#i rly hope its like that. begging and pleading.

[skunkes]

ive never been a tattoos person bc i hate pain and ive never liked anything that much or for that long, and i dont even like the thought of dyeing my hair bc the color i choose wont Fit every outfit so something permanent and potentially visible wld be worse... b

ut idk after having surgery I felt this weird feeling of like. Wow, I'm happy I did that because of the desired outcome of course, but also because I got to experience something thats Very Cool if u think about like. Thje progress of humanity I guess. Like it's crazy that this is something we can do. Everyone was nice to me and they put stuff through my body to remove something I didn't want (also blessing and miracle to me) and in my POV i blinked and it was over and it stopped hurting after 2 days. crazy!

So I want to experience more things ➡️ maybe I should get the tiny green line sterilization tattoo or tattoo over my incision scars bc that will also be partaking in something really cool and human, that humans have done for a really long time ykwim

[santaasi]

WAITING FOR YOU

pairing: bsfljames potter x fem!reader

summary: loving James Potter has become the biggest mistake of your life

warnings: hanahaki au, pure angst, no happy ending (sorry), english is not my first language

word count: 1.4k

a/n: feel like i'm in my angst era, but i rly love this oneshot with all my heart. so, hope you'll enjoy it <3

You're in pain. You feel white roses growing inside you and breaking all the bones. You can feel their thorns painfully piercing your already crippled heart. It beats rapidly in your chest, begging for help, bleeding. But you don't hear its pleadings, coughing up white petals with an admixture of blood over and over again, lying on the floor of your dorm room. You're crying.

You're crying because you're a fool for falling in love with your best friend, crying because you might die soon, crying because you're worthless.

You're in pain. You are awake at night again, completely exhausting your body, because in dreams you see him again and again and again... You see how his eyes are looking lovingly not at you. You see how his lips are kissing not yours. You see how his arms tenderly encircle not your waist. And you cough over and over again, choking on your blood and leaving white petals on the floor.

You're still in pain. As soon as you step over the threshold of the great hall, James Potter comes up to you again, excited about the upcoming date with the perfect Lily Evans, your friend and former roommate. You listen to him with half an ear, looking at how his eyes light up at every mention of Lily. You always dreamt of him looking at you with the same sparks in his chocolate eyes.

James thanks you a hundred times for bringing them together after so many years of his unsuccessful pinning. He says that he will never have a better friend than you, and that he loves you immensely. He loves you. But only like a sister. And you feel a lump rise in your throat and the thorns pierce your heart again, from the realization that you have made the biggest mistake of your life. You signed your own death warrant.

Feeling everything inside you break down, as tears come to your eyes, and a lump rises in your throat, you quickly run away. You excuse yourself, saying that you have a lesson soon, that you don't want to be late, leaving James Potter alone with his thoughts. Thoughts of Lily Evans. Which clouds his mind, preventing him from noticing how you, his closest person, are suffering because of him.

You don't go to the first lesson and the next either. You go to an old abandoned toilet, which everyone has long forgotten about, and sit down on the cold tiled loor, feeling the tears roll down your cheeks, and the bones break again under the onslaught of the stems. Your heart screams again from the pain in your chest as the spikes hit deeper than before. You're in pain, crazy and fucking painful. The only thing thundering in your head is the thought of imminent death. After all, people like you don't live long. And you cough and cough and cough, scattering white rose petals with red spots on the dirty tiles.

You're scared. You don't want to die before you're twenty-one. You don't want to die without attending your graduation and becoming an aurora, as you always dreamed of with James. You don't want to die without getting married and having a perfect family like your parents. You don't want to die without going with Dorcas on fake IDs to one of these Muggle clubs in secret from your parents.

You're scared because you don't want to die at such an early age. Who the hell wants to die at seventeen anyway?

You hate yourself for falling in love with your best friend. For plunging into the sea called "James Potter" with your head and getting sick of what you always warned your friends against. You hate yourself for the fact that your death will hurt everyone you love so much, and you can't do anything about it. It's too late. The disease decided everything for you.

You didn't go to class. Instead, you slowly took all your things and returned to the dorm. Throwing the bag somewhere at the entrance, you took out an old photo album and carefully began to review page after page. Tears were rolling down your cheeks when you looked at the photos where you, James, Sirius and Remus were so happy standing waist-deep in a black lake. Where Dorcas, Lily, Marlene and you are sitting in Three Broomstick and drinking butterbeer for the first time. Where you and James are lying on the grass in his backyard, looking up at the blue sky. Back then, no one even suspected that this would happen sometime in the future. No one could even suspect it will happen to you.

After all, you and James have been best friends since early childhood. You played in the sandbox together when you were two, went to your favorite ice cream cafe together when you were four, went to Hogwarts together when you turned eleven, and spent your whole life together. You were like a younger sister to James, whom he loved more than life. And you thought of him as your brother, too... until six months ago you realized that you were head over heels in love with him.

You knew from the very beginning that this was a losing game for you in advance. And that was the end of it.

You've been lying in your bed all day, not letting anyone into your private dorm room, which Dumbledore allocated to you when he found out about 'the problem'. You didn't want your friends to see how you were dying, and how your whole floor was strewn with white and red petals. At the same time, you didn't like to say goodbye and didn't want to see Lily's tears, who would blame herself, or the tears of Sirius, who was always strong next to you, but this time he would cry like a little child.

But most of all, you didn't want to see James, who knocked on your door several times all day, which you didn't open to him, hearing his soft muffled voice. You knew that once he saw you, he would understand everything. And you weren't ready to look at his confused look, and then listen to his pleas not to leave him, that he would find that guy who did this to you and make him love you, not even suspecting that 'that guy' was him. And you couldn't tell him that harsh truth.

You couldn't break his heart like that.

Still, James Potter's feelings have always meant more to you than your own.

And you'd hate yourself even more if you did it. Although it seemed to you that it was simply impossible to hate yourself more than now. How could you have made such a mistake? How could you fall in love with your best friend and pick up hanahaki? Another batch of petals fell on the blanket.

You were dying. You felt the stalks reach your lungs, how slowly and painfully they knocked out the last air, and the thorns pierced the thin membrane of your lungs. You felt the bones shatter under the onslaught of the growing flowers. You felt your heart bleed when the thorns pierced it deeper. You could never describe the pain you were feeling right now. The pain was everywhere. You coughed over and over, spitting out bloody white petals on the bed. Tears flowed from your eyes like a river, with every second you wanted to live more and more. You wanted to go shopping with Lily, Dorcas and Marlene, you wanted to spend more time with your parents, you wanted to have more pranks with Sirius and Remus, you wanted to graduate from Hogwarts and get married. But you were dying.

You were dying out of love for your best friend, who never found out how much you loved him.

You died. Alone. Surrounded by the bloody petals of white roses. The first flowers that James gave you for your seventeenth birthday six months ago. You died with a smile on your face because when you closed your eyes, you saw him.

James Potter, who was standing in the back yard of his house with a smile on his face, was waiting here for you.

He's always been waiting only for you.

tried for the first time to use 2nd narration... kinda liked it but at the same time kinda not. but i think it's a matter of habit... idk

pt2 -> read

but, nevertheless, thankx for reading <3

- your santi ✨

masterlist

[simpjaes]

hihi! <3 i love your works sm! you write the absolute best, but i honestly have a genuine question, why don’t you like silent readers? i hope it’s not a rude question to ask but i’m just genuinely curious because i understand that there comes to a limit of how people interact with posts, but i’d also like to hear your input as well :)

(you’re my fav smut writer hehe)

hi, first of all, thank you 🖤 am proud to be your favorite 🥹

secondly, in all honesty, its a little complicated. silent readers are only one of the issues on tumblr. If they’re truly silent, i won’t even know they’re reading for me to be upset in the first place, which sucks really fucking bad…

where i actually get pissed of is, well, it’s the people who spam like but don’t reblog, follow me, or leave me any feedback. additionally, it’s the people who beg and plead and demand i write more while never reblogging, or telling me why they like my work in the first place.

i write for free, and while i appreciate all feedback i get, reblogs are so important to writers here on tumblr and i urge you to peek at the ratios of my fics. likes vs reblogs, people asking for more without reblogging or liking etc.

i also have anon enabled specifically for those who don’t want to expose who they are in terms of feedback (silent readers). id like to think that after i spend days and weeks and months writing, people would at the very least either leave feedback or a reblog. yknow? but thats simply not rly the case.

i’m tired of begging for interaction basically, bc as shitty as it is, many writers only get likes and demands for more writing over anything else and it’s exhausting. i try to avoid that if at all possible because ill end up not writing at all. i am real a person. if you are consuming and enjoying my content, pllssss pls pls make it known to me in some way that isnt just an empty like or rude and entitled demand!!

this rly is why the writing community here is dying. arguably, silent readers do play a part in that as well, but they’re more neutral and don’t interact at all. half of the time they don’t even use their blogs ;-; which…if that’s the case why not give us a lil reblog then? like it’s not harmful and gives the author a lil warm and fuzzy feeling.

idk man. ppl basically just treat authors like machines, literal shit, and like we owe them more and more of our creativity so they can rub one out.

i will always stand by this: i do not owe anyone an orgasm. but if you’re going to make demands, or are simply hoping i write more without telling me, then please don’t be a silent reader, a serial liker, or a person who won’t even follow or reblog me.

[tboykrillin]

i can feel bsd lurking. i dont have much time

[introloves]

can you write a smut where you legit just degrade the absolute fuck out of bokuto. Like so fucking filthy just make him cry, like call him a worthless piece of shit and spit on him. But like also praise so he knows u dont actually hate him xoxo

sorry if this is all over the place 🥺 i haven’t been in a dom writing headspace so i’m rly rly sorry if this is shit

— cw; degredation + slight choking + hurt/comfort

you’d feel guilty at first, but he was the one that wanted it.

he wanted to know what it’d feel like to be treated like dirt, wanted to step into your shoes when you were the one who asked him to degrade you.

you agreed apprehensively, knowing how sensitive to words your sweet koutarou was, but in the end, he really wanted to know.

that’s why you were riding him, hands placed in the center of his chest while you worked against his incredibly hard dick, he looked up at you with large pleading eyes, silently egging you on to degrade him.

“f-fuck.” you hissed, gathering courage.

“you l-looks so pathetic uunder me.” you start, heat prickling up your neck at the feeling this brought on. it had him whimper, hearing those mean words come from your sweet mouth, a mouth that usually only sang him praises, telling him how good he was for you.

it wasnt bad, wasnt enough, he wanted more. so he grabbed those hands that held him with care and love, placed on his chest for support and moved them to his neck.

“a-ah...” you panted, lidded eyes darkening with the newfound power he was placing in your hands. you squeezed experimentally, clenching agaisnt his swollen cock when his eyes widened, his hips bucking up into you involuntarily.

“you look s-so pathetic.”

it came easier, watching him unfurl beneath you, his face looked so desperate and wanting. he looked at you like you held the answers to the universe, watching your every movement with keen eyes.

he was caught up in everything, unable to retort back, unable to respond or to properly fuck you. he melted under your touch, mind preoccupied with the way your tight walls hugged his cock, bringing him to the brink of an orgasm. it was too much, too much...

it gave you a high, watching his unfocused eyes close with the way you made him feel, he looked so pretty, compliant and shy beneath you, a stark contrast to his usual boisterous personality.

made you wonder just how far you could push him, how small you could make him feel.

“this is all youre good for.” you hissed, highs shaking with effort, making an attempt to swivel your hips, trying to hit every spot inside you, looking for the point that had you wheezing.

“its disgusting, how much this turns you on.” the hands that had tentatively clasped around his neck now intermittently squeezed, letting him close his eyes before you released.

“y-your cocks the best thing about you, dirty boy.” the words tumbling from your lips didnt even make sense to you anymore, it wasnt true, you loved every bit of him but the words left your lips before you could stop them.

the need to orgasm overtaking any other thought, but the way he was trembling beneath you, not a word slipping past his lips had you stopping.

“kou?” you whispered, hands moving up to cup his face, his eyes had been squished shut, head turned to the side.

when he finally opened them you could see his pretty eyes wet with tears and you didnt know if the wetness prickling his golden eyes were from pleasure or from your words.

“oh god, baby i’m so sorry.” you cried, panic setting in at the way he looked at you, looking at you like he was trying to confirm everything you had said.

your throat closes slightly, trying to find a way to fix all of this, knowing how much he feeds off reassurance.

with the way he gazed up at you, head pressing into your hands that just held him, waiting for more of your words, whether they hurt him or not let you know how to proceed.

“i’m sorry, you know i dont mean it.” you sigh, lifting up off him, keeping just the head inside, waiting a little before you start rutting down into him.

“you’re the best i’ve ever had, you fuck me so good.” sweetness drips off your lips, makes him dizzy, quickly dissipating the stinging in his chest.

“i love everything about you, koutarou.”

its feverish, the way you’re basically begging with your body to make him feel better, hoping this’ll be enough.

the change is almost instant, his own hands coming up from the grip he had on the comforter to lift you up off him before tugging you down. you land agasint him with a loud slap, choking at the way the head of him hits an un giving wall.

“i’m the best.” he parrots, hanging off those words.

you cant respond, caught up in the way he easily moves you.

in the end, koutarou holds you in his arms after cumming inside of you like he wasnt just crying, smiling as you keep apologizing for bringing him to tears.

“i make you cry sometimes.” is all he responds to that, it takes you a bit to answer;

“yeah... but its cause you’re overstimulating me.”

he ponders those words over, thinking hard.

“could you-“

“no.”

“but whyyyy.” he whines and you look at him, trying to get him to think back to what just had happened.

