#i mean sure lets ignore the fact that it was released during a strike and there was literally no promotion

[rebelcaptain4life]

I haven't seen it yet and I'm not sure I'm going to because I'm trying my best to boycott Disney. But this is literally the one thing that's making me unsure of that decision

all of the articles about the marvels box office failing is giving misogyny and racism and getting on my last fucking nerve right now

[emmyhem]

stormy fears & feelings (l.r.h)

a/n: hey everyone! here’s “stormy fears & feelings”, this is a nonfamous au with roommate!luke. (unedited as usual) this was really fun to write, i intended for it to be short and sweet but i ended up writing for longer than i had originally planned. anyway, i hope you enjoy and are having a great day/night/whatever. i appreciate any and all feedback, and as always my messages are always if you want to chat or anything :) thank youuuu - emmy <33

pairing: roommate!luke hemmings x fem!reader 

summary: a thunderstorm leaves you awake and scared, and going to your standoffish roommate, who you happen to have an extremely inconvenient crush on for comfort may be your only option to get a good night of sleep. 

warning(s): cursing, extremely minor injury, minor angst if you squint

word count: 5k

It really was an awful idea. In any other case it wouldn’t have even crossed your mind, but you had been on edge all week for no specific reason and thunderstorms had always spooked you. 

The storm had started unexpectedly. If you had known earlier you would have ran to the store to buy Nyquil before going to bed, but with it sneaking up on you, you were huddled under your blankets, eyes squeezed impossibly tight in hopes to drown out the loud crashes and blinding flares of light flooding your bedroom window. 

When the thought originally passed through your head it was more of an internal sarcastic remark than a possible solution. 

 I mean, you had been living with your roommate, Luke for over 4 months now, but you weren’t really friends. You would occasionally chat with him if you were both up and about around the apartment, which was pretty rare seeing as Luke seemed to avoid you for the most part. Hurrying out of a room when you entered, ending conversations quickly, and always being conveniently busy when you had attempted to make plans to get to know each other better. Your living arrangement had only come to be because you had heard through a friend he was looking for a roommate at the same time that you had happened to be on the lookout for a new place. Your relationship consisted mainly of half-hearted greetings and subtle avoidances of each other. So, going to him for comfort wasn’t a viable option to soothe your nerves. 

Even if you did, what would you expect him to do? 

Sit up with you? No, not when you knew he had to wake up early for work. 

Talk you down? He wouldn’t even know what to say in the first place, your typical conversations were made up of checking if there was still coffee, or deciding whose turn it was to do the dishes. 

Offer up a space in his bed? Absolutely not. That was the most unthinkable of them all. If it wasn’t for the fact that Luke had always seemed pretty adamant with his personal space, sometimes tensing up if you even sat too close to him on the couch. Your annoying and inconvenient crush that had started the day you moved in, just wouldn’t allow the two of you to be in such close quarters without your heart racing and your head dizzying.  

It was out of the question, end of discussion. 

With that being said it only took one more boom of thunder to have you shoot up from your bed and pad quietly into the hallway, with fuzzy sock clad feet and a large quilt wrapped tightly around your shoulders. 

You stared at his bedroom door hesitantly until the next strike, during which you knocked ever so lightly and muttered a soft,

 “Luke,”

After a minute and no reply you resorted to giving up on your plan and heading to the kitchen to drink a cup of tea, in hopes it may help. The idea was good enough, but you had failed to consider the noise that comes along with it. And as if the whistling of the kettle and clattering of the mugs wasn’t enough, the next roar of thunder sent you into a shock causing you to stub your toe on the corner of the cabinet and let out a pained yelp. You quickly slapped a hand over your mouth and sunk to the floor to assess the damage as you heard rustling and a door opening from the hall. 

Luke was in the kitchen in a matter of seconds, his long legs carrying him there within just a few steps. He hit a light switch, causing the kitchen to glow a dim yellow. 

“Y/n, you alright?” he grumbled, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he approached your crouched position on the floor. 

“Yea, yea I’m okay. Sorry, I woke you up.” you responded, mentally kicking yourself for causing such a disruption. 

“S’alright. What’s goin’ on? Why are you up?” he spoke, offering you a hand to pull yourself up. 

You accepted it, trying your hardest to ignore how warm it felt, and how easily it enveloped your own as you returned to your feet. 

“Uh, I just had a hankering for chamomile.” you lied. You really should’ve thought this through. Now that he was standing in front of you, admitting your fear of thunderstorms seemed daunting. You were an adult for chrissakes, an adult that was left shaking at the mere thought of a considerably common weather phenomenon.  

His eyebrows tugged in confusion as he glanced between you and the kettle. 

“Did you knock at my door a couple minutes ago?” he questioned as you watched the window over the sink nervously. 

Your eyebrows raised a bit at the inquiry.

“Thought I heard something, but then I figured I must’ve just imagined it. Y’know, woken myself up.” he continued. 

“Um, yep that was me.” you admitted, turning your back to him in hopes to hide your embarrassment. 

“So, was there a reason, or?” 

“Right, yea a reason.” you paused, searching for an excuse in your drowsy and distracted brain. “I wondered if you wanted a cup.” 

“In the middle of the night?” your subconscious deadpanned as your face scrunched in displeasure. 

You turned back around to face him, holding a mug out for him. 

Confusion and a glint of amusement was painted across his features as he spoke, 

“You wanted to know if I wanted a cup of tea,” he peeked at the clock behind you. “at 2:30 in the morning?” 

As you opened your mouth to defend your admittedly bad excuse another crash of thunder rumbled from the sky, causing your body to jump in fear and your hand to release its grip on the ceramic mug. Luke took a step back just in time as it shattered to pieces on the floor. 

You brought two shaky hands to your face and pressed yourself against the cabinet, cowering as far back as possible. 

“Hey, s’okay. It’s just thunder.” Luke said, placing a hand on your shoulder. 

You peeked out through your hands before dropping them from your face all together. 

Realization sparked on his face as your eyes met his. 

“Are you afraid of thunderstorms?” Despite his tone being soft, sweet even, you were sure he was making fun of you. 

“I-uh, no. No I’m not.” you rushed out, attempting to push past him and scurry into your bedroom. 

“Y/n, the glass.” he warned, his grip on your shoulder tightened, not allowing you to move. 

“Was that why you knocked earlier?” 

You nodded, hesitantly your eyes dropping to the floor. 

“I don’t know why, I just- thunderstorms have freaked me out since I was little and I normally would take something to help me fall asleep, but I didn’t have anything and...I shouldn’t even have tried to wake you up in the first place, there’s nothing you could do and we aren’t even friends or anything. Probably don’t even like me, I mean you can hardly even stand to be in the same room as me. Anyways I’ll be fine, lemme clean this up and then i’ll just head to my ro-” you rambled, not even pausing to take a breath. 

“You think I don’t like you?” he interrupted. 

Fuck. Was the scare so intense oxygen had been cut off from your brain? Why would you say all that? He didn’t need to know that you took notice of the fact that he avoided your company like the plague. 

Instead of responding you opted for grabbing the dustpan, the sooner the floor was clean the sooner you could get back to your room. Where you would sit awake in fear, by yourself for the rest of the night, no doubt replaying this embarrassing interaction over and over again. 

Luke stood seemingly frozen as you kneeled down beside him attempting to gather the broken shards, which was proving to be difficult with such shaky hands. 

With another bolt of lightening your hand shuddered and slipped from the brush, hitting a shard and slicing a thin cut on the pad of your pointer finger. 

“Shit” you hissed, dropping the dustpan to examine the tiny gash. 

Luke’s head snapped in your direction, eyes immediately filling with concern. 

“Ow” you whined quietly. 

He dropped down next to you and took the finger into his hands. 

“You should clean this out, I’ll finish this up.” he nodded to the remaining glass. 

“I can get it.” you protested. “You should get to bed, you have to work tomorrow.” you continued, making your way to the sink. 

“So do you.” he responded flatly, already finishing up cleaning as you looked around for a band aid. When you finally located the box of bandages Luke was behind you. 

“Lemme see.” he said, taking one from the box while he examined your finger. 

You watched his face intently as he carefully wrapped your cut with squinted eyes and a small pout. 

You had never seen Luke during the night. There was a certain softness to him that was completely foreign to you, one that made the thought of cuddling into him seem far too appealing for your liking. 

“I do like you, y/n.” he broke you out of your thoughts, uttering it so quietly you thought you may have imagined it. 

You nodded in acknowledgement, not knowing how to respond without further embarrassing yourself. 

“I’m sorry I made you think I didn’t” 

At this point he had finished bandaging you up which made the fact that he was still standing a mere inches apart from you with his hand wrapped around yours, all the more affecting. 

“M’sorry I even brought it up, I’m just tired cause of the storm, and apparently I lose a filter with no sleep.”

His hand lightly squeezed yours as you spoke, and the butterflies that erupted in your stomach as he did so told you it was time to go back to your room. You gingerly tugged your hand away, ignoring the way Luke’s expression faltered when you did. 

“I’m sorry again, about all of this. You should get some sleep.” 

“Will you be able to?”

“I’ll be fine, one night of lost sleep is hardly the end of the world.” you responded, taking a step towards the hallway. Luke caught your arm before you got far. 

“Yea, but you lose your filter when you're tired, you said it yourself.” A small grin grew on his face as he continued. “Can’t have you spilling all your secrets tomorrow.” 

Was he joking around with you? 

Before you could stop it, a pleased smile appeared on your face. This was new. You didn’t even know he had a sense of humor, he had never attempted to share it with you before. 

“I’m sure I can control myself.” you returned, attempting to go once more. Of course, his voice stopped your movements within a second. 

“Y/n, let me help. How can I help?” 

The plausible reasoning for his sudden generosity was that he was feeling guilty or maybe even embarrassed that you were under the impression he didn’t like you. But that didn’t stop your entire body to warm at the offer. 

“There’s really not much to do.” you started. “I think the only reason I knocked in the first place is because I’m used to having some company when I get scared. Big family, y’know there was never a shortage of beds I could crawl into.” 

“Company!” he repeated, eyes lit up. “I can do that. I have it on very good authority that I’m an excellent cuddler.” 

Your body froze at his words. He couldn’t be serious, right? There’s no way he had any interest in that, even if it was just for your sake. 

He must’ve noticed your tenseness at the proposition because before you got a chance to respond, a bright red blush overtook his cheeks and he squeaked out, 

“Or the floor, I could always take the floor. I mean company can be just my presence in the room, I guess. If you want.” 

“No. I mean-um, I could go for a cuddle.” you heart answered before your brain got the chance to interfere. 

He smiled at you warmly. 

“Alright then.” 

You had never been into Luke’s room before, I mean not really. Sometimes you would sit his laptop in there if he had left it out or lay a sweatshirt of his on the foot of the bed but you had never actually been inside. It was slightly messy, there was a pile of clean, unfolded laundry on a desk chair, and a few empty water bottles scattered around but for the most part it was clean. On his bed the blankets were strewn about from where he must’ve been sleeping earlier, a pile of pillows stacked high on the right side, and it could’ve just been how tired you were but you had never wanted to crawl into a bed more. 

“I like your room.” you whispered, as he spread the pillows out more evenly across the top of the mattress. 

“Why’re we whispering?” 

“It’s nighttime.” 

“Y/n, we’re the only people who live here and we’re both awake.” he teased, laughing while shaking his head. 

“Oh, right.”

He gestured a hand to the bed, “Ladies first.” 

Hesitantly you sat, your back pressed against the mound of pillows Luke had compiled for you, shortly after he took a seat next to you, leaving a few inches of space between your legs. You looked down to your lap, aware of how awkward of a position the two of you were in, neither knowing how to go about this. Luke spoke first, 

“Are you warm enough?” 

“Yea, thanks.” 

“Mhm,” he hummed in response. “Do you wanna watch something?” 

“M’pretty tired.” you replied. “We should probably just go to sleep.” 

“Yeah, right.” he nodded, watching you. 

It seemed he was waiting for you to get comfortable, like he didn’t want to push any boundaries that you weren’t ready to cross. 

Unsurely you scooted your body down in the bed till you were fully horizontal, took one more glance at Luke and then turned your back to him, pulling the duvet up over your shoulders. With his blanket pulled up just under your nose you subtly breathed in the pine and vanilla aroma that you recognized as his body wash. You’d never admit to it but occasionally you’d spend a little extra time in the shower inhaling the fresh scent. 

A dip in the mattress told you that Luke had laid down and within a few minutes you were sure he was sleeping again. You were feeling a bit more calm, trying your hardest to ignore every loud crash of thunder and instead focus on counting the seconds between each soft breath Luke exhaled. 

Just as a drowsy haze began to come over you, straining your eyelids and fogging up your brain a particularly alarming rumble broke the silence causing your body to jerk and your breath to catch. Luke grumbled quietly beside you and you could feel him rolling around. As you opened your mouth to apologize for waking him a warm hand slipped just under the hem of your shirt, rubbing soothing circles onto the bare skin of your hip. Your body tightened at the unexpected contact and you strained your neck to look at him over your shoulder. 

“Luke,”

“Go to sleep, m’right here.” he mumbled without even opening his eyes. 

You faced back around but placed a hand over his and removed it from your body. This must’ve worried Luke because he pushed himself up on his elbow, eyes blinking open as you turned to face him. 

“Was that not good? I’m sorry, I’ll keep my hands to myself.” he rambled through a defense. 

“No,” you shushed, pressing a hand to his chest to lightly push him back down. “s’good.” you assured while pulling his arm over your body as you tucked yourself into his chest. Your bodies were completely flush in this new position. “This is better.” you murmured, your nose bumping his chest as you made yourself comfortable. 

He hummed softly in agreement, his hand finding its way to your hair, cupping the back of your head. 

Sleep was sweeping over you fast like this, the sound of Luke’s heartbeat drowning out any daunting noise coming from outside. Not to mention that anytime your body so much as twitched Luke’s arms would tighten around you ever so slightly as if to assure he was still there with you. 

When the sun had risen you woke up to the sound of soft snores, and the feeling of tiny puffs of air on your forehead. As you tried to roll over and stretch your limbs you found your legs were tangled with someone else’s and your cheek was practically glued to the faded grey cotton that adorned your roommate’s chest. 

“Luke.” you called, using your hand to shake him awake.

“Shh” he whined, repositioning you both so your back was snug against his chest. 

“We have work.” you mumbled, trying to squirm out of his hold. It proved ineffective as he just tightened his arms around your stomach. 

He grumbled something incoherently that sounded an awful lot like “No, stay with me please. So warm.” but that couldn’t have been it. Right? 

Afraid he would dig himself further into this hole of sleepy deliriousness, you began to rouse him, prying yourself out of his arms and promising him a hot cup of coffee if he met you in the kitchen within ten minutes. 

You quickly washed your face, brushed your hair and teeth and made your way to the kitchen to fix two cups of coffee. Luke stumbled out of his bedroom just a few minutes later, his eyes squinted under the natural light flooding the windows and he seemed to almost glide across the tile until you and his coffee were in arm’s reach. 

“Good morning, sleeping beauty.” you greeted in a teasing tone, pushing the mug across the counter to him. 

He hummed and took two large sips before turning his attention fully to you. 

“G’morning, did you sleep okay?” 

“Yeah, I actually did.” you affirmed. “Thank you for everything last night, Luke.” you rested your hand over his on the countertop, squeezing it once lightly to express your gratitude. 

When you pulled it away Luke’s eyes lingered over where your hand had previously been before he dragged his gaze up to meet your eyes. 

He released a deep sigh before speaking, “Happy to help, I’m honestly glad the storm happened.” 

“Happy to see me scared shitless, are we Hemmings?” 

He laughed through a denial, leaning forward to press his forehead on your shoulder where your loose fitting shirt had slipped. 

Your posture straightened as your stomach tied itself in knots, each one tightening with every exhale that brushed your bare skin. 

“No, I’m just glad that we can finally y’know, be-” 

“Friends.” you cut off. Because that’s what you would be, you had to remind yourself. You wouldn’t have Luke’s bed to crawl into every night. You wouldn’t have his firm chest under your palms each morning, or his hands tangled in your hair. Especially not in the way you really wanted them. 

Luke pulled off of you like he had been electrically shocked. 

“Friends” he repeated, and if you weren’t so busy pitying yourself you may have heard the subtle lilt in his voice that caused the word to come out as more of a question than a statement. 

An uncomfortable silence hung in the air, and as the minutes passed this interaction was starting to feel more like the ones you typically had with Luke. 

“We should get ready for work, you have to go soon.” he spoke up, already walking away. 

“We should do something tonight.” you suggested. This is what you were afraid of, you had grown attached already. “Maybe watch something or, I don’t know.” Anything to be near you again. 

“I won’t be home.” he clipped, closing his bedroom door behind him. 

It really was an awful idea.

You hurried through your morning routine, carefully selecting any time you had to leave your bedroom to avoid bumping into Luke. What had gone wrong? Had the word friends spooked him? If that was the case, what would he have done if he found out what you really wanted to say? 

Either way you left feeling confused and rejected, so quickly you didn’t even realise you had forgotten your car keys until you were on the sidewalk outside your complex. 

“Shit.” you cursed, turning on your heel and storming back in the building. 

Once you had expertly made your way back inside the apartment and retrieved your keys, being as quiet as humanly possible to not alert Luke to the fact that you had re-entered, you were halfway out the door when the utterance of your name froze your movements. 

“She just left for work.” 

Luke must’ve been on the phone, but why was he talking about you? Curiosity got the best of you and you quietly shut the door with you on the inside, work could wait. 

“Because, Cal that’s not what she wants.” he sighed.

He was talking to Calum? The only friend you shared, and the connection through which you got a room here in the first place. 

“She wants to be my friend and I can’t do that. Not with her.” 

“Why not?” you whispered to yourself, taking a step further inside to hear him better. 

“No, it’s not better than nothing at all. I can’t be her friend ‘cause anytime she’s near me all I can think about is kissing her.” 

Your stomach dropped at his words and a small gasp escaped your mouth. All the dots began adding up in your head. The avoiding? Well he had just explained that, and honestly it was the best excuse you’d ever heard. His behavior last night? You had caught him with his guard down, he was forced to let you in. His sudden annoyance at the word friends this morning? You had shot him down and you hadn’t even realized it. You liked Luke, and he actually liked you back.

“Actually, avoiding does work.” he continued, breaking you from your thoughts. 

You could hear the mumble of Calum’s response but unfortunately couldn’t make out any of the words. 

“Last night was an exception, she was all cute and scared. There’s no way I could’ve turned her away. I’ll go right back to avoiding, and things’ll go back to normal. Suffer in silence, I’m telling you it works.” 

That’s not what you wanted, not at all. The creak of floorboards alerted you to Luke’s approaching and you hastily snuck out the front door, your mind running through possible solutions the whole way to your car. 

Luke hadn’t lied when he said he wouldn’t be home, which meant he was taking this whole avoiding thing seriously. It was 1:30 am and you were still up waiting for him, your seat at the dining room table was losing its appeal as your back cramped in pain. The original plan you had concocted in the hours you spent daydreaming about him at work was to wait up for him, lure him into a movie night and make a move while the two of you were cuddled up on the couch. You hadn’t planned for him to be out this late though, and in all honesty you were starting to worry. You hoped he was just crashing at a friend’s, you hoped he wasn’t alone, you really hoped he wasn’t with another girl. 

Discouraged, you moved your pity party into your bedroom, flopping onto your bed and groaning loudly into a pillow. You rolled onto your back, wasting time by counting the blades of the ceiling fan in each slow rotation. 

You were at 231 in your counting when you heard the front door open followed by the clambering of footsteps. You perked up and angled your ear towards the hall. 

“Please be alone. Please be alone. Please be alone.” you repeated quietly to yourself as the steps got closer. From the light protruding the crack under your bedroom door, you saw the shadow of a figure approach. You held your breath in anticipation of the knock you figured was coming. A few minutes passed, nothing came, and soon enough the shadow disappeared and Luke retreated to his bedroom. 

You stared out your window and for the first time in your life found yourself hoping for a storm. The sky was clear, hardly a cloud in sight, and the moonlight was warm and prominent. It would look so pretty on Luke’s face right now, all soft eyes and drowsy expressions. 

It seemed a shame to sleep by yourself, he was just across the hall, the promise of his warm embrace taunting you. 

You huffed in exasperation and jumped to your feet, “Here goes nothing.” 

You didn’t bother being quiet as you advanced to his door, leaving three heavy knocks on the worn oak. 

You could hear him shuffling inside and then the intimidating creak of the hinges, revealing him to you. 

“Are you okay?” he questioned sluggishly, his body slumping against the door frame.

“Can I sleep in here?” you asked instead of answering. No time to waste here. 

“Um, it’s not storming?” 

“I know. Can I?”

“Is there a reason?” he breathed, his heavy eyes drifting down your face to land unabashedly on your lips, which you were chewing in anxiousness.

“I have a crush on you.” you blurted, causing him to shoot up from his languid lean. 

“What?” 

“I have this big stupid crush on you. I have ever since I moved in but I thought you hated me because you always avoided me, but now I know that you like me too and I don’t see the point in us sleeping in separate beds anymore.” you continued, your eyes glued to a dip in the hardwood floor. 

“How did you ev-” 

“I heard you on the phone with Calum earlier.” you interrupted to explain, still refusing to meet his eyes. “I swear I wasn’t spying or anything, I forgot my keys.” 

Without saying a word Luke stepped to the side allowing you entrance. You shuffled past him but didn’t make it far before his hand caught your forearm and smoothly tugged you a mere inches from him. 

He spoke through heavy breaths, eyes flitting to your own as you faced him for the first time since your declaration. 

“You like me?” 

You could only nod, your brain completely fogged by the close proximity. 

His eyes fell from your eyes to your now bitten lips, “Can I?” he sighed as his hand found your chin, thumb brushing the skin timidly. 

“Y-yea” you agreed, leaning into his touch. 

He closed the gap between you with a gentle press of his lips, his hand slowly dragging up your arm leaving goosebumps in its wake until it was tangled in your hair. As you relaxed into his hold his movements became more fervent, his tongue begging for entrance which you allowed when your mouth fell open with a flustered sigh. 

Luke stumbled backward dragging you along with him until the back of his calves met the foot of the bed and he dropped to sit on the edge, you standing between his legs. You pulled apart to breath and he spoke raggedly, 

“My heart…” he trailed off catching his breath. 

“What?” you muttered. 

“Feel it.” he continued, taking your hand and pressing it to his heart which you could feel thumping rapidly through the warmth of his skin. 

You laid your forehead against the top of his head, moving both of your hands to your own chest. 

“Me too.”

He tugged on your sweatshirt until you were seated securely on his knee, his hands grasping at your waist. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that.” he drawled before he began alternating pecks, and light nibbles down your neck until he reached the spot he could feel your pulse thrumming from. He lets his lips rest there for a while and reveled in the fact that you were just as affected as him. He pulled away when you spoke up.

“Where were you tonight?”

“Moped around Calum’s place until he kicked me out, told me I needed to deal with my shit.” he answered, the hand he was resting on your upper thigh caressing the skin through your pajama pants.

“I heard you outside my door earlier.” you admitted leaning into his side. 

“I came home with every intention of telling you but I chickened out.”

“What would you have told me?” you wondered aloud. 

“That I like you, and that last night was amazing. That I don’t want to sleep without you again if I don’t have to.” 

Luke took notice of the fact that your eyelids were drooping as he talked and began to scoot you both back in the bed as he continued.

He watched in awe as you curled into his side. 

“Up for a breakfast date tomorrow, love?” he asked, pulling the blanket over you both. 

“Yes, please.” you agreed, laying your palm flat against the warmth radiating from his stomach. 

“So what should we do with your room?” Luke said drowsily, sleep beginning to creep up on him as well.

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, you won’t be needing it anymore since you’re moving in here.” he comments casually, pushing your hair out of your face with soft movements.

You laugh lightly but it’s drowned by the yawn that slips out when you respond. 

“In your dreams, Hemmings.” 

“If I’m lucky.” he replied, allowing his eyes to flutter shut. “Goodnight y/n.” 

“Night, Lu.” 

[raggaraddy]

Little Lie

Summary: You just wanted to go to a party, but Jimin is determined to make sure everyone knows you are his.

Trigger warning: Smut, yandere themes, non-con, abuse, facial.

Jimin

Yandere! Jimin Playboy! Jimin

"Jimin," you whine, both from pleasure and from frustration. You were trying to be mad at him, but right now you were struggling to remember your own name.

