his wrist so his bracelet slides around it.

“Early lunch?” Matt tactfully proposes.

The rest of them mumble their assent and file towards the door, grabbing hats and jackets, stomping feet into shoes. Even Harry takes a couple steps. Just a couple.

“Are you coming?” he asks.

“Absolutely not,” Benny tells him, holding his ground.

Harry turns and nods to Mike, relieving him of the task of holding the door open. It’s a strange jerk of the chin, almost mournful, like he’s signaling to someone to go on ahead to the funeral reception while he lingers by the grave as the diggers fill it in. Now, Benny doesn’t have any plans to put this guy six feet under, but the implications of Harry having such a ready opinion on the sort of man Beth goes for aren’t exactly the kind to make Benny leap joyfully around his apartment. He exhales steadily from his nose.

“I heard you were training her,” he begins when they’re alone.

Harry—to his credit—doesn’t cower. He straightens his back and faces Benny directly.

“For a little while. Of course, she’d eclipsed me before we ever began, but I’d read more books.” He laughs softly to himself. “Not many more. A few.”

“I told Beth she needed a more mature trainer to get her ready for Paris.” Benny cocks his head as his teeth grind together. “Obviously, your time with her was plenty mature.”

“That’s not any of your business.”

Where Benny would keep his gaze trained on his (he hesitates to use the word ‘rival’) guest as things teeter between polite and heated, Harry looks away. It’s unnerving, actually, how he glances calmly around the apartment like a prospective renter. Must be seeing the space they’ve all been sequestered in for hours with fresh eyes.

“She’s been here,” he concludes.

“After Ohio.”

“Ah. After she beat you. And when she got here, I’m sure she kept beating you.” He doesn’t seem to mean it maliciously, so Benny doesn’t interject. “She beat me a lot too. It made her frustrated with me. I got over that. Mostly.”

“I’m not even close. To getting over it,” Benny clarifies.

He meets the stare of Harry’s round eyes with his hands on his hips and wonders if he’s just put himself in a bad position, presented a vulnerability to be exploited. Harry could miss it, like he missed his chance to take the Lexington final back from Beth when she castled. But then, Harry could also be more sensitive to human interactions than he is to astute pawn placement.

“That makes sense,” Harry allows. “You two are much more evenly matched.”

So, he is aware that they’re not really talking about chess.

“What was your mistake?” Benny surprises himself by asking. Harry looks surprised too, but Benny shrugs.

“It was a… visualization problem. I never knew what was coming with her and gave my own plan away too early. Do you love her?”

Benny places a hand on the table to anchor himself against the blunt question. Jesus, Harry does have an issue with subtlety.

“Yeah,” he admits after a solid minute. “I might.”

“Does she love you?”

Blow after blow with this guy, trying to take him to the canvas like he’s Muhammad Ali! Best Benny can guess, it’s a petty hit from someone who knows he’s already lost. Harry doesn’t want Beth because he knows he’s not gonna get her, but his question has this insulting presupposition—there’s just something in his tone that assumes a certain answer. It’s a last wild swing at the man who could still have a shot at the happiness Harry wanted for himself. Though Benny watches him warily, there’s nothing he can do, no way to regain his mystery. They’ve circled each other and determined the major weaknesses.

Benny shakes his head.

“That’s the one thing I don’t know.”

Harry regards him too long, then shrugs his coat on. He climbs the stairs unhurriedly and goes out after Hilton and the other members of Beth’s emergency chess contingent. A group of fools who are probably deceiving themselves to think they’re providing her with anything she couldn’t figure out on her own. She’s exceptional. She’s beat them all before; that’s why it’s her over there in Moscow and not one of them. So many, many invariable miles and possible outcomes from here.

Benny makes a fresh pot of coffee and takes a seat by the phone.

[katerinawinters]

Predator: Huntress Alpha ch 7

Walking back and forth across the large common area, Justice let out a ragged groan as Larsa's cries intensified. Casting a worried glance over her shoulder towards the bridge, she looked to see Jarak calmly sitting in his seat, occasionally adjusting the ship as they approached the oncoming planet. He didn't seem bothered by the noise, but Justice was sure it was an act. For nearly an hour, the sound of Larsa's hungry cries echoed off the ship's walls. Even she was starting to become undone by the constant crying.

 Hugging the baby closer, Justice put a bit more bounce in her pacing as she rubbed her cheek against hers. It was hot, and her screams rang in Justice's ear, but she endured it.

 "I know, I know," she soothed, her heartbreaking as she walked from one end of the room and turned on her heel. "Once I get something to eat, then you will be able to eat too."

 Her milk was coming out only in tiny amounts. The last time Justice ate was three days ago back on LV549. She had eaten her last energy bar that morning as she hid in the desert, preparing herself to run to the dorm building.

 Waking up from her first night of sleep on the ship, she had asked the hunter if he had any food onboard and received a quiet no in response. Justice wasn't surprised by the answer, oddly enough, the ship was immaculately clean. It made her wonder if the ship was new or if the hunter was just OCD or something. Besides the weapons on the wall and his precious sack containing what she was sure was a xenomorph head, there was nothing else in the ship.

 After a few more laps of bouncing steps, Larsa settled her head sleepily against Justice's chest as her cries dropped into a constant mewling noise that tore at Justice's soul worse.

 "Jarak?" she called quietly, knowing the hunter's keen hearing would pick up her voice.

 Turning silently in his chair, he stared at her in answer. His orangish-red eyes that reminded her of solar flares were calm and patient. He really wasn't all that bothered by Larsa's crying, she realized. And for some reason, that made her think of last night, which was probably some of the best sleep she had ever had. Half naked, she had slept a good portion of the night in the yautja's arms. He had moved only once, early that morning, carefully shifting her so that she lay against the bed, allowing him to finally get up. And if she was really being honest with herself, she hated to see him go. For years she had slept with all of her senses open, with one hand on her gun and ready to react within a second, but last night for the first time, she entered a depth of sleep she had only ever read about, and it was glorious--and she hated herself for it.

 Unaccustomed to asking for help, Justice forced the words out, wincing at how awkward she sounded. "Is their fish on your planet?"

 Jarak just blinked.

 "I only eat fish, vegetables, and fruit," she explained, knowing that Yautja were primarily red meat eaters--raw meat at that. "I need to eat in order to produce milk so that she can eat. Does your planet have an edible fish I can eat?"

 Thinking, Jarak nodded before turning around. His black claws clacked at the console, pulling up a large holographic viewer, overlaying the window. Stepping closer, Justice looked at the images and smiled. Sorted into two groups were seemingly all the known fish on his planet.

 "Ok," she breathed in relief. "That's good."

 Exiting the screen, Jarak looked up to the encroaching planet, and she followed his gaze. It was beautiful. Covered in dark greens and deep blues and shrouded in a thin filmy white gaseous layers, the jungle planet floated proudly in the sea of glittering black space. Even their planets were foreboding, she thought with a smirk. How thick was their jungle if even from this distance, the planet shined like a dark emerald? How deep were their unexplored oceans? The scientist within her leaped at the excitement the new planet offered, but the bigger part of her, the soldier, stared at the planet with a cool appraisal.

 "Sit," Jarak commanded over his massive shoulder.

 Holding the now quiet Larsa higher against her chest, Justice stiffened and gave the yautja a deadly smile. "I think because you have seen my tits, you are under the impression that you are entitled to give me orders, yautja. Let me inform you that you're highly mistaken," her whispered words came out through clenched teeth. "I promise you this, once I have eaten, rested, and taken care of Larsa, you and I are going to have to have a talk about this giving me orders habit you have going."

 Jarak turned in his chair, and she watched as his sunburst eyes brightened in response. "I will look forward to it, until then--sit," he pointed a black claw towards the bed.

 For the longest moment, they stared at one another in silent combat. She wanted to break that finger, but she couldn't, not with Larsa in her arms. She wanted to shoot him, but not while she and Larsa were aboard this ship. She wanted to punch that satisfied glimmer he was staring at her with right out of those tiny beady eyes, but she couldn't--not right now at least.

 Holding back the rest of her snarky words, she spun on her heel and marched back to the bed and sat, not daring to look back at the giant bastard.

 ~

 It was dark out when the ship landed. With her backpack on and Larsa strapped back into her harness, Larsa grabbed her gun and stepped to Jarak on the bridge, who gave her a pointed stare.

 Pushing some of her braids, which had fallen from her bun, out of her face, she gave the hunter a questioning look. "What?"

 Jarak looked from her gun and back to her meaningfully.

 "I truly hope you didn't expect me to leave my gun on this ship," she asked, one eyebrow lifting cynically. "I don't know this planet. For all, I know it's probably full of species evolved to match its primary occupants. Which endangers my child even more so. That’s-"

 "Only endangering the child?" Jarak asked, and Justice resisted grabbing a handful of his spines and yanking them out of his big fat head.

 He was purposely trying to bait her into an argument. The giant lunk wanted to fight her, she could feel the need for it vibrating off of him. She was sure it was the sole reason he saved her and Larsa. His "curiosity" was just a polite way of saying, "I have yautja hard-on to fight you."

 She narrowed her eyes at him. "I would manage on my own," she said evenly, "but with her," she pointed to the baby in the harness. "I will take no chances."

 Without a reply, Jarak walked towards the hatch and hit a button on the wall activating the pressure-sealed door. Warm swampy air hit her immediately, and Justice nearly groaned. She forgot about that aspect. Hot, humid, jungle planets were paradise for these creatures. Stepping onto the smooth metal surface, Justice looked around in silent surprise at the hangar. Parked in a line of ships that spanned at least eight kilometers, cutting a large strip out of the thick jungle, they walked out onto the path that sat between the row of ships. There had to be over fifty ships, not including the empty spaces she could see that were obviously reserved for other ships.

 Walking down the quiet path, Jarak suddenly stopped and looked towards the jungle. Turning to her, he gave her a firm look and pointed to the ground. "Wait here, do not move," he growled.