[plant-flwrs]

i love ur writing so so much!!! if possible, could you maybe do a fred weasley x reader where the reader is insecure, and thinks hes asking her out as a joke//prank? thank you so much!!<3

insecurities // fred weasley 

masterlist!

a/n: omg this request rly came for me wow. only joking, i loved it, thank u sm for sending it in!! hope u like it!! (also went a little Little Women with that love confession scene, couldn’t help myself hehe)

summary: You and Fred are hopelessly in love with each other, but you don’t believe him when he finally admits it.

(a little short one! 1.7k)

------

The sky above you was turning dark, but the game of Quidditch in front of you still roared on.

Orbs of light had been casted onto the tops of each towering stand of students, illuminating the field for miles. The cheers never dulled, the same enthusiasm seeping from everyone as when the game started. You couldn’t remember how long you had been out there, but you did know the sun was still up when it started.

You held a pair of binoculars to your eyes, watching as Fred leaned forward on his broom and hit a bludger with such force that your heart did a little jump in your chest. He flew closer to the ground, intercepting a bludger that was going straight towards Angelina. You watched the corner of his mouth lift in a smirk at the girl as she smiled at him appreciatively. Your heart sank.

You had been in love with Fred Weasley for a little over a year. You went to every one of his Quidditch matches, helped him with most of his pranks, and talked to him for hours just about every day. Yet, he was still just a friend. Your best friend.

You didn’t care if Fred liked you back, though you figured he didn’t. You could never confess your feelings for him. You hated the idea of having to be so vulnerable around him, so you kept everything you felt for him to yourself.

You couldn’t help but feel the sting of jealously, however, as Fred watched Angelina soar off towards the goal posts.

You managed to keep your enthusiasm. Your cheers nearly reached Fred’s ears, your encouragements being so loud. Hundreds of feet above you, Harry’s broom darted down, and he was diving to the ground. The crowd silenced for a moment before screams erupted. Harry flew laps in front of the stands, holding out the snitch in his harsh grip. Your eyes followed him, smile wide. You rushed off the stands, hurrying down the steps and to the field. Your eyes met Fred’s and he started towards you.

“Great game, Fred!” Angelina called from behind him.

He turned from you, walking backwards and looking at Angelina. He smiled widely at her and you watched with heavy eyes as she returned a shy smile. You couldn’t help the downturn of your lips as you watched it, watched his eyes lock onto hers for a little too long. By the time he turned back to you, you had crossed your arms over your chest and kicked up some grass from beneath your feet.

“Why the long face? We won!” he shouted, coming to wrap his arms around your frame.

He lifted you into the air and you couldn’t help the smile that snuck its way onto your lips. You placed two cautious hands on his frim shoulders, steadying yourself as he spun you.

“Fred!” you screeched, smiling widely and tilting your head to the sky.

“You stayed the whole game,” he said, putting you down but keeping his arms wrapped around you.

“Of course I did,” you replied, stating it like that was obvious.

“You had to be standing up there for at least seven hours,” Fred’s head tilted down, hit teeth trapping his bottom lip as he looked at you.

“Well I was sitting for at least three of those seven,” you quipped, smirking at him, “so, I’d say it was a fair trade.”

“Let’s go to the common room,” he said, releasing one of his arms and moving the other up to wrap around your shoulders.

“I hope you plan on showering first,” you pinched your nose, pretending to be awfully offended by the smell coming from Fred’s extended arm.

Fred released you, ducking his head down to smell his armpit. His face recoiled and he laughed with you.

The two of you fell in with the large mass of students returning to the castle, but all either of you thought about was the other.

That night, Fred had made a promise to himself to ask you out, finally. He had been in love with you for years. How could he not be? You were everything he loved in a person. His arms propped his head up on top of his pillow, and just before he drifted off to sleep he was imagining how he should ask you to be his girlfriend.

The process was difficult, he didn’t know if you’d want him to be sweet, or if you’d rather have something flashy. He was so preoccupied with the details that he hadn’t even stopped to consider you not liking him back. In the end, he decided on something perfect, something just for you.

You pulled yourself from bed with tired legs feeling sore after standing in the stands for all that time. You couldn’t imagine how sore Fred’s arms must be.

Quickly getting ready and managing to just catch lunch, you slid onto the bench next to Fred.

“Good morning,” he mumbled, voice muffled from the toast he was chewing.

“Morning,” you replied.

You rubbed the heals of your hands into your eyes, forcing what was left of exhaustion from them. You pulled a variety of foods from platters in front of you, filling your plate for lunch.

“Are you busy today?” Fred asked, finally done chewing his food.

“I don’t think so,” you responded tiredly, “why?”

“I wanted to take you somewhere,” he said, smiling shyly at you.

Your stomach filled with butterflies at his look, and you shifted your gaze to your plate.

“Okay,” Fred barely heard the mumble, but he caught it just in time for lunch to be dismissed.

The two of you stood, and he slipped his hand into yours. He dragged you away from the school, pulling you down the familiar path to the Quidditch pitch.

“Why are we going to the pitch? I was just here all day,” you whined, thinking Fred was dragging you to another one of Wood’s surprise practices.

“You’ll like it,” he didn’t turn his head back to look at you but you could hear his grin, “promise.”

You took a few rushed steps, falling in place next to him. You looked down at your intertwined hands and your heart swelled.

You two finally reached the grassy field, and Fred pulled you off to the side. He waved his wand, and a blanket appeared in front of you. He motioned for you to sit and you did. He followed your actions, sitting with his legs crossed. His hands were fiddling behind his back and before you could sneak a glance, he pulled out a small box of chocolates. He put them between you two, setting them on the ground as he opened them to you. He watched your face light up at the sight of your favorite muggle candies, and your fingers brushed his as your hand reached for a chocolate.

“Oh my gosh, Fred!” you exclaimed, taking a bite of the chocolate, “What do I get these for?”

You smiled slyly at him, expecting him to ask you for help with his next pranks.

“Well,” he started, moving his hands from the candies to twist in his lap, “if you’ll be my girlfriend you’ll get plenty more where that came from.”

You let out a forced laugh, figuring Fred was just buttering you up even more for a prank. Your laugh drifted unnaturally as you met his serious expression. Your face became stern.

“Don’t be mean, Fred,” you warned, putting the rest of the chocolate back in the box.

“What? I’m serious,” Fred answered in a defensive tone.

You couldn’t help but think Fred had figured out your crush on him. That he had invited you down here to embarrass you about it. You hated yourself for thinking it, but couldn’t help the worries.

“Stop,” you begged your voice not to crack, and it didn’t this time, but you knew it would if you had to say another thing.

“What?” Fred repeated, an awkward chuckle coming from him, “I’m asking you to be my girlfriend.”

“No you’re not,” you said, becoming angry, “this is a joke or something. George and Lee are hiding somewhere aren’t they?”

Fred’s mouth opened, his face twisted with confusion. He reached for you, but you pulled away.

“No they aren’t! What makes you think this is a joke?” Fred pleaded, still reaching for you.

“You don’t like me,” you said, your voice finally cracking, “you like Angelina.”

“Angelina?” he repeated, baffled, “What makes you think I bloody like Angelina?”

Your bottom lip jutted out as you tried not to cry in front of Fred.

“I don’t know,” you mumbled, taking a deep breath, “you always flirt with her.”

“I don’t like Angelina,” Fred sighed, finally being able to take your hands in his, “I like you. I’m in love with you.”

“You’re fucking with me,” you tried one last time, laughing shakily and looking around the field.

“I’m not!” Fred insisted.

“Are you sure?”

He looked at you like you were crazy. Like he couldn’t believe you thought he’d have any doubts about his love for you.

“Yes, Y/n, I’m sure.”

“Oh,” you squeaked out, eyes wide.

“Do you love me?” 

You couldn’t say anything, frozen in his gaze. You nodded slowly and his mouth split into a smile.

“Really?” he asked, smiling widely.

“Yeah,” you choked out, “as long as this isn’t a prank.”

Fred laughed again, and moved closer to you. His open lips met yours, and his hands cupped the side of your face. The two of you moved in sync, molding to each other’s movements. The kiss said everything you both wanted it to say. It was you cheering for Fred at every Quidditch match and him looking at you from his broom. It was you chasing after him in the halls after a prank was set off and him glancing over his shoulder just to see your smile. It was your legs resting in his lap as you both talked for hours and him twirling a piece of your hair between his fingers.

All your insecurities and reservations washed away with that kiss. You didn’t think Fred could fake something this real for a prank. His chest rose with heavy breaths from just being near you, and eventually you couldn’t stop the smile that broke the kiss.

“Believe me now?” Fred said, breathing deeply as his forehead rested against yours.

You bit your lip and nodded, looking at him through your lashes. He pushed against you, resting your back against the ground and keeping his forehead against yours. His lips pushed against yours again, and you couldn’t believe you doubted him for a second.

[ff-imagines]

Can i request some nsfw headcanons for mantis shrimp? I read through your blog and let me just say: I'm a big fan. Btw if you dont wanna do them thats fine as well

Salt and pepper shrimp: nsfw alphabet

I did the whole alphabet bc? Why not! Side note I rly wanna write a fic going off my thoughts ab his experience level >:)

A - aftercare

Look, getting him to release you from his hold to go to the bathroom on a regular night is a battle enough. After sex? Phew I wish you luck. Might wanna just put some water on your night stand beforehand. You would be able to convince him to take a bath with you pretty easily though, he likes how the warm water feels very much. Make sure to cuddle him in the bath still, he's in a very vulnerable state right now and he really needs some good old tlc.

B- body parts

he’s got a weird fixation with your hands. He likes to compare hand sizes, whether your hands are bigger or smaller isn’t what he likes, he just likes to admire them. He loves sucking/biting your fingers while he’s got you in his lap. Lacing your fingers with his with one hand while bringing the other to his cheek, nuzzling into your hand while he bounces you on his cock.

On himself, there is tragically little that he genuinely likes. He views himself as a weapon, getting him to unlearn that will not be an easy process, trust me, Boston has tried. Complimenting his eyes does seem to make him a little more flustered than other praises, and he has a hard time staring you in the eye during sex…. maybe we can start there.

C - cum

His cum is pretty thin but there’s a shit ton of it. Enough that if he cums inside you swear you can feel the warmth as his cock pours rope and rope of his seed into you.

He doesn’t actually care where he cums, just ask him and he’ll comply.

inside you? sounds good.

On your back? Say less.

On the floor? You’re cleaning it, but sure.

He did discover he’s got an affinity for watching his cum on your tongue. I don’t know how you’d be able to swallow it all, but any attempt you make will be met with shrimp getting hard all over again.

D - dirty secret

He secretly thinks it’d be really hot for you to dom him. It’s gonna take a very long time before he’s comfortable letting you have that Linda control over him, just the thought of being tied up, hands behind his back while you praise him for being such a good boy, its a fantasy he’s visited on many sleepless nights.

E - experience

Nope. Nada. To be frank, I think he’s the definition of Demisexual, and he has yet to meet anyone besides Boston and the anti-human gang who he genuinely wants to get to know better. He definitely hasn’t met anyone who wants to get to know better for romantic reasons.

He doesn’t know enough about human customs to know that it can be embarrassing for someone to be inexperienced, but he does feel very very nervous the first few times. He’ll need a lot of reassurance, give him praise and he’s putty in your hands.

F - favorite position

I'm gonna be boring and say missionary. It’s simple, easy, and since he’s brand new to all of this it’s the least mentally overstimulating. He very much likes that he can see your face.

If he’s feeling extra spicy he might grab onto the inside of your knees and push you into the mating press, though he really only does this if he’s upset or jealous.

If you ask nicely he might let you sit in his lap, as a treat. Bouncing on his cock as he litters your chest with bite marks, what a treat it is <3

G - goofy

…. yea for sure definitely. He’s a real jokester.

On a serious note, he himself is not a goofy person whatsoever, but he would actually like it if you were. Outright making fun of him or harsh teasing is an immediate turn off, but light jokes to ease his nerves is for sure welcomed since he’s very tense the first few times.

Give him time and you might even catch him cracking a small joke himself, all the while giving you a weak, nervous smile.

H- hair

He doesn’t trim or shave anything lmao. He’s busy, and also doesn’t care literally at all. He’s got a thin happy trail that can be easy to miss since he's blonde.

He’s got the same energy with your body hair, he doesn’t care. If you do shave he might ask why, just out of curiosity. If your reason is insecurity, he’ll probably suggest you let it grow, he doesn’t care and he’s the only one who’ll ever see it lmao

I- intimacy

It’s an awkward “i hope to fuck I’m doing this right” kind of intimacy. He fumbles and messes up a lot, he might even accidentally miss when thrusting and end up just kinda rubbing himself on you but he’s really trying. Just from the fact he’s willing to try this at all with you is a big sign that he’s really trying his best to be as intimate as he can with you.

J- jerk off

Before meeting you, not a lot actually. He mostly just did it if he ever woke up from a wet dream and knew that if he didn’t take care of it now he’d never be able to get back to sleep.

After your first time together, his first time, he thinks back the immeasurable pleasure a lot, finding himself in need of relief a lot more than he ever did before. You are the catalyst to his drive, and you are also the only thing he can think about that can help him cum. It’s kinda sweet in a perverted way.

K- Kinks

He will bite you. It’s just so easy to bruise you and it makes your relationship status to others so obvious, he can’t just… not bite you.

Marking, going along with the biting kink. This goes both ways, he’d love for you to scratch at his back enough to leave red marks, to bite as his collarbone, grip his hips tight enough to bruise. He likes looking at the marks later, they remind him that he did good, he made you feel good, that’s all he really wants.