You had been getting ready to go to your friend's party this afternoon. It would be the first time in months you'd be going out without him because he has a family event tonight that you were not invited to. He wasn't thrilled about the idea but after much convincing, he agreed to let you go.

While you were almost ready to leave, Jimin had started pawing at you, groping you. You had dealt with this mood of his 100 times before and it was always easier and quicker just to give him what he wanted than to argue with him.

Soon, he was rocking his hips against you, pressing you hard into the kitchen table. You were moaning and moving with him. The both of you pushing the other to climax. Crying his name and clinging to him as he filled you.

As he pulls out of you you need to clamp your thighs shut. He came so much that you can feel it flowing down your thighs and onto the table in an instant. Kissing you again and again he stretches your dress lower, helping you back onto the floor. The movement further making his release drip from inside you, the top of your thighs becoming slick.

Noting your discomfort, he has a striking grin plastered on his face, looking calmed and euphoric in the afterglow while he watches you run your hands down your outfit.

"Come on, let's go.  I'll take you to see your ex-boyfriend." He suddenly says taking your hand.

"What?" you mutter, looking across his face for an explanation.

"He's going to be there, right?" he smirks.

"Ah," you stutter, searching for a response.

Of course, you knew your ex would be going, but you had decided it was best to lie just a little to avoid any conflict or trouble. Not even really a lie, just omitting certain facts. Plus, it's not like you had feelings for your ex anymore. You more than likely wouldn't even talk to him during the night. But you knew Jimin wouldn't like it and you didn't want to risk not being allowed to go tonight.

Unfortunately for you, since your friends had started getting ready early, they were already posting pictures online. Whether it was out of curiosity, boredom, or because he was checking up on you, while you were showering Jimin was scrolling through their feed when he saw your ex-boyfriend in a few of the pictures.

And as he often did, Jimin pushed rational thinking aside and assumed that you were lying to him because you had feelings for this other man.

"Let's go. I'll drop you off," he says again. Nervously you accept his hand, unable to read his mood under the bright smile he has on. Right away he starts leading you towards the front of the house.

"I'm not going to talk to him. I'm going for everyone else, not him." You try to reassure him.

"Okay," he unexpectedly shrugs it off. Sounding unbothered.

"You're not mad?" You ask tepidly receiving a shake of the head.

"Nope. I want you to have fun, Y/n." 

You can't believe how decent he is being. You were certain the night was about to be ruined for you. But here he is adverting your expectations. Letting you go off by yourself, even after everything.

Stopping at the entrance toilet, you pull from him only to have your arm snatched back and to be held in place.

"Nuh-uh." he draws you towards the front door again.

"Huh?" you tug back fighting through your confusion. Forcing a small smile to match his energy. "Jimin, I need to clean up," you explain with a small glow of embarrassment on your cheeks.

"No, you don't. You're perfect like this." he chuckles, leaning into you kissing you softly.

"But," You look up at him with a pout and furrowed brows. "there is cum running down my legs," you whisper.

"Good." His arms wrap around you tightly, his fingers digging into your skin. He kisses you again, grinning with a chuckle.

"What?" You're sure he can't be serious. There has to be some kind of misunderstanding.  "No, I'm going to get cum on my dress, and it's too short. People will see." you try again to clarify, looking up at him utterly puzzled.

"Good," he repeats.

You're flustered. You don't want to go out like this. There is no way he can mean it. It would be so embarrassing if anyone noticed.

"Stop! I know you're just trying to make me stay home." You scold.

Out of space to resist, you reluctantly let him push his tongue into your mouth. You're certain Jimin has to be angry. He is being so stubborn and crude right now. However, he is also being very affectionate and bubbly. Which is not just making you confused but also frustrated by his unreasonableness.

Breaking the kiss, he keeps peppering small ones along your jaw until his mouth comes to your ear. "No, I'm not. I'll take you there right now."

"Jimin. I'm not going there like this!" you yell, shaking your head trying to make him listen to you.

Laughing, he ignores you, only continuing to yanks you and drag you out the front door, crushing your hand and forcing you to take large steps to keep pace with him.

By the time he shoves you into the passenger side, your dress, thighs, and now his car seat are a sticky mess. You yank on the door handle as soon as it shuts, but it doesn't open. Jimin had flicked on the child lock when he pushed you in.

You're starting to panic. You have to get him to stop. He is going to humiliate you. And on top of everything you haven't even got your jacket, purse, shoes, or underwear. It's just you and your thigh-high black dress. He is really about to put you out there, in front of all of your friends, while you're exposed like this. Even if you were to rush to the bathroom right away, you'd have to get there first. Which means there is too high a risk that someone would notice.

"Jimin! Stop being a dick!" you snap as soon as he opens his door, trying to sound authoritative. "Let me out. I am not playing anymore."

He slides in beside you, slamming his door loudly, smacking his hands against the steering wheel. Remaining determined, you do your best not to let his aggressive movements intimidate you.  Honestly, you'd almost rather he hit you right now because you know he wouldn't let you go out with a black eye.

"You wanted to sneak out and see your ex, Angel. So let's go see him." the smile in his eyes goes cold. His tone becoming distant.

"Oh for the love of-" you roll your eyes. "So what? Your plan is to mark your territory by making me see him with your cum all over me? Stop being pathetic!"

"Pathetic?!" he hisses.

His eyes go dark as he lunges at you across the centre console. You jerk back, banging into the door and window to try to avoid him. But you don't have a chance. Pressing his body weight into you, he keeps you trapped in the corner by digging his forearms across your throat. You thump your palms into his side, into his face, hoping to get him off you but no amount of struggling seems to phase him.

Prying his free hand between your thighs, he forces his fingers into you roughly, pushing them deep, curling them inside you.

"Ji-" you gasp from pain as Jimin pumps a third finger inside you. "Stop, it hurts!" you scream.

"Let's see," he pauses, pulling out of you. "if any of them," he brings his wet hand up and smacks it to your cheek, rubbing and smothering his cum over all your face. "want you after this."

Finally, he lets loose your throat, dropping back into his seat with a snicker.

Frozen, panting in the corner, you're staring straight ahead in shock at what he just did. At what he just said. Tears spring to your eyes, horrified by his plan.

He can't make you go out like this.

Yanking on the handle again, trying to lower the power windows, you have no better luck than before.

He starts the car, pulling on the road. A satisfied smirk smile on his face.

You wipe at your cheeks, your lips, your forehead. But the more you try to clear, the more it spreads and drys on your skin.

You had been trying so hard to hide from your friends how badly Jimin treats you. You'd gotten questions here and there about some of the bruises you had on your arms and legs, but you'd always managed to explain them away. But after this. After he kicks you out of the car looking like some kind of abuse victim, they'll never look at you the same.

"Jimin." You cry. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry baby." you lean over the seat stroking his arm, trying to get him to lighten up. To change his mind. "Please. Please don't make me go. Please." you beg, tears pouring out of you. 

But your pleas fall on deaf ears.

"Don't worry Angel," he turns to you, once more with a dazzling smile on his face. "we're just gonna show you around for a little bit. Then I'll bring you home."

[rachelbethhines]

Tangled Salt Marathon - Day of the Animals

While perhaps not my favorite episode this season, Day of the Animals is easily the best written story of season three. Even so, it still has problems due to the third season’s poor approach to characterization. 

Summary: Rapunzel, Varian, Angry and Red are returning stolen loot that the two girls had stolen years ago. They are accompanied by Max, Pascal, Ruddiger and Hamuel who all cannot stop quarreling with each other (or in Hamuel's case, just being useless). While messing with a sea shell pendant, it magically transports the humans into it, leaving the animals to fight over it. A minor thug named Dwayne, steals the pendant forcing the animals to work together to retrieve it. 

So Why is a Polynesian Inspired Kingdom Within Riding Distance of a Northern European Country? 

If you’ll remember my review of Beginnings, Neserdina’s princesses were wearing Polynesian garb and dancing the Hula when prepping for the competition. Now I’ve already went into length as to why that’s not good representation, but in addition to that it’s also just plain dumb. You can’t just transport one ethic group and dump them into another part of the world because it’s convenient for you. You don’t earn any brownie points for doing that. Especially when your fantasy world is still based off of our own historical earth. 

To make things even more confusing, we actually saw Neserdina way back in season one in Way of the Willow. It’s where Willow bought the gremlin knock-off. 

That is an island. How the heck do you get to a volcanic island riding in a horse and cart? And don't tell me they’re riding to a port, because Corona is a port city already. They could have gotten there by boat. It’s also can’t be too far away from Corona’s borders if Angry and Red were able to get there on foot during their year long travels. 

The only explanation is that the entirety of the Tangled crew doesn’t understand geography, and this won’t be the last example in the show to back up that statement. 

So Why Is Rapunzel Here?

We get explanations for why everyone is on this road trip, except for the main character herself. Red and Angry are trying to return some stolen loot. Varian is wanting to pick up rare alchemy supplies at the market and was invited along because Raps hopes it’ll be a chance for Ruddiger and Max to get know one another better. 

But why on earth does Rapunzel feel the need to come on this trip herself? Doesn’t she have a kingdom to run? While I’m sure Eugene is more than capable of handling things, this doesn’t reflect well upon the writers supposed plan of making Rapunzel appear more responsible. 

Literally any other adult could have come along on this trip. This wasn’t something Rapunzel needed to waste time on. Lance especially would have been more appropriate here as he’s the one who’s suppose to eventually adopt Angry and Red.  And the sad thing is, all they had to do was give Rapunzel a line about needing to attend some sort of diplomatic business in Neserdina. That’s it. 

In a show that’s supposed to be all about Rapunzel; Rapunzel sure doesn’t have a whole lot of reasons to exist in the majority of the episodes. 

Lack of Worldbuilding Strikes Again

At this point I’m kind of numb to the whole “magical thing just exists for no adequately explained reason” and so I’m not as upset as some people are about the shell necklace. But it’s still not good writing. 

Why does this thing exist? How did come to be cursed? How did it get mixed in with their stuff? What activated the magic and why did it only effect the human’s even though the animals were closer to it? 

Just something show. Anything. You bothered to give use rules for how this thing works and even stuck to them this time, but you can’t just make the last leg of the trip and give us some exposition? 

Yeah, okay. 

So Where Exactly Are We in Relation to Corona?

We can see Pittsford and Ivangarr on the road sign and we have to be in riding distance to Neserdina from Corona, but like are we in Corona still? Are we in Koto, which is Corona’s nearest neighbor to the east according to season three. Are we in some no-man’s-land where none of the kingdoms have control, or are we already in Neserdina itself? 

The series gives us no sense of direction nor any firm placement for Corona within it’s world. I only know it is a Northern European country because Corona itself is a peninsula with a north sea, uses French, English, and German fashion/customs, and Rapunzel is a Germanic fairy tale. But like those clues are thrown into a blender and contradicted several times over, on top of never being told where it’s closest kingdoms actually lie. 

All of this matters when traveling and exploring the wider world are big themes of your show. You need more solid and consistent world building than this. It also impacts how much authority and control your main character has within the episode itself if she range of political power is limited to one area. So like we need to know where the heroes stand here. 

(FYI I personally headcannon Corona as former Prussia which was once part of Germany and it’s alliance of smaller kingdoms. It’s also a peninsula next to the Curonian Spit) 

This Is Not Progress

Okay so the idea here, is that the show is implying that Rapunzel is trying to improve Corona’s justice system over Frederic’s previously inhumane crack down on crime. However, this is terribly executed. 

For starters the show has never called Frederic nor Rapunzel out for their previous misbehavior. You can not change any system for the better without acknowledging the flaws within said system first. Therefore this comes right out of nowhere and doesn’t stick around long enough to stay within the viewers minds for later. 

Secondly, Rapunzel is incredibly fickle about who she does and doesn’t set free. The Saporians were still in the dungeons last time we saw them, Caine was shipped off to the prison island and left to die there as far as we know, and the Stabbingtons are shown shackled together in the wedding short even though they supposedly changed their ways and befriended Eugene again. 

Meanwhile Dwayne and Stalyan are free to go their marry way and continue their life of crime, Varian is only released from his overly harsh punishment because he kissed Rapunzel’s ass not because it was wrong to imprison him in the first place, and later Cassandra gets away scot free because she’s Rapunzel’s bestie even though she committed the worst crimes out of everyone in the show and for very little reason. 

That’s not justice. That’s not compassion. That’s not progressive reform. It’s just nepotism, and it’s every bit as corrupt as Frederic’s classism and totalitarianism. 

Just because Rapunzel is “nice” it doesn’t mean that she is kind. Real reform has to treat everyone with equality and have a set of base standards that are beyond one person’s personal judgment. She is still a dictator and an abuser even if she lets the occasional person go free on a whim. 

Finally, Rapunzel’s methods are just downright ineffective. Dwyane may not be a threat to our heroes, but that doesn’t mean he’s not a threat to other people. He’s not actually sorry about trying to rob people at knife point and he fully plans on continuing being a thief after feeding Rapunzel the lines she wants to hear. 

Furthermore, we don’t know if this course of action is born out of malice or desperate need. He half heartily comments about finding ‘an honest job” but can he even do that? Is it even a realistic option for him? The series has been weaving this class inequality theme through out it’s past three seasons and directly connecting that to Corona’s crime rate. 

Eugene had a hard time finding a job during season one directly due to his past record, remember? A life of crime he was forced to lead in order to survive, and he’s the Prince Consort! What chance does Dwayne have? Did Rapunzel even try to help him find work or did she just wag her finger at him and told him “Now, now, stealing’s not nice.” 

The show wants to act like Rapunzel is this progressive reformer but then they turn her into a Republican instead. That’s not me being sarcastic either, this approach to criminal justice is the foundation of conservative belief and has been for centuries. The right are not interested in why people commit crime. They don’t care about addressing the fundamental problems in society that lead people to break the law. Let alone bother to analyze why those laws exist in the first place. Instead they resort to doublethink and survivor bias to either write off those that fall through the cracks or make excuses for why their policies repeatedly fail, often ignoring the fact that things aren’t actually working for whole swathes of people who aren’t themselves.  

Tangled the Series is far too simplistic and childish in it’s approach to deeper subjects like this to enforce the messages it supposedly wants to enforce. Rapunzel herself relies on magical thinking, double standards, and personal bias to see her through every and any problem and the show just rewards her for it rather than challenging her to grow and in doing so winds up supporting people like her in their authoritarian ideas, whether that was the writers’ intentions or not. 

In short, Rapunzel shows no interest in putting in the real work it would take to implement genuine restorative justice. She doesn't honestly care about Dwyane or his victims. She’s just posturing here for the sake of her self image.  

You’re Not In Any Position to Talk Rapunzel 

Speaking of Rapunzel being a hypocrite.... The entirety of season three’s main conflict is her having a petty bitch fight with her supposed best friend and needlessly dragging everyone else into it.

In fact that’s the whole show. Rapunzel repeatedly failing to get along with other people because she’s deep down a shitty person despite the veneer of ‘friendliness’ she slaps on to hide it. Having her just say she knows better does nothing to convince me that she’s actually learned anything. You have to show that she’s learned it first, and that requires acknowledging her own wrong doings.  

Varian’s face here just tells it all. Rapunzel is full of shit and no one in the show knows it better than him. Why are they even friends again? Why should we trust her with the three kids she neglected more than once? Why should any of these people take what she says seriously? 

Well This is Contradictory

Also, since we brought up double standards, here’s Varian undermining that whole “jail is bad” thing Rapunzel is trying to push with Dwayne and later with Cass. Not only is the show under cutting it’s themes for a joke, but it just reinforces the abuse Varian received. He’s now bought into Frederic’s stupid beliefs and winds up reinforcing to the audience that that his ‘reform’ was due to his past imprisonment.   

As an adult watching this series, Varian’s supposed redemption continues to increasingly look like a victim complying with their past abuser out of fear of further harm rather than anyone genuinely learning to be better.

Can We Please Stop Infantilizing the 16 Year Old

As if to deflect from Varian’s past mistreatment and continuing parentification, the show then goes on to showcase the opposite extreme whenever possible. I know it’s hard to tell just from these few screen shots alone, but over the course of season three Varian is spoken down too and treated condescendingly by the rest of the cast, and by Rapunzel in particular, even as he enters his later teens/early adulthood.  

Some of this is just to due to Rapunzel being her usual holier than thou self, but there’s also times, like here, where Varian is lumped together with the actual children of the show, even though he’s 6 to 8 years their senior. 

In fact out of everyone Rapunzel interacts with, Varian’s actually the closest to her in both age and development. Queen for a Day forced the two of them into a power imbalance due to a mixture of classism and society’s ongoing unhealthy (and often artificial) divide between younger and older teens, but as we get further and further away from that point in time and as Varian nears the same age Rapunzel started out as, that imbalance becomes less and less relevant. 

Look at how this scene is framed, He’s standing between Angry and Red and is placed lower than them to make it look like he’s one of them. He’s not. 

Varian may still look 12 with his big old eyes and short stature, but seeing as how we’re past Hearts Day, he’s actually close to being 17, if he isn’t already. The timeline gets even wonkier after The King and Queen of Hearts, but trust me, we’re close to being two years past Queen for a Day, if not more so. 

Varian, for all counts, should be Rapunzel’s equal by now in terms of story. Not only is he closest in age to her, but he’s also the only other person going through a coming of age arc. And of the two, Varian’s the one who has actually learned and grown as a person. He has more real world experience than Rapunzel ever will and knows how to implement that experience. (He’s also the more mature, but that’s more of a failure to write Rapunzel competently than a reflection of his capabilities.) 

No matter how you slice it, Varian shouldn’t be taking orders or advice from Rapunzel; no one should be, really; and he most certainly shouldn’t put up with her condescension. Rapunzel is not his nor anybody else’s mother. She’s not even a big sister like figure, and at no point should be treated as the leader of anything or anyone. 

Rapunzel is a Poor Man’s Rose Quartz 

I typically try not to draw too many comparisons between Tangled and other shows outside of the occasional parallel, as a show should be able to stand on it’s own for good or for bad, but it’s hard not to discuss the series without also discussing Steven Universe in some way. 

Steven Universe is this generation’s Batman the Animated Series or Scooby Doo. It’s the game changer that everybody else is trying to copy in some manner. Chris desperately wants Tangled the Series to be the next Steven Universe, right down to how the show is structured, paced, and what themes are presented. But unfortunately Chris has no idea why Steven Universe works the way it does. 

For starters SU adjusted it’s pacing as it went along, smoothing out its rougher edges while Tangled doubled down on its filler. SU had a planned arc from the get go and stuck to it, so that by the time the twists came they made sense. SU kept it’s focus on Steven purposefully so that the story unfolded from his view point while making to sure to acknowledge the importance of other characters around him and their conflicts. It didn’t make him infallible nor shove aside everyone else’s arcs.  

But most importantly, Steven Universe was written by a bisexual nonbinary person who set out to make a show for people in the queer community like themselves. Meanwhile, as a middle aged white man, Chis hasn’t a damn clue about his primary audience and has shown no interest in connecting with them. 

This isn’t to say that Steven Universe is a perfect show. No show is beyond criticism. Nor is this to say that straight white cis men can’t write; many of them do and can portray characters unlike themselves competently enough. But if you’re completely disinterested in other points of view than you can’t be a good writer of fictional stories, that’s just a fact. Because in order to understand proper characterization you need to acknowledge that not every character ever will be like you and that even you’re main heroes will hold beliefs and experiences different from yourself. Otherwise there is no genuine conflict to build off of. Either no one will disagree with each other or the conflict will come across as flat and forced, complete with lopsided bias. 

Therefore, in the end, Rapunzel winds up being less of a Steven and more of a Rose Quartz/Pink Dimond. Both are spoiled princesses/co-rulers of a kingdom that mistreats it’s people and anyone outside of it, who rebelled against their guardians, supposedly out of a sense of justice, but really for themselves and their own freedom, only to make things even worse for everyone. On top of that they both accidently harmed their friends, freindzone their best friend while also bossing them around, are condescending to their love interests, is controlling of people who trust them, and throws temper tantrums when they don’t get what they want, oh and neglected someone for an inhumane amount of time. 

Even then, Rapunzel winds up being the worst of the two. 

The whole point behind Rose was that she is someone whom the main characters place upon a pedestal and as the series went along slowly had the scales fall from their eyes and learned to view her for who she really was flaws and all. By the end, in Future, she is even metaphorically removed from her pedestal when Steven removes her picture from the wall.  

Rose also grows as a character, unlike Rapunzel. Her story is deliberately being told to us backwards. The awful person she was in the past was no longer who she was by the time of her death. True she was still flawed, and the consequences of her actions continued on even after her demise, but she actually tried to be a better person. She got called out for her behavior, she wasn’t excused for actions even when the show explained why she did what she did, and she stopped doing harmful actions whenever she realized that they hurt someone. 

Greg was allowed to stand up to her and show how she was wrong, and she respected him for it and later fell in love with him because of it. She tried to better control her temper when she wound up hurting her friend. Her failed revolution and her mistreatment of Spinel was actually born from a misguided desire to help, rather than outright selfishness. 

Rose Quratz/Pink Dimond is a brilliant fucking character. You may not like her, but you can’t deny that she is one of the most complex figures in children’s media to ever be created. She is real, nuanced, and multifaceted. He role within the story is complicated, messy, and intricate. She is the most well rounded female character I’ve ever seen and she is what I had hoped Rapunzel would be when I first watched season one, only even more so as the actual focus. 

I want women in cartoons to be people! 

But Rapunzel fails at every turn to follow through with this promise. She is not a deep complex character. She’s not a flawed and complicated heroine. She’s a blank canvas in which the creator can shove his creepy ass views upon. She is never taken off her pedestal, she’s never allowed to be wrong, and she is forced to spout the the creator’s personal bias against other characters. 

Rapunzel isn’t a person. She had the chance to be one, but then was reduced to .. to this. As a woman, the treatment of Rapunzel and Cassandra in this show is just flat out insulting. 

So What Is the Difference Between Angry and Red Now?

I’m all for character growth, but at this point Angry and Red are just interchangeable. Anything that made them uniquely them has been lost, and they’re now just fulfilling the generic rambunctious little kid trope. Red becoming more assertive shouldn’t mean she stops being an introvert altogether; that’s not how that works. While Angry shouldn’t lose her temper completely just because she’s wiling to open up more. 

So Why Dwayne?

I like Dwayne as a character and in truth I don’t mind his existence here, and unlike that werewolf hunter last time he at least was established in a pervious season. But this is still time that could have went to a more important antagonist. 

Also notice that Dwyane gets a villain song, but not Lady Caine or Zhan Tiri. Just saying. 

Rapunzel Has Not Earned the Role of the Wise Sage and Mentor 

Rapunzel has never learned to listen to others. Ever.

On it’s own this might have been a good speech, but when taken in context of the wider story it just makes Rapunzel look like an ass. 

A year traveling does not make Rapunzel suddenly all knowing. She is not wiser nor more experienced than anyone else in this scene. She’s also a crappy leader and big fat hypocrite.  

Even when she’s technically right, as seen here, she’s still in the wrong because she never follows through and acts upon her own advice; making this whole story pointless in the grand scheme of things. 

And that’s the core problem with season three. Rapunzel is shoved into a role she is not designed for and the whole premise of the series runs right off the rails. You’re main heroine in a coming of age story can not inhabit the mentor role. She can not simultaneously learn and grow and be always right while instructing everyone else. 

All through out season three Rapunzel is either rendered completely useless in her own damn series, or she utterly fails to fulfill any sort of narrative promise laid out for her while she infuriatingly hijacks the story from more interesting and dynamic characters. 

Behold The Only Reason Why Varian was Included in the Episode 

Speaking of hijacking things, Rapunzel of course has to get the idea to save everybody, even though what she thinks of isn’t anything special. It’s not derived from her character as an individual nor from all that experience she supposedly has. It’s literally an idea anyone could have come up  with and the show just hands it to her in order to justify her exitance. 

Meanwhile the character who actually is useful to the plot is sidelined and reduced to just a plot device. And not just here, Varian is rendered practically pointless in all but two episodes in season three, even in episodes that he actually should have more impact in, like the season opener and series finale. 

Good writing treats characters as equally contributing to the plot in ways that complements who these characters are.  

Ok I’ll Admit That This Line Is Funny

Look, I know this whole review series is about pointing out the negative, and I stand by my opinion that Tangled the Series is one of the worst written shows I’ve ever seen, but I want to make one thing clear.... I do not hate the show. If I hated the show I would not waste my time reviewing it. 