 Justice was opening her mouth to tell him to fuck-right-the-hell-off when the hunter turned and moved so quickly she just ended up standing there with her mouth open. Fucking hell, he moved fast. Pulling up her retinal interface, she replayed the last scene of him. In one fluid move, Jarak had turned on his heel and took one lunging step forward, his powerful thigh muscles bunching at the contracting movement before launching himself forward into the air and into the jungle.

 A rustle in the trees tore her attention from her replaying footage, and she brought her gun up and angled her chest away, making herself a slimmer target as possible. With a small thud, Jarak burst through the tree line and landed back onto the metal hangar, holding something in his hands. Dropping her gun, Justice scowled at the hunter until he got close, and she realized what he had done.

 Holding out both hands, he held the small red globes of fruit towards her. "Humans can eat these," he informed her, offering her the fruits.

 Letting her gun hang by its strap, Justice carefully took the handfuls of fruit from his waiting hands. This was odd. She wasn't sure how to react or think at this. There was an inexplicable urge to scowl and smile at the same time. Nodding her thanks, she followed the hunter as she cradled the fruit in her arms. As her eyes passed over the array of ships, her mind focused on the hunter's odd actions trying to analyze them. He saved her because of what she was, she knew that. He wanted to bring his find back to his leader, no doubt. But he also wanted her to be appeased, she thought, remembering the way she woke up to find him holding Larsa to feed at her breast. She could not understand him. Wouldn't making her angry be the best way to incite a fight? Or did this yautja have so much honor he wanted her at her best when he did fight her? That was it, she nodded to herself, following the hunter down an ornate metal staircase, he wanted a good fight. That was why he was feeding her and appeasing her by looking after Larsa, he wanted her back in fighting shape. Shaking her head, she grinned at the thought of his reaction whenever she eventually got around to telling him the truth.

 Looking over the curving stair's side, Justice stopped abruptly, letting the sight beyond her soak in. A few steps down, Jarak paused and turned back to her in silent question.

 Down the large hill, the hangar sat on top of a city of mythical proportions lay before her. Justice could hardly move, she couldn't believe she was seeing this. Growing up and training with her sisters, they had been taught everything the company knew about the yautja, which was limited, to say the least: reptilian-like carnivores, honor system, blooded versus unblooded, male versus female hunters, advanced technology, different factions, some space-born and bound and some planet dwellers. But this in front of her was nowhere in their limited teachings about the yautja. Like something from old earth Egyptian history files, a great black pyramid stood in the center of the cleared jungle floor. In front of the entrance, made from the same black metal, the long narrow pathway was lined in shimmering, dark reflecting pools that moonlight shimmered off of. Excited to see more, Justice carefully and quickly took the stairs down to the bottom, standing between two great statues of hunters, each wearing their masks and both holding spears.

 Reaching out, she touched the metal greaves of the statue. "This is amazing," she whispered.  

 Jarak stepped behind her with silent patience as she turned and stared out at the smaller pyramids in the distance.

 "How many of you live here?" she eventually asked, her voice sounding loud in the still night air. Certainly, all the rest of them weren't asleep right now?"

 "Many," Jarak stated, walking ahead of her.

 Justice stared at the back of his head. His spines swayed slightly against his broad back as he moved. He certainly wasn't verbose, she thought dryly. Getting information from the lumbering hunter was like pulling teeth.

 Looking around again, Justice tried to open her senses and broaden her retinal interface in an attempt to spot a cloaked hunter, but by gods of the galaxies, she was so fucking tired it was useless to even try. All she could do was follow Jarak as she stared in awe at her surroundings.

 Sounds of her footsteps echoed off the metal floor as she followed Jarak across the empty pyramid's grand gallery. In the center, just below the point, sat a square reflecting pool filled with dark, still water. At the four corners of the pool were more of the giant statues that had guarded the entrance of the palace, but instead of male statues, these were beautiful depictions of huntresses standing tall, their mandibles flared out, and their bladed gauntlets crossed over their breasts. If she wasn't so tired, she would stand and stare at the statues longer.

 Reluctantly, Justice pulled herself away from the statues and followed Jarak down empty corridors until they were passing one with numerous doors. This part of the pyramid reminded her of her dormitory building back on LV594, and for a moment, the unbidden memory of her black case came to mind. Pushing the painful thought away, she stopped as Jarak paused outside of a door and waved his gauntlet in front of the discreet data-pad on the wall to the right of the door. Witch a silent swish, the metal door parted, and Jarak walked inside.

 Why in the hell did she follow him here? Why did she allow him to take him to his planet? Looking into the shadowed room, he stepped into Justice, glanced down at the plum-like fruits in the crook of her arms, and down to Larsa's sleeping face squished up against her breasts. A few kind acts, and you'll just follow anyone anywhere, huh? You're doing it again, Justice, she mentally admonished herself. You're getting yourself wrapped up in a guy again when you have bigger shit to be worrying about. But then again, she looked up to see Jarak's eyes glow faintly in the darkness as he stepped back towards her in silent question, this wasn't technically a guy. At least with him, unlike with Luke, there was no question if he was a monster or not.

 Stepping forward, she followed him inside.

 by Katerina Winters

[one-boring-person]

A Game Of Numbers. (Part Five)

Marion "Cobra" Cobretti x reader

Warnings: swearing (in German and English), mention of death, mention of injury, mention of homophobia, gun use

Context: When a string of seemingly connected murders and kidnappings break out in LA, Cobretti is called in to figure out what is going on. He is, however, not alone in his investigation. Lieutenant "Hawk" (Y/l/n) is deployed to help him, though it quickly becomes clear that the crimes taking place are not as random as they first thought, but rather a little more personal than either of them would hope.

A/n: somehow, I'm starting to think this is gonna fail massively

Masterlist

Once again, Hawk jerks awake, body covered in a thin layer of sweat, each breath rattling painfully out of her chest, her eyes wide as they instinctively scan the interior of her bedroom, looking for the danger her body is expecting. Upon finding nothing out of place, she sighs, slumping over from her upright position, cupping her face in her hand to steady herself, trying to regain control of her racing thoughts. A dull light filters in through the thin blinds, casting the room in a cold light that throws harsh shadows against the walls.

Trembling a little, Hawk glances over at her bedside clock, glad to see the time is near enough her usual get-up. Rubbing her eyes briefly, she pulls back the tangled sheets as swings her legs out of the bed, placing her hands on her knees to gain some form of stability as her head reels, flashes of her plaguing past coming unbidden to her head, each memory vivid thanks to the disturbing nightmares hounding her sleep. Shaking them away, she climbs to her feet, stretching out her back until it cracks, before she shuffles into the hallway, to the bathroom, where she quickly gets changed. 

Having splashed cold water on her face, she feels a little better, the brisk temperature helping to clear any remaining haze from her mind, allowing her to think more clearly. Staring at herself in the mirror, she steels herself against her memories, knowing that what has happened is in the past, and shouldn't be dwelt on for too long. 

Leaving the bathroom, Hawk gets dressed, donning her usual long coat as she grabs an apple, taking it for her breakfast before she drops an orange into her pocket for later. Taking her keys, the lieutenant goes to exit the apartment, having made sure everything she needs for the day is present, until her eyes land on a dresser, a little way away. She swallows as she catches sight of the photograph pinned to the stained wood, the case file tucked in between the books behind it instilling a sense of dread in her she's come to recognise in the past few days. Everything she does seems to come back to the battered grey folder, though she has not touched it since she was given it, a year or so ago.

Sighing, she leaves the apartment, locking it firmly behind her. 

Moving swiftly down the corridor, she turns the corner, only to feel an odd chill go up her spine, making her stop in her tracks. Slowly, she looks round, back the way she came, eyes narrowed in unease. There is nothing there, and nothing ahead of her as she turns back, though the sensation doesn't leave her, her skin prickling uncomfortably as she hurriedly goes to leave, her survival instinct screaming at her to do so as quickly as possible.

The feeling doesn't leave even as she steps out onto the street, her eyes flicking around the deserted space nervously, her hand staying to her waist, ready to creep round and take hold of her handgun, should the need for it arise. Tucked into her belt, the weapon's familiar weight is almost comforting, though it does little to soothe her nerves as she edges along the street, body tense. Around this time of the day, there is little traffic, both road or sidewalk, meaning the stretch is left feeling eerie and strangely empty - usually, it doesn't feel so odd, but this morning it instills a cool sensation into her chest. In the distance, she can hear some cars driving past, the lieutenant hoping that one of them is her partner come to pick her up, the presence of the rough cop somehow having proved itself a measure of safety for her, after some time of feeling outcast and at risk. 

Over the last week since the last body had been found, Cobretti and Hawk had grown a little closer, settling into a routine as they worked to solve the murders and locate the next two victims, utilising each other's different interrogation tactics and contacts efficiently. Very little progress has been made, with the killer's movements totally unpredictable and painstakingly difficult to track,  and with none of the information gathered from interviews actually helping at all. There had been one lead, which they intend to follow up on in the coming days, hoping it will actually take them somewhere, given its promising nature; an apparent witness had come forward, requesting to speak with Cobra and Hawk in person, seemingly willing to give up any knowledge they have.  Despite all this, however, Hawk still feels unsettled by the last murder, that one sprig of heather not sitting right with her, stirring up memories she'd rather forget.

Startled from her thoughts by the sudden sound of a door slamming, Hawk instinctively spins on her heel, hand grabbing for the grip of the handgun, though she doesn't pull it out yet, eyes wide. A brief shot of adrenaline goes through her, her gaze instantly landing on a figure at the end of the street, the silhouette average in height but somehow incredibly intimidating in build, despite the slender set to them. 

They appear to be staring at her, face obscured by the distance, hands resting loosely in their pockets, head tilted to the side curiously. Frowning, Hawk faces them properly, waiting for a reaction, glancing around her in case there's someone else there, noticing no one at all. Tense, she gazes at the man, I'm moving but alert, until he suddenly looks round to the end of the road closest to him, where a familiar car has pulled in. 