He doesn’t exactly have a breeding kink as much as this goes along with the marking aspect. Suggest to him that he cum deep inside you to mark your insides… he might give you 2-3 loads just to make sure you're nice and full, completely claimed.

He also kinda likes to make you cry. Overstimulating you to the point of tears gives him a sense of pride he hasn’t really felt before.

He really likes temperature play as well, dragging ice cubes and hot wax across your skin and watching you flinch and squirm just does something to him.

And of course, light bondage. He probably found out it was a thing after reading some kinda erotic fiction and immediately went to you like “why did you not tell me about this?????” He adores how to look all tied up and stuck, right in the palm of his hands. It makes him feel emotional as well, that you’re willing to give him such a powerful amount of control over you.

Last but not least, please praise him. During sex as well as day to day. Let him know he’s so pretty, he’s doing so good, he’s cock feels so so good, he might cum on the spot.

L- location

The first time he’d really need it to be in a secluded, safe area. He’s gotta feel comfy if he’s gonna get into the mood.

Every other time? Babes you’ve awakened a beast, he’ll get random spikes of “if I don’t at least try to fuck them I will scream”. You could be in the middle of a forest running from an axe wielding murderer and this horny bastard would still find a way to pull you aside and rail you against a tree.

There most likely isn’t a spot in your home that he hasn’t fucked you against.

Peaceful moment of washing dishes? Think again, he’s plopping you on the kitchen counter and diving to mouth at your neck.

Writing some papers? Just sit on his lap, you’ll feel much less stressed with his cock buried to the hilt, won’t you?

Doing laundry? Might have to rewash them cause now he’s using the clothes as a bed to fuck you on. He’ll apologize and help you fold them after they’re rewashed bc he feels bad lmao

M- motivation

Like I said, he’s set off by the smallest things. A little stretch, wiping some water off on your pants, humming a song, all of it can randomly make him feel the need to fuck you.

The most intense and quickest way to rile him up is either playing with his hair, or massaging his back. It starts out innocent but he just can’t take the thought of your pretty hands working so lovingly and not at least trying to reciprocate and make you feel good too.

N- no

No sharing. He doesn’t want someone else to see you, and he doesn’t want someone else to see him. It’s just not something he likes.

He also hates humiliation. He… would tolerate it if you asked for it, even if he doesn’t get why you’d want him to outright insult you. But for himself? Fuck no, he hates it so fuckin much. He’s a sensitive insecure puppy that wants your attention very badly, pls don’t hurt him like that :(

O- oral

Oh please give him oral. He’s begging. Well, he’d never outright beg but the way his eyes fixate on your mouth a lot is his way of silently pleading for you to wrap your lips around his cock. His soul ascends a little every time he sees his cum dribbling down your face, he might be even willing to make out with his cum still on your tongue.

As for giving, he’s got no clue what the hell he’s doing but he’s nervously eager to try. Guide him as best you can, he’s good at measuring your reactions so he can handle the rest. Tug on his hair a little bit if you wanna drive him crazy.

He’ll get a lot better with time, his eagerness to please however, does not leave him in the slightest.

P- pace

The first time? Slow and unsure, then he realizes “oh fuck this feels stupid good” and his pace becomes almost punishing. He doesn’t really know what he’s doing, he’s unknowingly going deeper and harder than you've ever been dicked down in your life. If you want him to, somehow, go harder? Grab his hand and place it over your stomach to make him feel his cock enter you through your skin, his hand slides down to grip your hips and slams into you, wiggling his hips without withdrawing to gain some of his sanity back before he’s back to a punishing pace.

Q- quickies

Oh hell yea. He lives for them. Sudden moments of horniness come to him all the time and since this spike in desire is brand new, he hasn’t really… learned to live with it yet. He pulls you aside into closets and alleyways all the time, he can’t help that you feel so warm and snug :(

R- risk

He doesn’t exactly enjoy the thought of a voyeur, he really doesn’t want to share you with anyone. But… there is a deeper part of him that finds a sense of pride if someone were to hear you getting absolutely pounded by him, desperately crying out and whining for him to go deeper, even better if they were someone who pined for you….

S- stamina

Well, to be frank he cums pretty quickly. It’s all so brand new to him, he really can’t help it. Lucky for you, his refractory time is crazy low. He can cum once, watch you do some mindless motion you always do and he’s right back to being hard again in minutes.

T- toys

Not against it, but is again, brand new to all this shit. He’s very interested in using your own toys against you though. Would definetly use a vibrater to edge and overstim you. He’d be interested in a cock ring, only if you were willing to endure a vibrator while he fucks you, he doesn’t wanna be the only one struggling lmao

U- unfair

He can be, yea. He kinda likes edging you, but not as much as he likes overstimulating you.

He loves to hear how you beg under him when he’s pulling you so close to the edge, keeping you just far enough to drive you insane.

Overstimming though? The way you twitch and beg, how your chest heaves and your mouth hangs open into a silent scream, eyes shut tight and watering, now that’s the good shit.

V- volume

Doesn’t talk much, but for sure gives out a lot of groans. This is something he’s never felt before in his life, the first few times you're going to get a lot of whines and surprised yelps, check up on him and make sure he’s still doing alright, he’s just very nervous.

As he gets more comfortable, he gives you quiet praises and promises to make you feel good. He also groans quite a lot, but since his voice is deeper it can be hard to catch.

W- wild card

He really wants to try using his prosthetic arm for temperature play, he’s just not at all confident in himself enough to bring it up. He likes the thought of you jumping and squirming under his touch, for now he can just stick to wax play.

X- X Ray

Mans is actually pretty fuckin big. He’s got no idea how big he is though. If you were surprised and a little nervous about his size he’d be pretty confused, is there something wrong? Did you change your mind? The concept of him being well above average is something you’ll have to explain later. It boosts his ego quite bit, even if he’d never admit it.

Whine about him being too big and you can just see the pride swelling in his chest, giving you no mercy with his thrusts.

Y- yearning

Often. Very very often. He’d fuck you multiple times every day if he had the time. However, you’re both busy, and you’d probably get a UTI with how many times this man wants to dick you down lmao. He’s got his cock buried in you at least 4-5 times a week.

Z- zzz

Actually pretty quickly. Even if he prefers being in control during sex, he kinda likes being the little spoon as he drifts to sleep. Give him some soft praises about how well he did and he’s turning into jello in your hold.

[ya-girl-mc]

Hammered

Character: Tsukishima Kei × Fem Reader

Concept: Y/N joins Tsukishima and his colleagues for a night of drinking, but ends up embarrassing him as she gets wasted

A/N: Cause I miss getting drunk and doing stupid shit, hence this fic feat. our salty boi ✌ it was rly fun to write this so,, hope u enjoy it too!!

☆☆ A Haikyuu!! Fanfiction ☆☆

Light filtered through the window blinds, rousing Y/N from her slumber as she pried her eyes open, cursing to herself as she felt a stinging pain in her temples. She was hungover, pretty badly at that, and as much as she wracked her brain to try and recall the events that transpired the night before, it only made her headache much worse.

Shit...I don't feel so good.

As her eyes darted around, she was immediately relieved knowing that she was lying down on the couch in her and Tsukishima's living room, managing to deduce - despite her muddled state-of-mind - that someone must have taken care of her in her drunken stupor.

Gritting her teeth, Y/N tried to sit up slowly, wincing as her temples prickled with pain with every movement. In her peripheral vision, however, was her livid-looking boyfriend with probably the deepest scowl she's ever seen as he stared her down from where he sat.

"Kei...?"

"Did you sleep well?" While the inquiry was meant to be out of concern, Tsukishima delivered it in a monotonous, yet utterly chilling manner which only meant one thing: he was pissed.

"What happened? And what's got you frowning so early in the morning?" She carefully questioned, eager yet dreading to find out how she must have royally screwed up the night before to get him this upset. Her curiosity only infuriated Tsukishima more and Y/N could have almost sworn seeing a blackish aura swirl around him.

"You...you really don't remember a damn thing, do you?"

*****

Fridays were usually the most anticipated day of the week for most members of the working class; however, in Tsukishima's case, he was dreading this Friday in particular.

After a strenuous week at the office, his boss suggested the entire team go drinking to reward themselves for their hard work and as a means to de-stress. But, Tsukishima wasn't keen on partaking in such nights of revelry especially after a long week at work as he'd rather spend his Friday nights and weekends relaxing at home with Y/N. The only reason that he decided to tag along is due to her persistence for him to do so.

Sighing deeply to himself, Tsukishima followed his colleagues as they entered the izakaya, chattering excitedly as they settled in at a long table at the far back. Amongst the clientele for that night, one of them in particular caught his attention, his eyes widening in surprise.

"Y/N?"

She was sat on one of the stools overlooking the kitchen. At the sound of her name, she turned towards its source and grinned widely. "Kei! Fancy running into you here and I see that you're also with your team. Good boy!"

He subtly rolled his eyes and sat down on the stool next to hers, unable to fight off a smile that made its way to his face. "Yeah yeah, if I didn't join them I'd never hear the end of it from you. Anyway, are you here alone?"

"Yeah, just stopped by on the way home from work to pick up some gyoza and katsudon for dinner. But wait, maybe I should have gotten takoyaki, too? Or maybe another serving of gyoza-" Y/N rambled as she grabbed the menu, her eyes scanning rapidly over the items.

He just gazed at her in amusement, completely oblivious to the inquisitive stares his co-workers shot their way. Tsukishima in the workplace was usually placid, reserved, and mostly impassive; seeing his relaxed and pleasant demeanor as he interacted with Y/N was especially intriguing to them, wondering amongst themselves just who that woman was in Tsukishima's life.

Keen on finding out the answer, one of his senpais called him over to their table. It suddenly dawned on him that there was no other choice than to formally introduce Y/N to them. And, he definitely was not looking forward to it as he'd never hear the end of their relentless teasing. "Y/N, would you mind coming along with me for a bit?"

Discreetly straightening her clothes and smoothening her hair, Y/N nodded and followed him to where his co-workers sat, anxious to make a good first impression. At their arrival, they immediately trained their gazes on her, just as eager to find out who she was. "Everyone, this is Y/N, my girlfriend. We live together," Tsukishima stated nonchalantly.

The shock on their faces was borderline comical as they stared back at him, their jaws hanging open in disbelief. "Girlfriend?!"

He sighed, already dreading the uproar they're about to cause. Tsukishima was a private person and rarely talked about his personal life as he maintained a firm work-life boundary. It was not like he was embarrassed to introduce his girlfriend to them; he just perceived the entire ordeal to be troublesome as his colleagues would jump at any chance to find something to tease him about.

Y/N straightened herself and bowed. "Nice to meet you, I'm Y/N. Thank you very much for taking care of Kei - I mean - Tsukishima all this time."

"I can't believe this!" One of his kouhais wailed. "To think that an office drone like Tsukishima-senpai has a girlfriend, and a very pretty one at that. So what the hell am I exactly doing wrong?"

"Believe me, I could tell you everything that you need to hear," Tsukishima retorted and shot his kouhai a dagger-like glare.

One of his senpais, a man who looked to be in his late 30's, leaned over and flicked his kouhai on the forehead as he winced in response. "Stop bad-mouthing Tsukishima when his girlfriend's literally standing in front of you. Anyway, nice to meet you, Y/N!"

They instantaneously began bombarding her with questions such as "how did you two meet", "how long have you been together", "what do you do for a living", and "of all men, why Tsukishima." Unable to keep up with what almost seemed like an interrogation by his colleagues, Y/N smiled sheepishly and shot Tsukishima a pleading look, silently begging him to bail her out.

"That's enough, all of you. You're creeping the poor lady out." Y/N turned to the man that sat at the head of the table; he exuded authority which practically gives himself away as the boss. Bringing up a cup of sake to his lips, he took a sip and eyed his subordinates sternly, yet the amusement in his gaze was palpable as he shifted his attention to Y/N. "Sorry about that, we just didn't expect our lone wolf Tsukishima to have a girlfriend, so we're all excited to meet you. If you don't mind, maybe you can join us, Y/N?"

"Sir-" Tsukishima began to protest as he felt the work-life boundary he stubbornly maintained begin to crumble; but to his surprise, Y/N seemed keen on accepting the invitation, a bashful smile on her face.

"I'd be happy to, but I wouldn't want to impose-"

"You won't, don't worry about it!" He assured dismissively and proceeded to order another round of drinks and accompanying snacks. "It's a pleasure of ours to get to know you and finally get a glimpse of Tsukishima's life outside of work."

Flattered and amused at how especially eager they seemed to know more about their enigmatic colleague and his girlfriend, Y/N gratefully accepted the invitation. "Alright, a few drinks wouldn't hurt."

*****

"Okay, I remember that much...but it still doesn't explain why you're so pissed," Y/N mused, listening earnestly to Tsukishima as he filled her in on what seemed like a disastrous night of revelry caused by her drunken antics.

He sighed and took off his glasses to rub his temples, the events that transpired the night before seemingly traumatizing him. "That's because you got carried away, you idiot."

*****

A couple of shots was all it needed for Y/N to become fully accustomed with Tsukishima's colleagues and pretty soon, they were chattering away like long-time friends while he fixated his gaze on her, his eyebrows furrowing in mild displeasure.

Aren't they becoming a little bit too friendly with her? And Y/N's just two shots in and she's already starting to get tipsy. Geez, this is so troublesome.