Yes the over all writing is shit, but there are a lot of good things to be found in the series beyond just the crap story arc. The humor is usually solid, the animation is gorgeous, the music is a delight, and the majority of the characters are likable even though they don’t develop in the ways that they should. There’s a lot of talent that went into this show and there’s a lot of potential to be had in it’s set up and lore. 

Being critical or negative about the aspects of something doesn’t mean you dislike it, or that you’re not a real fan, or that you’re just a ‘hater’, and I actually find TTS to be fascinating because it’s such a mess. I write reviews because they’re fun and because I genuinely think there is something to be learned from Tangled’s mistakes. 

So Why Do We Cut Back to Rapunzel Here and Not Varian? 

This is such an odd framing choice. Varian is the one who is talking and reacting to what’s happening. It’s his pet that’s in trouble and therefore he carries the emotional weight of the scene, and yet it’s Rapunzel’s shocked face we focus on? Why? What’s the point of that? She has no business being the center focus here. The action does not involve her. 

If you wanted to include her for a later set up then why not have both her and Varian present in this shot? Usually I can at least count on the story boarders to frame things better than this, but they really missed the mark here. Unless Chris is just that stupid and petty that he over ruled them and forced Varian out of the scene, but that seems like a pointless fight to pick, even for him. 

See This is How you Fulfill a Narrative Promise 

The conflict between Ruddiger and Max was set up in season one with What the Hair, then it was reiterated a few episodes ago during The Lost Treasure of Herz Der Sonne, and then it was reintroduced in this episode along with a stated lesson about working together that they needed to learn. By they end of the episode, guess what, they’ve learned to work together. That is how you properly set up and resolve a conflict. 

It’s clear from this that the writers of Tangled the Series know the basic tenants of writing and how to fulfill narrative promises. So the fact that they don’t follow through with this in the majority of the show’s episodes and ongoing story arcs just baffles me. 

Is it negligence? Is it hubris? Is it incompetent management and editorial mandates? Is it just one asshole ruining everything or is this a failure in the writers room as a whole? 

I just don’t understand what the fuck went wrong here. There’s no reason for why the show got as bad as it did. How does the most acclaimed animation company in the world put out such amateurish tripe? 

Just... wow. 

Now you know why I’m mesmerized by this show. It is a mystery to be solved, like trying to figure out how the crew on the Titanic fucked up so badly or why Hindenburg blew up. You just can’t look away. 

Conclusion 

Like I said at the start, structurally speaking this is the strongest episode of the season. I personally enjoy Lost Treasure a little more, just because Rapunzel annoys me less in that, but it’s not a bad story. However when you’re best episode in your final season is filler, then you know you’re in trouble. 

If you like my reviews and want to support my writing endeavors you can drop a tip in my kofi https://ko-fi.com/rachelbethhines

[fantasyinvader]

Beat Binding Blade tonight

So, right off the bat I'm going to admit. I abused the arena and save states. This is a really, really hard game. And while I enjoyed it, I'm going to give three things I didn't like about it.

1)Enemy reinforcements arrive at the end of the player phase, and can attack during the enemy phase. That is unfair, especially when I assume that parking a unit on the spawn point will prevent them (It doesn't) or my healer just happens to be in the area. I like difficult games, but when I fail at something in those I want to feel like it's my fault for doing so. When I die in Bloodborne or lose a unit in Fates Conquest, I'm willing to accept it because I felt it was fair (plus I'll just restart the chapter in Conquest anyway). I could have not died if I had played a little better. This game was not fair when it did that.

2)The supports. A lot of the stuff about the characters is locked away in their supports, since this is one of the old Fire Emblems where it throws units your way because it's assuming you didn't reset the game when one died. They don't get cutscenes to be important, and with only five supports per character (barring if one dies, then any unit that had supports with gets those supports back). And even then, getting an A rank doesn't pair up any units except for Roy. So you don't get to play love doctor here, it's only really there for the stat boosts. But in the case of my boy, he needs those supports in order for his character to fully come through.

3)I can take 8 units into the final battle, and they're the only ones who get full ending cards. Everyone else just gets a single line. Kinda weak if I use someone like Fir for most of the game, but bench her at the end to give Rutget Durandal.

Even with my cheating, I still enjoyed this game. Mostly for the story. When Fire Emblem first appeared in Smash Brothers Melee, as a kid it instantly caught my attention. Roy and Marth just looked so cool with their swords and armor (true fact: My favorite design for Link is the Skyward Sword design, simply because it has chainmail under the tunic. I get it, the tunic is iconic but SS's Link just looks practical), and I preferred Roy because I though his fully-charged shield breaker hurting him was cool. I even keep a Cipher card of his in my wallet for good luck. I wanted to know what Fire Emblem was, what kind of game it was. My friend showed me a screenshot of the upcoming GBA game in Nintendo power, which I got for the following Christmas (sadly, I didn't get Sacred Stones as I got a PS2 the following year). I loved that game, but the idea that I was playing as Roy's father always was a bit of a sour point for me. It's because of that game when I got a 2DS a decade later, because I wanted to game but kept getting pulled away from my console, I eventually went back to Fire Emblem.

And, I'm going to admit, Binding Blade hurt me because I played Blazing Blade first. It really did. I mean, Hector dies early on, Lyn is presumably dead hell a lot of my old comrades probably died in this war, Eliwood's wife dies shortly after they are married while Eliwood is more useless than ever, the kid I saved in Bern becomes a genocidal maniac, and the fact that the characters of Blazing Blade kinda caused this to happen by releasing the seals on the Legendary Weapons in their own quest... It kinda bugs me that the Legendary Weapons I used in Blazing Blade are in their trap filled storage places. Like, who returned them there? And if I have characters from that game returning in Binding, I find it strange they don't comment on needing them again. But this is a case of the game trying to be a prequel to a story that wasn't written with it in mind.

But at the end of the day, one thing just kept popping up in my mind. Binding Blade is the antithesis of the Crimson Flower route from Three Houses. I know they said Genealogy of the Holy War was an inspiration, but I can't help it. I've seen so many people try to praise that said route as some sort of denouncement of the rest of the franchise. That it's about putting power in the hands of the people (it's not) instead of having some Lord be the good king. Granted, the Mandate of Heaven seems like it's a running theme of the series, so without understanding what that is I can understand why people don't grasp what that part of the message. But Binding Blade, it just hit so many things on the nose that I needed to say something.

So without further adieu, I'm just going to bring up a few points.

With Regards to Humanity

It's interesting how both Zephiel and Edelgard come at this from different angles. Sure, they both lead wars of conquest across the entire continent, and I'm guessing Zeph didn't tell his troops what he was planning on doing once he won so there's likely a level of deception going on there as well. He really doesn't care for his fellow man, and the game goes out of it's way to show us why. Hatred, greed, or even selling out your people in the name of self-preservation. The game doesn't shy away from showing us any of this, saying that it's wrong and thus why Roy has to kick some guy's arse. Zephiel knows this, but in Edelgard's case? She's out there fighting for absolute power, destroying anyone who won't bend the knee to her while those who do out of self-preservation like House Gloucester are rewarded for it.

In essence, Edelgard is everything Zephiel saw wrong with the human race, she is why he felt we needed to go extinct. The very things he condemns humanity for are the things she reward. Zephiel would have actually handed over power to those he felt deserved it if he had won, whereas Edelgard is demonstrably shown to hold onto power until near the end of her life. One wants humanity dead, the other wants all the dragons. They even oppose each other in their classes. Edelgard is based on the red emperor archetype, she wears red, her class is the heavily-armored Emperor and her weapon of choice is an axe. Zephiel is a king, armoed but wearing purple and he uses a sword in battle.

Even if they both have screwed up history with their family's due to their father's inability to keep it in his pants, they're both presented as villains despite being ideologically opposed which goes to show with Fire Emblem the method IS the message.

Ancient Wars, Super Powered Weapons and Lies.

War of Heroes vs. The Scouring. The former is an event where the full details are shrouded in mystery, up to the player to piece together the clues and figure out the truth for themselves...or in Crimson Flower's case, ignore the truth and act out in your ignorance.With Binding Blade though, when the truth starts coming out, it hits hard. I mean, right from the beginning of the game we're told man was the one who broke the peace by attacking the dragons, but then we learn that those legendary weapons messed up the environment, resulting in dragons needing to use human forms only to be slaughtered by man. Dragons were blamed for the environment, the people who used those weapons were revered as heroes. We don't know why mankind launched their attack, but we do know that they weren't able to slay the Demon Dragon, one who had her soul destroyed in order to control her, because the Heroes felt sorry for her. It's making dragons out to be the victims here, much like the dragons in Three Houses. But Crimson Flower only serves to demonize them, acting like they can't understand humanity when the dragons in that game are a lot closer to humans emotionally than the ancient dragons in Elibe.

The Elites in comparison weren't heroes, and that lie has been confirmed as Rhea trying to make peace.

The good ending for Binding Blade is being able to save the dragon whose soul was destroyed, whereas Crimson Flower ends with slaying a dragon after you've spent the entire game triggering her (and is the ending that leads to oppressive rule under Edelgard, in addition to the only ending without sunlight. What? You thought you'd get the good ending when her final boss theme was playing on the last stage?). Also, you need all the Legendary weapons in order to unlock the final stages, which all play into the big mystery. Crimson Flower requires the player to not understand that the world-building was done to support fighting against Edelgard instead.

Merits of a leader

Let's not beat around the bush here, Roy will not carry you through Binding Blade. His bases are low, and while he has good growths he is unable to promote until the very end of the game. Even then, you need to save the Binding Blade's usage to ensure you get the good ending. Roy is also very unsure of himself, thrust into a position of leadership despite his young age. But look at what happens when he succeeds, he manages to overcome the odds and take down the mightiest army on the continent. At the end of the game, he's shown himself as more than capable of leading. Not to mention, he also believes that humans and dragons can live together, even seeing this in Acadia (and if Ninian was his mother, he's unknowingly proof of this as he is 1/4 dragon himself. May explain his poor bases). If he marries Liliana, he even becomes a King for likely much of the same reason Byleth does in SS/VW (most leaders are dead following the war, plus combining his territory with Ostia which had already taken over Lyn's land after she abdicated/married Hector). Roy learns the truth as already established.

Compare this to Crimson Flower Byleth. Byleth leads the Black Eagle Strike Force, but credit for it goes to Edelgard. Byleth never gets any recognition for this, no position of authority despite proving themselves, instead that goes to Caspar Jenkins of all people, and ends the war continuing to fight TWSITD from the shadows to support Edelgard's regime. And if you read between the lines, Edelgard is NOT a good leader, resorting to bribes, threats, cronyism, secret police, propaganda, and even TWSITD's support and later stolen tech in order to maintain her rule. Byleth lost whatever emotional development they got from White Clouds during this route, once again becoming the Ashen Demon, and is even willing to let themselves die if they can't keep their “humanity” in check showing a distaste for their own draconic heritage (showing humans and dragons can't live together in this timeline). They didn't grow into being a leader, they devolved into being Edelgard's unthinking muscle. Byleth never learns the truth in this route, falling for Edelgard's manipulations resulting in them losing Enlightened One/Nirvana status.

Not to mention, Heroes Relics have really low weapon levels. In theory, they can be used by anyone but only safely by those with Crests and most fully with a matching Crest. Legendary Weapons, on the other hand, can be used by anyone with an S rank in their type. Your characters have to EARN the right to use those things and you'll need them to deal with all the Manaketes during the final level, whereas Relics aren't exactly that level of broken.

Honestly, seeing the ending of Binding Blade and Idunn recovering put at least one tear in my eye. Crimson Flower's just made me feel like the game was calling me an idiot (which considering the Nirvana/Enlightenment thing, it kinda was). I would love if Binding Blade got the Echoes treatment, or even if they just did a GBA collection for the Switch. But after all these years, one thing is as certain now as it was when I was a kid.

In this house, ROY'S OUR BOY!

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch 1. Back Into The Field

Intro: Picking up a few months on from the events of Stark Spangled Man, Katie finds herself on desk bound duty following a disciplinary for ignoring Fury’s orders. But when she’s finally released, and disaster strikes on the first mission she’s run in months, she kinda wishes she’d stayed there.

Warnings: Bad language, mentions of blood, injury, angst and a minor character death.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Katie Stark

A/N: So here we go. A relaunch of SSB thanks to my other blog being flagged. For those of you who are new, welcome! I hope you enjoy. And to all you current Stark Spangled Readers, welcome back, You might spot a few subtle differences as we go through, as things I’m not happy with have been rewritten but don’t worry, nothing will impact the mine lines in the hot mess that is Stark and Rogers.

As always, please leave your comments or send me messages, asks, anything. I love you all!

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

March 2013.

Any doctor would cry if they visited SHIELD; the caffeine and alcohol intake of pretty much every worker there would way exceed a dose construed to be healthy. Mind you, if you asked any agent whether they’d give up coffee or alcohol, they’d say alcohol in a heartbeat.

Well, most of them.

Katie couldn’t imagine surviving without an ice cold beer on a hot summer’s day, but she also didn’t function until she had her morning cup of Joe. It was a tough choice to make.

Not today though, she needed coffee. And lots of it. After ‘going rogue’ to chase the Mandarin with her brother, month’s later Fury was still pissed and as such was basically giving her the most boring thing he could think of- working through piles of mission reports to analyse and cross reference with others to pick up on common threads .To be honest, she didn’t mind it too much. After the excitement of the festive period she had welcomed a relatively quiet return to work, and didn’t particularly give a shit what Fury thought about her either.

She circling a part of the hard copy of the report she was working on with highlighter pen, before glancing back at her computer screen to cut and paste it into the Scrapbook App she used to trace trends with, letting out a groan. Who was she kidding? Desk duty sucked ass.

*****

Steve’s morning wasn’t going much better.

Whilst he wasn’t desk bound, after a particularly gruelling Ops Training session during which one of the newest kids suffered a broken nose after colliding painfully with a stray shock baton, he was almost wishing he was. Following a quick debrief, he checked his schedule on his phone and found he was free now for the rest of the day so he showered and headed up to find Katie. He found her in her office, paper in her hand as she stared at her computer screen, eyes narrowed. Steve watched her for a moment, taking in the way her nose crinkled as she read something, her bottom lip being dragged under her top teeth as she continued her work, completely unaware he was there. With a groan she dropped the notes she’d been holding to the desk and ran her hand through her dark hair.

Steve felt he was interrupting something, even though he knew he wasn’t, but he also didn’t want to appear like he’d been watching her either, which he totally had. So he gave a little cough and, as she turned round, her pretty face cracking into a smile which he returned. 

“Hey! How was training?”

“Don’t ask.” He let out a snort.

“That bad huh?”

“In a fashion.” He nodded, leaning on the door frame. “You had lunch?”

“Nope.”

“Wanna come get some?”

She nodded instantly “God yes. Can we get FroYo after?”

“Yeah but don’t let me pile it with all that crap this time!” he shot her his best playfully disapproving look as he remembered his first trip the Frozen Yoghurt stall. He had loaded his with all sorts of different things and the result had been beyond foul.

Katie gave a laugh and picked up her jacket, shrugging it on. Standing up straight, he moved to allow her to step through the door and followed her to the elevator.

“Stick to chocolate chip, mint and cookie dough.” She said, stepping into it. “Trust me.”

They strode across the foyer and into the early spring sun. Katie pulled her jacket tighter around herself as they crossed the street, shivering a little in the cool breeze.

“How are you just wearing a shirt?” she looked at Steve as he fell into step besides her, making sure he was on the side nearest the road. He noticed that she’d long since given up chiding him on this old fashioned habit after he had revealed it was something he used to do for his mom too, and Bucky’s younger sister. In fact, today, he swore he saw something that looked like a soft smile flicker on her lips when he positioned himself on her left, but as quick as he noticed it, it was gone.

“It’s not too bad.” He grinned. “I’ve been through worse.” He opened the door to the Deli for her and followed her in as they took their place in the queue. After a moment or two he became aware that she was looking at him.

“What?” he asked, turning to her exasperatedly. Katie couldn’t help but grin, she enjoyed winding the usually mild mannered man up

“I’m trying to imagine how you would look with a beard. And with shorter hair.” she mused, causing the Captain to roll his eyes.

“Not gonna happen.”

“What the hair cut or the beard?”

“Neither.”

“Spoil sport.”

“Captain America doesn’t have a beard.” he shook his head.

“No but, Steve Rogers could…”

She was impossible, but Steve couldn’t help but want to laugh. This playfulness was the thing that he enjoyed the most, how she could just treat him like any other punk she knew.

“Did anyone ever tell you you’re exhausting?” he rolled his eyes, a smirk playing on his face as she stepped forward in the queue.

“Yeah, you.” she spun round to face him, grinning “Several times. But you still come back for more.”

“Well I have the distinct impression if I didn’t you’d hunt me down anyway”

They ordered and ate their lunch, Steve filling her in on the ops drill and after Fro-Yo they made arrangements to slob out that evening at his with a film. They walked back to the Triskellion where Katie headed back to her office to continue sifting through the Mount Everest of reports she had to do. As with anything, once she got the bit between her teeth, she completely zoned out. It was only when she heard a gabble of voices all bidding each other goodbye that she looked up from her work. It was dark outside, and past six.

“Shit.” she groaned as the realisation washed over her. She was supposed to be at Steve’s for half past. She clicked to save her work whilst calling him at the same time, phone sandwiched between her cheek and shoulder.

“So…I’m running late.” She apologised the instant he answered. He chuckled.

“I thought that you said the one good thing about being confined to desk duties was that you set the hours.”

“Yeah, well I got caught up in something, but I’m leaving now. Do you want me to grab pizza on the way?”

“Sounds good, not Chicago Style though. I’m hankering for a proper piece of pie.”

“God you’re such a New Yorker.” She rolled her eyes.

“You say it like it’s a bad thing.” His voice took on a mock hurt tone and she could imagine him pouting on the other end of the phone.

“Hmmm, I’m undecided. Right, I’m leaving now. See you soon.”

“Drive safe.”

“What are you my dad?” she snorted at his stern instruction.

“Old enough to be.” he shot back.

“Touche.” she sniggered, cutting the call

*******

“Boring New York style for Mr S Rogers…” she spoke into the intercom at the main door to Steve’s apartment complex and he buzzed her in. By the time she’d climbed the stairs to his floor he was waiting, leaning on the door frame.

“Bout time.” He muttered, taking the boxes off her “Was about to send a search party.”

“Mario’s was packed.” Katie said, kicking off her sneakers and heading straight through to his kitchen to grab a beer out of his fridge without waiting for him to offer, knowing he wouldn’t. He didn’t need to. 

Steve headed into the living room, depositing the thee boxes on the coffee table before he sank onto the couch and reached straight in for one of the pepperoni slices. A few moments later Katie flopped down next to him, handing him a beer.

“What we ticking off the list tonight?” she asked.

“A Few Good Men.” he said, nodding at the TV where he had queued the movie up ready.

“Wait, did you manage to navigate that Android box all by yourself?” She looked at him and he sighed. 

“I’m not completely useless ya know.”

“Jury’s out.” she teased, curling her legs up onto the sofa next to her.

They watched the movie. Steve got most of the references within it. He chuckled in the right places, and laughed out loud when Katie was unable to stop herself uttering the immortal line You can’t handle the truth. When the credits began to roll,  Katie unfolded herself from where she had been sat and they launched into Steve’s favourite part of Movie Nights- the post film analysis.

“Who was the guy who played the colonel, Jessup?” he looked at her.

“Jack Nicholson. Amazing actor. He’s in a few on your list.”

“He was good. And I know he was supposed to be the good guy so to speak but Kaffee annoyed me a little. He was so arrogant.”

“He reminds me of Tony” Katie sniggered.

“Well, I didn’t want to say anything” Steve gave a little smirk and Katie shrugged.

“I get what you mean though. He is an ass, and it pisses me off a little the romance angle they take with him and Galloway. I mean, she’s portrayed as this strong woman, in the male dominated military woman and they still have to go there.”

“It does seem to be a tried and tested format.” Steve nodded, leaning back against the cushions on his couch “Boy meets girl, boy likes girl, boy wins girl over…even the movies I saw back in before I took a sub-zero nap were the same.”

“I suppose it appeals to the hopeless romantic in all of us.” Katie shrugged.

They continued to chat for a bit longer until Katie glanced at her watch, and seeing the time, decided to call it a night. Steve walked her down to her car, he always did without fail, another thing she had given up chiding him for and when he came back upstairs and got in the shower, he found himself straying back to the first time he had seen her, the minute she had stepped into the light in the boxing gym and he’d found himself looking into the greenest eyes he had ever seen in his life.

The more he stood there in the stream of hot water, thinking about her, the more he started to feel something…well…different. And he couldn’t put his finger on it. Was it that he found her attractive? Well of course he did. To be honest, he reckoned you’d have to be blind not to. And if he was totally honest, since he’d seen her the first time in that little boxing gym in New York he had noticed how pretty she was. She had the figure of the stars of his time. Hour glass waist, brunette hair, shapely ass and legs and quite large breasts considering she was so slim. But what did it for him were her eyes. Deep, sparkling emeralds that he could lose himself in quite happily. And that smile, that fucking smile that could make him stop in his tracks when she flashed it.

But it was more than just that, she was…well…just Katie.

It was strange, really, she reminded him so much of Peggy in some ways, but in others she was so different. Both were vivacious, smart, strong willed and beautiful. But where Peggy had been harsh, after a military upbringing, Katie had a softer edge to her. She was still ferocious at times, but she was a people person, and somehow knew exactly how to explain and understand what he was trying to say even when he struggled to himself. She made him feel at ease. With that in mind it wasn’t surprising they had grown so close. He could trust her and knew that she would do anything for him because she was a good person. And she made it so easy to be around, he didn’t feel a shred of awkwardness around her. 

He hadn’t thought he’d ever find himself a friend he could be as honest and open with again, one he would happily lay his life on the line for, not just out of a sense of duty but out of a sense of love and friendship.

Who you trying to kid, Rogers? 

He knew his feelings went deeper than that. All those times he’d felt irritation at other men looking at her or touching her, all those times he’d looked at her and just wanted to smile because she was just her… the fear he had felt when he had known she was off chasing the Mandarin and he wasn’t able to help…none of that was anything to do with mere friendship. 

He leaned his forehead against the tiles of the shower cubicle and groaned. He was crushing on his best friend.

He was so fucked. *******

Katie’s desk arrest didn’t last much longer. Two weeks later she was catapulted back into the field, on what was supposed to be a simple op, simple by SHIELD standards, anyway. They had a request from the Cuban government – all very hush, hush, of course –to take down a drug lord who ran a cartel SHIELD had tangled with last year.

Katie, in her role as Mission Analyst, read the files and all the intel, pulled together a briefing and delivered it, answering questions that came her way from the team and then handed over to Steve when it was his turn to take the floor. He started issuing out his orders, and informed everyone that the three newest recruits would be joining them as it would be a fairly straight forward op to ease them into.

And it had been, for the most part, until one of those new recruits, Jack Adams, had frozen mid fire fight and as a consequence he’d taken three bullets to the chest. Which shouldn’t have been an issue given the armour they all wore. But when the man failed to get up, Katie knew there was something very, very wrong.

“Adams is down!” she loudly spoke into her radio as she took aim at the hostile responsible. As soon as she was sure the round she had let off had hit her target, she broke cover to get to Adams, as she was closest to him. She skidded to the floor, pressing her hand to his chest and her other reached to his face, turning it to look at her.

“I got you, Adams, look at me.” she urged gently, her hand warm, wet and slick with the young man’s blood. Steve dropped besides her and she turned to face him.

“Armour piercing rounds.” She shook her head. “Steve, I can’t stop the bleeding.” Her tone left the Captain in no doubt as to how worried she was and he looked around frantically for help.

“Medic, NOW! We need emergency evac…”

“Stay with us, Jack.” Katie reached into her belt and retrieved a tab of morphine as he young man’s hand gripped her other whilst she administered the pain relief.

“Son, you’re gonna be fine.” Steve spoke and Adams’ horrified eyes turned to Steve. The soldier swallowed, fighting to keep his face calm. He’d seen that expression so many times on the battle field, the one that told him the man who lay injured knew he was injured beyond repair, that there was nothing to be done for him. But this was now seventy years into the future, medical science had worked so many wonders since then, they had to be able to do something, right?

“RUMLOW WHERE THE FUCK IS THAT MEDIC?” Katie screamed, her tone frantic.