As usual, Cobra does not take the road at a slower pace, going relatively quickly towards Hawk as the figure at the end of the street ducks out of sight, leaving her tense and uncomfortable. She stays stock still, waiting for Cobretti to reach her; hand still on her pistol, eyes fixed on the spot where the figure was.

He pulls the car up alongside her, turning to look at her out the window as she waits a few more seconds, before slowly moving to the vehicle. Quietly, she climbs in, closing the door softly behind her. They are silent for a moment, Cobra watching Hawk closely as she composes herself again.

"Morgen." She says, good-naturedly, reverting back to her own language momentarily, a habit Cobretti has noticed she does quite often.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He replies jokingly, knowing full well what she means.

Rolling her eyes playfully, she gives him a look as he pulls out from the kerb, heading towards the station, where the witness is set to meet them. He chuckles, but can't help noticing the tense set to her face, her unease still evident in her body.

"What happened back there? You had your hand on your gun." He probes, turning onto a busier road.

Hawk glances at him for a second, before turning back to the window.

"I think someone was following me." She says evenly, sounding sure of herself, "I got a bad feeling when I left my apartment, and then I saw the guy at the end of the road just now." 

"Guy? What guy?" 

"There was a guy standing at the end of the road. You must've seen him, you drove right past him!" Hawk clarifies, lifting an eyebrow.

Cobra only shrugs, rolling the matchstick between his lips.

Hawk remains quiet, rubbing her eyes tiredly, stifling a yawn as she leans back in the seat, hoping she won't fall asleep right there.

"Tired?" Cobretti asks, trying to fill the silence.

Startled, Hawk sits straighter, trying to sort herself out, only to realise he's already noticed and won't let it go no matter what she does.

"A bit, yeah." She admits, embarrassment flushing her face as she looks down, drawing a hand through her hair.

"Why?"

She shrugs, hesitant to answer, though she feels he should know, given that he's her partner for now.

"Haven't been sleeping well." She responds eventually, looking over at him.

"Yeah, I noticed." Cobretti confesses, shooting her an apologetic look, "You don't look so good."

"That bad? Scheiße." She curses, kicking herself for not realising that her lack of sleep has become apparent.

"What the hell does that mean?" He asks, changing the subject, clearly noticing how it's making her a little uncomfortable.

"Scheiße? Means shit." Hawk states, watching out the window as Cobra pulls up outside the police station.

"Ah. Good to know." He tries to fight back a smirk - her little words and phrases had grown on him, their meanings generally lost on him but still amusing.

Laughing, Hawk waits for him to pull into a parking space before she climbs out, standing to the side as he follows suit.

"So when are we talking to this witness?" She asks him, pulling her apple from her pocket, as well as the pocket knife she always has on her. Deftly, she uses the knife to slice pieces of the fruit off, eating them off the blade as she walks.

"At eight." Cobra replies after shooting her his usual exasperated glance.

"That's an hour off, which gives us some time to reconvene, I guess." 

"Yeah. Might go to the firing range." 

"The firing range? Wirklich? It's seven in the morning, isn't that too early for you?" Hawk questions, lifting an eyebrow.

"Nah. Got nothing better to do." He shrugs, leading the way into the building, heading for their shared office for the moment.

"Apart from solving the case?" His partner grins, following him in.

"Oh, yeah, of course. I'll be thinking about it whilst I shoot." He explains, dropping off his coat as he heads over the corridor to the shooting range, leaving Hawk alone in the office.

Shaking her head, she settles down at the large table, taking the case files in front of her and opening them, laying out all the necessary sheets of paper, before she finds her eyes wandering upwards. They swiftly find the lean figure of Cobra standing at the end of a range, his arms outstretched, Colt held in hand, face set in concentration. With each shot, his muscles tense and contract, the movements fluid and holding her attention, sweat beading on his bare arms from the heat in the building. Even from this distance, however, with or without the distraction of his well-built physique, it's obvious that his thoughts are elsewhere, his brow furrowed slightly as he thinks over the case notes in his head.

Keeping that in mind, Hawk starts to toil over the words in front of her, frowning at the information she's read over and over again, still unable to find a connection between the two victims, apart from their relationship with each other. They'd been through all the possible explanations: homophobia (the newest victims aren't openly homosexual, so the theory doesn't hold up), preference over women (one of the newest victims is male), ease of abduction (none of the victim's have been seen together with the suspect that's been described), with many other reasons appearing. None of them fit.

The hour goes by slowly, by which time Cobra has rejoined Hawk, sitting back in his seat as he thinks through possible motives, patterns and killers. Once it is time to go to the interview room, the two are relieved to leave the office, having made no progress at all.

Walking on to the interview room, neither of them say much, not expecting too much from this lead except a hopeful civilian looking to get involved in something "interesting". Upon reaching the door, they stop, waiting for their interviewee to be brought to them. It doesn't take long, a younger officer leading a confident woman along the corridor towards them, his face saying it all as she struts along behind him. Hawk has to suppress a sigh, knowing this won't be easy.

"Lieutenants, this is Hailey Lloyd. Ms Lloyd, this is lieutenant Cobretti and Lieutenant (Y/l/n). They will be taking the interview." The officer informs the witness, sounding tired.

"Nice to meet you." Hawk forces a smile, putting out a hand to shake, though Ms Lloyd already has her eyes fixed on Cobra.

"And you, and you." She replies, tone sharp as she ignores the outstretched hand in favour of shaking Cobretti's.

"Shall we go in?" He says, keeping his voice flat as he gestures to the room.

"Yes, yes, let's do that." Ms Lloyd nods, moving to go into the room as Cobra opens the door for her.

Over her shoulder, the two lieutenants exchange a glance.

Part Six

[imagine-loki]

Coat hooks (5 + 1)

TITLE: Coat hooks CHAPTER NO./ONE-SHOT: ONE-SHOT AUTHOR: fanfictrashdump ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine one time, Loki hung you by the back of the shirt on a door peg to keep them from running head-first into trouble. Now he does it whenever you gets particularly annoying. RATING: T-M NOTES/WARNINGS: Um… I can only apologize for this. I saw this prompt and thought it would make a funny 5 + 1.

So, for your consideration–the five times Loki hung Lily from a hook for no goddamn reason and the one time he did it to be a hero. Each subsequent drabble is in reverse chronological order (so you go further into the past with each section). Some spicy language and a very cute friendship. Also, a speed-run, so there may be errors. 

=

“Come on! What’s the point in knowing all this hocus pocus if you don’t share it with anyone?” Lily argued for the twelfth time that hour.

Loki swallowed the string of expletives that were currently accumulating on his tongue. This newest member of their rag-tag team had a way of slipping under his skin and cause his blood pressure to rise with her antics. She was nice enough–didn’t presume of her abilities, carried her weight on missions, competent–but had adopted a certain familiarity with the whole group that made him uncomfortable. Her lack of hesitation in inundating him with questions about anything and everything concerning other realms coupled with the fact that she didn’t tend to cower under his withering gaze, as others might, was slowly but surely driving him up a wall.

With a groan, Loki turned on a dime to face her, forcing Lily to stumble backwards to prevent a collision. “Why, for the Norns’ sake, would I take the time to teach you something that took me hundreds of years to master? You’d die long before you made any significant progress!” His tone was matter-of-fact and entirely ignoring the fact that she already had some magical proclivities.

“Well, that’s because you didn’t have yourself as a teacher, so…” Her reply was easy as she shrugged off his concern.

Loki knew she was trying to appeal to his nature and flatter her way into getting some lessons. It annoyed him to think that it was sort of successful–the little, vain creature roosting inside his chest cooed at the praise and offered that it might not be the worst thing in the world to have her as an apprentice. The fact that her baby blue, doe-eyed gaze stared up innocently at him and prodded at whatever was left of his protective nature wasn’t helping matters, either.

“No.” He turned his attention to a handful of daggers on one of the lab worktables and the polishing rags.

Lily groaned, whining incoherently much like a toddler who wasn’t getting their way. “Come on! It’ll be fun!”

“I already told you no, Lillian.”

“Not my name, bro,” she snapped back, ignoring the telling smirk that informed her that he, in fact, knew that wasn’t her name. “You’re just worried I’ll be better than you.”

The rag in his grasp halted in its elegant slide down the blade. “What was that?” His tone was dangerous, but it barely registered on her expression, as per usual.

“I didn’t stutter,” she replied evenly, crossing her arms over her chest and cocking her hip. Loki stretched to his full height, crowding her form like a shadow. His narrowed eyes evaluated her stubborn features before they glanced shortly at the door. It was only then that she showed any sort of reaction. “No.” She stepped backwards, nearly falling as she tripped over her own two feet, Loki followed her with ease. “No. No, no, no…”

“Thor needs you down at the loading dock,” Bruce announced at the lab door a little while later. “Hey, Lily.” He frowned, doing a double-take at the scowling woman dangling a few feet off the floor while Loki silently polished daggers. “Wha–”

“Don’t ask.”

“Oh…kay,” he agreed, retreating before the situation could get any weirder.

=

Lily remained immobile, crouched behind a bit of shrubbery waiting for her moment to attack. The muscles in her thighs ached from remaining still in that position for so long, and she was mildly aware of the fact that she wasn’t breathing. All that faded to the background as she heard her target incoming. Just as they rounded the corner, she pounced, like spring snakes packed into a box.

“Boo!”

There was choked grunt of surprise, books and papers alike flying into the air and falling in an awkward mess around them, but the noise was mostly obscured by her raucous laughter.

“I got you! I finally got you!”

The wide grin slid off her face immediately at his darkened expression and she turned to run. Lily had barely made it ten paces before Loki’s arm closed around her waist.

“Whacha do this time?” Natasha asked looking up at the woman hanging from the metal coat rack by the communal kitchen.