"Hey, one at a time please! I'll answer your questions one by one," Y/N instructed quite giddily, Tsukishima gazing at her in concern as she downed her third shot. He didn't want to be a buzzkill especially when she seemed to genuinely enjoy his colleagues' company and vice versa; however, her alcohol tolerance was remarkably low and it didn't take much for her to become fully inebriated. He decided to keep a watchful eye on her instead to prevent any incident from occurring due to her drunken antics.

"So, how and when did you two meet?"

"Kei and I go way back in high school," Y/N began as everyone at the table listened to her attentively. "He was part of our school's volleyball team and looked so cool as he played! That's when I started to have a crush on him, but it was one-sided though."

And there goes her filter, Tsukishima thought to himself, concealing his exasperation by downing his cup of sake, trying as best as he can to drown out the uproar his colleagues caused at her revelation.

"No way! Tsukishima-senpai was a volleyball player? I just can't imagine that!" One of his kouhais exclaimed, completely perplexed at the thought.

Tsukishima was about to reply with another snide remark, but Y/N was quick to interject. "Hell yeah he was, and he's such a great middle blocker to boot. He played so calmly as he read his opponent's moves...ahhh that composure of his is what makes him so cool!"

While he appreciated her attempt to defend his honor, it only increased everyone's amusement as she fawned over him, much to his chagrin. "So Y/N-" One of his senpais grinned sneakily, and Tsukishima pretty much figured out what the next inquiry will be about. "-who confessed to whom?"

"Oh, that takes me way back!" She mused, leaning against the man in question who sat right next to her. "I didn't have the courage to confess since he seemed so unapproachable and indifferent, so I thought about giving up on him. But as we became seniors, we ended up in the same class and became quite close. Eventually, during our graduation ceremony, Kei pulled me aside and confessed! I was so shocked that I started crying and...well, the rest is history."

"So it was Tsukishima here who confessed!" One of his senpais beamed and threw an arm around his shoulder, clinking his sake cup with his. "The revelations just keep on coming and coming."

"But that's amazing though," their boss remarked, completely engrossed in the conversation as much as his subordinates were. "You've been together for such a long time now. It's pretty rare for high school sweethearts to last that long."

Y/N nodded earnestly and downed her fourth shot before Tsukishima had the chance to snatch it away from her hands. "I agree, but Kei is such a caring and thoughtful boyfriend! He may seem like a sour puss on the outside but he's reaaaaaally sweet and very very clingy! But shhhhh...don't tell him I said that, though."

Ugh great, now she's done it. Tsukishima almost had to cover his ears as everyone at the table guffawed, unable to stomach the idea of their placid colleague and the clingy boyfriend Y/N described being the same person. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping and praying for the evening to be over.

*****

Y/N cringed as Tsukishima helped her recall the things she had blurted out amid her inebriated state, starting to slowly understand the reason why he was so livid in the first place. "Okay...first of all, I am so sorry - with every fiber of my being - for embarrassing you like that-"

"That's not all you did," Tsukishima interjected quite menacingly and pinched the bridge of his nose in an attempt to keep his temper in-check. "As if that wasn't humiliating enough, you managed to exceed my expectations."

*****

A couple more shots later, Y/N was too far gone. She was completely wasted, and Tsukishima couldn't bear to look at his co-workers as they shot each other uneasy looks, the concern palpable in their wordless exchanges. He was utterly embarrassed yet frustrated at himself since she somehow managed to surpass her drinking limit despite being under his watchful eye.

"Heyyyyy, owner! Anotha' round of sake for this table right here, and put it on my tab!"

As Y/N made an attempt to leave the table, she accidentally knocked over a half-empty glass of water, the liquid spilling all over the table as a result. Giggling to herself while Tsukishima's colleagues scrambled to remove their belongings from the table, she attempted to grab a bottle of sake, but he swiftly withheld her attempt to do so, yanking it out of her reach.

"Okay, enough is enough," he reprimanded firmly, setting the bottle down on the table and bringing his face close in an attempt to get through to her. "Y/N, for the love of God, please get ahold of yourself."

"Tsukkiiii...you're hereee!" It was futile, Y/N's glassy eyes an indicator that she was in no condition to listen to reason. She smiled goofily and threw herself into his arms, the sheer force causing Tsukishima to stumble, his arm accidentally knocking over a glass to the floor as it completely shattered as a result.

"Shit! I'm so sorry, did anyone get hurt?" He exclaimed in a state of uncharacteristic panic, his arms struggling to support his drunken mess of a lover as she began mumbling unintelligibly to herself.

"We're good, Tsukishima. Don't worry about it," his boss assured. "But, I think it's best if you take her home, she doesn't look too good."

Yes, good call, that's one way to put it. Goddammit, this is too fucking embarrassing.

Pretty soon, the izakaya's owner approached the group amid the commotion, and with Tsukishima sincerely apologizing and swearing to pay for the damages, he also insisted on paying for the entire group's bill to compensate, but they turned down his offer, advising him and Y/N to get themselves home safely.

Tsukishima thought that the nightmare had ended; apparently, Y/N had more in store as she tapped his boss' shoulder, staring down at him in an attempt to look stern. "Hey sirrrr...can you lay off Tsukki sometimes? 'Cuzzzz...he comes home waaayyyy too late and we barely have enough time to get down and dir-"

"NOOO!" Tsukishima cried out in horror, completely and utterly humiliated as he scrambled to clamp his hand over Y/N's mouth in an attempt to salvage what's left of both of their dignities. However, the force caused her to stagger, her unruly arm knocking over a bottle of sake atop the table. Tsukishima was unable to do anything as he hopelessly watched it topple over, the liquid spilling and trickling down on his boss' lap as he felt every ounce of his life force drain out of his body.

God, if you're listening, then please...I don't care how you do it, but I beg of you...just kill me now.

*****

"ARE YOU SERIOUS?!" Y/N wailed and buried her face in a pillow, unable to bring herself to look at Tsukishima as he unveiled the horrific experience he and his co-workers went through due to her drunken stupor. To say that she was embarrassed was a complete understatement; she was mortified, and it definitely was not an ideal first impression as she mourned for her long gone dignity. "Just kill me, please!"

Tsukishima was practically seething with rage at this point, wishing that the night before had just been a nightmare, yet it was nothing but a cruel reality. "You're embarrassed? How the hell do you think I feel? I lost count of the number of times I had to apologize before I hauled your drunken self home! You literally went crazy, Y/N! How careless, especially knowing that you can't handle alcohol well!"

She deserved to be scolded. Y/N lifted her head from the pillow and looked up at him, her eyes prickling with tears as she wallowed in her shame. "Kei...I'm so sorry. You're right, I was careless and I embarrassed you in front of your co-workers. I really didn't mean to! Oh my god...what if you got fired-" It must have been the after-effects of her hangover that made her an emotional mess as she felt tears running down her face, berating herself for acting in such a distasteful manner - in public and in front of his colleagues, at that.

Tsukishima deeply sighed to regain his composure. He settled down next to his lover on the couch, his hand rubbing across her back as he tried to calm her down. "Don't be ridiculous. I won't get fired over something like that, the boss isn't that shallow. He even called me up as soon as we got home to ask how you were doing."

At his gesture, Y/N bawled even harder, the tears streaming endlessly down her face. "I'm really sorry for ruining your night. I promise that I won't do it again."

"Y/N," Tsukishima began and tipped up her chin, locking his golden eyes with her puffy ones. "Look, I'm even more upset that you weren't being careful. I won't stop you from drinking, but you've got to be more aware of your own limitations. What if I wasn't there with you? What if you were alone and there was no one you trusted to take care of you?"

He's right, I'm such an idiot. I sure as hell won't be drinking anytime soon especially after last night's debacle!

She only managed a nod, sniffing profusely as she fished out her handkerchief to wipe her tear-stained face. "I'm so sorry, Kei. I swear that I'll be careful next time."

"You better be, you drunkard," he playfully retorted, the corners of his mouth subtly twitching upwards at how undeniably adorable she was being.

"So...you're not mad anymore?" Y/N inquired softly, looking up at Tsukishima with pleading eyes. While his earlier rage was now long gone, he did go through quite an ordeal, and he wasn't keen on letting her off the hook that easy as he wickedly grinned at her.

Oh, shit. I don't like that look.

"Sorry Y/N, but you're not getting off that easy. You did humiliate the both of us after all," he stated deviously, his smile widening at the uneasy expression on her face. "So for the next two weeks, you'll be doing all the household chores, and you're on bathroom cleaning duty for the entire month."

She sighed and nodded defeatedly. It was definitely a pain, but Y/N was resolute on serving her punishment to atone for what she did. However, she couldn't help but feel relieved since she had expected something way worse; doing all the household chores seemed quite tame in comparison to what she had imagined.

But then again, this was Tsukishima, and as he sensed her apparent relief, he laid out the pinnacle of her punishment, unable to fight off the sadistic grin on his face. "And, as soon as you're not hungover anymore, we'll be paying each of my colleagues a visit so you can sincerely apologize for what you did."

Y/N gawked at him, her heart dropping to her stomach. "C-come again?" He's not serious. He can't be...right? Right?!

"You heard me." Tsukishima was dead serious. She knew that something was amiss with his household chores punishment; he may be her boyfriend, but he definitely was a sadistic bastard if he needed to be.

"NOOO!" She wailed, completely mortified at the prospect as she began hitting him with the pillow, her hangover being the least of her concerns. "Please Kei, anything but that! I'd rather not meet them again for the rest of my living days, so please!"

Tsukishima chuckled and stilled her movements, staring her down to show just how serious he was. "Well, that just means that this punishment is befitting, right? At least now you'll think twice before letting yourself get wasted again. This will be a good learning experience for you."

Y/N knew that there was no other way to escape from her upcoming predicament. Completely at a loss, she only managed to shoot Tsukishima the harshest glare that she could muster. "Fine. If it will make you happy, you sadistic bastard."

Knowing that he had emerged victorious for this round, he let out a carefree laugh and planted an affectionate kiss atop her disheveled hair. "I appreciate it. Now, let's get that hangover treated real quick."

[chocosvt]

connect universe

⚬ pairing: cyborg!hansol x reader | future!au ⚬ word count: 4315 ⚬ warnings: alcohol consumption, violence ⚬ genres: angst, heavy fluff, elements of a futuristic/dystopian society.

✧✎ synopsis: hansol’s first time at an underground party isn’t what you expect it to be. you want to acquaint him with what it’s like to live normally, but the fabric of his past continues to control him.

✧✎ a/n: this is a side story to connect! i recommend you read the original fic first if you haven’t already (link is here) i rly luv this universe and i didn’t want to just stow it away!! i’ll expand on it more in the future (pun whoops)

You didn’t understand how anyone could look at Hansol and interpret him as someone malignant, someone evil. He was anything but a menace, and during the progression of your relationship you came to realize that his gentle nature was often a curse rather than a blessing. It brought you to ache, because he let people walk over him. Hansol had become so accustomed to brutal temperament that he rarely even lifted his finger to those who refused him and belittled him and reduced him to his bionic parts.

The worst part was, Hansol hated when you defended him. He would crinkle into himself like he’d just heard an ear-piercing scream and then grasp onto your wrist, shaking it, begging you to drop the argument because it was worthless. Even if you didn’t see it that way, his pleading was so genuine and desperate that you had no choice but to swallow the bullet on your tongue. Nonetheless, you practiced everything in your power to make him feel love, to understand love, that it wasn’t some weapon of faked promises but the deepest sentiment you had ever felt. “I know what love is because I have you, Hansol.”

When he first moved in with you, he experienced many nightmares, in which he’d slam awake in bed with his fists crumpling at the sheets, every circuit beneath his skin thundering in a bright, icy blue. His right leg would be jittering so quickly that you feared its bionics might burn out. But Hansol never dreamed of his chiefly horrendous past when you held him in your arms. And so every night you would press his head to your chest, feeling him squeeze around your waist while you stroked through the soft fibres of his hair until he fell asleep. Hansol thought he understood love a little more when you did that.

He was learning news joys and pleasures that he’d been reprieved of while contained in the laboratories.  One evening you found a stray kitten stumbling around through some newspapers in an alley, and brought her home to clean up. But what was most shocking was when you placed the kitten in the sink.

Hansol peered over your shoulder, his eyes violet and beaming lowly. “What is that?” He then asked, flinching slightly when the kitten opened its tiny mouth to squeak.

It was an unprecedented type of astounding. How could Hansol not know what a kitten is? However, the more you spoke with Yoojung’s father (responsible for fixing much of the cyborg’s faulty wiring and circuits) you realized Hansol didn’t know much about being a person. What he did know was fear.

“That’s what happens when you grow up in a lab with a bunch of Metal Surgeons and Circuit Technicians. You never were a person, and you’re not yet a cyborg either. You’re an experiment.” He told you.

And with those chilling words chiseled to the underside of your flesh, you adapted an extra attentive level of care when it came to Hansol. You taught him how to handle the kitten without accidentally crushing it in his iron-reflexes, how to brush her fur and tease her with a small toy and give her baths once she’d roll around in the garden. After coming home from a tiresome day at work, almost nothing else could match the happiness you felt upon seeing Hansol asleep on the couch, the kitten curled in a fluffy ball against his chest. She liked to mush her face against his bicep whenever he cradled her in his firm arms.

“He’s so gentle,” you expressed to Yoojung’s father, “he won’t even kill a spider.”

The man flipped up his welding helmet. He gave you a stern look, as though you should know to speak better, and suddenly there was this sickly pounding of your heart.

“The boy is gentle, and you’re not incorrect to think that. But don’t curse yourself by being naïve. He has that switch in him.”

“So does everyone.” You had countered, a shiver tickling down your neck.