“Still got hostiles on us!” Rumlow replied over the coms. “Evans has taken four down but they’re approaching from the right! We need to cover the medics in and now you’re down there…”

Steve instantly looked round before he looked back at Katie “We’ll have to take him ourselves”

She bit her lip, looking at the young man, then up to Steve again. Everything in their training told them not to move casualties, but Steve knew if they stayed here he was going to bleed out. Katie seemed to come to the same conclusion and she nodded.

“Alright. Brock, we’re coming to you. Have the medics prep the bay on the jet.. Evans, we need top cover.”

“Roger, Cap…”

“Jack, we’re gonna move you now.” Katie looked at him, her voice calm and level as besides her, Steve moved to take the injured man into a lift over his shoulder. Once he had him positioned, he gave a small jerk of his head and Katie picked up his shield in one hand, and her pistol in the other as they broke cover, sprinting across the front of the industrial yard towards the jet. In the corner of his eye, Steve spotted two hostiles moving but before he could shout a warning, Katie had fired off two shots, the thumps and lack of returning fire meaning each bullet had hit its target. Soon they were joined by Rumlow and Rollins who flanked them up the ramp where Katie dropped Steve’s shield to the floor with a clang and offered her hand back to Adams as Steve placed him gently on the stretcher.

“It’s gonna be ok.” Katie soothed him as the medics bustled around, her eyes glancing up every so often to watch what they were doing.

“Can you tell my mom I love her and, and my dad.” Adams was mumbling now and Katie shook her head.

“You can tell them yourself.” She told him fiercely. “You’ll be fine, I promise.”

“We’re locked down outside, local authorities are handling it now.” Rumlow informed Steve who had stepped back from where Katie was knelt by the injured man. “How is he?”

Steve turned to Rumlow, shaking his head sadly. “Not good. He lost a lot of blood.”

At that point Katie suddenly drew back slightly, looking at the hand held in hers, before she glanced at the medic who was sadly shaking his head. Katie’s shoulders slumped as her eyes closed, face screwing up into a pained expression and Steve pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and middle finger as he realised that the young man had lost his final fight.

“Shit.” Rumlow muttered.

“Radio base” Steve turned to Rumlow his voice soft “Let’s get him home.”

*******

Writing mission reports wasn’t Katie’s favourite thing to do, but this one was awful. So she’d treated it like ripping off a band aid, and after a horrific night’s sleep, she’d been at the Triskelion early to get it done. As a result it was little after ten am, she was done for the day and was about to head home until she heard a familiar voice.

“Eat me…eat me…” The voice was accompanied by a bag from her favourite bakery, which was hovering in the space between the door to the office and the frame, before Clint Barton’s head poked round the side, a grin plastered on his face.

“Hey!” She beamed at her friend as he dropped a cup holder containing two coffees and the bag onto her desk before taking a seat, scooting the wheeled chair over the floor towards her.

“Heard you had a rough time of it yesterday so I brought donuts and almond croissants. And coffee.”

“Hawkeye, you are a godsend.” Katie smiled, taking a large drink and leaning back, closing her eyes.

“That the first time you’ve lost a man on a mission?” Clint asked.

“Other than Coulson.” she shrugged. “Shit, Adams was twenty-three Clint. He had his whole life ahead of him.”

Clint watched as she rubbed at her temple before reaching into the bag and pulling out an almond croissant. She couldn’t remember when she had last eaten, it must have at least been before the mission.

“How’s Cap taken it?”

“On the outside he seems okay, but I know he blames himself. Keeps saying he shouldn’t have taken him.” Katie shrugged “He’s gone with Fury to see Adams’ parents. Rather him than me.”

“This job is hard.” Clint said after a moment or two pause. “We fight to keep everyone safe, but y’know, sometimes not everyone makes it. Thing is, if we can’t find a way to deal with that, then maybe next time no one gets saved at all.”

“You mean like Collateral damage?” she snorted, shaking her head.

“No, I mean that everyone one of us that are out in the field know the risks Nova, hell last year 7 of us took on a horde of Aliens in New York. For hours we fought them, and did any of us give a second thought to our own safety? No, because that’s what we do.”

His words made sense. She knew they did, but that didn’t stop the feeling in her stomach that if she had done her research more, maybe she could have spotted something that would have told them about the armour piercing rounds.

*******

Adams’ parents already knew he was dead. Fury had the local authorities call ahead, common practice now, but still, Steve found himself sat on their couch, talking, informing them all about their son’s last moments. They hadn’t shouted, hadn’t screamed or blamed him. Instead, they’d thanked him for what he had done and for bringing him back so they could hold a proper burial.

By the time he got back to base, he was exhausted.

“Here.” Fury handed him a glass of scotch from the bottle he had pulled out of his desk. Steve took it, dropping onto one of the sofas at the side of the large office, Fury settling into the other. Steve knew the drink couldn’t get him drunk, but he liked the momentary buzz he got that lasted all of sixty seconds post sip, and the comforting burn it gave when he swallowed.

The pair of them sat in silence for a few moments before Fury sat forward, his eye fixed on Steve.

“Ever done that before, a death message?” he asked.

“Can’t say I have. Wasn’t really my job back in the day.” Steve shrugged, undoing his tie and popping the top button of his dress shirt.

“Worst part of the job. Doesn’t matter how many times you do it, never gets any easier.” Fury ran his hand over his face, and it struck Steve how tired his boss actually looked.

“Yeah, it isn’t exactly up there with my favourite thing to do.” Steve rolled his tie up and shoved it into the pocket of his old Army uniform pants.

“How’s Nova?” Fury asked.

“She’s upset.” Steve sighed “But she’s strong, she’ll be okay. I’m gonna head over and see how she is later.”

“You two spend a lot of time together outside of work.” Fury commented, innocently enough but there was something in his tone, something that was almost good natured accusation.

“Not a problem is it, Sir?” Steve asked, keeping his face straight.

“No, not at all.” Fury said “Why do you think I partnered you up in the first place? She’s a people person…”

“She’s a good friend.” Steve nodded “We get on.”

“Glad to hear it.” Fury nodded. There was another moment’s pause before he spoke again. “There’s going to be a debrief with the Secretary of Defense tomorrow.”

Steve sighed “If they’re looking to blame someone, the buck stops with me. I should never have taken the kid.”

“Bullshit.” Fury said simply “I’ve read the reports. From what they say, he just froze.”

“He wasn’t experienced enough.”

“Taking risks is part of this job. It’s a dangerous gig.” Fury held his gaze. “It was a straight forward in and out job Captain. What happened was an accident. A tragic one, but an accident none the less. From the reports, neither you nor Stark could have done any more to save his life.”

Steve shrugged, the words were kind but didn’t help him feel any better.

Three glasses of scotch later, Steve shook the director’s hand and left the office, pulling out his phone. He didn’t want to appear like he was checking up on Katie, so he pinged her a text, dressing it up like it was him who needed to see her, which wasn’t a complete lie. He did. He was craving the normality she gave him.

Can I come over? I could do with seeing a friendly face

He read it a few times, before deciding it was casual enough before he sent it. The reply was almost instantaneous.

My door is always open for you. And I made Mac and Cheese. Plenty left.

He couldn’t help but smile. One of the best things about this new life was the food, and her Mac and Cheese was frankly his favourite thing to eat on the planet.

He changed into a pair of sweats and a hoody, hastily making his way to Katie’s penthouse and the smile she gave him when he walked into her place instantly made him feel at ease.

“Hey.” she crossed the space towards him and gave him a hug which he happily melted into, a hug they both needed.

“How did it go?” she asked, pulling away.

“As well as can be expected.” He sighed as he followed her into the kitchen, dropping into the stool on the other side of the breakfast bar. “His mom broke down but they didn’t shout or yell.”

Katie flipped the lid off a beer and handed it to him. He took it, with a nod of thanks and pulled a large swig before he rest his hands on the counter, staring at the bottle.

He was brooding and blaming himself, Katie could tell, so she gently lay her hand on his, reaching over the counter.

“It wasn’t your fault Steve.” she spoke softly and he looked at her.

God, she did that all the time, knew what he was thinking. It gave him the unnerving impression that sometimes she could read his mind.

“I should have spotted that shooter.” he shook his head.

“I’m the fucking mission analyst.” she sighed. “I knew from last time those guys were packing, if I’d done more research, maybe I would have found out about the armour piercing rounds.”

“You can’t seriously blame yourself?” Steve’s frowned.

“Why not?” she shrugged sadly. She’d been over it a million times in her head that day and had come to the same conclusion every time. She should have spotted something, dug further. “I didn’t do my job.”

“Yes, you did.” he implored, his eyes locking onto hers “Your report clearly set out the layout, the learning from previous missions…Adams was just too inexperienced, I should never have taken him.”

There was a pause as the microwave pinged and Katie turned to look at it.

“You know, Clint made a good point before.” she reached in for the plate and the smell of the food made his stomach grumble again as she continued “This job, it’s hard. We fight to keep people safe but not everyone makes it back all the time…and if we can’t learn to live with that then maybe next time no one gets saved.”

“It feels like trading lives.” He took a deep breath as she placed the plate down in front of him “It’s just wrong.”

“I know.” She said, handing him some cutlery and sat down next to him.

“You eaten?” he asked, looking at her, suddenly aware she didn’t have a plate. She nodded.

“Couldn’t have waited until now, I’d have starved to death.” she said, shrugging.

“Hardly.” he replied, mouth full, instantly realising he had said the wrong thing as she narrowed her eyes at him.

“Is that a fat joke?” she asked, making him roll his eyes as he swallowed. That hadn’t been it at all, he was referring to the fact that she never actually stopped eating, despite her tiny frame she gave him a run for his money.

“No, that’s not what I meant. You’re tiny.” he said, almost choking on his food through his protests.

“So now you’re making short jokes?” She shot back. Steve looked at her, dismayed she thought he was being mean to her but then he spotted the look in her eyes and rolled his own.

“Punk.”

“Jerk” she shot back. 

It was the perfect way to escape the trauma and stress of the last few days. Once they had finished eating the two of them flopped down on her large L shape sofa, Steve’s legs extended along one side of the L shape, her legs tucked underneath her as she leaned against his shoulder. He couldn’t help but notice the smell of her shampoo…apple, he thought, along with her perfume. Her proximity was making his head buzz but he wasn’t about to move her, the contact was comforting. And it clearly was for her too as about an hour or so into the film- the first in the Lord of The Rings trilogy- he felt her head growing heavy. He glanced down and saw that her eyes were closed and, as he watched, her head slipped slightly. He shifted so that he could catch her gently, and grabbed a cushion from behind him, placing it against his leg. He manoeuvred her head so that she was lay down, gently brushing her hair off her face. She stirred slightly, snuggling down further into the cushion as he absentmindedly rubbed between her shoulder blades as her breathing grew gentle and even.

Steve stayed like that, engrossed in the film right to the end, surprisingly. He had enjoyed it. Katie hadn’t woken up, and he looked down debating whether or not to wake her or simply carry her through to her bedroom. In the end he decided to do neither, instead he reached for the remote as he sifted through to find something else to watch. He didn’t want to leave just yet, he was too comfy and too at ease. Picking one of his favourites, Casablanca, he settled down, getting himself comfy as he immersed himself in the familiar world of Rick’s Café Americain. At one point he felt his eyes growing heavy and he lay his head back, deciding to rest them for just a little while…

**** Katie was jolted awake, quite violently, and as she jerked into an upright position she saw exactly why. Steve was thrashing in his sleep, his face contorted in horror, small murmurs and whimpers slipping from his plump lips. She placed both her hands on his shoulder and shook him. Softly at first, then a bit stronger, trying to rouse him.

“Steve…” she gave him a harsher shake and his eyes flew open, wide in panic and she reached up to cup his face in her hands. “Hey, it’s okay. It was just a dream.”

Her soft voice filled Steve’s senses and, as he realised where he was and whose eyes were looking at him, he took a shaky breath and lay his head back.

Damned it, he’d fallen asleep and had a nightmare. On her sofa.

“Sorry,” he said, his voice croaky, “I err…”

“Don’t apologise, it’s fine.” Katie shook her head gently “I’ll get you a glass of water.”

Whilst she was gone he leaned forward, swinging his legs off the couch so his feet touched the floor, wiping his clammy head with his hands, the memory still flashing through his dream.

Cold air was blasting his hair back…there was a hole in the side of the train…then a flash of light and Bucky flew straight through the hole. “BUCKY…” he yelled, grabbing onto the side of the train, the bar in one hand as he stretched to reach his friend with the other.

“Steve…” The voice was louder, but not loud enough. No, he had to get to Bucky…

But he was gone, Steve was grasping at nothing but air.

Just a dream, Katie had said. It was anything but…

She appeared back in the room with a glass of water and he thanked her as she passed it to him. He took a large gulp, swallowing and was relieved when his breathing began returning to normal.

“You ok?” she asked, kindly as her hand gently knotted into his, her concern evident.

“Yeah, just a nightmare.” he nodded softly “I’ve not had one for a while.”

“Understandable with what’s happened. Wanna tell me what it was about?”

“It was Bucky.” he swallowed thickly “I was replaying the moment he fell. The moment he plummeted to his death from that Hydra train and I didn’t save him.”

Katie stayed silent for a moment before her hand curled round Steve’s shoulder and she pulled him to her, causing him to lay his head on her shoulder. “You know it wasn’t your fault.”

“I should have done more” The guilt ate Steve up every day, that he had survived. Why had he deserved that any more than Bucky?

“How?” she said again. “How could you have done anymore?”

"I should have gone after him.” he said quietly.

“What would’ve changed if you had?” Katie asked. “There’s no way he could have survived that fall.”

“He wouldn’t have been there if it wasn’t for me.“ He replied, "I should have gone after him, brought him home, done something.”

Katie remained quiet, her hand gently running through his hair which was nice, far too nice. He took a deep breath and sat up moving away from her touch.

"What time is it?”

“Nearly six in the morning” Katie glanced at her watch.

“You’re kidding?” Steve snorted.

“Nope. You want some coffee?” she stood up, stretching her arms above her head.

“Yeah if that’s ok.” he replied, following her to the kitchen. From her body language he could tell she was rolling her eyes, even if she wasn’t facing him.

“I don’t know if your Ma ever told you, but it’s rude to run out on a girl after you spend the night with her.”

“And as you know, I’m useless with women.” he sat down at the barstool on the breakfast bar. He watched her, but he didn’t say anything as she bustled about, throwing some bread in the toaster and then went to the fridge for the butter, marmalade and jam, sliding them onto the island. At that point Steve held his hands up.

“You don’t have to-” he started to say, but she silenced him with a glare, similar to the ones Peggy used to give him, the look that could stop him in his tracks it was that stern.

“Shut up.” she poured them both a cup of the coffee before adding milk and a spoon of sugar to each, passing one to him. The bread popped up from the toaster, and she put it on a plate before sliding it over to him and adding more bread to the machine.

His stomach rumbled and he gave in, smearing butter over his toast. He eyed the jam curiously. He’d had marmalade before but…

He looked at Katie and she nodded. “It’s good.”

So he added some, and after a bite he concluded she was right, and nodded in agreement. Once the next round of toast was done she sat next to him.

“So, when did I fall asleep.” she asked, swallowing her food.

“About an hour into the film.”

She shook her head “What an ass���”

“It wasn’t a problem.” He replied honestly as he took a bite of his breakfast. “To be honest I enjoyed it.”

“What, me drooling on your leg?”

He swallowed, his eyes wide “I meant the film.”

“I know.” she smirked.

***** Chapter 2

**Original Posting**

[itsclydebitches]

Oh yeah I totally get and respect that Shani is in the other games and these two have history but I'm choosing things that are not flirty like, I'm glad these two have a history but I'm not rly into it for geralt rn so I'm like "dude I'm so sorry the ghost who was possesing me was eyefucking you all night, and I'm sorry that you were into it, can i leave the wedding now?" AND THEY KEEP FLIRTING, like they kiss and I'm just sitting there like ???/ I was picking the options that look like "no" and things are still happening?? why??

I hadn't given this much thought during my first playthrough because I liked Shani and was happy to romance her, but now I'm super curious and decided to do a little research. Apparently, you're 100% right to be going "???" because the kiss is basically inevitable. I say "basically" because the only way to avoid kissing Shani is to abandon the cheer her up portion of the night entirely. After Gaunter releases Vlodimir from you and suggests that you go make peace with Shani you can, from what I've read, just straight up leave the wedding. That quest will fail, but it won't impact anything except erasing a later dialogue option specifically about those interactions.

So yeah, this fails on multiple levels imo:

We've got the fact that you're forced to kiss her despite this being a choice based game and despite you being able to avoid romancing any other character if you want. (The only other inevitable kiss I can think of is with Yen at Kaer Morhen, but that's her kissing you. It's meant to be unexpected whether you're with her or not which, as discussed, is another frustrating part of her characterization.)

The only way to avoid kissing Shani is, for lack of a better word, to break the game. Not literally breaking it, obviously, but playing "incorrectly" to achieve that result. Even though there are no consequences, I know a failed quest would bug the hell out of me and, the romance aside, ignoring that section means you miss out on other parts of the story, even if it's just hanging out to drink.

I think it's doubly frustrating that there's this inevitable kiss and yet Shani isn't a real romance option. You can't stick with her long-term, which many fans would like (they want to continue what was established in the first game, want a non-sorceress love interest, just like Shani, etc.) So this kinda... sucks for a large portion of the fanbase? If you have no interest in Shani you're basically forced to kiss her anyway (which feels like cheating if a player is committed to Triss or Yen) and if you do have interest in Shani you can't do more than a one night stand with her. And I mean yeah, we get that with plenty of others, but again, I'm pretty sure you can avoid those moments if you really want to. Like not kissing Triss at the ball. And, as said, Shani is already an established love interest within the franchise, so it's not like, say, Cantarella who is meant to be quick fling before she disappears.

I guess that's the difficulty with a choice-based game featuring an established character? Geralt isn't a blank slate like many protagonists, he's supposed to be semi-faithful to his book series which, yeah, canonically includes him sleeping with a lot of people. So I guess the developers slipped in some aspects of his original characterization whether the player likes it or not? It's admittedly a tricky balance to strike, but on the other hand, I don't think letting the player have total control over the romances would obliterate Geralt's characterization. The dialogue and difficult choices alone (where you get to pick, but your options are all somewhat bleak and appropriately witcher-y) already ensures that. Plus, you know, not automatically having Geralt end up with Yen is already a canon-breaking choice. Why not just take that one step further and let Geralt be chaste if the player chooses? lol

[goodolreliable-crows]

Nightmares and confessions 

Bumswiftery cuz this ship needs more content.

Smoking cw

Skittery stood in the bathroom area of the lodge, debating whether pumping water to wash his face would be too loud and wake the other boys. It was late, although he didn’t know the exact time. He had been trying to save up for a pocket watch but never could scrap together the funds. Judging by the soft sounds of the boys deep in slumber in the next room over and the crescent moon in the sky, he determined it was around midnight. 

He had woken up clammy from a nightmare and didn’t feel like trying to fall asleep again. He had seen some of the other boys have nightmares- Blink mostly, who frequently woke up screaming at any hours of the night before Mush had to rush over and comfort him. He never had dreams like that, which he was thankful for. He couldn’t imagine what that boy had been through to continue to be tortured by his own mind like that. 

The nightmares he had were just vague unsettling things that continuously crept over his mind the rest of the day, or at least until he snatched a cigar from someone. They were usually about improbable, sometimes childish things he felt guilty for letting bother him- monsters, his little brother getting hurt, or his family finding out something about him that he didn’t want anyone knowing. 

Not that he had any secrets that bothered him like that. That’s what he told himself. 

He decided it wasn’t worth it to get water, instead leaning his elbows on the trough and setting his head against his forearms. The cool breeze from the early spring rainstorm drifting in from the drafty windows felt nice against the clammy, bare skin of his back. 

He just wanted to sleep. He was so tired every day no matter what he did. 

After a few silent moments, listening to the rain, he felt the warmth of fingertips creep suddenly onto his shoulder. He jumped up, turning around and instinctively taking a defensive position with his fists balled. It was dark, but the curly mop of brown hair, hazel-green eyes, and toned muscles, visible even through his undershirt, told him who it was. Swifty was always doing that, sneaking up behind people and startling them whether he meant it or not. He was too nimble, too light on his feet. 

“Jeez, what’d ya do that for?” Skittery  whispered furiously, his face growing hot as he wished he had pulled on a shirt when he was leaving his bunk.

“Sorry, wanted to make sure you’s ok,” Swifty whispered back, his cheeks slightly red. 

Of course it had to be Swifty, Skittery thought to himself. Swifty had to be the one to wake up, when he was one of the two causing all these problems in the first place. 

Skittery didn’t blame the two boys for the feelings he got. It wasn’t their fault that he got lost in his head whenever Bumlets flipped his hair out of his face, or that he got a funny feeling in his stomach when Swifty adjusted his clothes. And it certainly wasn’t their fault for that sour, jealous mood that he couldn’t seem to shake after he walked into the lodge early one day, finding Bumlets being pushed up against the wall by Swifty, kissing his neck with his hands at his waist. 

That wasn’t his business. He just wanted a lover- he was jealous for the relationship they had, that was all. He wasn’t going to let his silly envy get in the way of his friendship, or let it bother whatever they had going on. 

“Can’t sleep?”

“No.” 

Skittery watched as Swifty sat down on the weathered floorboards, much to his dismay, his dangling suspenders clattering on the hardwood. He wasn’t in the mindset to stay up with someone. He glanced back to his empty bunk, briefly pondering if he could return to it without seeming rude. He decided against it, reluctantly joining the boy on the floor and crossing his legs. 

“You sick or something? You felt hot,” He asked softly. Swifty knew how hard it was to get Skittery into a conversation when he didn’t initiate it. It was somewhat of a skill, trying to carefully word his sentences to draw him in. Unfortunately, he was still groggy himself, meaning he wasn’t as slick with his tongue as he could be. 

“No, just had a nightmare,” the tall boy mumbled back. 

“You wanna tell me about it?” Swifty patiently asked. 

“Already forgetting it.” 

Swifty nodded, resigning himself to the fact that he wasn’t going to get much of a conversation out of him. After a beat of silence, he dug around in the pockets of his shorts and procured a cigarette, offering it to him. Skittery’s gaze flicked from it back to the other boy's eyes, before taking it from him and setting it in the corner of his mouth. 

After successfully striking a match and lighting the cigarette, tendrils of smoke curling into the air, he leaned back on his elbows and looked Swifty up and down. 

“What about you, huh? What are you doin’ up so early?” 

“Just couldn’t sleep. Have a lot going on in my head,” he answered, somewhat relieved that the cigarette seemed to do the trick to get Skittery out of his shell, at least a little bit. 

He hesitated for a moment, as if deciding whether he gave a fulfilling answer, before holding out the lit cigarette, embers glowing bright in the otherwise dark room. Swifty eyed him curiously, his bright eyes picking out details of the other boy's body best as he could in the darkness. 

“When I get nightmares I cozy up to Bumlets, ya know. You ain’t got someone like that? A gal or a fella or nothin’?” Swifty asked, after passing the cigarette back. 

Skitterys expression stiffened as he tried to ignore the knot forming in his stomach. 

“No, I ain't got a gal like that. And I ain’t like you either.” 

“Like me?” The curly haired boy replied, his eyebrows raising. 

“Ya know with the,” Skittery’s eyes darted to the floor, unable to meet his eyes. “With the fellas.” 

Swifty pulled his legs against his chest, narrowing his eyes. “Well jeez, that ain’t what I was askin’.” 

“It ain’t your business.” 

Swifty sighed, knowing he had ruined what little softness he had pried out of him. “Don’t see how. You’s a looker, Skits.” 

Skittery felt his face flush, accompanied by a strange fluttering in his chest. He hated it. These feelings were stupid, impractical, and most importantly, could never be replicated. Swifty had Bumlets. They were happy together, and Skittery would just have to suck it up and bear through the agony that came with seeing them cuddling at night, or exchange kisses on the cheek in the morning, or playfully ruffle each other’s hair before buying papers. 

It had never occurred to him how much these things bothered him until he had Swifty all to himself, with nothing else but a shared cigarette and that wretched insomnia. 

“I’m going to try to sleep,” Skittery mumbled suddenly, Standing up and heading back towards the threshold between the bathroom and the bunks. In one motion, Swifty grabbed his wrist, pulled him back, and pinned his waist to the counter, gazing up at his face through the thick darkness. 