“Well, I was–”

“Uh uh uh,” Loki tutted from the kitchen island, sipping at a mug of tea as he made notes in a beautiful leather journal.

Lily sighed, pouting. “I know what I did.”

=

The sizzling heat coursing through her veins was foreign to her easy-going nature. Rage rattled inside her ribcage until it caused her whole body to shudder with barely restrained venom. This was definitely not the plan she had made on how to spend her Wednesday afternoon. She had expected to be sitting on the grass at the park or sitting with Bruce as he gave a long-winded explanation about why particle physics should be a required course for all majors…

She hadn’t expected to be dangling helplessly off a door hook in a supply closet.

Nor had she thought that she would hang there in silence before being whipped face-to-face with a very confused Tony.

Stark pressed his lips together as hard as humanly possible. He was barely able to stop the snorting laugh that bubbled up his chest at the sight of her hissing in pain, as momentum had made her head had smack against the door. “Don’t tell me–,” he feigned watching her with rapt interest. “Door gremlin? Supply closet troll? Gatekeeper of the broom realm?”

“Get. Me. The. Fuck. Down.”

“Well, that’s not very nice, Lily-pad.” He pouted ridiculously, though it was interrupted by a laugh when she lunged for him, only to have the door gently swing away.

Damn Newtonian physics.

“Tony, I swear to everything you hold dear, I will–”

“You do know I’m still your boss, right?”

“TONY!”

Loki allowed the left corner of his mouth tilt up the slightest bit as he covertly watched Lily stomp her way through the hallway towards the common room. His eyes fixated back onto the book in his hands, making a spectacle of licking his middle finger to turn the page.

“I see you’ve been released from your prison,” he remarked casually just as she flitted by.

Lily stopped in her tracks, spine stiffening and fists clenching closed. “I was in there for three hours, Loki!”

“You shouldn’t have called me an evil smurf.” His grin stretched at the sound of her groan and he followed her path back down the corridor before she disappeared at the bend.

=

Loki burst into Lily’s room on a quiet morning. She was still in her casual attire, shorts and a t-shirt, and her smoke grey pixie cut locks sticking out in all directions. It took her a moment to land her eyes on the all-too-put-together demigod, wondering if he simply magicked himself dressed every morning and lucky he must be to be able to do that. She offered him a sleepy smile before sipping at more of her coffee.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Her small form bundled up into ball on the corner of her loveseat, conserving heat.

“I am meant to keep you distracted, but I can’t be bothered. So, come on,” he responded simply, gesturing with his head at the door.

Shrugging, she padded barefoot behind him until they reached his living quarters. He silently gestured her inside. As soon as the door closed behind them, Lily yelped at the pull around her waist and the sensation of her feet leaving the soft carpet below. The familiar sensation of weightlessness filled her as her feet brushed empty air and she gained a vantage point several feet above her height. To his credit, Loki always made sure that her shirt didn’t dig into her arms and neck or got damaged, but it was a little annoying that this had become his go-to response in having to deal with her.

“No useless protest? No pleading for freedom?” He asked curiously as he glanced up at her passive face.

She shrugged, a little awkwardly in her position. “I’ve had worse birthdays. And I have coffee.” She sipped from her cup as if to prove her point. “Do you mind getting me a blanket, though? It’s cold in here.”

Loki chuckled, flashing a genuine smile in her direction before he nodded. He summoned a thick, woolen blanket and wrapped it carefully around her form, laughing to himself at the absurdity of it all. Lily was so genuinely laid-back. He wondered whether her connection with flora imbued her with some sort of cosmic calm or if she simply wasn’t worried about anything that Loki might do. He also found it was hard to justify keeping her immobile on the hook when she had done nothing to deserve it.

He groaned at her friendly smile just as he had finished tucking her in. “Ugh, fine. You can sit with me, I guess.” Her feet met the ground a moment later.

“Score!” She shuffled, blanket and all and burrowed into one side of the sofa while he took the other. “Coffee?” She offered her mug from within the dense folds of the blanket.

“No. I’m alright, thank you.” As an afterthought, he added. “Happy birthday, Lillian.”

=

Loki had made a mistake.

Honestly, that was the reason he did not often contribute to conversations, either in the common room or during meetings. Everything he said was subject to a Midgardian lens and terrible misinterpretation. Well, he could have called it misinterpretation had it actually been so, but the resulting pity he was receiving was, nonetheless, ill-received.

“Have you really not gotten a hug in three years?” Lily asked, following him down the hallway to the library.

He rolled his eyes, barely resisting the urge to groan. “Yes, and I’ve yet to perish because of it. Imagine that.” He glanced over his shoulder to find Lily staring at him wistfully. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Sorry.” She broke contact, cutting her view elsewhere to blink away at tears that now clung to her eyelashes. “I just–well, I’d be sad if it were me. But, I guess you’re different. Of course you’re different.”

He hummed in acknowledgement, his attention seemingly diverted at the spines of several leather-bound tomes on the shelf. In reality, he was trying not to squirm under her evaluation. “Stop it.”

Lily had stepped away just a bit to reach for a separate stack of books.

Another moment passed and he turned in her direction right after he slammed the book onto the reading table. “Stop it or leave.”

“Sorry, I can’t help it!”

“I do not need your ridiculous pity or your sentiment or your tears. I don’t need you to care ab–”

“You’re lucky someone does,” she sassed under her breath.

Lily had barely any time to react before the god was crowding her. His fists had bunched the collar of her t-shirt and he had walked her backwards into a wall, all within the span of a few seconds. Loki expected her eyes to turn wide in fear, but she was just as even-keeled now as she had been while talking about her forest spies, earlier.

Somehow, that annoyed him more.

His arms trembled in an effort to contain himself, jaw clenched and the muscles jumping. He knew that if he remained in that position for any longer, something unfortunate was bound to happen. With a snarl, he lifted her easily onto a coat peg along the wall.

“I don’t need your presence or your misplaced sense of friendship,” he hissed, releasing her shirt.

“Good, ‘cause I don’t want to be around you, anyway!” She snapped and regretted it immediately.

Loki’s whole body had gone rigid, his scowl had fallen but for a second, but it was enough to tell her that was the exactly wrong thing to say. He had left before Lily managed to find her words again to try and cobble together an apology.

After a few minutes of struggle, Lily slipped out of her shirt and crumbled onto the ground. She pulled the garment off the hook and back onto her body. Just as she was headed towards the exit, however, she was surprised to find Loki doubling back. He stopped short of her, his eyes trailing downwards, instantly.

“I apologize for…” He trailed off, fidgeting in a way very much unlike him.

Lily swallowed against the lump in her throat. “Loki, I didn’t mean it.” He nodded silently.

“I know. But that makes it rather worse, doesn’t it?” His voice was barely above a whisper. “You knew it’d hurt.” He stuck his hands into the pockets of his trousers before he managed to glance back up. “Then again, I had the same intention, didn’t I?” He sighed. “I’m sorry.”

He had barely gotten the words out before her arms had tightened around him, his own stuck to his sides. A smile tugged at his lips as he managed to free one of his limbs to let it cling around her shoulders.

“Now I’ll have to start the timer all over again!”

“Shut up!” She mumbled back from somewhere against his chest.

=

Loki had barely managed to pull Lily out of the blast of flying debris of an exploding containment wall before it turned her into a colander. The easy mission to a supposedly abandoned bunker was not going according to plan. For starters, it was most definitely not abandoned. Secondly, they had sent the two worst-suited members of the team: one still very green, pun intended, and another with dubious understanding of the phrase kill only when strictly necessary.

Lily had shifted to her knees to peer down a narrow hallway, eyes trained on a group of HYDRA agents coming their way. She inhaled deeply, letting her body charge to ready herself to attack. Loki caught her movement, and had pulled her by the scruff of her suit and behind him.

“Hey, what gives!?” She hissed under her breath, smacking his hands off her form.

He scoffed. “What’s your grand plan, throw flowers at them? No. You are to sit this out. It’s too much of a risk.”

“I know how to fight, Loki.” She rolled her eyes when he returned her petulant gaze with one of his own. “Thor would let me fight. He doesn’t think he’s above me because he’s an Asgardian.”

“Yes, and he would shed pretty, pretty tears at your grave.”

Lily shoved him, though she had to ignore the fact that he barely budged when she did. “I earned my place on the team the same way you did. My powers may be different from yours–”

“Yes, you earned your place, but I also know your power comes from the forests and you get weakened the longer you are away from them. You already tired yourself getting us in here, so you’re going to be vulnerable against trivial little things like bullets and death.” He sassed back, rolling his eyes.

Another volley of gunfire had them crouching down. Lily peaked out from between her arms, spying the incoming form. Her hands extended purposefully, her veins all pulsing bright green before meter-long thorns flew through the air. Impaled, the agent slumped to the floor as Lily sagged, panting. She once more made to move into open space, forcing Loki to grab pull her back. This time around, she offered less resistance.

“Stand. Down!” He sounded like a hell-beast, lips snarling.

“I’m fighting with you, whether you like it or not! You’re not the boss of me!” She struggled in his iron grasp while he debated how to best keep her out of harm’s way.

This woman was proving to be a handful with an idiotic sense of bravery. When Steve had sent them off on mission, he didn’t think he would be doing as much babysitting as this. Loki wasn’t very bothered by the fate of a single human, but he was pretty sure there would be protest if he brought back a corpse rather than their new recruit.

A glint of silver along the wall caught his eye–a wire hook meant for anchoring cables. With barely a thought, he hoisted her by her suit and released her. The fabric caught on the hook and left her dangling.

“Stay.” He ordered, leaving no room for argument.

“Loki, don’t you fucking dare!” She swung for his body, but deftly swooped out of the way. “Put me down!”

When he circled back to rescue her, he flashed an impish grin made all the more manic by the blood speckling his face, only a small fraction of it his. “You’ve missed all the fun, pet.”