“Not everyone is designed the way he is,” Yoojung’s father reasoned, setting down his torch, “no matter what, Hansol is not entirely human. He is devoid of feeling many emotions to their fullest extent. You can associate sunshine on a rainy day with happiness, but that doesn’t mean happiness is what you feel. A  cyborg knows merely the word, not its sensation. I want you to think safe. Hansol knew anger and violence in that laboratory before he knew compassion. It’s wired into his mechanics.”

That day, you left the garage with Hansol as this enormous lump sat in your throat. You examined the chronicles of your relationship.

Not once had the boy ever gotten angry or displayed contempt. Even when your kitten gave Hansol his first scratch, he recoiled in sadness, confusion, rather than an immediate instinct to be forceful. He asked you what he did wrong, and you had to hug him tighter than ever before while he teared up, because he genuinely didn’t comprehend that it wasn’t his fault, that the kitten just didn’t want to be held at that time. You thought about when Hansol kissed you, how he’d always guide you to lay on your back, just his fingertips rubbing softly against your waist because he was so afraid that you might not want him closer. Of course, you always did, to which he would emanate pink at your encouragement.

“If there ever comes a time when you need to deescalate Hansol, I suggest you pin-jack him.” Yoojung’s father had cautioned just before you left the garage.

“Pin-jack?” You questioned. “What’s that?”

He searched his toolbox and picked up a screwdriver with a flat tip. “Anything that can be inserted into the sensory slot at the back of his neck. If you manage to touch his chip, it’ll momentarily reset his data board. He might be delirious coming to, so you must be careful.”

Pin-jack, you scoffed inside your head as you walked home with Hansol, I’ll never have to do that.

“I think we’re getting close. Yoojung said the portal should be under the Interstitial Bridge.”

Hansol followed you, trusting your judgement as you gleaned the instructions Yoojung had earlier sent in a text message. It was difficult to differentiate much in the nighttime, especially when the Interstitial Bridge was located more toward the outskirts of the Nexus. There was hardly any luminosity apart from the moon and the few blue lightning bugs that sparked between the dark seams. Furthermore, it was difficult for Hansol to understand much of your words when the floodgate had been opened, for the concrete trough that was usually dry and empty was now gushing with contaminated city water.

Just up ahead, you could detect the silhouette of the bridge.

The portal must be under it. You knew it was wise to act quickly considering the portal’s location switched every hour, a simple safety precaution in order to spurn the Stargazers. They always attempted to shut down much of the inconspicuous activity that took place outside the eyes of the Nexus. You were anxious, but excited to say the least. This would be Hansol’s first time attending an underground party. It was extremely difficult to receive an invitation let alone successfully pinpoint an entrance portal unless the host themselves gave you the instructions on how to discover it. Yoojung managed to secure herself an invite, and extended the text containing the portal’s location to you and Hansol.

“I think I see it!” You squeaked triumphantly and grabbed onto Hansol’s hand.

Together, you ran beneath the bridge. Embedded into the misty stone was an oval-shaped hole, outlined in a glowing hue of amethyst. The black centre of the portal seemed to ripple and convulse, and every so often there would be an orange flicker against the blackness. You weren’t sure how Hansol was going to respond to such an environment: loud music, dim, flashy lights, the suffocating closeness of unfamiliar bodies, air that constantly grew thicker with humidity, it definitely wasn’t to everyone’s liking. But you figured Hansol would appreciate your offer rather than insisting he stay boxed into your home, unable to experience anything which may help move him from his self-loathing.

“Have you ever been through a portal before?” You asked him.

Hansol shook his head. “No, never.”

There was a faint shimmer of worry in his eyes. You smoothed a hand down his neck and leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his mouth, hoping to reassure him.

“I’m not going to let go of your hand, okay? I promise.”

You stepped into the portal first. It was much like shifting through quicksand, for it was something smooth yet heavy, and the further you pushed into the blackness the colder it felt. Eventually, the portal filled with a blinding white light that swallowed around you, yet you squeezed your eyes shut and persisted, your fingers still interlaced with Hansol’s. No more than a second later did you sense the brightness dissipate, and when you opened your eyes, you were met with the vivacious party. You had emerged underneath a metal staircase, to which there was the loud clattering of heels and shoes walking up and down. When you looked at Hansol, he appeared a bit disoriented, but smiled nonetheless.

“Let’s go find Yoojung.” You whispered into his ear.

The atmosphere was quite intense for Hansol. It seemed as though his mechanics were spinning on overdrive, attempting to process such an influx of sound and warm bodies and scents. He stuck close to you as best he could. He was able to relax upon reuniting with Yoojung, for your touches to his arm weren’t met with rigidity and he even accepted a pineapple cocktail from a whirring hover-disk.

Though that didn’t signify he was completely subdue. A few people had managed to note the code tattooed just in front of Hansol’s ear, and while no one pitched a concerning comment, you could tell the boy had felt uneasy from their blatant, often unconscious stares, how they probed every inch of his body attempting to discover all his bionic scarring and accessories. You tended to pull him away and keep him distracted by the other means pertaining to nightlife and underground partying. For a little while you danced undisturbed, which allowed you to discover Hansol’s great sense of rhythm as he twirled you around and guided your hips and swooped you in close against his chest.

“Are you having fun, Sollie?” You murmured, holding onto his shoulders.

He pressed his forehead to yours, kissed you with a zealous edge of roughness and a smirk. You took that as confirmation, and you danced until it became hard to breathe.

But then trouble seemed to take shape in a form you least expected: Changkyun.

Once you and Hansol rediscovered Yoojung near the bar where she had been sipping a brilliant, lime green beverage, you sensed a pair of fingertips slide up your back and turned around uncomfortably. Your expression quickly morphed into shock when you were greeted by Changkyun’s dreary, smiling face, a heavy stench of alcohol radiating from his clothing. You hadn’t been on the best terms with Changkyun. He was never able to adjust to your breakup very well, and there was a reason Yoojung had also begun to distance herself from him. He smiled at you, mumbled something you didn’t quite catch.

“Changkyun,” Yoojung cautioned, setting down her drink, “I think you should clean yourself up a bit and head home. Minghao can open a portal for you.”

He ignored her. Instead, his foggy gaze was allured to you. “So, I take it you’re still w’Hansol?” He slurred despite the boy standing right next to you.

You didn’t answer his question, repeating, “I think you should go.”

“If I had known you’d throw our whole relationship away just to end up w’someone whose half-metal,” Changkyun scoffed, “I never would’ve dated you.”

Hansol stiffened at your side, his eyes wide.

“Changkyun,” Yoojung snapped, “you need to go. Now.”

“What?” The boy persisted defensively, as though he were innocent, with not one inkling as to why he was being dealt this cold treatment. Changkyun approached Hansol and gave him a slight shove against his shoulders. “How come you’ve got nothing to say Bionic Brain? Did you short circuit?”

Something flickered in Hansol’s eyes, and yet he still didn’t crack, rather he merely swallowed and furrowed his brow. It boggled you that Hansol was able to control his temperament, because you were certainly fuming. You stepped in between them and tried maneuvering Changkyun to the side. He stumbled a bit since his coordination had been utterly shredded by the copious alcohol in his system, though his glare never separated from Hansol. Right when you believed the situation was deescalating, you sighed in relief and exchanged a tiresome glance with Yoojung; however, Changkyun had managed to once again press himself right next to the boy and your heart dropped.

“Y’know what they say,” Changkyun hissed between his teeth, “they made you a cyborg because you never would’ve been good enough as a human.”

And with that, Changkyun gave a rough bump to Hansol’s shoulder. The only difference was that he lost his opportunity to walk away unscathed. This shroud of fear gripped onto you tight, rendered you paralyzed, unable to even wriggle a finger as the indifferent light in Hansol’s eyes had been demolished. Instead, his gaze was blazing. It burst into a bloodied shade of red that you had never seen before. The usually invisible circuits lining his neck and cheek started to glow in the same colour, and as Hansol curled his fingers through the collar of Changkyun’s shirt, pinning him hard against the edge of the bar, you saw that the wires in his right forearm were transmitting signals at tenfold their regular speed.

“What did you just fucking say?” Hansol growled, though you could hardly recognize his voice. It had a metallic, almost vibrational undertone. It was sharper, completely stripped of its soft grit, rife with vitriol.

Changkyun squirmed helplessly, like fresh prey caught between its predator’s jaws. Not even Yoojung was able to move, for she was in the same boat as you, unbeknownst to Hansol’s aggression and the seething hatred that he maintained for Changkyun in his eyes. Somehow, you managed to snap from your trance when Changkyun tried to knock Hansol with a punch, though the cyborg easily grasped his wrist and began twisting his entire arm. You grabbed onto Hansol, attempting to push him away, battering against his side in desperation, begging him to stop with panicked tears glued against your cheeks.

Your ex-boyfriend released a horrible cry, as though Hansol were going to break his bone. No matter what you did, Hansol’s strength was akin to steel, it was unparalleled.

It forced you to confront your only option.

Digging into your pocket you retrieved a small nail file. You didn’t allow yourself to think, rather you braced a hand against the back of Hansol’s neck and dug the nail file deep into his sensory slot, as far as the blunt metal could reach until it touched his chip and there was a blipping spark. Yoojung gasped as the colour suddenly melted from Hansol’s gaze. Every circuit beneath his synthetic flesh dimmed and his arms dropped rather lifelessly to his sides. Changkyun didn’t hesitate. He scrambled his way out from underneath Hansol, his chest heaving, sweat glistening on his temples and fear engrained into his face.

It wasn’t until you pushed against Hansol’s neck in order to withdraw the nail file that you realized how terribly you were shaking. The boy’s grey eyes flickered, and you knew he was going to reboot.

“We need to get him out of here,” Yoojung said, wrapping an arm around his waist, “it’s not good for his database to restart in a setting like this.”

Dropping the nail file on the floor, the tears still wet against your cheeks, you assisted Yoojung in helping Hansol walk. Changkyun had disappeared into the shadows.

Yoojung was able to discover Minghao on the balcony that overlooked the dance floor. It was troublesome guiding Hansol up the staircase since his delirium was so thick. He kept mumbling these indiscernible fragments while odd clicks and beeps reverberated from inside his body. You could feel how hot the metal beneath his skin had become, for even just brushing against his forearm was akin to ghosting an iron skillet. Minghao was the party host, and he had been the one to rearrange the portal. Yet, he didn’t seem eager to reopen another gateway so abruptly.

“It’s dangerous,” he began, his black, smooth suit shining against the lights, “the Stargazers have been breathing down my neck ever since my last terra. I’m a sliver away from getting put back in the Void.”

“I know,” Yoojung huffed, adjusting her grip around Hansol’s waist, “I swear, you can set a time limit on the portal for just a minute. That’s all we need to get him out safe.”

With the long, dark fringe shielding Minghao’s eyes, it was impossible to decipher his thinking. However, you did note his foot tapping against the floor. You didn’t know much about Minghao, apart from the fact he lived sumptuously and had managed to become one of the most suspicious citizens within the Nexus. Yoojung said he would be empathetic. Apparently, Minghao sustained irreparable damage to his left eye while being contained in the Void and her father had to fabricate a robotic replacement.

At last, Minghao sighed, running a hand down his face. “Alright, alright, I’ll open one.” He pulled up the sleeve of his suit. “But—you better get in and get the fuck out. I’m not going back there.”

Locked around the boy’s wrist was a silver titanium band. When he pressed his thumb against a slight groove, a series of amber dots gradually lit up around the bracelet.

“Command: open exit portal at sector D4-East, Z-Underground,” Minghao spoke so naturally, as though he knew the coordinates like the back of his palm, “Command: release at sector B2-West, Z-positive, BR-ITS. Time limit is one minute, zero seconds. Force shutdown.”

Minghao then shone his bracelet at the wall, where an amber beam pierced against the brick and opened an exit portal. Yoojung thanked him at least four times, to which he simply nodded and wished you luck with managing Hansol home safely. You pushed through the portal, sensing the coldness unforgivingly squeeze around you.

You sat on your bed, plucking at the tassels of a pillow in your lap. It was almost three in the morning and this sickness had been harbouring in your lower-tummy ever since the dispute at the bar. A shiver traced like the point of a knife down your spine as you kept visualizing that striking redness in Hansol’s gaze, a redness so harrowing and tinged with rage that you hugged the pillow to your chest for measly comfort.

But you knew it wasn’t just anger: pain, betrayal, the exhaustion of having to lace one’s own wounds while knowing they were going to split wide open again, these sentiments too flashed in that redness. A tear rolled down your cheek and splashed onto the pillow.

Yet there was a timid knock on your door, and you quickly wiped your face. Hansol entered your room. He had been laying on your couch ever since he returned home, allowing his mechanics to completely reconnect with his sensory chip. When he sat uncertainly on the edge of your bed, his right knee was already bouncing and there was a pale blue colouring his eyes.

“Are you feeling better?” You hummed, tracing the pillow’s embroidery.

Hansol nodded, looking at you peripherally. “I’m fine.”

There was an unmistaken coarseness to your voice. It was taking all your strength to not erupt into tears like you had done at the party. The feeling of digging that nail file into Hansol’s neck, jamming it so hard into his slot that his chip had sparked and this lifeless aura overwhelmed him, it made you nauseous.

You sniffled, squeezing the pillow tighter. “H-Hansol,” he turned to you with such a concerned countenance that your chest ached, “I’m sorry for pin-jacking you. I’m really sorry.”

The manner in which your tone warbled was heartbreaking. Hansol shook his head. He etched closer to you and extended his hand toward your knee, but his touch immediately withered away the second you flinched ever so slightly. Hansol felt like he’d burned himself.