“What the hell’s up with you lately, John?” He whispered furiously, tightening his grip below his ribs. Skittery stood like a statue, his mouth gaping open as he prayed his weak knees would hold him. Their chests were almost touching, and he could feel the steady rise and fall of his stomach against his own in the brief eternity before he could cough out an answer. 

“Nothin’”, he said, his voice coming out small. His heart drummed as he watched a lock of Swifty's hair uncurl itself from his bangs and fall neatly onto his forehead. His eyes glistened in the shadows, filled with suspicion and curiosity.

“Nothings goin’ on with me, why’d you think that?” 

“I dunno, maybe how you can’t seem to stand being around me during the day?” 

Skittery took a breath, his arms glued to his sides. “It’s just me bein’ dumb, alright? Don’t worry about it.” 

“Worry about it?! Skits you...” he slowly released his grip, his hands trailing down from his waist to his hips. “You ain’t...”

“I ain’t what,” Skittery breathed, barely audible over his heartbeat.  

And in a split second, Swifty closed the gap between their mouths, his eyes fluttering shut as Skittery’s hands found their way onto the back of his neck. It was a tender, slow kiss, filled with questions and curiosity. Every thought or strange feeling left over from his nightmare had vanished. He wasn't sure if the rain was still falling- he couldn't hear a thing. Skittery discovered the other boy's lips were surprisingly silky, and he pulled away, chest heaving, with a fruity taste on his tongue. 

“Why the hell did ya do that?” Skittery said quietly, his fingers biting into the shorter boy’s shoulders. 

He shrugged in response, apparently more agitated from his response than alarmed from kissing his friend. 

“I don’t get you, Victor,” he said uneasily as he saw Swifty’s face drifting up towards his again. 

“Stop.” He pushed him away by his shoulders, struggling to put space in between them. “We can’t do this, Vic, what the hell is wrong with you?” 

“Do I really gotta walk you through why it’s ok to kiss a fella?”He answered in a bemused tone. 

“It ain’t that, Swifty!” he said furiously, forgetting to lower his voice. “You think I don’t wanna do that every time I see ya?! You think I've been putting myself through this shit for nothin’? I ain’t meant for romance. And whatever feelings that gave me ain’t exactly exclusive to you either. I couldn’t make no one happy like they want me to. Nothin’ like that will ever work out for me.” He shoved him away, walking a few paces towards the windows. “And how could ya do somethin’ like this to a sweet fella like Bumlets?!” he added, his voice quiet again. 

Swifty was strangely composed, standing straight up with his hands in his pant pockets. It was strange to see his friend like this. Skittery always spent most of his time contemplating everything, analyzing conversations and movements to make sure he was completely understanding what was going on. He never let a thing go misinterpreted. He was better with being told things straight out- it surprised Swifty that a kiss, which to Skittery might’ve meant anything, for once got his point across efficiently. 

“That’s what you’s worked up about? That I kissed you while I still got Bumlets?” He asked, collected despite the fact his heart was still racing. “Me and him have been talkin’, Skits. He likes you too.”

The other boy froze, the words sending a peculiar feeling down his spine. “What do ya mean by that?” 

“I mean he likes ya, I like ya, and we like each other.” He slowly approached him, as if to not startle him away. “I’m sayin’ if you wanna be in on whatever we got going on,” he trailed off, tenderly slipping his arms around his waist again. 

“Ya mean it, Victor? You two…” he mumbled tentatively, his own hands creeping onto his midsection. 

And before he knew it they were kissing again, searing and passionate. It was something that happened on instinct, a thing Skittery didn’t let control him very often. It was as relieving as it was terrifying. 

Skittery pulled away abruptly, responding to Swifty's confused expression by holding a finger to his lips. He peered over him through the darkness at all the boys seemingly still asleep in the next room over. They were too visible for his liking, especially since he knew many of them pretended to be asleep to pry into others' business. 

He grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pulled him into one of the bathroom stalls, where they whispered little confessions in between long kisses, all the way till light started shining in from under the door and the clamor of waking boys told them they were moments from being discovered.

__________

The next day was gray, with rain that sprinkled heavily on and off. Normally, this would send Skittery into a worse mood than usual, causing him to barely get any papers sold, rather spending his day under shop awnings with the stack over his head. However he barely noticed the rain, and although his mouth was in a tight line and his eyebrows furrowed, there was a pink tinge to his cheeks that he couldn’t get rid of. 

He remembered saying a lot to Swifty the night before, mostly embarrassing, sappy things that he carried on his shoulders with an air of shame. He remembered something about being in love, something about his heart melting when he sees Bumlets, something about him not being able to believe that the two handsomest guys in the lodge liked him. Recalling it made him cringe. He couldn’t believe he would let his guard down like that now that he was out of the moment. 

He knew he had to talk to Bumlets soon and work out his feelings for him as he did with Swifty, but he could barely stand to be in the same room with either of them. He left early, turning away after hearing one of them call his name. He was aware he was just avoiding something that would have to be dealt with eventually. He was no good with feelings, or change for that matter. 

Luckily the opportunity presented itself sooner than he preferred, when he settled on a bench under a damp umbrella in the park. It was a particularly heavy batch of rain, making him shiver no matter how tight he pulled his coat around him. He suddenly felt himself sandwiched by warmth, one of the boys on each side of him. 

“Hey Skits,” he heard Bumlets say, although his gaze stayed fixed on the patch of ground in front of him. “Heard you was bein’ sweet with my fella last night,” he said in an amused tone, hitting his shoulder with his own. 

Skittery felt paralyzed, staying silent as both boys looked at him expectantly. He felt a raindrop snake down his neck and down his collar. 

“Why don’t ya tell Bumlets some of those things you told me last night,” Swifty added once it was clear that he wasn’t going to respond. 

“Won’t you two leave me alone till later,” he finally answered, snapping his head up and looking at the boy on the right. He immediately regretted it. Bumlets’ damp bangs were drooping onto his forehead, his brown eyes illuminated curiously by the  raindrops coming down. His shirt was half unbuttoned, revealing his collarbone dotted with freckles. 

“We ain’t gonna leave you alone, Skits, not with weather as romantic as this!” He motioned wildly with his hand, collecting a few raindrops in his palm before drying it off on Skittery’s knee. “But we also ain’t gonna pressure you or nothin, right Bumlets?” Swifty added. 

Skittery let both boys set their arms around him, although his shoulders were stiff and his face was hot. The three sat there, listening to each other breathing for hours with their arms tangled. The tall boy in the middle indulged himself just a little bit more by the minute, letting himself grow comfortable between them. He knew that's what he wanted. He knew that that’s what he had been dreaming about subconsciously for a lot longer than he cared to admit. It would take time for him to adjust, as it always did for him with new experiences and changes of his life. 

But he was trying to get better at change. Maybe that’s why he let Swifty kiss his cheek, after checking that the rain had driven everyone out of the park. Maybe that’s why he let Bumlets take his waist and kiss him softly, when the moment felt right. And that’s why they walked back to the lodge, shivering, with their arms still hooked around each other, the tallest boy feeling on top of the world.

[skylarmoon71]

AU Blind Murdock Reader x Leonardo (TMNT 2014/2016) Chapter 4

"Please someone....help.."

You jolted and Leo's eyes darted forward. He dropped his arms, wondering what it was that broke your focus.

"Are you alright?"

During the beginning, you were quite reluctant to join, and he realized he just needed to be persistent. So after you healed, and tried to get out of working together, you finally gave in. Leo knew if you were going to trust them, he would have to give you a reason to, so there was no doubt about showing you the lair. You'd already been there, and he had the sense that you would be able to find them even without his guidance.

At first, it was difficult, going out together and fighting crime. You still tried to operate like you were solo, and he didn't want to risk a casualty, so he asked Splinter for some advice. He suggested team training exercises. It helped with his brothers, so why not you? That's what you were currently doing, until something distracted you.

"I'm fine."

Fine.

You kept saying that. It was starting to get on his nerves. He knew for a fact you weren't fine. But with your very prominent trust issues, getting that information out would be a challenge.

"I need to go." Leo narrowed his eyes. It was Saturday afternoon. You didn't have school, and he was positive when you agreed to come, you did so because your schedule was clear.

"Where are you going?"

Your fist tightened at your side. "I didn't realize this was an interrogation. I just need to go. Or do I need permission to leave sir." He internally winced at the venom in your voice. He'd stepped on a bomb, he knew that now. "Sorry, I don't mean to be nosy. I was just under the impression that we were going to practice. I'm just a little worried, I want us to work well when we're out there. I can't do that if we aren't familiar with each other. "

"We'll be fine." You spoke flatly. You were already turning before he could say much more. You only made a few steps before his hand grabbed your wrist. Effectively halting your movements.

"Let me help you." you bit down on your lip. Asking for help would take a while, Leo understood that. That just meant he had to pay attention. He supposed you were used to being ignored, so it was easy for people who didn't pay mind to miss the subtle expressions on your face. He was getting better at reading you. "Something is bothering you, it's been that way for a while." He could feel you tense in his hold.

"I'm right." So it wasn't just a hunch on his part. At the start of the session he could tell. You were a bit antsy, and some of your hits were delayed. He'd seen you fight, you were calculated, strong and agile. Today you weren't as quick. Your shoulders slumped, and he loosened his hold, watching as you turned to him slowly.

"There's a girl in my building. She's..in pain. I can't seem to help. Every night she cries out for help and I..I can't do a thing."

"Did you try talking to the police, maybe they can help." you frowned.

"I've called child welfare and they didn't do a thing."

"Child welfare..." The child was being abused.

"(Y/N), are they beating on her?" your jaw clenched, and you turned abruptly.

"Are you going to help me or not."

You didn't answer his question, that wasn't good. Something told him that it was better to just go along with you. If he didn't, he'd be stuck worrying about what could happen. He didn't want you acting rash and getting hurt.

"I'll help."

He wasn't sure what he was getting himself into, but at least this way he was in the loop.

~~~~~

As darkness overtook the sky, you and Leo stood on the roof of your building. You kept flexing your fingers. Leo realized that watching you filter through all the sounds around you was intriguing. You seemed to react like an antenna, picking up signals until you found the right one. Your head would turn at every quick noise you caught. Your outfit really was a clever choice, the black blended nicely for the activities you need to carry out, and your eyes were completely covered, so the chance of someone even catching a glimpse of your eyes was impossible.

"How do you deal with it, all the conflicting sounds. It can't be easy, hearing all that you do."

A pause.

"It wasn't always easy, at first it was chaotic. They weren't sure what to make of me, so they placed me in an orphanage. Some of the nuns thought I was possessed. " you muttered. Leo swallowed. This was dangerous ground. Sometimes you'd give him little pieces of your past.

"This world isn't that pretty anyway, people think this disability is a curse, but it's a gift. My gift. I see everything through my other senses. I try to fix it. But everyone else, they see it all. The death, destruction, yet they are the ones truly disabled. Because they choose to be blind. "

You knew what your purpose in the world was, and this was it.

"Please don't.."

"Be quiet."

Leo straightened, and you turned to him. "Did you hear that?"

He nods. "He isn't sure what it is he just heard. It was an obvious cry for help, but the other voice came from inside the room. So it had to be a family member.

"I don't understand, why would they leave that relative with her if he's hurting her."

"It's because he's her step dad." Now he was even more confused. "She's a kid, what could she be doing that warrants abuse. I know parents are strict with their kids but-"

"He raped her." Leo's eyes widened. He took a step back, disbelief in his eyes. You couldn't see him. But there was no doubt genuine surprise.

"Your father, Splinter, I figured he sheltered you guys from a lot, and you've probably only been dealing with the minor threats. Bank robberies, common assaults. There's a lot more out there. Far more than you guys realize. You have no idea how much restraint it's taken me not to smash that man's face into a wall. It's been going on for weeks. I called the police, left notes for the mother. Even tried to get the girl to talk to me. Nothing. "

You tried getting him alone at night, you'd been studying his routine the moment you knew what was up, but there was rarely an opportunity. The hours he worked clashed with when you attended school, and every other chance he was always surrounded by someone. A friend, coworker, or his family.

"But he's...he's her.." Leo felt sick to his stomach. He couldn't comprehend it.

You just let out a dry chuckle. Dark, emotionless.

"The world isn't that black and white Leonardo. In this line of work, if you can't stomach the sight, you might as well be one of the other blind sheep."

Leo was still trying to gather himself. He finally registered that something was about to go down when he heard the sirens not too far away. "Their on time for once."

"W-Wait what are you.."

"If I can't get him for one crime, I'll just have to make him pay for another." he couldn't even ask what the actual plan was. You jumped over the edge of the building and Leo panicked.

"(Y/N)!!!!!!"

Gripping the ledge, you catapult yourself through the window, crashing into the glass. It broke, startling the man in the bed. He jumped off the girl in shock, and you tucked and rolled, cushioning your fall.

"What the hell!" He barely had a chance to pull up his pants. You drove forward, punching him square in the jaw. He took it, grunting and backpedaling as he crashed into the door.

"H-Honey!! Honey are you okay!!" you could hear the mother frantically yelling on the other side of the door.

"Mommy!!" your head whipped to the side. "I'm not going to hurt you." you said softly. You could hear the rustling of the sheets, she was cowering into the bed. "He hurt you." the girl didn't say anything, and you could hear the labored breathing of the step dad. He was still slightly disoriented from the hit.

"H-He said if I told anyone they wouldn't believe me. I-I was bad. I deserved it." It broke your heart to hear those words come from her mouth. "He's a liar. There's nothing you could have done to deserve any of this. He's a monster, you hear me, there's nothing wrong with you."

"Bitch!!"

That was becoming a frequent title. You just smirked when he picked up a bat from the corner. He raised it, striking in your direction. You dodged, moving in as punched him in the gut. He tried to use the lack of distance to get a hold of you, but you elbowed him in the jaw. He yelled out in pain, dropping the bat. You gripped the back of his scalp, driving his face harshly into the wall. It wasn't enough. You drew back. Clenching your teeth as you smashed his face harder. The crack of his nose was satisfying. Blood gushed down his face, and you released your hold on his hair, letting him face plant. He curled into a ball, wailing.

"Pussy." you sneered.

You shifted from the door, moving back to the shattered window. You could hear the police coming up the staircase. It was then that the mother finally forced her way into the room. She kicked in the door, standing in the doorway partially paralyzed at the sight of her spouse bleeding on the floor. "Mommy!!" the girl raced off the bed, right into her mother's arms. She caught her easily, hugging her protectively to her chest as she watched you wearily. It's then that she seemed to really take in the scene. Her husband's pants were down, and her daughter wasn't wearing any.

"No..." you sighed.

"Protect your daughter, if I see him back here again, I won't be so generous. " You raised your leg, stepping on the edge.

"NYPD OPEN UP!!" She could barely say much, the minute she turned at the call, you were already gone. Police flooded the house, and the little girl just held unto her mother, crying softly in her arms.

~~~~~~

"How did you...what did they take him in for." You and Leo were on the roof. You watched the aftermath of all that went down. Leo felt useless. He'd couldn't do much at that point but stay there and hope you got out before the police got there. The number of officers aware of his existence was pretty small, drawing in a larger audience, especially after his family was almost exposed, it was dangerous. He couldn't take the chance. That wasn't the only reason. Somehow he could still barely process the prospect of what that poor girl went through. From her own family no less.

"I planted some weapons I recovered from a russian mob a few weeks back. My plan was to just dump them at the nearest dock, but I guess there was a reason I held unto them for so long. Didn't think I'd need it, but it came in handy. Those guns have been used in numerous crimes around the city. That doubled with the charges his wife is gonna file, he won't see the light of day anytime soon. "

Your only wish is that you'd been able to do something sooner. Nothing was going to make up for the innocence that was stolen from that girl. Hopefully, with the help of her mother she'd be okay. Leo was quiet.

"You've done this already. "

Until now, Leo felt like he was making a difference, but he wasn't so sure anymore. You dealt with this often, no wonder you were so insistent on being left alone. If he had to deal with people like that regularly, he probably wouldn't trust anyone either.

"Don't doubt yourself. You're a good guy Leo. "

You could deal with the dark, it was a part of you. But Leo, he was pure. He still had hope in humanity. In some weird way, you kind of hoped he'd always be that way. You had no problem dealing with scum. It just meant that someone else wouldn't have to worry about it. You didn't mind suffering, it's all you'd known. You could bear it.

[etherrealoblivion]

Chapter Ten: Drink!

Table of Contents

Fic summary: Owning a bookstore in downtown D.C. came with its fair share of downsides. You never thought that being the target of a serial killer would be one of them. Luckily, a nice FBI agent by the name of Spencer Reid is assigned to watch over you. What's the worst that could happen?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Words: 1,439

RATING: PG-13+

MASTERLIST

~

“Ooh!” you sat forward, leaning against his shoulder. “Tell me all about it!”

“About it?” Realization flashed over his face. “Oh no. No, no, no!”

“Please, please, please!” You pulled his legs up into your lap, trying to hold on as he kicked you off. “You can’t leave me hanging like that!”

“Drink!”

“What?”

“You assume I can’t leave you hanging when, in fact, I can. Drink.”

Smart-ass. 

Taking another sip, you shoved him backward. Now, you were both lying down, heads propped on each arm of the couch, facing one another. You giggled and shoved your feet in Spencer’s face.

“Pfft. Hey! Alright, my turn,” his hands were grasping your ankles now to keep you from kicking. It felt nice.

“Go.”

“When you were in the fourth grade, a boy named Sammy Pierce pulled your hair and you punched him, knocking out three of his teeth.”

Struck speechless, your mouth fell open. You’d never told anyone about that.

“How the hell—“

“—It’s in your file.”

Snatching up the pillow from the basket, you whacked him over the head.

“Ow!”

“That’s cheating!”

“It’s simply using all available resources. Drink up.”

“Ah, ah. Not quite. I did knock Sammy Pierce’s teeth out in the fourth grade, but Sammy is short for Samantha.”

Spencer’s face fell.

“I can’t believe I didn’t notice the lack of gendered pronouns in the file!”

Lifting his cup to his mouth, you said, “Just goes to show you shouldn’t assume gender.”

“You’re right that’s on me. Your turn.”

“So, you’re not a virgin.” He glanced away again, tinting pink. “How old were you?”

“That’s not an assumption.”

“You were under twenty when you lost it.”

He shook his head and you drank.

“Over twenty?”

He drank.

“Twenty-one?”

His lack of movement was your cue to drink.

“Twenty-two?”

He drank.

“Twenty-two?! Why so old?”

“I don’t know!” his tone defensive, he rambled, “It just never happened before then. Not a lot of girls liked what I have.”

“Drink!”

“What, why?”

“Oh I’m so sure that no girl would want to be with the cute, smart, tall, nerdy Doctor who kisses like—“

Trailing off, you felt Spencer tense across from you, hands releasing your ankles. The two of you hadn’t discussed the kiss at all since it happened. You figured it’d be best to ignore it and assumed he thought the same.

As smooth as possible, he cleared his throat and said, “Actually, uh, I’ve never really had someone interested in me before. Not romantically, at least.”

“But you’ve had sex, someone liked you!” 

Spencer simply looked you in the eyes, joyless expression on his face, and said, “Drink.”

A small gasp escaped your lips when you realized what that implied. So you complied, letting yourself indulge a bit.

“She didn’t like you?”

He took a sip.

“Most women tend to go for someone that they find handsome, strong, and charming. Being none of those things, I’m at a disadvantage, but, luckily, I’m apparently the perfect guy to make your boyfriend jealous. Fortunately, it worked,” he added with a derisive laugh. “At least, he was jealous enough to take it out on me.”

His eyes shone with the tears he was holding back. Before you could stop yourself, you shifted on the couch so you could hug him, laying in his arms.

Surprisingly, he didn’t tense this time like he had every other. He relaxed into the embrace instantly, wrapping his arms around you and burying his nose in your hair.

Just comfort him. You’re just comforting him. Don’t do anything else.

But, like an idiot, you lifted your head and looked at him. Your eyes met and the air was charged with the sudden tension. Faces mere inches apart, you couldn’t help glancing down at his lips.

“We should really get to sleep,” he whispered, breath soft against your cheek.

“Drink.”

He laughed softly at your joke, closing his eyes. His lashes were so long. You wondered if he could feel them against his cheek. His lips looked so soft . . . and so close . . . The mix of booze and hormones from being so close got to you, and you leaned in, pleased to see that he was too.

BOOM!

The two of you snapped apart and Spencer stood, swaying only slightly as he withdrew his gun, leaving the safety on.

“Go in your room, lock the door, don’t come out until I tell you.”

“Spencer—“

“Now!”

But you lowered his hand holding the gun, speaking calmly.

“Spencer, it’s thunder.” He froze like a deer in the headlights, staring at you. “Look.”

Pulling him to the window, you opened it, watching him watch the rain, a blank look on his face. He’s so . . . the word ‘handsome’ didn’t cut it. He was beautiful.

A lightning strike lit up the city, followed instantly by a loud thunderclap. Spencer twitched next to you.

You chuckled lightly and he looked at you, blushing.

“Are you scared of thunder?”

“On average, twenty-seven people die from lightning strikes in the U.S. every year. And that’s not counting fires caused by lightning. The odds of being struck in your lifetime are one in three-thousand, now that doesn’t sound like a lot but it is. In fact—“

“But, most lightning deaths and injuries occur in the summer. In Florida. I doubt you’re gonna get struck in the dead of winter . . . in D.C. . . . Inside.”

He laughed politely, sitting on the windowsill.

“I guess.”

You took his hand, pulling him back to the couch. And he let you.

“You wanna keep playing?” you asked him once you’d gotten comfortable (keeping a respectable distance).

“Drink.”

You laughed, taking a sip.

“Fine. We don’t have to. What do you wanna do?”

He made a noncommittal noise, shrugging then said, “You?” Upon seeing your reaction, he blushed and clarified. “I meant, I don’t know. What about you? Not . . . I mean not that . . . Um. What would you like to do?”

You smiled. The way he rambled when he was nervous was charming. It was horrible to think someone had taken advantage of him. A part of you found yourself hating the girl who’d used him to deal with her own problems.

Isn’t that what you’re doing?

Shut up!

Focusing back on his question, you said, “You made up the pillow toss game, I made up the drinking game. It’s your turn again.”

“To pick a game?”

“Or make one up!”

“I don’t know. . . . We could play poker?”

“Great! Wait, I don’t have cards.”

He pulled his duffel bag towards him and fished out a worn deck of cards.

“Lucky for you, I came prepared. What should we use for chips?”

“I have chocolates?”

“That works.”

So you stumbled onto the floor, sitting across from him as he shuffled, and divided the chocolates between you.

“You know how to play?”

Rather than answer, you took a sip of your drink, confirming his assumption.

Smiling at you, he dealt the cards.

“Alrighty. The game is five-card draw, nothing’s wild, ante is two kisses. Chocolates,” he corrected, blushing. “Chocolate kisses. You know, no one knows how kisses got their name, not even the company. The legend says it’s named for the sound the machines make during manufacturing.”

The rambling would never get old. It was the most adorable quirk ever.

“Ante in,” both of you put in the appropriate amount of chocolates, “and the person to the left of the dealer goes first.”

So you played a few rounds, Spencer winning most of them, folding when he knew he couldn’t win. It started to get tedious.

“Okay, this is not working. Your computer brain cannot be beat! Turn it off!”

“I think that would involve a lot more alcohol or a huge distraction. And I’m not comfortable ingesting any more bourbon. I need some wits about me.”

To keep you safe, was what he didn’t say. 

“A distraction, then.” A tiny lightbulb lit up your brain. “Okay, deal the cards, I have an idea.”

“What—“

“Just deal!”

So he did, you played a round and lost. But when you handed over your cards, you stripped off one of your socks and tossed it at Spencer. He caught it deftly, confused.

“This is your distraction? Throwing socks at me?”

“Nope. New rules: if you lose, you give up an item of clothing.”

Spencer went pale, staring at the purple sock in his hand.

“Y/N . . . are you suggesting . . . strip poker?”

“No. I’m playing strip poker. With you.” You shot him a mischievous smile and watched his expression as he did the math on the amount of clothes you were each wearing. 

“Deal the cards, Vegas.”