“I am not a child! You had no right to do this!” Her words barely held any heat. Loki could tell she was struggling to even remain awake after repeated bouts of using her ability.

“I meant no offense,” he defended, lowering her to the ground, “but you were exhausted. You still are.”

“I could’ve helped.”

“You could have died,” he riposted, frowning. He tilted her chin up with the flat of a bloodied blade, forcing her gaze upwards. “Let us leave that honor for something better than a petty raid, shall we?” Loki had eased his tone and offered her a sincere smile.

“Fine.” Lily pouted, staring straight down the hall they were to exit through. “Just… don’t ever do that again, OK? It’s humiliating.”

Loki chuckled, an expression of clear amusement on his face. “Oh, darling, I wouldn’t dream of it.”

[the-melting-world]

Can you write about Valerius’s hidden gymnastics/pole dance/Lyra/aerial silks talent?~ (pick whichever lol)

Oooh Mads! Please forgive me for taking so long. I was saving this one! I’m going to go with *aerial* – As in aerial yoga talents. 😉

Tagging some more babes: @apprenticealec @arcanecadenza @miserytheapprentice

~ 1K words

Kipling Bronne visits the palace several times a week to groom her arrangements and care for the more sensitive plants in and around the royal grounds. She often takes her longest break in the shadier section of the garden with Portia Devorak, where they share gossip, picnic snacks, and pets between their familiars.

One day, Kipling decides to bring a couple of yoga mats, hopeful that Portia would want to join her in some sun salutations.

“Nice call, Kip!” Portia said as she extended her body into upward dog. “This is a great idea to burn some steam!”

Kipling chuckled to herself as she relaxed from upward dog into a lazy cobra. She honestly had no idea where Portia got all of her energy. It took most of Kipling’s concentration to move through the formations with any sort of grace and synchronization of the breath.

They both slid backwards into downward dog. Poria simply couldn’t pass up the opportunity to giggle at the mere thought of her butt reaching for the sky. Kipling struggled to keep her balance through all the snickering and snorting between the two of them.

“Portia! Quit wiggling your butt like that or I’m going to capsize!”

This only invigorated the redhead’s juvenile shenanigans. In the end, they both toppled onto their mats in a fit of giggles and raspy breath-catching.

In the midst of this, Kipling felt the beginnings of a spring shower peppering her face. The drizzling increased, declaring an end to their yoga session. 

Portia righted herself and shook her fist at the sky. “Darn it! We were just getting started!”

Kipling rolled up her mat. “Maybe we can find a quiet spot in the palace to finish up.”

A spark lighted in Portia’s eyes. “I know where we can go!” She gathered up her mat without bothering to roll it and popped onto her feet. “It’s a pretty quiet place. Consul Valerius is the only one who might show up, but I’m sure he won’t notice we’re there.”

At the mention of the courtier, Kipling suppressed the urge to reach for her ghost lock and tug out of nervousness. Instead, she stood up slowly and clutched the rolled up mat to her chest. Pretending to be more interested in the rain, she asked, “The consul?”

Portia skipped ahead at a brisk pace. “Yep. I’m certain he thinks no one knows what he’s up to in there. You’ll see.”

Kipling made a curious sound as she picked up her own pace. She hoped it wouldn’t betray her intrigue at the thought of spying on the consul. When she and Portia reached their destination, they were unexpectedly apprehended by a servant, who made it no secret that they were desperate for Portia’s help.

“Mind waiting for me while I handle this, Kip?” Portia asked as the other employee practically dragged her away.

Kipling hesitated. “Uh…”

“Okay!” Portia waved over her shoulder. “Be back soon!”

When it was clear that Kipling was indeed on her own, she steadied herself with a few deep breaths and passed her cowrie shells between her fingers. Then she entered the room.

Three thick, sturdy beams were anchored above. The window shafts revealed how hard the rain was coming down. The warbled roar brought some calmness to Kipling’s nerves. Her eyes locked onto the silk ribbons cascading from the beams. And then on the figure rotating languidly from a cradle of lavender silk.

Kipling drifted behind a stray ribbon panel, but she never took her eyes away from Consul Valerius. His eyes were closed, head tilted back, spine gently arched against the taut fabric that held him aloft. He only needed to build a little momentum in order to launch himself into one constellation after another.

Cygnus. Capricornus. Leo.

His body unfolded.

Lyra.

Kipling wandered into the light where she could get a closer look. Valerius was in between formations, hanging upside down when he opened his eyes. His gaze, pale and golden, found Kipling’s. Her breath caught as she detailed the recognition on his face. 

And then, just like that, it was gone.

Kipling tensed as his gaze passed right through her. Valerius carried on with his routine as if he never saw her. But something was different…

Consul Valerius wound himself higher and higher, closer and closer to the stormy heavens. Kipling envied the strength in his upper body as he propelled himself further into his aerial dance. His braid followed him in a poetic arc as he briefly surrendered to gravity, unraveling dangerously towards the marble floor before the ribbon finally caught.

Kipling gasped, realizing too late that it was all intentional.

He’s showing off, she mused. But was he doing it to impress her or simply to prove that he could?

As if to answer her question, Valerius made eye contact with Kipling. She looked deliberately into his cloudy irises and arched her brow, daring him to take this acrobatic venture further than the stars.

A lovely sheen collected across his forehead as he accepted the challenge. Kipling listened to his breath become more labored as he manipulated the silk and relaxed into each pose. She marked the asanas that she recognized – warrior, pigeon, crescent, crow. The rest she admired for how the consul could contort himself to achieve something so sublime.

Suddenly, Valerius stretched out the ribbons, creating a hanging tent. He disappeared inside. The ribbons descended until he hovered a foot off the floor.

Kipling approached the suspended hammock. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

Valerius leaned forward enough to use the fabric as a swing. His braid was barely hanging by a cross section, making Kip wonder how many he permitted to see him this way.

“It’s interesting,” said the consul as he swung towards her, “the heights one can reach when they believe no one is watching.”

A small smirk found its way on Kipling’s lips as her eyes drifted away from the consul’s and down his chest. With a turn of her head, the delicate layer of sweat clinging to him almost glistened in the soft, gray light.

Valerius cleared his throat. “So then.”

Kipling looked back up.

“Why are you here, Miss Bronne?”

Kip considered the ways she could answer him. She could be honest and say she came to complete her own asanas. She could flirt and say that he was the reason she was standing there. Instead, she came close enough for their knees to brush whenever Valerius swung forward.

“To escape the rain.” Kipling settled on this, unafraid of the way the consul’s gaze took her in.

“Were you successful?” He swung forward for the last time, anchoring her knee between his. Kipling stumbled into his lap. His hands found her waist and steadied her.

“No,” Kip whispered as she let her palms slide against his wet pectorals. “Not quite.”

Valerius regarded her evenly. “Pity.”

Then he pulled her down with him into the hammock. Kipling entered a dark realm of weightlessness. Valerius shared more of his sweat with her. She gave him bold, restless affection. The ribbons held them in a snug cocoon. Above the ground. Protected from the rain.

[evakuality]

Druck, s5 episode 10 - belated thoughts and overall season impressions

I really like that Nora is still being shown with her symptoms here.  She’s reconnecting with people, and letting people know things about what’s happening, but that doesn’t magically fix everything.  And it’s good that she takes the chance to talk to them a little bit about everything.  It does feel a bit sudden in a lot of ways - she was just anxious about telling the therapist all this stuff and being labeled crazy (I assume - that’s certainly the vibe she gave off) and now she’s super happy to tell the girls all this stuff.  I’m happy that she wants to and feels like she can, but it also feels quite quick.  But that’s the nature of something like this, I guess.  Everything needs to be resolved now.  The whole business with the merch is weird too, with the way she just goes ‘yeah sure, I’m emotionally numb so I’ll draw lots and lots of pictures on lots of things.’  Again, the girls are nice about it, but I guess she feels a bit guilty because it was her who stuffed it up so it feels like there’s some pressure there, even if they don’t mean it.  And ugh, poor Ava when Kieu My turned up - I mean I get that most of this group don’t necessarily know how bad the whole thing was for her but it feels really weird that the focus is on Fatou’s nerves here rather than actually dealing with some of the bigger and more serious stuff that’s floating around with this.  I know it was more the others, but we know from later that this was pretty shitty for Ava.  I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again - I really hope the bullying gets addressed properly and not swept under the table.  The fact that Nora is still happy to be around these people after her experiences with Constantin and Ismail makes me wary.  But I do still have hope that all this will be worked through.  If they are combining the squads (and it looks like they are), then they can’t have this unresolved, not when it’s such a big thing for Ava (and should have affected Nora more if she hadn’t been so numb to everything).

I understand why they have this scene with Kiki about being allowed to stay in the flat by themselves, and I think it’s goods that they deal with all of that (the way Kiki came running as soon as she felt she was needed - it’s not good for her, as they all seem to realise and I’m glad everyone is getting to do what’s working best for them), but it felt very rushed (I suspect I may say that a lot about this episode - it’s all stuff that needs to happen and it’s already quite long, but it feels too fast for me).  And the same with Nora’s comments about therapy.  She says she quite likes it and wants to continue and yet we didn’t see that.  What we saw was a very closed off and belligerent Nora who was only just starting to thaw in that session.  And yes she has a reason to make it all seem more cheerful than she really feels, but it’s still very abrupt as a change.  This is probably the only time I haven’t found a scene with this family compelling and that’s a bit of a shame.

And another rushed moment.  There was a lot shoved into this one clip (Josh, merch, a bullying session, a concert we never heard of til now, a random half-baked apology from Constantin) - for some reason, the show thinks Ismail and Constantin still need to be assholes for no reason.  I mean, clearly it’s designed to show that Kieu My is ‘better’ than they are because she engages and is willing to do ‘12 year old stuff’, but again, if we’re connecting these two squads then this sort of stuff has to stop.  I know I get worked up about this, but it really bugs me.  This behaviour is childish and I’m finding it boring to watch.  Even the apology from Constantin (which does seem sincere) isn’t enough to balance how stupid this ongoing behaviour is.  Hopefully they deal more with that later too and don’t just drop it.  My other take away from this: Nora has to draw 76 things already????  This is going to take forever and I have no idea how she’s going to manage that alongside her classwork.