“No,” he pleaded, “no, no, no. Don’t be sorry. I’m not mad at you. I could never be.” The ice in his eyes had seldom shone this brightly, and it only seemed to disturb more emotions inside you.

Hansol peered into his lap, then licked his lips and murmured in a shaky voice, “are you afraid of me?”

The question stunned you as though it were a daunting flash of light. Consequently, your mind had become hazy, and you struggled to articulate the words that could capture your every feeling. Hansol spoke up again, to which his right leg had finally stopped bouncing.

“I would never hurt you.” He met your gaze with utmost clarity. “I-I can’t promise that I won’t hurt other people… Just… I would never hurt you, ever.”

Your fingertips curled far into the pillow and you could almost hear the blood pumping in your own veins. There was no doubt he was speaking truthfully. You knew Hansol wouldn’t harm you.

“If I had never used my nail file,” you gulped heavily and held eye contact, “would you have done it? Would you have broken his arm?” Somehow, you already suspected the answer.

Hansol nodded. “I wish I could tell you the answer that would make you happy, but I can’t lie to you. I know that makes you uncomfortable. I’m sorry.”

Tossing the pillow aside, you sat up straight and shook your head. “It’s not about me, Hansol,” you relayed with urgence, “everything about this night is a lot to process. I don’t know anything about your anger, or what being a cyborg entails. But what I know is that you’re hurting. You keep this darkness inside and you shouldn’t.”

“Because if I don’t people will get hurt!” He exclaimed, clenching his fists while the circuits beneath his forearm and cheek illuminated with lurid colour. “That switch is part of me. They designed me to have it and I can’t rid myself of it! ”

You were fortunate to have not one experience with the laboratories. And yet, Hansol had been tainted since he was a child. He experienced the forefront of their cruelty and their invasive experimenting. He was altered and tapered and tested on. Rinse, repeat. Rinse, repeat. Hansol was open about many things exempt from his time at the facilities. His journal was the precious tool that captured his every secret.

The boy then gripped onto his right knee, which started trembling once more, his eyes tenuously flickering into a rose shade. “Whenever I feel like I’m slipping… I think about you, and my anger goes away. But that club—it was so loud, so many distractions, so many people and conversations. My sensors haven’t been overwhelmed like that in ages.”

You leaned forward with a great exhale, your hand curling around the boy’s inner thigh to comfortingly squeeze. “Baby, if it was too much, then you should have said something to me.” Cupping his cheek and turning his head toward you, his eyes were rather glossy.

“I wanted to try it,” Hansol huffed, “I just want to be with you, and do things you like.”

Tracing your thumb below his eye, you couldn’t help but sigh again. For someone with an impressive installment of metal components, his heart couldn’t be any more tender than it already was. You swore that if you poked it, your finger might sink right through as though you touched something impossibly soft and squishy. A shy smile gradually danced to the corners of his mouth as you kissed him once, then twice, then wrapped your arms around his neck and suckled the remaining flavour of sweet pineapple from his tongue. You pressed your forehead against his, studying his face with such ardour.

“We can do things you like too, y’know.”

Hansol sniffled. “I like playing with Ppomo.”

Only a moment later, and your kitten was slipping between the thin gap in the doorway. She leapt onto the bed and mewled in her high-pitched tone, most likely imploring for someone to scratch the black and cream fur behind her ear. Ppomo’s favourite place seemed to be Hansol’s lap (you’d have to agree with her on that one) for she curled up in a small ball while he drew a gentle hand along her back. Resting your head against Hansol’s shoulder, you joined him in the petting until she fell asleep.

You thought about what Yoojung’s dad had drawled on that particular day you visited his garage, hoping to get some of Hansol’s mechanisms tweaked: a cyborg knows merely the word, not its sensation.

But you didn’t think that was necessarily true. Instead, you believed it was more accurate to say that Hansol could pinpoint many sensations, he just didn’t know what they were. He learned it was love when you held him and kissed him, happiness when he made Ppomo purr, excitement when he twirled your body in a breathtaking circle before pulling you into his chest on the dancefloor.

And you intended to teach him the name of every sensation that allowed him to feel so wonderful.

✧✎ a/n: awhile ago i answered an ask abt my expansion of the connect universe so if that lovely human reads this, i hope you liked it!! i’m not really sure where these fics into hansol’s attempts at human life will take me. 

maybe i will write an entire fic that details his time at the laboratory... i’m not sure yet!! in the mean time i’m trying to write this mingyu summer fic which i wanted to write last year, but ya... dreams crushed didn’t happen :_) ANYWAYS I HOPE U LOVE CYBORG!SOL AS MUCH AS ME he just wants to pet his kitten!!!!

[itsjulesharper]

So here we are. The finale of Season 2. I hope you’re sitting down because there is A LOT to unpack in this ep. So let us get right to it without further ado.

We begin with Montespan in her rooms, in tears, topless and furiously scrubbing herself from a basin. It is clear she is frantic and upset, and on one hand I really really feel for her because we all know what it’s like to get in over your head and let emotions overrule common sense in love (we do….DON’T WE??) So it is pretty much over Red Rover for her. On the other hand… good God, woman. Did you seriously think you would stay in favour for ever? That Louis would love you above all others? Did creepy father Etienne not give you that weird ‘fuck no!’ gut feeling at all??

So then we flash to Agathe who is in her home and doing some kind of meditation/praying thing (her rooms are actually quite decent and I wonder at what level she’s at on the ladder of respectability). Cut to a scene of guards on horses riding and Marchal-to-the-rescue as they gallop through the fields. Obvs on their way to arrest the witch – yay! He shoves open the door and she remains seated, eyes closed, as if she hasn’t even heard them enter. The guards surround her chair and Marchal watches her closely, then turns the tarot card on the table. The Labyrinth we saw before. She opens her eyes, says, “I’ve been expecting you.” Marchal is unimpressed, asks if she can predict her own future, then orders the guards to search the room and that’s their cue to basically trash the place. They find a trunk, the box with the poisons, and a disc-thingy with a pentagram on it, which Marchal smashes. Then a notebook is discovered – her little black book of clients. As Marshal scans it, he sees Sophie’s name, swallows and looks a bit… worried? Taken aback? Disappointed? Thoughtful? Hard to tell. But it does affect him. Agathe smirks: “found a friend of yours?” Unimpressed Marchal is unimpressed and he orders a guard to bind her.

I am SO Liselotte right now.

Now we are outside in the gardens of Versailles, with Thomas doing a reading of his prose to an audience and UGH I am really hating his smug little weasel face, knowing what he’s done with Philippe and knowing he didn’t do it because of any affection or need. *burns him in effigy*.

We see Philippe with Liselotte by his side, looking mighty unimpressed (sames, Madame. Sames). Louis looks back at Maintenon. Thomas finishes his blah-blah, they all clap and Marchal approaches.  Louis praises Thomas and Thomas-the-weasel smiles his shitty little smug smile UGH *smashes his face*.

Look at him. That is one backpfeifengesicht if ever I saw one.

 Louis is well pleased: “your love of detail and fidelity to the truth can only be applauded, Thomas.” Does Philippe agree with this awesomeness? “Makes French breasts burst with pride, brother.” And OMG that truly FILTHY look Liselotte gives Philippe. I just can’t even 😂  Louis finishes with, “one day soon, I shall reward you in full.” which sounds quite ominous and creepy and I wonder if on some level, Thomas kind of knows that his cover is blown. But still, he smiles and is all “thank you, Sire,” and then Louis looks to Marchal and we are back to secret spy business. The Queen glances at Maintenon and I am wondering if she knows about the garden snogging. Surely someone has told her by now? Louis, Marchal and Bontemps make a huddle under a really nice garden canopy and see CHAIRS WITH ARMS that should not be there but hold that thought because they’re now talking about Agathe. Potions have been found, plus satanic materials. Louis is all, “bring her to me,” and Marchal is “to the palace?”

Hell, yeah. Louis is all about never showing fear to the devil and I could spend pages making screen caps of Marchal’s expressions, so full of thought yet revealing nothing. Marchal hands over the client book and Louis looks taken aback. Agathe is the source of the poisons. “How many were involved?” Louis wants to know, but there are too many to count, which we see as Louis flicks through page after page of names and details….aaaaaand his gaze falls upon a familiar name. The Duc de Luxembourg. THEN….. there it is.

Marquise de Montespan. And Louis cannot quite believe it.  He looks up from the book, across the gathered nobles, and watches Montespan in a subdued gown, standing on the edges as if already an outcast, looking from the outside in at all the favoured ones. You can see him thinking, going back through his memories to all the times she could have possibly snuck him something, got him to take drugs… all the opportunities she had. I think he’s a bit shook.

CUE INTRO MUSIC FOR THE LAST TIME THIS SEASON.

The guards bring Agathe into a private room with Marchal, Louis and Bontemps, and she offers a deep and mocking bow, to which Bontemps is offended. “You would be advised to show respect.” Yeah, nup. Agathe is all smirky and smug and hey, here’s another one whose face is in need of a slap. “You stand accused of witchcraft and sorcery,” Louis says tightly. Unsurprisingly. she pleads guilty on both counts. She is not a person to snivel and beg. She seems to me someone who would proudly claim all the deeds she is charged with. She claps back with, “to what do you stand accused? Tyranny? Arrogance? Vanity?” Louis ain’t biting, instead asking about Montespan. “Her hands are clean,” Agathe says. “She came to me for a love potion.” She laughs. “Don’t try and tell me it didn’t work?” Louis slowly circles her. “I would have expected more humility in your predicament.” Ah, but she already knows her fate. She laughs again: “They tell me Good Friday is an apt time for a sacrifice.” Louis is quite a bit offended that she is ridiculing her maker. But Agathe doesn’t care; she does not seek forgiveness: “I am not the sinner here. You and your Lord have no dominion in my world.” Which is quite a good comeback for people who want to push their religious beliefs upon those who do not follow that faith, but in 17th century France it is not really a smart idea to shun the church so publicly. Especially to Louis. “We are equals, you and I,” she goes on, almost pityingly. “You cannot choose to be born a king. Anymore than I choose to be a pauper.” That simply ENRAGES Louis and he yells back: “I am chosen by GOD!” Agathe raises her voice too: “Your Lord giveth and he will taketh away. History will record your fleeting moment in blood! A tide is coming that will SWEEP YOU AWAY!” (OMG this is so powerful, it gave me chills!) Louis studies her a moment then steps back, says calmly, “All of Versailles will see you burn for this.” Agathe gets a little ranty, says “I will not be vanquished while my agents are at large.” (oooh, Louis’ expression, knowing she has more people working for her…) She gets louder, saying how she has sewn the seeds of sedition and is going to turn everything into… I dunno what because Bontemps suddenly loses his shit, steps forward and does what we all want to do and slaps her across the face. As she’s dragged from the room, she yells, “A TIDE!” and then she’s gone and Louis looks at Marchal and says, “find who they are.” Then we cut to Agathe being led through the palace, through the salons, and everyone turns to watch this display, some with “OH SHIT” expressions, and she smirks at Gaston and Montespan as she gets hustled out. Gaston mumbles, “show a brave face. So there can be no suspicion.” But Montespan ain’t having that. Or him. She wants nothing more to do with him. It’s over and nothing can be proven. (RLY?) In time it will all be forgotten, apparently. (RLY????) Gaston disagrees. He moves off as everyone else is stuck in gossipy whispers.

Ah, and it is evening and we are with Cassel who is coughing up blood in his bed. Man, he looks really bad. I guess that’s what slowly being poisoned will do to you. Sophie steps to the bed, asking what he will have her do. “Water, please,” he rasps, looking all haggard and on his last legs. She serves him, helps him drink and it is clear she is quite upset about it. Poor thing. She looks torn, and I am really liking the depth of humanity she shows. She could have been written as cold and determined: considering what Cassel did to her, I would not have been surprised. But instead her character remains true to her heart and she is feeling remorse and conflict with her actions.

We are back in Louis’ bedchamber with Bontemps, Marchal and the little black book of Agathes’. Bontemps is frustrated – he says Hercules rid himself of the hydra by chopping off all its’ heads. Louis throws down the book in frustration and stomps out, and we next see Montespan asleep in her bed. Louis suddenly enters and she slowly sits up, cautious. His Majesty has come to the wrong room, perhaps? Louis says nup, it was def. you I came to see. And of course, Montespan is weirded out and wondering what he is up to. He leans in on the bed, staring at her. “It has been a long time.” Montespan replies: “Not since you have been with another woman.” Yeah, nup. She’s wrong – Louis has been occupied. “With Madame Scarron?” AHHHH, now SOMEONE notices! But apparently that is careless talk, and “She is Madame de Maintenon now.” OF COURSE SHE IS. Of course, everyone will think you are shagging her, now she has a fancy title and chateau and stuffs. Then Louis holds out his hand to Montespan, even smiles and wiggles his fingers as she hesitates. “What have you been up to?” He asks casually and OMG the look on her face….. She slowly rises from the bed. “Keeping a low profile. Waiting. Hoping.” Louis replies: “The waiting is over,” and the brief smile on Montespan’s face gives me a sad. “I hope so,” she says, then circles him slowly. “I knew it,” she finally adds, with an almost smug smile. (UGH. Not sad anymore) “I know you better than anyone. I knew it was a lie when you said you did not love me.” He steps behind her, gently brushes her shoulders. Apparently everyone lies sometimes. Oh, but she has never lied about her feelings for him. But in other things? asks Louis. She turns to face him and declares, “I have nothing to hide.” Louis replies with “There is sin in thought as well as deed,” and he is so giving her a chance to confess right here, but she is gonna brazen it out. She has nothing to confess, except that she loves him. As Louis removes her nightshift she says she will do anything to have him back. Louis replies, “For that, you must tell me the truth.” Fully nekkid, Montespan slides back onto the bed, obvs thinking she can win him over with nekkid boobage and her magic vajayjay, saying, “come to me, my king. I will show you I have no secrets.” He gives her a brief look up and down, then crawls onto the bed over her, kissing up from her belly, then strokes back her hair, murmurs, “finally. The scales fall from my eyes.” She moves in to kiss him, and they do, then he holds her back and the grip on her face looks pretty uncomfortable. She gasps as he gets out, “and you have betrayed me for the last time.” (Louis getting his Darth Vader on, lulz). Then he pushes her face back, then shoves her legs aside in contempt and walks out as she curls up naked on the bed and cries. OKAY, she is not very cluey, is she? How can she not think at least something was off when he chooses to see her and starts talking about secrets after she JUST SAW Agathe arrested the same day? Maybe a, “hmmm…. he has rejected me, told me he didn’t love me, then Agathe the witch gets arrested and now he’s asking me about what secrets I am holding onto?” SUSPICIOUS, MUCH?