~

Taglist: @aperrywilliams @mjloveskids666 @dolanfivsosxox @criesinreid @fanficsrmylife @racerparker @sammypotato67 @lukeskisses @reidcrimes @you-had-me-at-hello-dear @l0ve-0f-my-life @thatsonezesty13​ @yourmisosoup @queenofthebees003 @pinkdiamond1016 @eu-solidao

[ronsenburg]

Since you mentioned you were looking for drabble requests, if you haven't moved on from AA already, could I request something where Apollo or Klavier is struggling against pride/feeling that his problem isn't a big deal/some kind of internal roadblock to seek comfort from the other? Maybe they lost a case they don't think they should have lost, or it's the anniversary of something sad, or they just feel crappy physically or emotionally. Any reason is fine. Thanks for considering my request ^^

vorher:

It’s nearly six pm by the time Franziska finds him, tucked into a chair in the corner of some pretentious and probably ephemeral bar downtown.

It isn’t one of his usual haunts, but the staff seem to know who he is well enough, anyway. Though he is just barely twenty-three and his tab has been approaching the four figure mark for the past hour and a half, no one has bothered to card him or attempt cutting him off yet. Of course, that may have had more to do with the sizable tips slid to whatever staff member is closest in proximity rather than his rather notorious celebrity status, but Klavier’s ego has been rapidly ceasing to care about such things in recent months. What matters to him at this very moment is less the thrill of universal adoration and more the ability to nurse his wounded pride in pseudo-solitude with a vastly overpriced drink.

That solitude is shattered, however, by the arrival of Prosecutor Franziska Von Karma. The sound of her heels clicking firmly against the highly lacquered floors crescendos over whatever smooth jazz cover they’re piping through the hidden speakers as she makes her way directly over to him.

“Are you finished with your tantrum yet?” she asks, removing her dark sunglasses and placing them onto the surface of the bar beside him without any sort of invitation.

It takes a moment for the words to process; Klavier has spent so long playing the role of the ostentatious expat that his alcohol muddled brain can barely grasp the crisp and nearly foreign sounding syllables of her German.

By then, she has already removed her long leather gloves and cape, handing them off to an employee that floats near her elbow like a well trained dog on a leash. When she slides into the chair beside him and signals for the bartender, the scotch she orders for herself is nearly as expensive as Klavier’s own. If he weren’t so chagrined by her sudden interruption, he would likely be impressed.

“Since when is enjoying a drink after work considered a tantrum?” Klavier returns, finally, and also in German. He attempts to fire off one of his charming smiles as he speaks, but the words feel so clumsy and out of practice on his lips that the gesture falls short and sounds far more like the kind of sulk that directly proves the point she has made.

Franziska raises a perfectly arched eyebrow in reaction, though whether it is a response meant specifically for his faltering pronunciations or juvenile tone, Klavier can’t be at all sure. “Since someone recently made a complete fool of himself in a court of law.”

The words strike out like the lash of a whip; Klavier winces despite himself. Franziska is only two years older than him, but when she glances away with an air of disinterested disdain to take a sip from the tumbler placed in front of her, the gap seems far wider.

“You heard?”

“I saw,” she replies, glancing over to him again just long enough to offer a small, disparaging smirk. “It was quite the performance. Do people actually pay you money to see such foolishness on stage?”

The shame he’d been attempting to shove away for the past five hours flares up just below the surface of his thoughts then, hot and bright enough that he suddenly feels sick to his stomach.

“You are just as charming as they say, Fraulein,” Klavier smiles; the sarcasm tastes false and bitter on his tongue.

In truth, he had made a fool of himself.

Klavier has always prided himself on being meticulous in his pursuit of the truth, in perfectly balancing the demands of both his prosecutorial career and his life as a musician. And, most of the time, he’d succeeded so brilliantly that it had blinded him to the subtly advancing and yet still discreet signs that he might have been slipping.

There had been issues with the band’s latest album.

With the ink long since dried on the studio’s contract and their chosen title already heavily marketed, the pressure to produce something of value had been mounting. Every song he’d written since then had seemed increasingly vapid, words that fit a theme but lacked any sort of meaning, chords that sounded deliberately catchy but were devoid of anything new and surprising. They were going through the motions, but those motions were long since stale. There was nothing of the artistic fire that had skyrocketed them to success in their early years and that alone drained any last bit of excitement he might have derived from the process.

It was driving a neat wedge through the center of the band; Daryan called him a diva, so used to having things his own way that he fell to pieces at the idea of ever being told what to do. Take the money, release an album that was shallow but on brand. They could always switch it up next time when time was on their side. You’re the lawyer, he'd mocked, you should know exactly how much of our asses are on the line here.

Their arguments on the subject had become more and more frequent as the days passed, spilling from band practice to crime scenes and, finally, to the kitchen of Klavier’s apartment. This time, it was Daryan who had packed what few belongings he’d scattered throughout Klavier’s various shelves and drawers into an old duffle bag and left, slamming the door shut behind him with finality as he’d gone.

As Klavier’s luck would dictate, Daryan had been the lead detective on this last case. While they were both professional enough not to ignore each other completely during the proceedings, the type of communication necessary for a successful indictment had been… difficult, to say the least.

And so he’d been distracted in his investigation, enough that he’d overlooked a piece of evidence so decisive in the opposition’s favor that when it had been presented, he’d been left gaping in uncharacteristic surprise from his place at the bench.

Yes, he’d been slipping, unable to see the progression of his descent until he had been standing firmly at the bottom of a tall slope.

He was only lucky, he supposed, that this was not a murder trial.

Back at the bar, Klavier rolls his eyes softly, more an aversion of his gaze than a gesture for dramatic display. Franziska doesn’t seem to be paying him enough attention to notice such things, anyway.

“Well, you can consider me scolded. Your work is done.”

“And yet, that’s not why I’m here,” Franziska returns. Ignoring the eyebrow he raises toward her in obvious question, she instead tilts the tumbler back, swallowing the last centimeter of the amber drink. “I would not waste my time and energy searching the city to scold a fool who seems to be doing an admirable job of berating himself. No, despite your recent failures, there are people in this city who seem to care about your well being. It would be a shame if you were to drown in a pool of your own vomit.”

He cannot help his rather obvious flinch at her words, no matter how quickly he endeavors to mask it. “How very touching, ja? I was expecting more anger.”

Franziska pauses in the midst of extracting a matte black card from the small handbag she carries. When her steel grey eyes meet his, Klavier suddenly understands the fear the von Karma name had once inspired in courtrooms across the world.

“Oh, I am angry,” she smiles, wagging her finger in such a way that it is clear she is mocking him. “You allowed a criminal to walk free today. But he is guilty, I am certain of that. And now he will be cocky.”

Klavier is so stunned by her words that he barely registers that she has slid her card across the surface of the wooden bar, let alone has the presence of mind to argue.

“There will be more evidence to find and new charges to file,” she continues, unperturbed by his gaping. “I will assume that next time you will have your priorities in the correct order.”

With that, she stands and turns to the attendant who is still waiting nearby, ready to help her back into the dark, cashmere folds of her cloak. When the complex ritual of donning her long gloves and sunglasses is complete, she turns once again to face him.

“I will be driving you home. You may choose, now, whether you would like to accompany me willingly or if you will require Detective Gumshoe’s escort. You have until I reach the door to decide.”

It feels as though a whirlwind has swept through the room, appearing out of nowhere to disrupt his wallowing completely before disappearing as suddenly as she had come. Klavier is not stupid enough to doubt Franziska’s words, despite the fact that he is twenty-three and more than a bit inebriated. He wavers only slightly as he finds his own feet and follows her out onto the sun soaked sidewalk beyond the bar.

If she is smiling when she looks back towards him, it is the small, private smirk of victory. Klavier finds that he is too preoccupied with the act of placing one foot in front of the other along the uneven slabs of concrete to care. He stumbles gracelessly into the backseat of the car Franziska indicates, through a door held open by a man that Klavier can only assume is the Detective she had mentioned inside.

“Huh,” he comments before closing the door. “Somehow I thought you’d be taller, pal.”

A sharp stab of pain somewhere behind his left temple resonates brightly in response.

This is something he will certainly regret tomorrow.

nachher:

“Okay, spill,” Apollo demands, crossing his arms in a visible display of stubborn obstination that, at any other time, Klavier might find endlessly adorable.

Tonight, however, he has reached a new level of exhaustion, one that leaves him blinking back at Apollo in baffled surprise as he attempts to pivot his thoughts from their previous trajectory in order to make sense of the other’s sudden words. “Spill was?”

As his words indicate, the intended course adjustment doesn’t go very well at all.

“Whatever’s going on with you,” Apollo replies, huffing out a sigh of what sounds nearly like frustration. “You’ve been working late, you don’t eat, you haven’t been sleeping. Something’s up; I think you should tell me what it is.”

Though Apollo’s words and posture are combative, it is all for show. There is an uncertainty in his eyes and concern exposed in the way he bites at the inside of his lip in silence, waiting for Klavier to speak. The fact that Klavier has learned to recognize this expression through repeatedly causing it is a painful enough thing to shoulder; to admit to the reason behind his behavior when it will only bring them both all the more strife, however, would be far worse. Not because he doubts the limits of Apollo’s strength; it is his own resilience that is threatened by the thought of divulging the extent of his insecurities.

Klavier runs a hand through the strands of hair that have escaped the hasty braid he had tied earlier that evening and attempts an apologetic smile. “Ach, Liebling, there is nothing to tell. It is just work.”

“You’re lying.”

It is stated as a fact, nothing more. But while there is nothing accusatory in Apollo’s tone and his face is perfectly even as he says it, Klavier still feels the words as though they are the sting of an attack.

“Ja?” he responds. “And you promised there would be no bracelet inside the house, did you not?”

What he intends is for the words to sound facetious, a nod to the same kind of fond banter they had indulged in long before the intimacy of a romantic relationship. But Klavier is lying; it is not an offense often committed between them and certainly not one he has reveled in or perpetuated out of malice, now. Still, to be seen through so shifted his smile without meaning to. Klavier can feel it teetering on the edge of a sneer that feels both unfamiliar and familiar all at once.

What follows, then, is a long pause.

A lifted arm, a proffered bare wrist, is Apollo’s only response.

That gesture feels more devastating than the aftermath of an actual, physical fight. Klavier can feel the air exit his lungs in a sharp hiss of remorse, his posture on the plush sofa of their study crumbling as he leans forward to place his head into his waiting hands.

“That was uncalled for,” Klavier begins, though his voice is muffled by the skin of his palms pressed firmly against his speaking mouth. “I am sorry, Schatz, I—“

But his words are interrupted by the sudden creak of sofa springs, the cushions on either side of Klavier dipping under the newly applied weight of Apollo’s knees. There is the feeling of Apollo’s warm fingers wrapping around the skin of his wrists, gently pulling his hands away from his face.

“I know you, Klavier,” Apollo says softly; his voice is so uncharacteristically gentle that the words sound less like a statement and more the sweetest declaration of love. Maybe they are. After all, Klavier has been loved before. But being actually, truly known? He glances up into Apollo’s brown eyes, warm with determination and affection. “I don’t need the bracelet to see when you’re upset. If you don’t want to talk about it right now, I understand, but you don’t have to go around pretending everything is okay when it isn’t.”

“Bold words for someone who insists upon always being fine, ja?” Klavier murmurs, another half hearted attempt at humor that falls flat in what little space exists between them. 

Apollo still lifts the edge of his lips in a small, humored smile of concession. “In court, maybe. But not with you. We all need to be vulnerable, sometimes.”

The breath that Klavier exhales wavers under the strain of unspoken emotions, his eyes fluttering closed just as Apollo leans forward to place a featherlight kiss against the center of his forehead, against his cheekbone, against the corner of his downturned mouth. 

“You can trust me, Klavier,” he concludes. “I’ll always be here, whenever you’re ready, okay?” 

Klavier finds he does not have the words to respond, then, even as the sound of fabric rustling against fabric fills the air and the hands holding Klavier’s wrists retreat. Their absence is felt immediately in the lack of warmth as Apollo slides back off the couch and onto his feet. 

“Apollo?”

Apollo’s footsteps stall halfway through the door.

Klavier still finds he needs to clear his throat before he can continue to speak, swallowing back the sentiments that have collected there that he is otherwise unable to express. “Could you stay? Bitte. Just for a moment.”

This is a weakness Klavier should not afford himself. It is selfish to ask Apollo to comfort him when Klavier cannot even bring himself to explain precisely why he requires it. But Apollo’s eyes are soft when they find Klavier’s gaze once again, inexplicably fully of acceptance and, beyond that, what Klavier knows is love.

“Yeah,” he nods, “of course.”

Apollo stays far longer than a moment, his fingers combing through the strands of Klavier’s loose hair under the fading light that filters in though the slightly open window. They don’t speak, but the steady rhythm of Apollo’s breath in the otherwise silent room, the gentle pressure of his fingers, is enough to distract him from the tumultuous cascade of his own thoughts.

[sweetestlamb]

Sometimes Goodbye’s a Second Chance

Summary: Gang-tae and Mun-yeong talk.

Author's note: Here it is the final chapter of Stronger, for those of you who were waiting I hope you enjoy this chapter and enjoyed this journey. The series was honestly one of my favorite despite its shortness, I enjoyed letting MY express her anger and frustration and letting GT address them instead of gaslighting and never apologizing directly. There’s so much more I could have written but I think this was the ending I wanted, I won’t say too much but thank you for joining me on this journey. My IOTNBO fics might start to dwindle as a I explore new shows and fandoms but this was my first and they will always have a special place in my heart. All my fics are like my babies. I think about them all the time and how I could continue, if I find time I will update one of my other stories. Stay tuned and thank your for your support! 

With a poignant pause at the sliding door, Mun-yeong contemplates evading this conversation once more and closing Gang-tae out again, not out of any maliciousness or desire for revenge but simply because she's terrified.

She hadn't been knowingly bluffing when she told him to leave but the pain she'd felt when she'd come out to find him gone had been immediate- her heart had plummeted faster than even their moment at the beach. The very catalyst for all of this. But after pushing him away and taking time to figure out what she wanted, it had still been that broken man with the unforgettable eyes. He wasn't perfect and he was adept at striking her with dagger sharp words but he was just as astute at soothing her and bringing light into her eyes.

At the end of her soul searching, all signs pointed back to the one thing she had been running from.

Whilst running away from him and everything being with him entailed she'd realized her true feelings for him and they are deeper than want, desire, or like. Despite lacking it almost her whole life somehow this stunted man had awoken something in her heart that had been locked away for years.

"Come in." She hears herself beckon, stepping aside to let in a cautious Gang-tae who moves carefully as if he's scared to spook her. It's too late his mere presence is doing that.

He sits on the floor, placing a moderate distance between them but facing her head on. For once he's not running, not being a coward and honestly it unnerves her; his eyes are unwavering as he stares back at her.

Taking a deep steadying breath she collects her thoughts and considers this conversation they need to have, uncertainty making her stomach coil into knots.

"CanIstart?" Gang-tae stutters out in one breath, and she stills in shock before simply nodding, shaking hands clasped in her lap.

Now it's his turn for a deep breath. She can almost see his lungs expanding and collapsing through his chest.

He's nervous too.

That thought eases some of her jitters.

The sounds of nature permeate the silence that lingers between them, twin bird calls cutting through the air, she wonders if the lone bird found a companion and if the creature had been lonely before.

"While you were gone I got a chance to think too."

Quite an ominous start to this conversation and she vaguely wonders if he came all this way to break up with her, thinking it kinder to sever their bond face to face. She can't promise that she will remain pinned if that is his intention.

As a precaution she straightens up, preparing for the worst. Life has always been an unfair battle for her after all why should this be any different?

"I missed you everyday."

Oh.

Her heart, the traitor perks up instantly thundering away despite her brain trying to calm it with reminders of how much he's hurt her in the past, her reckless heart doesn't care growing wings and taking flight.

"Everything reminded me of you, the rain, books, bright colors, I couldn't even use a knife without thinking of you." A fond smile creeps onto his face and she feels an answering smirk threatening to spread on her own lips.

He's definitely not the repressed unflinching Gang-tae she'd meet so long ago. She will happily take some credit for that.

"Mun-yeong, I didn't mean any of those things I said on the beach. I know I can't take it back and I'll have to prove myself to you everyday, but I want the chance. I want you to give me another chance to show you that I can be better, I can be the man you need. Please."

It's so gravely different from the Gang-tae who sat across from her at the dining room table, expectant and entitled, no apologies in sight as he asked her to stay by his side despite leaving her side when she begged him not to.

She'd given him her worst, lashed out and hurt him purposely, she now understands this was petty and love shouldn't hurt but she deserved some comeuppance she'd been the bigger person with him several times and her only reward had been him throwing her aside like something expendable.

So she has no regrets but she can't deny the happiness that bubbles up.

Finally he understands. The weight on her shoulder lightens as she stares back before a wary smile spreads across her face.

She'd missed him so much.

"I missed you so much." It takes a minute to recognize that he spoke those words and her thoughts are not audible for all to hear.

She's not quite ready to be that vulnerable with him, yet.

But she preens at the words, letting the words wrap around her bruised heart like a bandage.

"I'm not ready to go back yet. I'm going to stay here, I promise I'll come back tomorrow though. I'll come back to you."

Not a concrete answer to his plea but the warmth that fills his eyes let's her know that he's received her message loud and clear: I'll give you another chance.

"You can go back before me, I'm sure Sang-tae is waiting for you. " She means it, she no longer views him as competition for Gang-tae's affection, he cares for them in different ways and she similarly cares for both brothers in different ways.

Love has various hues and nuances.

He huffs climbing to his feet before walking over to her and extending a hand, "Where would I go? You're here so I'm staying. Do you want to go for a walk?"

She was offered a multi-dollar deal when she was just 21 for her first best selling book and even that offer pales in comparison right now. He has fundamentally changed her mind about so many things, including the purpose of taking walks.

Grabbing hold of his large warm palm, she allows him to pull her up.

"Yes. I want to go with you."

They take a leisurely stroll around the area, avoiding puddles that flood the dirt paths. He brings her to the field where he plucked those wildflowers for her, choosing a single flower to carefully place in her hair.

She can't control the shy blush that burns on her cheeks as he whispers that she looks pretty. Under his watchful eyes, she feels like a work of art. During their walk his eyes never stray too far, as if he's scared she might disappear.

She squeezes his hands in reassurance.

When they wonder back to the guest house the skies are dark inky blue and the moon glows brightly, a beacon that guides their way.

A tray filled with drinks and snacks greets them, déjà vu making a surprise appearance. 

"We can bring it in the room, my feet hurt I want to take a bath."

Gang-tae quickly moves to lift the tray at her words and she nods at him before entering the room and collecting her sleep clothes before wondering off to take a well needed bath.

Minutes later, she returns feeling freer and squeaky clean, the warm water doing wonders for her sore feet. Stubborn drops of water drip from her short mane soaking the collar of her satin white sleep dress, it brushes against her knees as she walks.

Sliding the door open she softly enters the room question on her tongue, "Do you want to have a drink? I think we both deserve one."

She wanders around the room unfolding her bedding and then finding a brush in her bag before sitting to detangle her hair. Humming softly to herself, a nameless tune.

Moments later she realized that Gang-tae never responded to her question, after a final downward stroke she peers at him over a barely covered shoulder.

"Hmm?.."

He is staring at her. Penetrating through her more like, his dark eyes sweeping from her face down to her body and then back up, marginally. Too low to reach her eyes, licking his own lips slowly before he realizes what he's doing.

A loud cough expels from his throat as he shifts looking away resolutely. Nervous twitches as he twists his hands in his lap.

But as if uncontrollable his eyes meander back to her, devouring her face. Now she knows for a fact he's staring at her lips. As if they are a four course meal.

Finding her lips dry she soaks them with a wet swipe before crawling cover to the tray, her dress drapes teasingly under her chest, material clinging to the soft mounds of her chest, she shivers at the breeze that caresses her naked chest, opting for nothing underneath the thin dress.

His gulp is deafening in the dead quiet of the room.

Ignoring him, she pours herself a drink careful not to splash any of the deep red liquid to on her dress.

Leaning back she swallows the saccharine beverage, savoring each drop as it slides down her throat.

"Don't you want some?"

His eyes are locked on her mouth and she pulls her bottom lip into her mouth to capture some stray liquid. He groans. She releases it empathetically.

She pours him a cup, handing it over to him.

His fingers brush against her hand and the static crackles between them at the first touch.

He grabs the cup and she begins to retract her hand but his grip is too quick and too firm.

He clamps down on her wrist, gentle but sure.

Eyes glittering in the hushed darkness he simply holds her.

Before he tugs, a single strong tug that sends her crashing into the wall that is his chest. She releases a puff of surprise that lands squarely on his neck. His arms wrap around her waist as she settles comfortably against him.

She takes a shuttering breath before gazing up at him, he'd been waiting for her eyes already locked on her face.

"What are you trying to do to me?" He groans out long and suffering, she accidentally squirms brushing into the growing hardness, rigid line pressing against her thigh.

"You were so controlled last time. I didn't do anything this time, why are you losing control?" She taunts him, not a big enough person not to mention his ironclad control and rejection the last time they'd been here.

"We're different now. I know what I want. I want you."

Oh how long had she waited to hear those words? It feels like coming home after a long journey.

She melts into his hold at his proclamation. Freely giving herself to him. Happy to be the one wanted this time. 

Her want for him is always thrumming under her skin, its exhilarating to see his want so openly on his face as he surveys her body and hardens from simply looking at her. She feels powerful. 

He swiftly grabs her shoulders as he throws her onto the mat, catching her wrists in this hands and peering down at her. Sweeping her off her feet, before he kisses the wine off her lips. She gets drunk on his flavor, lost in the swipes of their tongue and his hands pushing under her dress to clutch at naked skin. 

As they surrender to their bodily desires, clothes torn and swept away, hands roaming and stroking, joining together in passionate waves she feels his love as he thrusts into her breaking her apart only to haphazardly stuff her back together. Her skin tingles as he caresses her, fingers plucking at taut nipples and tongue exploring her wet treasures.

He breathes love into her skin as he fucks any doubts out of her mind with powerful thrusts that drive her up the bedding as she scratches and screams her pleasure. He hammers at her walls, drawing her back each time she tries to find a moment of reprieve.

She's so dazed by their frenzied coupling that she almost misses his frantic whispers.

"I love you. I love you Ko Mun-yeong. I love you."

She wraps her legs around his waist tightly, gripping at the hard length that slams into her with uncoordinated motion. Fast, faster, faster.

Her orgasm blinds her as she twists and bucks in his hold, his own release flooding her in creamy warmth before they collapse in tangled limbs.

She loves him too. She knows that now. One day, she'll share those feelings with him. But for now she'll give him a chance, give them a chance. It's what they both deserve.

[thelastbarricade]

Summary:

' I have lost a brother, and gained an enemy.

How is this fair?

How is this trial?

You’re all I’ve ever wanted:

All. '

Warnings: Angst / brotherly feels - One shot

Pairing: Thor x Loki

Authors Notes: I'm bringing this back in the hopes of refreshing some of my works from a03 on here for inspiration!

This fic is from 2013, so please pardon the dust as I begin my writing anew. It's set sometime before The Dark World and a little after the ending of the first Avengers film.