Oh, I love this little mis-matched table and chair thing they have going on.  It’s so cute and I feel like it really perfectly fits them and their vibes, you know?  This whole friendsgiving idea is so cute and I love that they took what Ava was saying and tried to do something nice for her.  They really are a sweet group of kids.  And her face when she saw it is just ... perfect.  Ugh, when am I getting my Ava season?????  This little conversation between Nora and Josh is very good, too.  You can feel him trying and how hard it is for them both.  I do wish they had dragged this part out a bit longer, either pushing the original break up to earlier in the season or by spreading this into another one, but I like that they’re showing this part.  It IS awkward and difficult to be friends with someone you have feelings for and good on Josh for saying that he just can’t do it.  It hurts and it’s hard, but honesty really is key.  And that, for me, is the biggest thing Nora has had to learn this season.  You can’t hide behind a face and expect things to be okay.  So all these moments of honesty that she’s facing and dealing with, those are so important to her growth.  And then we end with the girls supporting each other which I also really love.  They are all super adorable!

This last clip is also nice.  I still think this sudden ‘live concert’ coming out of nowhere in this last episode is a bit rushed, but the execution is cool.  Ava and Fatou are adorable together and I need a lot more of them singing.  I’m not 100% feeling the thing with Josh and Nora, which is kind of ironic, but it is cute.  I just wish this had all been given more time.  In fact these are the things I wish had more space: the Cash Queens reunion/reconciliation (it needed more conversation/discussion), the Constantin/Ismail/Kieu My stuff being dealt with in more depth (though hopefully this is coming), the Machwitz siblings deciding to live together and Kiki being okay with it (that one needed another clip or two, I think), and the Josh/Nora reconciliation.  Some things have been done really well.  I do think Nora’s mental health was done well, and I liked that it makes clear in this episode that she isn’t totally well and doesn’t expect to be in the near future.  Having said that, I’m not a huge fan of the ‘minute by minute’ idea being moved here.  In some ways it works (this is about a mental illness, after all, and so it fits in that way), but in others ... that’s so iconic for a specific situation and this doesn’t fit in with that one.  Even needed it in a very specific way, and Nora needs something, sure, but I don’t think quite nails her specific needs and I wish they had thought it through for her a little more thoroughly.

Overall, I like the episode.  My biggest issue with this episode is that it’s trying to do so much in such a short time.  Every clip has so much packed into it that nothing really feels like it has time to breathe.  I assume there’s a reason why they’re sticking to 10 episodes, but I wish that either they didn’t have to or that they had paced things more evenly through the season.  The great strength of Skam and Druck is, I feel, that everything is allowed to be paced as it needs to be.  That things happen in a way that gives weight and meaning to lives in a way that isn’t dramatic and isn’t overwrought, but which shows truths about people and their lives.  That this episode hasn’t been able to do that in the same way is a shame.  It’s the ending; it should be the strongest one.  Having said that, I think the friendsgiving clip manages to do exactly that and I love it for it.  It is my favourite clip of this episode and one of my favourites of the season.  This probably feels negative and like all I’m doing is criticising the episode and the season, but that’s not true at all.  

Overall I really enjoyed this season, particularly the sibling dynamics and getting to know the new girls.  It has its flaws, but so do my absolute favourite seasons, and I think it’s a really nice entry into a new gen and some new characters.  The mental illness plot was good to see and I really liked some of the decisions they made around showing its build up and how it affected Nora.  The lighting chosen, the framing, some of the shots they chose - it all built that part up very well.  And while the resolution to it did feel a bit rushed, I do like the acknowledgement that it’s still part of Nora and she’s going to be dealing with it into the future.  And while I’m not on board with Kieu My being the love interest until and unless they address the bullying properly, I do like that we have plots already brewing for next season.  Ava is clearly not cool with it (that whole ‘you deserve better than her’ thing she said to Fatou), and Fatou was clearly thinking she had a chance until the Freindsgiving business and so things are set up for the new season.  It’s a really decent intro to the new era, and solidly sets up characters while telling a story that is good and even compelling in places.

[cakelanguage]

Happy Holidays @vanner-och-frander ( GoodMorningMisterFear)! I'm your gifter for the @ignoctgiftexchange :D I hope this has enough fluff to make you feel like a marshmallow :)

You can also read this on AO3

--

It’s the soft glow of the sun shining through his curtains that had Noctis’ eyes blurrily blinking open. He laid there for a few moments, taking stock of everything and trying to wake up. A comforting weight pressed against his back and another wrapped around his waist to splay across his diaphragm.

Noctis turned his head and peered at Ignis’ slack features, face relaxed with lips parted. The warmth of Ignis’ breath ruffled through his hair and Noctis couldn’t help but bask in the lazy comfort. It wasn’t often that Ignis was still asleep when Noctis woke up, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t take full advantage of it when he did.

Carefully, he managed to wiggle out of Ignis’ hold and clumsily got out of bed. He instantly broke out into goosebumps and whined at the feeling of the biting cold of the wooden floors against his bare feet. It was days like this that Noctis regretted not making himself put on his lounge clothes after he and Ignis had a “night of passion,” as Ignis wanted to call it. But the delicious solace they both sucked up from the skin-to-skin contact kept him from ever following through with the thought.

He stumbled around their bedroom looking for his clothes from the night before but saw hide nor hair of them. Noctis finally spotted the sweater Ignis had been wearing and shrugged, tugging the wool over his mussed hair. The sweater hung down to the middle of his thighs and the delicate stitching felt luxurious against his skin.

He really needed to invest in getting a sweater like this or pilfer one of Ignis’ off his boyfriend permanently.

A small grumble startled Noctis out of his sweater haze and back to his sleeping boyfriend. He giggled quietly as he watched Ignis paw uselessly at the space Noctis used to occupy. Walking back over to Ignis, he pressed a kiss to the man’s temple and moved one of the pillows so that Ignis could hold onto that if he kept searching for Noctis in their bed.

Now to put his plan into action.

Noctis tip-toed to their kitchen and pulled out the book of recipes Ignis had bought for them last Christmas. Each page of the book had some note or another, whether it was an alteration to a recipe or a critique on the recipe itself.

Noctis loved it.

He loved it because Ignis went out of his way to accommodate Noctis’ picky eating. He’d take out ingredients that he knew that Noctis wouldn’t eat and substitute them for another. And if Ignis would warn him before he tried something if Ignis thought he might not like it, but something that he might enjoy if he tried it.

Not every meal was a knockout and some they had to toss because they’d turned out inedible with the adjustments they made to the recipe, but they’d laugh about it and order takeout. It was these moments in the kitchen – when classes and palace’s duties threatened to overwhelm them – with Ignis teaching him how to cook with all the patience of a saint that had butterflies fluttering in his chest and a sappy smile etching across his face.

He dutifully started their coffee machine and thanked the Astrals that Noctis had gotten them the ridiculously expensive one that barely made any noise at all as it began brewing. Ignis made a fuss over his gift but once he’d tasted a cup from the machine he’d come to treasure it. Ebony was still Ignis’ favorite but their coffee machine made a close second.

As the machine chugged away, Noctis turned back to the book and selected a well-loved page: Ulwaat berry muffins with a brown sugar streusel. It sounded fancy, but Ignis had walked him through the recipe multiple times and Noctis knew he could do it by himself.

He wasn’t anything close to an amazing chef, but he’d picked up a thing or two while helping Ignis with meals.

He shuffled around the kitchen, grabbing ingredients and setting them on the counter in no particular order, and heaved the mixer out of its corner. Nabbing an extra bowl, he started the streusel.

He measured out the oats, Cleigne wheat, cinnamon, and salt and double-checked the amount of brown sugar the recipe called for. Three-fourths of a cup was what the recipe called for, but a bit extra wouldn’t hurt. He popped some butter in the microwave and stepped away to grab a spoon.

Noisy pops from the microwave had him scrambling back over to the microwave, whispered curses leaving his mouth. He opened the microwave door and winced at the sight of melted butter splattering the inside. He glanced at the hallway that led to their bedroom and waited to see if he’d woken up Ignis already.

When a half-awake Ignis didn’t come stumbling down the hallway, he turned back to the butter and took it out of the microwave. He’ll clean it later, Noctis told himself as he shut the door and walked back over to his streusel.

From there it went fairly smoothly with only a few snafus when he’d somehow got some of the ingredients on the counter or spilled more vanilla into the batter than he’d meant to. But the batter tasted fine to him so he didn’t think he’d made the muffins inedible. He poured the batter as evenly as he could into their muffin pan and popped them in the oven.

With breakfast baking, he turned back to look at the kitchen. Flour sprinkled on the counter, batter dripping from the spout of the bowl, eggshells tossed carelessly in the general direction of the trashcan. Honestly, Noctis was proud of himself that he’d at least managed not to get anything on the floor.

Now he faced a dilemma.

He could clean his mess but then he’d wake up Ignis for sure. He debated if it was worth it or not before shrugging and grabbing his phone from the charger.

A little King’s Knight was the perfect choice to pass the time. He and Ignis could clean together later. And Ignis wouldn’t be upset about the mess if Noctis brought him coffee and breakfast in bed.

Probably.

 By the time the muffins were done, he’d leveled up twice putting him passed Prompto by a few levels which he could tease his best friend about later.

Pulling the muffins from the oven, he made a face. They looked okay, a bit oblong and there were some baking inconsistencies. Some were a little dark while others looked like they still needed to bake for a few more minutes. He pried the best looking ones from the pan with a fork, wincing as pieces stuck to the pan.