Next day, and Louis meets the duc de Luxembourg, all smiles and hellos. Eh-up, there’s gonna be some major shit going down now. And what a lovely scene this is, with Louis’ intelligence and gift for words really coming out here when he says he needs the Duc’s help with ‘a dilemma’.

Louis: I am in two minds how to deal with my enemies. Do I educate them or punish them? Luxembourg: Depends what they’ve done, Sire. Louis: (casually) Well, if I came upon information incriminating someone I trusted…. how should I deal with that betrayal? Luxembourg: (clearly unaware) There is only one way to deal with a traitor, Sire. Louis: (gently laughs) Even if it was someone like you?

*CLANG* The penny drops for Luxembourg. He knows. They stare at each other and Louis’ smile slowly falls away. Luxembourg’s expression goes from disbelief to distress and he starts to cry as he hangs his head. Louis says calmly. “If you tell me the truth, you can leave through that door.” (such a beautiful door it is, too. Look. I would want to take it with me, not gonna lie.) “If you do not, you will leave through that door.” His other option is, of course, still a beautiful door, but flanked with the king’s guards, so obvs not the smart choice.

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Glorious door to freedom

Glorious door to jail

I’ll take door number one, thanks, Eddie.

So now we hear Luxembourg’s reasons: “My wife’s father was obstructing our investments. She wished him dead.” The in-laws. Dammit. Those bastards. He heard about Agathe supplying poison and invited dear ol’ Dad around for supper. Louis says he is deeply saddened Luxembourg didn’t come to him… “I am a reasonable man. I always help those loyal to the crown.” Luxembourg snaps back with, “I fear you would not listen unless it was part of your plan!” Look at the shock on Louis’ face…. LOOK AT IT!

 “Because I frighten you?” Louis gets out. “Is that it? Because I am a tyrant?” Clearly, Agathe’s words have resonated. “You killed a nobleman in my palace.” Shit. Luxembourg cries, “I beg forgiveness, Sire! I will devote my life to your service without question.” Yeah….. Louis smiles at him, says he appreciates his honesty… “my friend.” Luxembourg thanks him, kisses Louis’ ring and steps to the unguarded door. Uh-uh. Not so fast. The doors open, the guards enter and yesssss….. Marchal enters too. Luxembourg is all WTAF??? but Louis says calmly, “do you really think I could let this go unpunished? After all I have given you?  FRANCE. REWARDS. HER LOYAL SERVANTS. AND SHE PUNISHES THOSE WHO BETRAY HER!” You go, Louis, getting all aggro and yelly and I Am The GODDAMN KING.  Luxembourg is removed and Louis says tightly to Marchal, “Strike now. Without mercy.” And the Marquise de Montespan? “Not yet.”

Now we have a fab montage of short scenes, with Marchal and guards (shout out to the lovely Cédric Vallet, who is Marchal’s Chief Musketeer), entering the rooms of nobles, dragging them from their beds and rounding them up from the salons. Women, men… all in chaos. We see a dude hurrying down a corridor, then locking himself in a salon, but the guards are inside and he gets grabbed and dragged away .. and can we stop for a moment to acknowledge Marchal casually sipping wine amidst all this arresting? LULZ. Montespan sees this, and Gaston slithers over, hisses, “They’re arresting half the court!” And she is all, “calm yourself. We two remain in the clear.” But for how much longer? He wants to make a tactical withdrawal but Montespan disagrees. She wants to “push ahead.” ……with what? Oh, I’m glad you asked. “There is one person who deserves punishment above all.” Gaston is freaked by another noble being dragged out, but Montespan, however, is so very cool.

New scene and urgent ominous music plays as we see a shot of the village and then Gaston in Agathe’s house, retrieving a bundle from a hidden hole in the roof. Then he’s back in his rooms at Versailles, brushes off Odile (?? Why is she grabbing him?) then opens the bundle, revealing bottles of poison. “What are going to do with them?” Odile asks. Gaston gets out: “Go get me something to drink.” She goes, but does not look happy.

We are now out in the gardens, on a pleasant stroll with Thomas (UGH) and Philippe. While the gardens are lovely, Thomas wants to know where they are going… somewhere private, away from prying eyes? Nah, Philippe is in more of a romantic mood, indicating a stone bench set against a row of hedges (which still looks fairly public, being in clear sight of strolling courtiers) and a valet with wine and noms. “What is life worth if you can’t bask in beauty? And talk about poetry? The words of love?” Thomas laments the fact that his words these days are military, all about the king’s ambitions. Ahhh, so here Philippe is planting the seed, because he still has to tell Thomas all that stuff Louis wanted him to, but without arousing Thomas’ suspicions. Philippe subtly flatters, saying Thomas is a poet, that he sees the reality behind the façade. He all-casual-like leans against Thomas as he launches into it: “take Versailles, for example. It is truly a triumph of style over substance. It has my brother written all over. Same goes for the war. He has you writing all that propaganda when the truth is, things are obviously in chaos.”

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He charms and flirts and touches Thomas’ hair, making Thomas laugh. It’s a very good effort. “Why would you withdraw all of your troops from Holland, when we all know that is where the real war is won or lost?” Yeah, Thomas’ expression indicates he’s noticed that little clue being dropped. But I’m not sure he knows he has been played. Then Thomas places his glass down, turns to kiss Philippe, and as Philippe shifts to get into it, says “the king expects me back in court.” Philippe looks at him, smiles: “We could just have sex if you’d rather.” Huh. Thomas smiles back. “Maybe later.” (and GTFO WITH THAT SHIT. He’s just not that into you, Philippe. He is soooo not down with the man love AT ALL. UGH. Because the only legitimate excuse for denying a prince is going above his head, claiming the king needs him) Thomas leaves and Philippe’s expression is all uggggh, dammit. Failed again. I don’t think he’s annoyed with the cockblocking, tbh. More like, “I need to keep him here, to convince him of this fake war story.” We see Thomas stomp off with such a shitty look on his face and I think that maybe he has swallowed that little story of Philippes’.

Maybe….. Maybe not. Because we are back with Cassel on his deathbed… He rasps, “Is that you, my dear…”  To which Thomas answers, “you must be losing your sight.” WTF Cassel has HIS EYES CLOSED. Cassel replies: “I can still detect a bad smell.” AHHH. Thomas is furious. “It was you, wasn’t it? You betrayed me to the king.” Cassel gets out: “Now why would you think that?” The Duc may be one step away from kicking the bucket, but is still sassy as hell.

So, Philippe’s jig is up. Totally. The spy was spied on and now he’s aware of the spy spying on him. But the second spy is still spying, thinking the original spy is still in spy-mode. Thomas says he knows because of a sudden enthusiasm for his company by a certain Monsieur and a “strong urge to divulge secrets of State.” I KNEW Philippe was coming on too strong! Thomas is quite angry, wants to know if Cassel betrayed him to the king, and I detect a certain outrage, and I am all a bit WTF, as if Cassel had any kind of loyalty to Thomas. Cassel starts to laugh and Thomas grabs him by the throat. “I warned you! Didn’t I?” And srsly, why would Cassel give one shit about Thomas blackmailing him when Cassel knows he is dying? I would totally do the same in Cassel’s shoes – snitching on the asshole who’s not only blackmailing him, but also shagging his wife. Although I’m not sure if he did it for the first reason more than the second. Whatever the reason, Thomas is going down and Cassel is pleased. Then we see Sophie approaching the rooms, and Thomas still chokes Cassel, then Sophie bursts in and shoves Thomas off him. She is teary… “I’m sorry,” she whispers to Cassel (oh, my heart!) and Cassel whispers, “Sophie…” touches her face and is gone. Meanwhile, Thomas is being a broody little shit behind them, giving her a look when she glances back at him.

Whew. And we are only 22 minutes into the ep!

We are now in Louis’ rooms with Philippe giving them all a debrief.  And Philippe is all uuuugh: “I said you were making a mess of it by withdrawing the troops from Holland so you could focus on tackling the east. Then he left.” He was due to speak with Louis an hour ago. Bontemps asks if Thomas has seen through it. Philippe adds, “we were drinking. It was in the heat of passion.” …..Ummmm. It wasn’t really. Not much passion there, just a brief kiss from Thomas. Louis gives him a look, Philippe looks back at him. Philippe: That’s exactly what we agreed, wasn’t it? Louis: You took him for a fool. An error of judgement. And not for the last time. Philippe: That’s not fair! I’m the one selling his arse for France! Louis: Find him! Maybe it’s not too late to retrieve the situation. Philippe gives a mocking bow then leaves as Louis adds, “he must not leave the palace.”

Back in Sophie’s rooms, where she is demanding to know why Thomas would hurt a dying man. He grabs her hand: “There’s no time to explain. I must leave tonight and I want you to come with me.” Sophie is all confused and breathless and worried. “Why should I trust you?” Thomas replies: “If they catch me, they will kill me.” Okay, using Cassel’s death as an excuse. Which is a bit silly, considering everyone knew Cassel was dying and no one else knows Thomas strangled him. Sophie could just not say anything and Thomas would be in the clear. Yyeah, Sophie ain’t down with that shit: “Why? What have you done? What kind of outlaw are you?” YAY! uhhh…… No…. here we go. Thomas plays the blackmail card: “one who knows all about you. That you are a Protestant and that your mother conspired against the king for William of Orange.” The penny drops for Sophie now. GOOD GIRL. but UGH he plays that “yes, I am a spy too but then I fell in love with you, now are you coming with me or not?!” card and I am yelling at my screen going “NOOO SOPHIE DO NOT BE SO STUPID UGGGGH.” She is confused and he kisses her, tells her he’ll be at the stables at midnight, then swiftly leaves. And Sophie is looking distraught and I want her to go to Marchal for help because we all know HE WILL FIX IT.

Tbh, I thought I’d be more happy with Cassel’s death. He was a nasty piece of shit, sure. But he also had complexity and depth and he did something ultimately for the good of the king. And Louis, to his credit, did not throw him in jail when Cassel confessed to conspiracy. Pip Torrens was brilliant on the screen and I will miss his evilness.

Philippe returns to his rooms, tosses his coat on the bed and we see the Chevalier (FINALLY) in a chair, an empty glass and two more with wine on the table. “Where the fuck have you been?” He says softly yet angrily and I have to pause for a second. Did Philippe not tell him to GTFO in ep 9 after that attempted suicide stunt? “Here we go again,” murmurs Philippe and I am totally with him on that one. *sigh*

The Chevalier: You were with him, weren’t you? Philippe: (pours water into the empty wine glass) I’m not going to have this conversation with you. The Chevalier: Then I’m going ’round to your little sweetheart right now and I’m going to rip his throat out. Philippe: You’re not going to do anything of the kind because you’re a notorious coward and he’s not my sweetheart. The Chevalier: (gives him a look then gets to his feet) I’m a coward, am I? Do you really want to see how brave I can be? Philippe: Look, it’s not what you think! The Chevalier: (limp-stomps to the bed and grabs his coat) I think he’s a snivelling little bastard. And I’ll kill him.

Philippe gives him a look and I actually think that he believes the Chevalier will actually follow through. As the Chevalier heads to the doors, Philippe blurts out, “It’s a charade. Louis is using me to feed information to the Dutch. That’s why I’m flirting with him.” The Chevalier turns, snorts. “I’ve heard some lame excuses in my time..” then walks out. And I am WTAF he WANTED the truth and when he gets it, he doesn’t believe it???? SRSLY? What is so far-fetched with that scenario, given what happened in S1????