--

The winding hallway panned out before Thor, stunted rays of golden light feathered in from the windowed rooms beyond the halls stone walled confines. As he strode down them, Mjolnir loosely in his grip, there was no hesitation in the blonde’s step. No disconcertion or doubt or regret in his wake. No pride or pity. No punishment lay in wait for the actions to be brought forth in the once God-turned-King. He should have been busying himself with other issues. Other concerns. The trial awaited him, awaited them both. Just two days. Two. The thought ripped a low growl from the Norse God, causing him to pause in mid-step.     No one else had faith in Thors’ cause. In his request upon he and Loki’s return to Asguard many had advised Thor against any further involvement, against trying to save a soul destined for self-destruction and exile. Hard-headed oaf. Numb-skulled quim. Stubborn and stupid. Loki himself would have spoken those names aloud should he had heard of his brothers faith in him, surely.  Of his brothers sole calling of the moment—his burden to bear. It had always, in short, been the younger boy. The now war-criminal-trickster-turned -prisoner with the serpent green hues and Cheshire grin: that was Thor’s weakness. The man who was still very much still just a wounded boy needing protection. Protection only a  brother could provide. It sickened Thor to think that somehow he had failed. Somewhere along the lines he had simply not been enough. With Loki in lock down on the home front, all should have been over with, calmed; but Thor was at more of a conflict with himself than ever before. He had thought his brother dead. Thought his younger half lost, and in some way it had been easier. To not see your failures, see your mistakes and your undoing to be done—it had been…an ignorant bliss to the blonde. But like a ghost, very much so, Loki had returned. Captured, beaten, broken as he was, but very much alive he remained. Remained like some pent up diseased leper, hidden within the confines of his once home.   More responsibility, more burdens would fall upon our dear Asguardian King-to-be yet, however. It was clear in the Norse Gods appearance. He had lost a bit of his bulk personality-wise; his swaying ways, his poise of sorts. He remained quiet oddly, on most days, in dinner and in conversation. The rest of the Warriors had the courtesy to pay no mind, to follow their King with understanding and faith—but the toll it took had grown in the past weeks since Thor's return. Faith was being questioned, doubted—and Thor knew he was walking a thin line for all. He couldn’t bring himself to care. There was a task at hand he needed to fulfill to right himself. To right Asguard as a whole.  In his mind he had let his brother fall to this shame, this sickness and insanity; Thor would have to lay him out before the court for his criminal war-crimes, let all that should be and will be simply…exist.  Thor could not simply give in like such. He was an Odinson. A warrior under all pretenses of the name. He would fight—fight for the name whispered in the nights alongside laughter and musings as children. Fight for the name called out across training fields and slurred lovingly within merry drunken comedies. Loki. For Loki he would fight.    His boots clattered against the tile floors as his worn steps dragged along—heavy, burdened. Alone he had gone, down into the depths of the holding cells that existed deep within the Asguardian castle-like walls. Alone Thor had decided that not all was lost. Lost. Misguided. That is how he chose to think of his little brother. His responsibility. Alone he had thought.  Alone he had fought for the smaller male’s freedom. Alone he would forever be on his fight.   The blonde Norse God was clad in very little, considering the occasion. A simple vest, studded with a stainless steel Armadillo-reminiscent war-wear chain mail.  Grey. Dark. Cold.  Almost colorless was the Gods golden frame and demeanor. Even his glacier hues and luminescent locks had somehow faded in the days passed since. Thor

turned toward a gold pleated frame. Cherry-wood graced the lining of the cell, vibrant and daring—fitting for such a prisoner. Prisoner. No, fitting—in fact—for his brother. A Prince. An heir. An Odinson. Thor flicked his hand over the lock of the room, the lavish cage that held his other. The key at his throat was heavy in sudden. The God clenched his jaw, ripping the thin lanyard from his throat and unlatching the series of barriers holding him from the sight he longed to see.  —   The room was encased to ensure that no amount of magic or trickery sustained within its walls could ever break free. A sad, sad sight in the face of Loki Laufeyson, to say the least. The muzzle around his jaw had been drawn far too tight. The metal clenched his mouth shut in an unbreakable, painful hold. He had tasted the metallic tinges of blood here and there during his arrival. He longed to speak; to burn, insult and strike with the power of his elements. A muzzle. Infuriating, it was. Like a domesticated animal to be trained—subjugated—taught its place. On Midguard at least he could be revered, even in his hiding. Here he was caged. Here he was the enemy—the freak—the traitor and the disease on a Kingdoms perfection.   The raven haired Odinson arched his aching back at the foot of his bed, chains rattling on his connected wrists at the motion. The sound echoed out across the room, his cell, his prison. He refused to let himself enjoy any of the luxuries Thor had ordered to him. Refused to sleep on the silken sheets laid out for him. Refused to dress himself in anything other than his tattered green and gold war-wear.   This room--a damned extravagance--was insulting to the Jotun born sorcerer. He would have rather a traitors cell. A barred cage. The trickster gave his shackles a small shake, the ringing remaining always in his ears. He pulled at the rings, feeling the vibration against his ankles and against his chamber bed. Like a dog. Like a damned animal. A soft hiss broke through his lips, stinging with the friction the metal springs and guiding that held his mouth shut, gave.  The younger mans’ slender frame rippled, anger growing once more. He was not yet defeated. He refused to let himself remain at the hands of the All-Father and Thor. A small smirk perked up on the Gods lips at the thought of his not-brother. The Would-be and should-be King exiled, brought back, and forgiven. Yes, Loki knew Thor would be King. After his trial, after the ashes cleared from the air and Loki’s name no longer burdened his families…Thor would take the title like he should have, leaving Loki like he’d always been—Second best. Never to be an equal.   A soft whirl of fresh air blew around the trickster and he sat down beside the towering end-board of his bed. The door of his ‘cell’ revealed a flicker of light, cut off by a towering form with hues so opposing to his own. Loki’s teeth ground tighter; more metal slipping in at the corners of his mouth, the younger Prince’s expression remained stoic.    His tongue shifted against his canines. How he longed to speak, to thank his dear not-brother for the visit—nearly three weeks into his confinement. Thor truly knew how to show his affection, did he not? But Loki had waited. He had known his other would come for him in the end, as always.  —   Loki’s cypress greens flashed with a silver edge as he watched the blonde shut the door behind him, observing the soft ‘click’ of the locks sliding back into their place. Smart boy, the trickster mused in his thoughts. Seems like the standing of our trust runs both ways, Thor.   Thor slipped the key into the joint of his hip beneath his tight combat pant waistband. His eyes steadied themselves on the sight before him, no hesitance, no bracing. His steps were soft as he set Mjolnir down on the bedside before Loki, kneeling, examining. The smell of food met his sense, bitter and aged. He caught sight of the rotting plate and sighed. Loki was known for going weeks without food, pent up in the library or the study among his books, but his other looked ill now.

Deathly so.   Loki’s sharp cheekbones had hallowed. They sat like near razors pent up beneath his porcelain flesh. The raven haired man before Thor looked up to him with darkening eyes. Stains of purple and grey mottled his eyes in slight. Weeks. It had been weeks since their return. Thor had come late to his brothers side, he knew, and judging from the seething flickers in Loki’s glance, he did too. But there had been much to calm on the front…including his own mind. He could not have helped Loki then. He could barely help himself.   Thor slipped a finger along the curve of Loki’s jaw, causing the trickster to jerk back out of instinct.   “I mean you no harm, brother.” Thor hushed him, trying to hide the pain in his rejection with a low growl. His voice was worn, his expression even more so--much to the amusement of his other. The blonde ran the pad of his index over the soft metallic clutch that held the jaw confinement in place and pressed down.    Loki bit back a hiss at the pressure caused. A muffled curse flew from him at the sensation of the metal fixings biting into the corners of his mouth. The coils unraveled in agonizing slow, the pressure releasing him from its hold. His jaw pushed forward as the binding slipped from him. The Jotun sorcerer let his head lull back for a moment, licking the trickling blood from his lips as a rumbled laugh escaped his bruised lips; candy-apple red they were, even in the dim lighting. ”And I suppose that was your peace offering, Thor? A bit of freedom for the Jotun-freak, hmm?” Loki rose his shackled wrists up, stroking the bruising settling in on his cheeks. “If you were expecting my gratitude,” He continued, slender fingers rounding his chin. “I assure you--you will get none.” A smile played on the tricksters lips, small, almost innocent. His eyes flashed once more. Brightening. ”I do not expect that from you. Not after the weeks of confinement you-” “Ah, yes. Weeks.” Loki straightened himself with a cough. “All the while the rest of the Kingdom and you, may I remind, went about their ways; celebrating and cheering on the soon-to-be-Kings coming reign and his war criminal catch.” There was no pause, no room for Thor to speak as Loki continued, chin tilting up, expression curious. “Surely this visit can not be consensual, not-brother?” A sneer ended his sentence as he lean back against the bed.   Thor stifled a recoil at his brothers words. Not-brother? It should have been expected, but that did not soften the blow the God of thunder felt in his chest. The restriction of his breath was small, but he knew visible all the more.

[depressedkakashihatake-fics]

Training Interuption

Hatake Kakashi/Maito Gai

3937 words

Edited by: @mireleth

Thirty minutes late.

It was unlike Gai-sensei to be late. Usually he was the first one to the training field, a smile on his face and more energy than an adult had any right to have. And to be late when he had promised to show Neji how to add more power to his gentle fist? It was just inconsiderate, and a tiny bit worrying.

“We should go look for Sensei,” Lee’s voice broke the silence that had fallen between the three of them, his words laced with worry. “What if he is injured?”

“I’m sure nothing bad happened,” Tenten spoke up. “Gai-sensei would only get injured on a mission, and since we saw him at team dinner last night we know he didn’t go on a mission without us.”

A good point. Any mission that could cause Gai-sensei an injury severe enough to prevent him from attending their morning training would take longer than a night. Still, it was out of character for Gai-sensei to be late, and since he doubted that his sensei was taking punctuality lessons from his eternal rival, something had to be done.

“We could check his apartment,” he suggested, cringing when both of his teammates looked at him. “We can’t start training without him. He had the training plan and Lee’s not going to focus if he’s worried.”

“I guess you’re not wrong.” Glancing down at all of the scrolls she had scattered on the ground to work on while they waited for their sensei, Tenten sighed. “L-let me just clean up.”

“No need to clean up.” Neji moved into an attack stance when he heard an unfamiliar voice nearby, his byakugan activating and searching the area for the intruder's chakra signature. “Gai said there was someone on the team I’d like to meet. Should have just told me he had a weapons enthusiast, I would have shown up earlier.”

Spotting a chakra signature nearby, he prepares himself to strike only to see the chakra moving around the area and coming to a stop directly behind him. Doing a one hundred eighty degree turn, he aimed his gentle fist attack at the intruder’s abdomen only to have the man grab his wrist and pull it upwards over his head. 

“He did let me know to watch out for you though.” Turning his eyes up towards the man’s face, Neji narrowed his eyes. “Punchy little shit, aren't you?”

“I am Gai-sensei’s student, am I not?” There was a moment where the man actually looked impressed, but that quickly shifted into disinterest. Feeling the grip on his wrist being released, Neji watched as he was quickly forgotten in favour of Tenten’s scrolls still scattered on the ground. 

“You’re not wrong about that.” There was a fondness in the words. “Gai would have all the punchy students. Speaking of which…”

Turning his attention back to the three genin, he examined each of them individually. From the way his eyes scanned over them Neji could tell that he was trying to size them up. See what he was dealing with.

“My name is Shiranui Genma, and I’m going to be taking over your training for today.” It felt like someone had punched him in the gut. He had gotten his hopes up. Allowed himself to look forward to the training that Gai-sensei had promised him last night while they were enjoying sushi together as a team. “Don’t look so upset about it, kid.” Glaring back up at Gemma, he huffed. “Gai woke up this morning with a fever and no energy to spare. That second symptom would be enough to cause concern on its own. So, after a bit of arguing, he agreed to have me train you this morning in his place while he rests.”

That was… different.

“When Gai-sensei has been unable to teach us in the past, he sent Kakashi-sensei in his place.” Lee made a good point. It was out of character for their sensei to send someone that they didn’t already know. “Why would he send you this time?”

“Maybe he wanted to give you a fun sensei this time?” Neji’s pretty sure that both of his teammates have the same unimpressed looks on their faces as him. “Jeez, ok. Kakashi’s busy today.”

Not a favourable answer, but he was going to have to live with it. 

“And what can you teach us?” Lee continued, the usual excitement in his voice replaced by an uncertainty that sounded completely out of place coming from him. “If Gai-sensei sent you, your taijutsu must be impeccable.”

A moment of silence and they had their answer.

“If your taijutsu isn’t up to par with at least Kakashi-sensei’s, then why are you here?” Perhaps it was a little harsh, but it was true. They needed a sensei who could improve the skills that they already had, not one that would just fill a spot. “Is there anything you have to offer us as a sensei?”

“Punchy and rude.” Genma glared down at him. “Are you sure you’re a Hyuga and not a Hatake?”

Whatever commentary was being made about his personality, Neji ignored it. That wasn’t the point of conversation that he wanted to focus on at the moment.

“Do you have any redeeming qualities?” he continued, ignoring Tenten when she jabbed him in the side. A silent message for him to tone back the ‘rudeness’ that others might pick up in his words.

“I’m Konoha’s top weapons expert.” Useless to him and Lee, but he could already see Tenten starting to vibrate with excitement beside him. At least someone would get something out of this disaster. “A tokubetsu jonin of Konohagakure, member of Team Choza alongside Ebisu and Maito Gai.”

“Oh,” Lee’s eyes widened, “you, you were on Gai-sensei’s team?”

A sharp nod of the head, and Neji knew that Lee was gone. A chance to find out about Gai-sensei when he was their age, from someone other than Gai-sensei? Considering Kakashi-sensei never told them anything, this was as good as a once in a lifetime opportunity.

Still, there wasn’t much here for him. He had no interest in learning about weapons more than he already knew. Tenten was the weapons expert on their team and he wanted to leave that to her. It was her passion, he wasn’t going to impede on it. Plus he really had gotten his hopes up for that training Gai-sensei had promised him. 

“I think I’m going to go do something on my own.” He hadn’t actually meant to say that out loud, but with all eyes on him now he was kind of stuck. “It sounds as though this would be a great moment for Tenten to get some one-on-one training with someone who aligns more with her interests. While Gai-sensei certainly doesn’t leave her behind in our daily training, even helping her find her skills for summoning inanimate objects and creating a unique fighting style with it, he wasn’t the weapons enthusiast that Tenten was. 

“In that case, perhaps it would be best if Neji and I trained together today while Genma-sensei focuses on Tenten.” Lee’s arm came down around Neji’s shoulders as he spoke, a proud smile on his face when Neji looked over at him. “I could use the time to spar with my rival; what do you say Neji?”

Not an optimal situation, but better than nothing. 

“Does that mean…” Tenten looked up at Genma with hopeful eyes.

“I guess we’re focusing on weapons today.” The smile on his face says that the tokubetsu jonin is in no way adverse to this outcome. “Just try to stay out of trouble, you two. Gai will never forgive me if you two get hurt when I’m supposed to be watching you.”

“We’ll be fine,” Neji assured him. “Come on, Lee. Maybe today you can actually land a punch.”

“I will land five punches!” Lee proclaimed proudly, beaming when Neji glared at him. “Just you watch, Rival. You won’t be able to keep up with me during our spar.”

Unlikely, but he’d certainly be impressed if Lee did manage to do it.

Watching as Tenten returned her attention to her scrolls, sitting down beside them while Genma-sensei sat across from her, Neji turned and headed towards the exit with Lee hot on his heel. It would be best if they took their training somewhere else and avoided getting in the way of Tenten and Genma-sensei if they decided to start throwing weapons around.

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

Training was not going nearly as well as Neji had hoped. 

Lee was certainly doing better than expected. He had improved a lot since their last proper spar, meaning Neji was going to have to keep a closer eye on his teammate’s training regimes. 

Still, simple spars were not what he had planned for his day, and he was starting to get agitated with the entire situation.

Blocking another kick from Lee, Neji placed his hands on his waist and sighed. “This isn’t good enough,” he grumbled under his breath, watching as his teammate clambered to his feet. “I want to improve. I need to become more efficient in battle.”

“What do you want to do then?” Lee asked with a genuine interest that surprised him. He had no reason to be worried about Neji’s training, but he seemed as invested in it as if it were his own. 

Not to mention he didn’t really have an answer. The only way to get better was to find out what Gai-sensei had in mind for his training, and that wouldn’t happen until he was able to tell Neji himself what he needed to do to improve his gentle fist.

“We could go visit Gai-sensei.” Lee’s suggestion caught his attention, but it wasn’t that easy. If Gai-sensei was sick he was likely in no condition to give Neji his training plans. “I’m sure Sensei has it written down somewhere. He always has notes on our training.”

A true fact. Neji had seen the book that Gai-sensei always brought to their training. The one he wrote down new team formations and training ideas in. An idea he had gotten from Kakashi-sensei one day after forgetting the training plan he had come up with for the team. A common occurrence apparently, since Gai-sensei was used to challenging himself to new and interesting training methods and had never really thought about a set training plan before.

The sporadic self challenges didn’t work for everyone though. Neji himself preferred the well thought out plans that his Sensei kept in the book. 

Whatever it was Gai wanted to teach Neji, he must have written it down in his book. He wouldn’t risk forgetting about something that he spoke so highly of just yesterday. He’d want to make sure he remembered every detail. 

It was decided then.

“Let’s go find Gai-Sensei.” Meeting Lee’s eyes, he tilted his head when Lee gave him a confused look. “Don’t tell me you don’t want to go. He may be sick but we both know you still want to see him.”

“Well, of course I do,” Lee whispered, “but I wouldn’t want to impede on his recovery. Genma-san said that he was sick enough that he couldn’t come to training. For Gai-sensei to miss training he must be extremely sick. If we show up there he may try to push himself too much and impede his recovery.”

Surprisingly thoughtful of Lee, but deep down Neji knew his desire to see their sensei would outweigh such a thoughtful response in the end. Not that he would call Lee out on it. The choice was up to him in the end, but Neji knew what he was going to do.

“If you want to wait here, I’ll be back soon,” he promised, turning his back to Lee and doing a quick calculation of which route would get him to the Jonin apartments as quickly as possible. “I’m sure you’ll find a way to keep yourself entertained in my absence.”

Jumping towards the exit he couldn’t help but smile when he sensed Lee following right behind him. As predictable as always. 

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

Gai-sensei’s window was easy to spot even from the streets three floors down. With a large red tortoiseshell statue sitting proudly on the window sill, one that the team had all pooled ryo in together to purchase for his birthday a few months ago, it was hard for anyone who knew the man to miss which window belonged to him.

“Try not to knock down the statue this time.” He glanced over at Lee, who sputtered when he heard the jab. “We don’t have Tenten with us today to catch it before it hits the ground.”

Not that Lee and him weren’t fast enough to catch it themselves if it did happen to fall again. Tenten just always made sure to let them go up before her because she didn’t like being crowded on the small window sill together, so she didn’t have to go chasing after it when it fell during their last visit. She just caught it while she was waiting for them to go inside of their sensei’s apartment. 

“I won’t knock it over,” Lee promised. “But I will be the first one up there, so watch your step when you join me.”

With that said, Lee didn’t bother to wait for Neji’s response before jumping up towards the lowest available ledge. The only stepping stone he’d need to help him get up to their sensei’s window, though at the rate his skills were going Neji wouldn’t be surprised if he could make the jump from the street soon. 

Giving his head a shake, Neji quickly followed Lee, intent on getting the information that he had come for and leaving as soon as possible. There was no doubt in his mind that seeing his students would cause Gai-sensei to disregard what he needed to do in order to heal, and would result in him pushing himself to train when he should be resting instead.

“Oh…” 

Landing on the window sill by Lee’s side, Neji frowned when he heard the discomfort in his teammate’s voice. It was unlike him to say such a thing when it came to Gai-se—

“Oh…” It felt as if he had been slapped in the face. Of all the things to find themselves interrupting, it had to be this? “Didn’t Genma-san say that Kakashi-sensei was busy today?”

Lee nodded his head, but said nothing. His attention was focused completely on the scene in front of them. One that Neji really wished he wasn’t being subjected to at the moment. He was certain that finding your sensei cuddling up in bed with another person was something that every student wanted to avoid in their lives. 

It was awkward and made him wish that he had just continued his training without complaints. It was a much better outcome than… this.

“This hardly counts as busy,” he grumbled under his breath, glaring at the two jonin. “There’s no reason he shouldn’t have been able to train us if this is all that he’s doing.”

“To be fair,” Lee turned to look at him, a soft smile on his face, “Tenten is getting training that she otherwise would not have gotten. We should not be upset about that since it will hopefully improve her fighting style which can only make our team stronger.”

A true point, but Neji was still a little bitter.

Kakashi-sensei was a skilled in Taijutsu. He had to be in order to even stand a chance against Gai-sensei in their spars, or to keep up with him when they were battling side by side. He would be able to explain to Neji what he needed to do according to Gai-sensei’s training plans. They had all seen him using Gai-sensei’s training notes when he had taken over their training for him before.

“You two should be training right now.” Neji glared over at Lee when he responded to Kakashi-sensei’s statement by slapping a hand over his mouth, as if that would solve the problem of them being caught spying. “There’s no point hanging around outside. You’ve already been seen.”

He’d like to think that he could train himself to go unnoticed, but considering the tattoo he had seen on Kakashi-sensei’s arm during one of his competitions with Gai-sensei, he didn’t think it would be possible. The jonin was hardwired to notice everything and everyone around him. To go unnoticed around him would be near impossible. 

“I guess we’re going inside.” Not waiting for Neji to agree, Lee slipped inside of the open window and set his feet on the floor, smiling when Kakashi-sensei glanced over at them from the bed. “Hi.”

Following his teammate into the apartment, Neji frowned as he looked at the scene in front of him. It still made him a little uncomfortable seeing the pair like this. So exposed and open. It was as if he was intruding on a private moment.

“You can stop making that look, Neji.” Kakashi closed his eyes, though for once Neji could see the way his lips turned upwards into a smile. The usual dark blue mask was nowhere in sight and it only made Neji feel worse about being here. “It’s not like you caught us doing adult things. We’re just laying in bed.”

As far as he was concerned that was ‘adult things’. He certainly didn’t know anyone his age that would cuddle up to one of their friends when they were sick, hiding their face in the other person’s neck. Frankly, Gai-sensei looked like he was comfortable where he was. Like he couldn’t imagine being anywhere el—

“Oh.” Scrunching up his nose, Neji glared at the silver haired jonin. How had he not realized this before? “Really? You?”

“That hurts.” Kakashi-sensei threw a hand over Gai-sensei’s back, right where his chest was hidden under the other jonin’s body. “Am I not good enough for your sensei?”

This really wasn’t something that he wanted to be thinking of. His sensei’s love life was none of his business and it wasn’t why he was standing in this room staring at the pair with disgust.

“I don’t understand.” Neji closed his eyes, willing himself not to look at Lee with a look of utter annoyance. “Is there something that I am missing?”

Sometimes he wondered how Lee can be so dense about the things going on around him, but there was also a part of him that wished that he could miss the obvious once in a while. Like now, in this exact moment.

“We came here for a reason, Lee,” he reminded his teammate, cringing when Gai-sensei shifted in Kakashi-sensei’s arms and turned his face towards them with a happy sigh. “W-we really should get going quickly.”

“Gai-sensei looks comfortable.” Lee took a step forward and leaned in close, grunting when Kakashi-sensei reached out and flicked him in the nose. “Owww.”

“If you’re looking for his notebook it’s in the top right drawer of his desk.” Narrowing his eyes, Neji glanced over at the drawer in question, questioning himself for the first time since he had decided to come steal a glance into his sensei’s notebook. “But if I can offer you some advice…”

He wasn’t particularly fond of receiving advice from anyone other than his sensei, but it was unlikely that Kakashi-sensei would let him leave without saying whatever it was that he wanted. 

“Let me guess.” Crossing his arms over his chest, he sighed. “Don’t look in the book and just hope I can improve myself without Gai-sensei’s training plans?”

“Well, it worked for Gai.” Tilting his head, Neji leveled the jonin with a look that told him to explain himself. “When he was young a lot of Gai’s improvements came from his own determination to become stronger. He didn’t rely on his sensei to have all the answers for how he could become stronger, though he did listen to him when he had suggestions.”

Pursing his lips, Neji glanced over at the drawer once more. He really had been looking forward to whatever it was that Gai-sensei was going to teach him. It had been the only thing he could think of since they finished dinner yesterday and all went their separate ways.

The ways he would be able to improve himself. How much stronger he could get.

Of course, he had always been able to improve himself even before he became part of Team Gai. While he was naturally talented he still had to train to keep his skills honed, so why wouldn’t he be able to improve himself with his own hard work as well? Lee and Tenten were able to do it, so perhaps he could as well. Even just a little bit. 

“We weren’t here for the book anyways,” he lied, knowing full well that Kakashi-sensei could see right through him. “Lee was worried about Gai-sensei. It’s rare for him to get sick so he wanted to check in on him.”

For a moment he thought that Lee might argue with him. He had no right to lie for him after all, and nothing to gain from it.

But Lee said nothing, and just smiled when Neji looked over at him.

“I guess now we know that Gai-sensei is in good hands.” Lee smiled back at him. “We should get back to training.”

Nodding his head, Neji turned his back to the bed and made his way towards the window, well aware that Kakashi-sensei was watching him every step of the way. Stopping in front of the open window, he took one more look back at the bed. 

Other than moving his face out of Kakashi-sensei’s neck, Gai-sensei hadn’t budged at all since Neji and Lee’s arrival. Not even the smallest action to show that he was trying to get more comfortable, or that he was restless. 