Whatever, it was the thought that counted.

Pouring a cup of coffee for both of them, he made sure to add a pinch of sugar in Ignis’ while putting vanilla creamer and sugar in his own. How Ignis could ingest the stuff plain he’d never know but he made sure to get his coffee right.

With a plate of muffins and two full cups of coffee balanced on a tray, Noctis began his trip back to their bedroom. It was a snail’s pace in comparison to how he’d usually walk the distance but he couldn’t drop any of his precious cargo.

He toed open the door and admired his sleeping boyfriend. Noctis was going to have to start waking up before Ignis if it meant getting to see him truly relaxed.

Quietly, he set the tray on Ignis’ side-table and he climbed back in bed, cuddling up to Ignis. He pressed his cold feet against Ignis’ calves and grinned at the furrowed brow he got in response. Two arms wrapped around him and tucked Noctis close against Ignis’ chest.

Ignis let out a pleased hum and burrowed his face in the nest that was Noctis’ hair. Noctis laughed and admired the kiss of a few scattered moles on his boyfriend's chest. He pressed his lips against one of the beauty marks on Ignis’ chest, granting each one with the affection they deserved. With no reaction from Ignis, he started to kiss his way up his boyfriend’s chest to his neck where he worried a small patch of skin at the juncture where Ignis’ shoulder and neck met.

“Noct,” Ignis mumbled.

Noctis blew on the reddening mark. “Iggy,” Noctis purred. He continued kissing his way up to Ignis’ chin when a pair of warm, dry lips met his. He smiled into the kiss and enjoyed the lazy, tender motions of their lips against each other.

They parted and leaned their foreheads together. “Good morning, Noct,” Ignis murmured, eyes sleep heavy and smile warm.

“Morning Iggy.”

Ignis took a few moments to sort himself. “You’re up early.”

“Or maybe you just slept in,” Noctis teased, poking at Ignis’ side.  

Ignis chuckled. “Oh is that it?”

“Must’ve worn you out.”

“Well, someone was being insatiable last night and I was doing most of the work.”

“I definitely did some of the work.” Noctis stuck his tongue out at Ignis. “And here I made you breakfast.”

Ignis’ eyes widened for a moment before they settled into twinkling mirth. “You made me breakfast?”

“I made us breakfast,” Noctis corrected, “and coffee.”

At the announcement that coffee was in the vicinity, Ignis maneuvered them so that they were leaning against the headboard. Ignis picked up the tray with an ease that didn’t belay his tiredness and moved it to his lap.

Noctis grabbed his cup and took a small sip and watched as Ignis took the first sip from his, snickering at the blissful face Ignis made when the coffee hit his tongue.  

“You always know exactly how I want my coffee,” Ignis praised, pressing a kiss to the crown of Noctis’ head.

Noctis snuggled down to lay his head against Ignis’ shoulder. “It’s not hard to remember besides,” he looked up at Ignis through his lashes, “I know you.”

Ignis made a noncommittal noise as he took another sip. "And I you, Noct."

His face felt warm, whether it was from Ignis' statement or the coffee soothing the cold that had been slowly seeping into him, he didn't know. Noctis sat up and pinched off a piece of one of the muffins, holding it close to Ignis' mouth. "Open up."

Ignis snorted and raised a brow at him. "You wish to feed me?"

"You have to be my taste tester."

"Absolutely, we wouldn't want the chef to have to taste their own food first."

Noctis shrugged. "They tasted good before I baked them," Noctis said.

Ignis gave him a dry look. "We've talked about the dangers of eating the uncooked batter," Ignis drawled as if he'd explained this numerous times before. 

He'd only told him three times, Noctis was keeping track.

"Until I get food poisoning from raw cookie dough, I'll keep risking it. Besides it was only a finger full -- just a taste."

The exasperation in Ignis was palpable but he opened his mouth dutifully and ate what Noctis fed him. Ignis chewed methodically, tilting his head as he considered the flavor.

“Well?” Noctis asked impatiently.

“It’s good,” Ignis reassured, taking Noctis’ still outreached hand and kissing his fingers. “Thank you for making me breakfast.”

Noctis grinned. “You make breakfast for me all the time, I want to do that for you when I can.”

“You did quite well, they look much better than your last attempt.”

He nudged Ignis with his elbow with a playful scowl. “I did learn from the best.”

“I didn’t know you were taking lessons,” Ignis jibed.

“I have a private teacher.”

Ignis wrapped an arm around Noctis’ waist and tucked him closer to his side. “Should I be jealous?”

Noctis tilted his head back and laughed. “Nah, I think you’d come to an understanding”

Ignis stared at Noctis’ lips. “We should get up.”

Noctis grabbed their cups and set them on his side table. “I think we’ve earned a day off.”

Humming softly, Ignis set the tray to the side. “Have we now?”

Noctis pressed a chaste kiss against Ignis’ lips and leaned his forehead against Ignis’, looking at the man from beneath his lashes. “Please?”

“I suppose an hour or two more in bed wouldn’t hurt,” Ignis conceded, pulling Noctis down to lay against his chest. “I can’t guarantee more than that.”

“I can be very convincing.”

“Of that, I have no doubt. We’ll eat the rest of breakfast in a little while.”

“Good, I worked hard on it.”

Ignis pet his hair. “And I’m sure the kitchen looks fantastic, right?”

Noctis groaned. “We can clean it later.”

His boyfriend’s chuckles vibrated through his chest. “We’ll clean later then.” 

For now, the two could bask in the calm peace that settled over them, exchanging lazy kisses with lidded eyes and whispered endearments against sleep-warmed skin. 

[sailorshadzter]

im back to drop more jonsa on your timelines  👀 👀

yes i know ive written this scene ten thousand times before, dont @ me lmao 

Winterfell looms ahead, daunting with it's sharp stone peaks, the storm clad skies giving it an eerie sort of backdrop. And yet, he presses on, spurring his horse forward, well aware of the quick pace in which his heart is racing. He knows what lays ahead of him might be the worst he's faced, and yet, there's even the smallest of chances it will be the best he's faced. Though he longs for the latter, he's prepared for the first.

When he reaches the gate, darkness has begun to fall and the soldiers peer down at him from the watchtower above. "Who goes there?" One shouts, though he and the man standing beside him have already exchanged a strange, but knowing look. There wasn't a man alive in Winterfell that would not recognize him, even now.

"Jon Snow." He calls back and it takes only a moment more for the gate to creak open.

"Lord Snow," another soldier says, not kindly, but Jon can't help but to smile at the sight of his Stark livery. "I can't imagine our queen would like to see you." The man goes on, crossing his arms across his chest as Jon slides down from his horse. Another smile twitches on his lips; her men are loyal, quite certainly, and for that he is thankful. "Something funny, Snow?"

"That's enough, Quinn."

The soldier turns, seeing not just Lord Royce approaching, but Davos Seaworth, who looks far less stony faced than the ever loyal Yohn Royce. "I'll take it from here," Royce continues, gesturing for the soldier to move along, who does only after he shoots Jon a final scowl. "Jon Snow." He says evenly, though he pins sharp, angry eyes upon him. At his side, Davos shifts, clearly torn between greeting the young man with fondness and adding fuel to the fire that so surely has already begun to brew. In the end, fondness wins and before he can react, he's wrapped in the older man's warm embrace; it's something he's not felt in so long, for a moment, he can't even breathe. But soon Davos steps back and gives him a single, silent nod, but meeting his eyes, Jon understands exactly what he wished to convey. "I'm surprised to find you here at our gate."

Jon is, too, in truth.

"I was summoned." He replies, shrugging slightly.

"Summoned?" Lord Royce stammers, shaking his head, clearly surprised to hear of this. "By whom?"

"The queen herself."

After a little more back and forth, Jon is taken from the gate and swept inside, sent to the kitchens to warm himself by the ovens and eat some leftovers from that evening's meal. He's eaten no more than three spoonfuls of soup before the door to the kitchen opens and it's Davos standing there. "You might have come when she first sent for you," he says as he comes inside, the door falling closed behind him.

Jon looks away, knowing that to be true, but he hadn't been ready back then. How could he face her, how could he stood at her side, knowing what he'd done? It was true, he had done it for her, for their family, for the realm... But still yet... All he had done to get to that moment where he'd stood before Daenerys in the throne room of the Red Keep... No, he was not a man worthy of standing beside someone like her.

But perhaps now, perhaps now if she forgave him... Perhaps he will be the man to stand at her side.

"Aye..." He finally says, turning back to look up at Davos, who offers a smile. "Is she terribly angry with me?" He decides to ask, not certain he's ready to know the answer.

Davos can't help but to laugh in spite of the young man before him. "She was." He admits, sobering then, thinking back to those early days. Back to the days of a stone faced queen with eyes sharper than steel, colder than ice. Days of a queen who took to her rooms, rather than live in the lively court that most expected of Sansa Stark. But then... After so long, she began to smile again. Arya returned from her travels and it lightened her heart, softened her icy exterior. "But she was sad, too." Jon bows his head again, spoon left abandoned as his hand curls into a fist atop the table. "Your queen is a forgiving one, though, tough, but forgiving. She is soft inside yet." Jon can't help but to smile, thinking of her as she was when they reunited in King's Landing. With war braids tied into her vibrant red hair, she had rode south with an army at her back to lay claim to what was hers. "She even forgave Lord Glover, now he is one of her most loyal of men." Jon raises his eyes at this news, for he thought that would be a relationship never to be mended.

Before he can speak, the door opens again, and this time it is Lord Royce. "The queen says she will see you now," he doesn't look eager to do so, but he gestures for Jon to follow after him. Scrambling to his feet, Jon pauses only a moment to put a hand to Davos' shoulder, giving the man a nod, who smiles in response before he turns to watch Jon disappear out the door after Royce. "It's about time," he grumbles to himself before settling down in the chair Jon had vacated, helping himself to a mug of ale, hoping the young queen he's come to love will finally find true happiness.

Upstairs, Sansa is pacing.

"My lady, please," it's Shae, desperate to get her queen to cease her walking just so she might straighten her skirts and brush her hair. Here, in the privacy of Sansa's own rooms, she dares speak to her as she once did in King's Landing, though Sansa has always insisted she call her whatever she pleases. "You needn't worry," she says, catching her young queen by the hand then, forcing her to finally come to a rest at the center of the room. "He loves you still, I am certain, he will return to you without fail."

Sansa dares not believe her beloved handmaiden, but she nods like an obedient child anyways.

It's been a long two years since the day she and Jon parted ways on the docks of King's Landing, so very long that sometimes it only feels like a dream. No, not a dream, but a nightmare. Once she dreamed of violence and shadow, now she dreams of golden sunlight and a different kind of pain. "My gown, I should change my gown." She suddenly sputters, thinking that there's absolutely no way she can meet with Jon wearing the one she wears. But before she can say another word, there comes a knock to her door and she swears she might faint there on the spot.

Shae smiles, patting her cheek tenderly before she slips by, crossing the room to open the door. Sansa can see it is Lord Royce there and her heart has begun to race, faster than ever before. Shae dips a quick bow and then is stepping aside, allowing Lord Royce to step inside and at once, he's there, standing in her rooms.

Her world suddenly ceases to spin.

"Leave us." She hears herself say aloud and both her loyal Hand and handmaiden slip from the room, leaving them alone. He is as she remembers him to be, though with more beard and more curls tucked into the bun at the back of his head. Despite it all, her fingers twitch, for she longs to run her hands through his wild hair. "... Jon..." His name is a whisper upon her lips, something like a plea, something that is enough to send chills racing the length of his spine. "I can't believe you came." After all the summons, after all the months, the years, she cannot believe he's standing there in front of her.

Jon cannot take his eyes off of her; she's beautiful there in what looks to be a well worn blue wool gown, with draping sleeves and a slim fit bodice, a gown made for a queen. Her red hair is loosened from its braids and rather tumbles down her back in soft waves, enticing him all the more. "My queen." He finally speaks, saying words that for the very first time don't feel hollow, that don't feel empty. Without another word, Jon comes forward, dropping to his knees before her. She opens her mouth as if she means to interrupt, but he gives the smallest shakes of his head, silencing her before anything else is said. "I don't deserve to stand before you, I don't deserve to ask forgiveness of you, but I..." He trails off, gazing up into her steady blue gaze, emotion choking him as he fights to find the words to say. The words that might make her understand. "I want to stand at your side, if you'll have me." He wasn't ready back then, he wasn't the man she needed him to be back then when he'd left for the Night's Watch, but now... Now.... He thinks himself ready to be the man she's always needed him to be.

As she stares down at him, all the anger that she ever held within flees. It dissipates as she sinks to the floor, ignoring his protest as she levels herself with him. Everything she's ever thought, ever felt, fades away as she takes his face between her palms, tears misting in her eyes as a smile curves on her lips. "What took you so long?" Is all she asks instead, her words eliciting something like a chuckle from him. There in the moment, all that remains is the love she's always kept in her heart for him, all that still yet remains in her heart is the warmth of him, the strength of him. Everything about him that makes her happy, that makes her whole.

Before she can say another word, before he thinks to speak again, he draws her into his arms. Two long, cold, lonely years he's spent without her, without knowing the warmth of her skin against his. This moment he's imagined hundreds, if not thousands of times, but no dream could ever compare to what he felt right then with her so truly in his arms. "I was lost," he breathes against her head, the familiar scent of rosewater still clings to her hair. The realization brings a soft smile to his face. "But you guided me home." She's drawing back, blue eyes finding gray, her rosy lips curving with the most beautiful of smiles. In the golden firelight, she is radiant.

It takes only a moment more for his lips to find hers and in that moment, her world begins to spin again.

[thosetwistedtales]

SPARE NON-SPOILER DEATH STRANDING TIPS ANYONE ? ? ?

Hey fandom, this is something I’ve meaning to put out for a bit now but since some of my friends have started the game I figured no time like the present, so—-

Does anyone have any tips or tricks they remember from their playthrough of the game or have picked up recently that have made the game easier or smoother for them to get through? If you can think of any just add yours in the caption and let’s see how many we can get on one post!! @begitalarcos & @trcstfunded & @fourrarri here’s some of my own tricks, or lessons I remember from my playthrough!

You can take on more than one order at a time so long as you’re careful to not overload Sam and watch your time, especially if you’re going for a premium delivery. This can save time both in-game and time put into doing deliveries, you’ll have to use your best judgment on how many deliveries are do-able in one run, and account for not only what Sam can take, but the proximity of the delivery locations.

Kojima meant for this game at it’s core to be about building connections. TRUST YOUR FELLOW PORTERS TO HELP YOU! I know it can be tempting to load Sam up with extra ladders and ropes and pairs of boots but---- have some faith that the players that have come before you are there to help and want to see you succeed. I can promise you one of each is perfectly fine and you will NEVER use that extra ladder or rope you feel you must bring along in the name of JUST IN CASE. Why? Because of other players having already left behind their own paths and ladders/ropes along tried and true routes for you to use :). The worst that could happen is you have to backtrack a little and even that’ll be easier without any extra equipment on your back. Have faith in your fellow porters, they want to see you succeed.

Study the map before each run and PLOT YOUR FUCKING ROUTE ACCORDINGLY. Is there a river you’re gonna have to get across? Are you gonna be traversing mountains to get to your delivery location? Is there a MULE camp to avoid or territory you’re gonna have to run through? Plan for those things and expect them so you aren’t surprised when you walk upon them and can face whatever challenges they present.

 Make sure you allow Sam and BB to rest/sleep at each and every distribution center you find. THEY BOTH WORK HARD AND DESERVE NAPS OK. Not only does this recharge them both and prepare them for future deliveries but each distro center unlocks a bit more story, more BB memories. If you’re a stickler for finding every bit of story you can make sure Sam sleeps in each of the distribution centers, especially after you’ve located a new prepper or location.

Also, be sure at each distribution center that you fuck around and have some fun in Sam’s room!! You may think you’ve found everything to explore in Sam’s room but each new distribution center/chapter of gameplay unlocks potential extra scenes! Also read your emails and interviews and journals! Not only will this educate you on the game lore and often be the only way some of your big questions will be answered, but in regards to emails, reading them will often be the only way to unlock more deliveries from certain preppers.

Pay attention to how you pack cargo and your backpack! On his own Sam has the grace of a drunken dock worker SO pack accordingly. Balance is important so make sure you’re distributing weight evenly and pay attention to what goes where and the effect placement can have should you fall. Back should mostly be used for big pieces of cargo since its where most of Sam’s strength is. Sam’s suit has 4 points where smaller cargo can be attached and its worth noting should he fall the cargo on these will not shake off! The tool rack should be obvious and is mostly meant for whatever tools you happen to have (Ladder,Rope,PCC, small cargo). You’ll also have a utilities pouch! You dont need to carry Sam’s grenades and such on his back, thats what the pouch is for). Early on you should be able to get away with auto sort but as you get further along in the game and deliveries become more difficult you’re gonna wanna figure out what works best for what cargo and get good at organizing things yourself, or using auto then checking and possibly reorganizing things as you see fit.

MAKE CONNECTIONS!! There is a BRIDGE LINKS option in your menu! USE IT. It’s basically a log of players/porters you have interactions with during your playthrough. It’s also where you can form STRAND CONTRACTS. It’s basically the equivalent of favoriting another player/porter and increases the likelihood of their equipment and structures making an appearance in your gameplay which increases your odds of being able to give them more likes and them being able to find and like your structures as well!

Recycle and drop used/ruined cargo! There is absolutely no reason to ever lug around any extra weight than absolutely necessary. You can either drop it or, if you’re just that diligent and against being a litterbug you can take it to a waystation or distro center to recycle which gives whatever material is left back for future fabrications.

Find each and every prepper and waystation you can! Not only does this uncover and fill in more of your map but it also increases bandwidth for building structures and well as open up more deliveries to increase your porter grade. Porter grade IS important because it’s how you upgrade Sam physically and make him stronger and more durable (Being able to hold his breath longer, increase his stamina gauge, better his balance and decrease his risk of falling)

Be sure you are working toward increasing your connection level with different preppers and waystations! Not only does this increase your porter grade and connection level with individuals but each connection-level unlocks rewards! Some of which will be equipment upgrades or blueprints I guarantee you’re gonna want (hint: THE JUNK DEALER)

Note the difficult passages on your journey and what would make getting through them easier because as you play you will receive equipment later that you’re gonna want to remember these locations for. However when building structures always keep in mind your bandwidth and make sure whatever you build is useful and going to get a lot of use!

BTs are not as terrifying as they’re made out to be. Yes discretion can be the better part of valor however do not panic if you get got by a BT and find yourself in a battle with a catcher or hunter BT. They are beatable with enough time, patience, and ammo, or you can always choose to run away from them as all you need is to leave the tar area to escape. Either way, keep your wits if you’re faced with BT’s, they aren’t as scary as you think.

TAKE THINGS AT YOUR OWN PACE & HAVE FUN. Whether that means focusing on each individual till you reach max connection before continuing on, or if you wanna focus on the story first! There is no wrong way to play Death Stranding as it was made with the journey in mind to be the important aspect of it. And hey----

Tagging these peeps for their insights cause I’m sure you all will have more to add to this!! @chiralcrystallization​ , @team-trash-panda​ , @savage-rhi , @tineidaelux , @argetlam007​ , @deputyrhiannonhale​ , @ramadiiiisme​ , @maskedprepperkid​ , @goldenbridgessss​ , @nemodoren , @hiiggsmonaghan​ , @idontfindyouthatinteresting​ , @higgs-the-god , @twirlingsmoke