Sick with a fever and drained of all of his energy, Neji absolutely expected to see his sensei having a restless sleep. It wouldn’t be new to him, since he was always tossing and turning in his sleeping bag whenever he slept during one of their many training days that ended with them sleeping under the stars. 

But he looked comfortable, and somehow Neji knew it wasn’t because he just didn’t have the energy to move. For some reason the jonin with endless amounts of energy and a constant urge to keep moving and stay active was calm, content and comfortable laying there in Kakashi-sensei’s arms.

“I don’t understand his taste,” he admitted, smiling a little to himself when Kakashi-sensei chuckled. “But I’m glad he has someone who’s got his back.”

“Always.” A simple word full of so much promise. Neji didn’t think it was possible for someone to convey so much love and trust with so few words, but there it was. “Now get out of here, before he wakes up. It took me an hour to get him to lie down and go to sleep.”

Somehow that didn’t surprise Neji at all.

“Come on, Lee,” he glanced back at his teammate, “you still have to hit me in training.”

He could see Lee bursting with excitement at the reminder of his own personal challenge, and for the first time that day Neji thought that maybe it wasn’t such a waste. He wasn’t going to learn how to improve his gentle fist, not today at least, but he’d get to see Lee try to hit him in a fight.

And honestly, that itself was entertaining enough to make up for the loss in his training.

[sxfterhearts]

healed

31. [12:19 pm]

➳ pairing: yugyeom x reader

➳ genre/warnings: slow burn, fluff, slight bad boy!yugyeom, triggers; mentions of past violence, injuries, physical abuse

➳ word count: 2,725 words

➳ summary: 31. “Don’t worry about me,”

➳ author's note: this is it, the final part of this series! i hope it doesn’t let you down 😭😭 i’d love to hear your thoughts on this series, what you liked/didn’t like, and whether you’d like future drabbles in this universe!! (i’m tempted, tbh) that’s all from me, please please enjoy, lovely readers 🥰 (credits to @jinyoungot7​ for this wonderful gif that kills me everytime)

wounded // scarred // healed

A deep inhale made you giddy with joy. The familiar, sweet scent of this morning’s light drizzle lingered in the air. Although the weather was a bit too humid for your liking, you gratefully savoured the smell that filled your lungs. For some reason, being outside in the aftermath of a downpour always brought you back to that wooden counter of your parents’ restaurant. You used to watch the rain blanket the outside world from the inside as you soaked and drowned yourself in your daydreams. You were a foolish teenager back then, uncertain of the paths you would take and anxious of the future. Getting your heart broken by the one and only Kim Yugyeom was just the icing on the cake.

It was fair to say that a lot had changed since then. In the span of three years, you graduated high school, moved out of that tiny neighbourhood in Namyangju, rented a small studio apartment in Seoul and became a proud Veterinary Science student of Seoul National University.

Yet, you couldn’t help but to admit that while you had progressed into the next chapter of your life, some things will always remain the same. Like how your best friend, Yeeun, never missed out on an opportunity to lecture you over the phone from the comforts of her Busan home. You lifted the device away from your ears to save them from further damage, just as the leash of the cream Pomeranian in your care, Daisy, tugged you forwards, towards a passing bicycle. You urged the dog away from the edge of the sidewalk with a solid ‘No’, which she thankfully obeyed.

“I can’t believe that you’re not doing anything special the week before uni reopens! I mean, hello, we’re going to be spending the next twelve weeks slaving away at our desks, don’t you want to do something fun?” Yeeun shrieked in disbelief. You could imagine her shaking her head at you with that resigned look on her face, the one that signalled she had already given up trying to change your mind.

“Here, girl.” You whispered as softly as you could, trying to grab Daisy’s attention and guide her back to the adoption centre-cum-café, her temporary home. “This is fun and special, Eun. You of all people should know just how special it is to help out these cute furry little babies!”

“More like furry little rascals.” She muttered under her breath. “Come on, Y/N. I get that you’re really passionate about animals and all but just think about it – you’ll be facing these creatures for the rest of your life. You should really try something new once in a while. You know, go drinking or clubbing like a normal uni student. Besides, didn’t you just visit the centre last month for your birthday?”

She was right. You did make the one-hour trip to the adoption café on the morning of your birthday. Ever since that birthday three years ago, you always made it a point to celebrate by being in the presence of a furry companion. Taking care of another living creature, going on walks with them and picking up after them helped you to take your mind off that painful sixteenth birthday when you found out he was leaving. It became your annual ritual.

You cleared your throat, trying to get rid of the small lump triggered by those memories. “Yeah, yeah I did. I… Did I tell you about the dog that I took care of that day?”

Yeeun took a large bite of her favourite takeaway noodles before letting out a muffled “No, what about it?”

“He was… Well, he was a tiny black Pomeranian puppy, not more than four months old. He was cheerful and energetic, couldn’t wait to go on his walk.” You smiled sadly at the thought.

“Yeah…? And?”

“He reminded me so much of Charcoal. You know, the black puppy from your mum’s shelter? I walked Charcoal with him three years ago.”

“Oh, him.” Yeeun grumbled at the mention of Yugyeom.

You ignored the obvious disapproval in her tone. “Yeah, the thing is I really, really, really liked this puppy, and I was even thinking about adopting him for good. I got everything set up in my place, got the pee mats, the dog food, everything, but I came in this morning and he was gone.”

Yeeun hummed over the phone. “I’m sorry, honey. Maybe you and the puppy just weren’t meant to be.” She said, trying her best to comfort you about the adoption that fell through. “Do you still think of him? Kim Yugyeom?” Yeeun asked gently.

You sighed, catching a brief glimpse of your reflection on the windows of a cold noodle restaurant a few doors down from the adoption centre. To this day, you couldn’t enjoy a bowl of naengmyeon without your mind wandering to the boy. “Not often. Honestly, Eun, every time I think I’ve forgotten him, I’ll see something that reminds me of him and he’ll just creep back into my head.”

“You know what they always say, darling. You never really forget your first love.”

You mulled over her words as you rounded the corner towards the adoption centre, Daisy trotting a few paces in front of you. “I wouldn’t call it love, per se, it’s just-”

“Wait, hold that thought,” She interrupted. “I’m sorry honey, the boyfriend is at the door. Do you mind if we continue this later?”

“Yeah, sure, I need to go too.” You stood at the entrance of the centre, reluctant to go in and part ways with Daisy. The dog came to a rest by your feet, huddling close. “Thanks for calling and reminding me of my poor life choices!” You said, full of sarcasm.

“Hey, that’s my duty as your best friend, don’t mention it.” She chuckled. “Oh, and Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Remember what I said. Go live a little, okay? You’ve already wasted too much time on Kim Yugyeom.”

“Yeah, I will.” You mumbled, agreeing with her words. “Go enjoy yourself with the boyfriend. Not too much though, and spare me the details. Talk next time!”

The two of you bid each other farewell and ended the call. Miraculously, talking to Yeeun made your chest a little lighter. Amongst countless other things, she had been there for you during Yugyeom’s abrupt departure and the initial stages of denial. She helped you draft, edit, and re-edit the numerous emails you sent to the boy, the only form of communication between you two for the first six months. She hugged you close and let you sulk on her shoulder when the emails suddenly stopped seven months after he left for Incheon. You were beyond grateful to have her as a voice of reason amongst your irrational thoughts; someone to walk with you hand in hand through the storms of life.

You made a mental note to ask your mother to send Yeeun a parcel of her prized kimchi as part of next month’s delivery. The girl never failed to mention how much she missed your parent’s cooking whenever the two of you talked on the phone.

All of a sudden, a high-pitched bark travelled across the street. You instinctively tightened your hold on Daisy’s leash, wary of the arrival of another canine. Cautiously, you watched as a four-legged, black ball of fur whizzed past the empty street, arriving before you and Daisy in a matter of seconds. As the dog grew closer and closer, recognition flashed across your mind as you noticed the dog’s distinctive white collar, a stark contrast to his coal black fur. The dog you intended to adopt this morning was wagging his tail and panting by your feet, letting out occasional playful barks at Daisy, his former neighbour. You bent down, arm reaching out to get a feel for his oh-so-soft fur–

“Dal!” A male voice, bright and awfully familiar, exclaimed between heavy breaths. “Dal, slow down, big boy! Daddy can’t…” The voice died down a notch, reducing to a whisper as its owner’s feet entered your line of sight. His entire body shaded your crouched figure from the afternoon sunshine that peeked through the clouds. “Catch up.”

A moment of silence ensued as your eyes panned upwards, scanning a pair of long legs covered in ripped jeans, then a yellow plaid shirt that was haphazardly tucked in, right up to the owner’s face. You couldn’t help the sharp gasp leaving your lips. 

Standing before you was none other than Kim Yugyeom himself. His features were more defined than ever, his wavy hair a silvery shade of platinum blonde and his ears adorned with a pair of silver hoop earrings. A single stainless-steel drop earring dangled from his earlobe, its bottom decorated with a half-crescent moon and a star. You stood there and stared at the boy you once knew, now a fine young man, just taking him in. You noticed the lack of cuts and scars on his unblemished, fully healed face. You spotted the beauty mark right under his right eye, standing out against his fair skin. You watched, mesmerised, as his lips twitched to form a slightly sheepish grin, while the tips of his ears burned and glowed into a striking shade of cherry red. Yugyeom’s eyes widened in mild surprise, his gaze lingering on your face for a few stretched out seconds before wandering away, then returning back.          

Him… It’s him… He’s here, in Seoul? But I thought he was supposed to be in Incheon, with Mark. What is he doing here? And how did he…? Your never-ending stream of thoughts swirled inside your head at an alarming rate, and you felt the onset of a splitting headache crawl up your temples.

“There you are, Y/N.” Yugyeom said finally, releasing a satisfied sigh and an airy laugh. He didn’t seem nearly half as surprised as you felt under these unlikely circumstances. In fact, you thought that the expression he wore on his face morphed into one of relief instead. “After so long, I finally found you.” He bent down to scoop the black puppy into his arms, leaving you utterly stunned. Before your mind could process the meaning behind his words, however, he suggested, “Let’s talk inside,”, gesturing towards the entrance of the adoption café. 

You gave him a meek nod, not daring to let out a sound on the off chance that you would stumble over your words and make a fool out of yourself. With the manners of a gentleman, Yugyeom held the door open for you and waited patiently as you ushered an excited Daisy into the café filled with her furry friends. He took confident, quick strides towards the barista standing behind the counter, much like the first time he had walked into your parents’ restaurant. The way he carried himself, with an air of calm coolness, had not changed at all. You followed closely behind, struggling to keep up with his bigger steps.

“Hello, noona.” He greeted the lady, friendly and warm. “Can I please get an Iced Choco and…?” Yugyeom turned to you expectantly.

“Uh…” You started, soft and uncertain. “A peach iced tea, please.”

“No longer a coffee addict, huh?” He teased, unable to contain his toothy smile. Yugyeom retrieved his wallet from his back pocket and held out his card to pay. It was then that you noticed, quite belatedly, the yellow Rilakuma plaster wrapped tightly around his left index finger.

Your mind began to race. You were unbelievably happy that even after three years, he still stuck to the same brand of bandages, but at the same time, fear and anxiety gnawed and scratched against your chest. All this time, was it still happening? You wondered silently. Surely… “What’s… What’s with your,” You gestured vaguely towards his appendages. “Your finger?” You squeaked.

“Ah,” Yugyeom glanced briefly towards the yellow plaster, paying it little to no mind. “Come, sit down first, okay?”

“No,” You replied with a firm tone that you rarely used. You were a little taken aback yourself. “I’ve spent the past three years worried sick about you. Don’t you at least owe me an explanation about your most recent injury?”

Yugyeom sensed your insistence and determination, knowing that there really was no use trying to convince you otherwise. “It’s nothing to worry about, Y/N, trust me, I’ll show-”

“I’ll be the judge of that. Let me see.”

“Look, it’s just a small cut, okay?” You raised an eyebrow at his description. From memory, his definition of a small cut was miles apart from yours. He took a step closer, hoping to persuade you. “Here,” Yugyeom peeled away the sticky fabric with little difficulty, revealing a thin slit that already closed up. “See? It’s tiny. I was cooking the other day and the knife just sort of slipped and nicked my finger. I told you, don’t worry about me.”

Still, you were unwilling to let him off the hook so easily. “Kim Yugyeom? Cooking? Are you sure that’s safe?”

“Perhaps not the safest…” He admitted with an embarrassed rub of his neck, leading you towards an empty table by the windows. “I just really, really missed your mother’s food. Her naengmyeon especially. I’ve tasted every single naengmyeon in Incheon and Seoul and honestly, nothing comes close. I even tried to cook it myself but, well… You can guess how that turned out.”

“What made you think that your naengmyeon could be better than a restaurant’s?” You questioned jokingly, earning yourself a faked wince of pain from Yugyeom as he clutched the right side of his chest, the wrong side.

After that, it was like the words couldn’t stop flowing out of your mouths. He told you about how he caught a glimpse of your adoption papers during his interview for Dalkyum, the black puppy, and recognised your photo. He confessed that he was initially drawn to Dalkyum due to his sheer resemblance to Charcoal, to which you agreed wholeheartedly. He moved to Seoul late last year to study Fine Arts at the Korea National University of Arts, and you revealed that you were studying to become a vet. He explained how half a year after moving to Incheon, Mark had accidentally downloaded a virus onto their shared laptop while gaming, rendering it broken beyond repair. He didn’t write down your email address and thanks to his goldfish memory, he forgot the entire string of letters once Mark found a replacement.

It seemed like the more you talked to Yugyeom, the more you felt the icy shards of pain and sorrow around your heart melt away. Although, that could probably be because he was looking at you with the brightest of expressions, his mouth permanently fixed into a wide, million-watt smile.

“What do you think? Shall we start over?” You asked after a lull in the conversation, taking a sip of the soothing, saccharine liquid.

“No, I’d rather we pick up where we left off, but with a proper introduction.” He extended his arm for you to shake, which you did with a light scoff and an upturn of your lips. “Hello, my name is Kim, Yu, Gyeom. Kim for gold, Yu, which means to have, and Gyeom, as in humble or modest. It’s nice to meet you again, Y/N. You look beautiful today, as always. Did you know that? I can’t stop myself from being drawn to you, but I guess some things never change.”

“I… What…?” You sputtered hopelessly, reigniting the butterflies in your stomach. “Yugyeom, I’m literally in an old t-shirt and baggy shorts.”

“Doesn’t matter to me, Y/N.”

//

“There’s another thing that never changed, which unfortunately was also out of my control.”

“Oh no, what else, Kim?”

“I’m sorry to tell you this so late, Y/N, but sadly, you were and are my first love. And you see, the thing about first loves is that no matter how hard you try, you simply can’t-”

“Forget them.”

“Exactly. Trust me, I tried.”

“Yeah, I tried too, so hard. I guess you weren’t meant to be forgotten. Or I guess we weren’t meant to forget each other.”

“First loves stick with you like a scar that can never be fully healed.”

“Wow, look at you, Kim! I’m impressed, you’ve become so poetic.”

“From now on, I’ll only write poems for you.”

[rainbowcarousels]

seven days of valentines

DAY 2: Sephiroth/Genesis with some AGS thrown in. (Just Be Still With Me canon)

“I love you not only for what you are, but for what I am when I am with you. I love you not only for what you have made of yourself, but for what you are making of me”. - Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Genesis was behaving strangely. 

 Given that he always behaved in an inexplicable manner and liked to contradict himself, it would be more accurate to say he had begun behaving more strangely. A little more highly strung than usual, a little more quick to fluster and a lot more likely to resort to fiery retribution if people brought up the issue.  Worse still, Sephiroth couldn't shake the feeling that it had something to do with him. There had been a measurable increase in staring, but he rebuffed active engagement on the topic. There had been more sparring, but it didn't seem to be providing the release it usually did.

 At first he had assumed perhaps the romantic relationship between him and Angeal had hit complications, but aside from the new staring matches and occasional walking off, there wasn't an observable change in his presence.

It had been a suspicion that he had been the cause in Wutai. When they returned a couple of weeks ago, suspicion turned to confirmation. It was clear he was attempting to keep some sort of distance between them because he didn't place his hand on his back to ask him to move, nor did he lounge against him to read and even during the post-mission medical review where he would usually be harder to get rid of than Heidegger's incompetence, he had been distant. It wasn't so much that he looked forward to these actions from him, he just had never stopped to consider that he would miss them if he stopped doing them.

Perhaps Sephiroth had offended him in some way but he doubted it. Genesis had no issue with confronting him if he felt he was wrong in the slightest.  Normally, when Genesis became unreadable, he could go to Angeal for an explanation but the boundaries had shifted in a way he couldn't fully understand and that meant he didn't know if he would cross them and earn his ire as well.

So when Angeal offered to cook dinner the night after a long, long day of justifying why throwing more troopers at a problem was only going to lead to a high death count without more SOLDIER oversight, Sephiroth was relieved to find himself in the quiet (well, as quiet as it ever got around Genesis) company of his friends.  However, once dinner was said and done and Genesis draped himself on the couch instead of sitting on it, the staring happened again made all the more noticeable by the fact Angeal seemed to be doing it too.

Genesis patted the seat by him, “Come and sit with me.”

It felt like a trap, like he was about to trigger something that had been brewing for several months and he wasn't sure he cared because at least then he would know what the problem was. What was more unexpected was Genesis reaching for his hand and placing it in his own lap, letting his thumb rub circles over his palm in a surprisingly soothing motion. Perhaps whatever it was had simply passed and he was eager to reestablish their previous levels of physical communication.

“Would you like one?”  Sephiroth's attention was drawn to Angeal, who was offering one of the dried, candied fruit skins he made when they were here long enough. He was a little full, but there were no scheduled monitoring for his diet here and Angeal had been enjoying them so it seemed rude to refuse one.

“Let me,” Genesis said, fishing his hand into the plastic container and pulling out an oddly shaped scrap he didn't recognise.

Learning a different variety of foods had been one of the more interesting experiences of these dinners, as they both had experience with certain foods he'd never really eaten before and occasionally, with ingredients he had never experienced.

Sephiroth then realised he was literally attempting to feed it to him and his confusion returned. “I'm not injured,” he said. That was the only occasion he tended to need any help eating and it was rare.

“Humour me,” Genesis insisted, holding the piece between his fingers and twisting it around.

It was possible he'd drunk a lot more wine before Sephiroth had arrived and as such, had slipped into a more whimsical mindset. It was also possible that Sephiroth had gotten on his nerves at some point and he'd decided to put something unpleasant in the food. However, if he had, Angeal wouldn't have gone along with it or been eating from the same container, so he did as he was asked.

It was a strange texture, chewy, almost leather like but also had some  fuzzy feeling spots to it. It was peculiar, but he liked peculiar textures, it made it all a bit more interesting. Except then there was a sudden new taste of something inside it and he felt himself squint as his cheeks pulled tight and heard Genesis laughing lightly. 

Was he wrong? Had he done something to it?

“You look like a chipmunk,” Genesis snorted.

“We can strike tart fruit off your list of likes,” Angeal added, ducking his head. “Do you want to try something else?”

“No,” Sephiroth said as the tingle in his cheeks began to fade.

Genesis's staring had resumed, but the quality of the staring had changed in some way. His expression was more open than mischievous and he reached a couple of fingers to the top of Sephiroth's hair parting, threading them down and through. 

“You're ridiculous,” he said softly.

What was so ridiculous about expecting fruit to be sweet? Admittedly, he had begun to develop a taste for sweet things and Angeal was often the driving force behind him finding new things, but it wasn't the first time he'd tried something he wasn't sure he liked.

“You're the one staring,” Sephiroth pointed out.

“Turn about is fair play,” Genesis told him. “You often stare at me.”

“You're impossible to ignore,” Sephiroth said. If he wasn't walking around in bright red with more materia than he could possibly use and spouting Loveless at anyone within his vicinity, he was still outspoken, like the very concept of silence offended him.

“So don't,” Genesis said. ”I don’t want to be ignored.”

Sephiroth hadn't realised he had been. “What do you want?”

“You,” Genesis's smile changed to the more familiar look that sent anyone with sense walking very quickly in the opposite direction because something was going to be set on fire. “Any way I can have you.”

That sounded – from his limited experience on the matter, it sounded intimate which made no sense at all. That was something he and Angeal did together. Sephiroth couldn't help but glance at him, finding he was watching the two of them with an expression that didn't seem upset or angry. It was something else entirely.

“What way do you want?” Sephiroth asked, just to be sure.

“You already know the answer to that,” Genesis tutted. “I know you can be dense but you're not that bad.”

“This is...” It was hard to put into words, so he looked to Angeal “This is something you do together.”

“Yes,” Angeal agreed.

“Then why do you need me?” Sephiroth asked.

“We don't need you,” Genesis said. “You didn't need three servings of the chocolate cream, but you definitely wanted it and enjoyed it. Is want not enough?”

Want he had some experience of. Want was being pawed at by the fan clubs, being told which people to speak to events, who to pose with, who it was imperative he let touch his arm or kiss his cheek because they were very important to the company. 

Want was uncomfortably like owing them something.

“You don't have to say yes,” Angeal said, quietly. “The last thing we want to do is make you feel uncomfortable.”

Uncomfortable was the wrong word. If anything, it felt too comfortable – the feeling of Genesis's thumb ghosting across his hand. the couch, the food and soft surrundings. “Are you certain you want to?”

“It's nothing I've considered before,” Angeal admitted. “But it wouldn't be a hardship either. You would be beautiful to watch together and I would be interested in intimacy with you, if you wanted that.”

“That's hardly a fair comparison,” Genesis said. “I look beautiful regardless of who I'm with.”

“You're our friend first. If you don't want this, that's okay but if you're open to trying it, we would take care of you,” Angeal promised. 

That tone was a promise. It was a strange concept, this idea he could or would need to be taken care of. It did make his heart rate increase when he tried to picture it, but the concept was foreign and he could only come up with vague impressions of feelings that felt too big for his body.

“I don't need taking care of,” Sephiroth said instead.

“But do you want to be?” Angeal pressed.

Taking care of had many meanings. The company took care of his schedule,  his medical needs, clothes and housing but they did already take care of many things for him. Angeal often took it on himself to take care of his nutritional needs or when words could be too difficult. Genesis took care of social engagements where he was often stuck for words while Genesis had plenty to spare and to push him to do things he would never have considered before. They both functionally cared for safety, especially in battles or as sentinels so he could get some rest without interrupting.

“I could take care of you,” Sephiroth offered instead, even if he wasn't entirely sure of how to do that. His experience in the area was extremely limited.

“I know you would,” Angeal said, kind enough not to point it out.

“We're getting a little ahead of ourselves,” Genesis said, giving his hand a pull to bring his attention back. “I would like to kiss you and I think I've been patient enough. Any objections?”

The last time he had been kissed, It had been a sloppy, wet experience from one of the investors wives and he'd wanted to scrub his skin clean away.

“I don't know if I like it,” Sephiroth replied.

“That's because you haven't been kissing me,” Genesis declared. He did love to be the exception to every rule. “Or Angeal for that matter, even if he has wandering hands every time we do.”

“I do not!” Angeal ducked his head away, shaking it slightly. “I'm just trying to get you to keep still.”

“I'm not sure anything short of sedation will do that,” Sephiroth pointed out. Even then, he tended to grip closely as if he were constricting a prey animal.

“We can stop if you don't like it,” Genesis decided. “More 'saying no' practice for you isn't the worst idea either way.”

It wasn’t bad. It was another thing to add onto the list of odd things Genesis did, because he moved strangely slowly for someone who rarely stopped to think about things once he'd made up his mind. He got very close, pressing his nose lightly against his and smiled – small, almost shy and clearly searching his eyes for something before he pressed his lips over his.

It wasn't at all as he expected. His breath was warm, but smelled vaguely of the 'cheap slosh' he'd been drinking all night and it wasn't unpleasant even if he was very, very close. It was slow, hesitant even where he had expected clashing mouths and hitting teeth like a training room duel and not at all like it had been before. No pinpricks of sweat, no desire to push him away and he found himself pressing his hand against his back, trying to get him closer instead, as if he just couldn't feel close enough no matter what. It was engulfing and terrifying.

Then all at once, it was over and he was pulling away and he found he definitely didn't want that so placed his hands on Genesis's hips to stop him.

Genesis laughed taking his hands from his hips and stepping backwards, “Come along,” he said, giving his hands a tug. “Let's go somewhere more comfortable where we can enjoy watching Angeal turn the same colour as his hibiscus.”