Right. We are in the gardens now, with Louis and Maintenon strolling, then taking a seat along a path. Louis comes here for sanctuary, apparently. Then he tells her he has a record of who is behind the poisonings. Hundreds of them. His friends. (and right now I am so reminded of the differences between how Louis is portrayed in the series, compared with Benoît Magimel’s version in the 2000 movie, Le Roi Danse. There is a magnificent scene between him and Lully, his court composer, where Lully says, “I thought we were friends, and Louis replies coolly, “I have no friends.” If you can find the English subtitled version, I urge you to watch. You can buy the French DVD from Amazon)

Anyway, back to Louis and Maintenon, and Louis says some of those friends are “close…. very close. One in particular.” Maintenon, with her calm voice of reason, replies, “then the betrayal is greater. An untreated wound can fester in the soul just as in the body.” Yes, Louis knows what he must do, and wonders why he hesitates, why he doubts himself. And Maintenon is all “Look into my eyes. I believe in you. You must trust yourself.” And Louis says, “you are perfect,” and they have a good ol’ snog. And OMG it JUST occurred to me that they killed off Jacques to make way for Maintenon! All his cryptic metaphors and calm advice, coming from a place of unselfishness, and borne of a desire to just help Louis rather than gain something in return. This is EXACTLY what Maintenon is doing. Even their tone of voice is similar. But now with Maintenon, you get the romantic element thrown in, plus the jealousy from Montespan (and likely the queen when she finds out they’re shagging). UUGGGGHHHH *MIND BLOWN* Anyways, Maintenon stops all the kissing and whispers about it being wrong, and lulz Louis plays the ‘how can it be when God has sent you to me?’ card and when she reminds him he is married, he is all “it is a marriage without love.” Ouch, queen. “And me?” Maintenon replies. “What would I be? Love without marriage?” UGH WOMAN. You overstep yourself just a bit to presume you know the king’s affections. She goes on: “Whatever exists between us is purer, stronger than the desires of the flesh.” Then totally gets up and leaves (WITHOUT HIS PERMISSION) and Louis is left sitting there quite a bit pissed off.

Right. I am so looking forward to Season 3 where they will hopefully show Louis with a stack more mistresses. Pleasepleaseplease….

Back in Montespan’s rooms now and she is looking determined about something. So Louis is under the impression that all she has done is ask Agathe for some love potions…? I think so. We see guards burst into another room, smash things up and find the pouch of poisons Gaston had retrieved previously. So, his rooms then. People stop by the door to gawp (car crash, 17th century version) and Gaston is there too, watching them as the Chief Musketeer claims, “one is missing,” and quite rightly decides it’s a smart idea to move along. He turns… ah-HA. Marchal stands behind him and it really looks like Gaston is about to wet himself. Still, he brazens it out with a cool “can I help you?” To which Marchal says just as coolly, “yes, I believe you can. Whether or not you are willing is another matter.” And the maid Odile is pulled forward by a guard. Gaston loses it… snarls out, “you TREACHEROUS BITCH!” and lunges forward, but Marchal.. OMG bless you, you wonderful man. Marchal grabs Gaston by the face and hurls him back into the guards. The poison pouch is shown, Gaston knows the jig is up, Marchal gives him a look then turns away. And Gaston is dragged, slo-mo-style, through the corridors for all to see, getting in Montespan’s face to give her a panicky stare-down, to which she does not bat an eyelash. His downfall is complete. Montespan quickly hurries off.

Marchal strides into his office/dungeon, Gaston behind, and they pass a bunch of locked-up nobles. Marchal shoves Gaston up against a cell, and a rough looking Agathe steps from the shadows, all messy and bloody about the face. Gaston gasps, “I have failed you. Forgive me.” But Agathe says nothing and he’s dragged away to a rat-cell. “You are defeated, witch,” Marchal says calmly. “where is your dark master now?” As he starts to walk away, Agathe replies: “In my head. just like he is in yours. We both know this is not over yet.” He gives her a cool, calculating look then walks away. And I am reminded of that scene in The Incredibles where Syndrome goes on about how stupid villains are when they go into a monologue about their plans and how the good guys won’t defeat them etc etc. AGATHE. WTF are you doing??? Has no one ever told you to, uhh…. like, NOT TELL THE GOOD GUYS THAT YOU’RE STILL DOING EVIL STUFFS?

We’re back in Sophie’s rooms, where she is cleaning up Cassel’s face, and Marchal is standing there and says what we are all thinking: “You have a very soft heart.” Sophie replies: “everybody deserves dignity in death.” Marchal wastes no time in telling her that he knows what she did, that her name was on a list. Oh, and LORDY how much do I LOOOOVE this man when he adds, “It has now been erased. You conscience should be clear.” Sophie abruptly stands, says tightly. “And what of your conscience? Is that clean?” Marchal: “I leave the past behind me. I hope you will do the same.” To which Sophie does a massive nose curl and strides to the dresser to retrieve a bag. WTF is she so angry with him??? Marchal issues a word of warning: “Your lover may not be the man you think he is.” well, DUH. We know this. Why can he not just forbid her to go? Even lock her up for her own good? Or maybe… tell her?? But no. She simply says to him, “everybody has their secrets,” then walks out the door.

Right, so we see Thomas enter his dark rooms, then rummage through a trunk. He jumps when Philippe casually asks from the bed, “where do you think you’re going?” and is all ‘what are you doing here?’ Philippe:  “I like surprises,” and rises from the bed. “And I don’t like people walking out on me.” Thomas gets a bit grovelly: “I’m very sorry, I had urgent matters to attend to,” and Philippe is sorry too – for coming on a bit too strong (WAT. Thomas has already given him a blow job – I think the ‘coming on too strong’ is moot at this point) . And Philippe doesn’t at all sound sincere, especially when he says they could maybe try again. NOOO. THOMAS KNOWS. Okay, so there’s quite a bit of snogging then Philippe pushes Thomas back onto the bed, then more snogging. UGH. Then…. Philippe reaches for a dagger in his breeches, Thomas notices and is all, “That’s not very nice of you.”

And it is ON.

Thomas hurls Philippe from the bed and the knife slices through a window covering. Philippe slashes forward but Thomas leaps back every time. Thomas grabs a pot/vase and deflects a blow, before Philippe knocks it from his hand. Philippe lunges and they then wrestle for the knife, falling over a table and slamming into the floor. Philippe thrusts again, Thomas grabs his arm, Philippe punches Thomas in the face but it’s obviously not hard enough because Thomas punches back and Philippe goes down. As he lays there, dazed and prone, Thomas crawls onto him and just starts wailing into Philippe (OMG *CRIES*) punching him until his nose is all bloody. NOOOOOOOO. Why are there no guards rushing in for backup? Then Thomas picks up the dagger and FFS DOES this IDIOT not know how bad it would be to kill the king’s brother???

THEN OMG……. THE CHEVALIER TO THE RESCUE!!!!!!

I am pretty sure I screamed at this point. The fight scenes as so very well choreographed.

The Chevalier glances at prone Philippe in panic and horror, then leaps forward, yelling for the guards as Thomas runs to the window and leaps out into the night.

Now we have two simultaneous scenes – Thomas hurrying to the stables, and the guards rushing in and the Chevalier all trembly over Philippe, seeing all the blood and not seeing him move. The guards are NOT MOVING THEIR ASSES QUICK ENOUGH, no, they just look casually out the damn window, meanwhile Thomas watches Sophie standing with two horses and a stable dude, all out there on the grass and in the open. Thomas strides out, smiles as Sophie gives a little relieved gasp…. and then the Chevalier just seems to appear from the shadows behind him, with such a fucking badass look on his face. He slowly raises his musket and takes cool, calm aim.

And shoots Thomas.

ABOUT FUCKING TIME. YESSSSS! THIS IS WHAT THE CHEVALIER IS ALL ABOUT AND I AM TOTALLY ON BOARD THIS TRAIN!! WOOOOHOOOOO!!!!

Sophie screams, Thomas collapses, the horses rear, and the smoke wisps around the Chevalier like some awesome metaphor for dark vigilante justice and badassery. YES.

Sophie rushes over to Thomas, holds his  head in her lap as he bleeds and goes through the motions of dying, then she kisses him and hurries over to mount her horse while the guards come a-running, Marchal in the lead. Marchal yells out, “STOP!” but Sophie wheels her horse around and gallops through the gates. The guards take aim but Marchal commands them all to hold their fire. “She is innocent,” he says, as the Chevalier stands there all casual-like with his musket pointed in the air. I love them both right now..

Whew. Well, we are back in the palace, in Louis’ rooms, and Philippe dabs at his bleeding nose while the Chevalier attempts to explain to Louis why he shot Thomas: “Believe me, Sire, I had no intention of causing trouble. I saw your brother in pain… My anger was too strong for me.” And I am just going NOOOOOO why does he have to ruin his Badass Shooting with a grovelling apology? This is what he should be doing after that little shit beat the crap out of THE BLOODY PRINCE OF FRANCE! He deserved to die and no one is going to judge the Chevalier for killing him. Hell, he would be celebrated for coming to Philippe’s defence. And yet, here we are, listening to him stutter and desperately justify his actions to Louis. And then Louis commands him to silence and says, “I have brought you here to express my gratitude. You have shown honour and valour in ridding the palace of a dangerous spy.” Stunned Chevalier is stunned. Louis continues: “And as a reward you will receive an annual stipend so you are no longer in debt, nor so reliant on my brother, and you will be given rooms in the east wing.” As the Chevalier can’t quite believe it, Louis issues a condition, that he start to “behave like a nobleman. Your predilection for alcohol and powders will cease if you wish to remain associated with my court.”  Of course, the Chevalier is gushingly grateful, to which Louis repeats, “Will you shut up?” Okay, let me get this right. The Chevalier had thought that by killing Thomas (whom he did not believe was a spy even though Philippe told him so: we see his surprise when Louis confirms it) would mean punishment from Louis? Punishment for killing a man who was about to kill the Prince of France? FUCKSAKE. The Chevalier is a high-ranking noble (not that we see it here: his importance to the court seems to have either been ignored or glossed over in the telling) so he damn-well knows it would be his duty to kill weasel Thomas. And he would also know that Louis would be grateful for it and very likely reward him. So the Chevalier’s surprise when Louis not only thanks him but gives him monies is so very frustrating, because it’s not the way it would’ve happened.

So now Louis then goes over to Philippe. Louis: Brother. You are alive. Philippe: (quietly) No thanks to you. Louis: You were in the service of France. Philippe: It would’ve been good propaganda, wouldn’t it? Had I died. Your brother sacrifices himself. For you. Louis: Please, try to be reasonable- Philippe: What would you have written on my tombstone? (small snort) Gave his arse for France? (Slowly heads to the doors) Louis: Brother, please. (Philippe slowly turns) If you had died tonight I would have lost my closest friend. Philippe: (looking sad and forlorn) Why should I believe you? Louis: Because after all we have been through… After all the hurt I have caused you, you love me as I love you. (walks towards sad puppy face Philippe). If you walk out now, you walk out on that love.

And then, with Philippe all still bashed and bloody and SAD PUPPY EYES, Philippe is the one to lean in first and they embrace and the music swells and yes, I CRY because this is the one thing Philippe wanted from Louis and now he finally has it OMGGGG…. And then….. Louis says, “Tomorrow you will go to war. If that is what you wish.” Philippe cannot quite believe it, and he immediately glances over to the Chevalier who is watching their exchange, and I can see his face is sad but also kinda “yes, this is what you really want, I know.” Then Philippe says to Louis, “no sudden last-minute change of mind?” And Louis gives a small smile and replies: “I want you to go to Holland and destroy William of Orange. For me. For France. For you.” Philippe smiles, turns and walks out, and the Chevalier quickly follows, giving Louis a bow.

Wow. Okay. Nearly 20mins to go and I am EMOTIONALLY DRAINED. We are now moving through the dungeons, the camera shaky and rapid, with a creepy whisper in the air, and we get to Agathe’s cell where she paces and chants creepy-Satan things in (possibly) Latin. The guard outside looks worried and crosses himself, and we cut to Montespan in her room at a table, toying with a vial of poison. Agathe still whisper-chants, Montespan appears to be thinking.

Then we are back outside, daytime, seeing shots of the gardens before we watch Montespan enter the chapel in a subdued dress and vail. She is in confession with Bossuet and he does not look impressed. “I have done things. Evil things. I accuse myself of sins of the flesh. Of pride. And of wrath. And of other things I dare not mention.” Is she truly sorry, Bossuet asks? She is. Oh, then that’s okay because the Lord will forgive her if she says the act of contrition. And she does, and it is a VERY GOOD recital, with the correct inflection of emotion and tears. Bossuet looks forward to seeing her at communion, and is pleasantly surprised when Montespan asks permission to stay and pray. So she goes through the motions, kneeling and signing the cross, and Bossuet watches her and is well pleased and happy because he thinks she is all penitent and has found God. UGH. Yeah, the look she gives his retreating back tells us quite clearly she is still the same old Montespan and up to something.

Louis is going through his morning lever, looking not very happy, and then he and the queen walk into the chapel as holy music swells, then Philippe and a not-very-impressed Liselotte enter (the Chevalier immediately behind them) and Philippe says to Liselotte, “You did well to stay. Versailles is fun once you get used to it.” Liselotte replies: “Versailles will be fun when it gets used to me.” Everyone walks in, courtiers bow, and all take their place as the hymn continues. The Chevalier steps to Philippe’s side, but Philippe says and does nothing. Louis eyes Maintenon, who looks a bit heart-eyes and breathy. The queen is looking a bit.. stoic? Tight lipped? Maybe she has found out about the snogging? Then Louis and the queen kneel and the sermon begins. Meanwhile, Montespan walks in after everyone is focused on Bossuet: “It is only through the light can the long shadow of death be banished.” he says. Quite a subtext here, all about hope and resurrection and peace, and Montespan is struggling to hold it together.

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We are in Marchal’s dungeon now, and he is punching the crap out of Gaston, wanting to know who Agathe’s other agents are. Gaston is all panicky when Marchal prepares to break his pinky finger, quickly getting out, “I can save the king’s life! But not if you touch another hair on my head.” As Marchal slowly steps back, Gaston adds, “and in return you will give me full amnesty and safe passage to Bordeaux.” Marchal says that only the king can grant such a wish, and Gaston half-laughs and says something that sounds like, “the faster he’ll run or no wishes at all.” Then adds, “the ghosts of his victims are here for revenge.” Marchal is not impressed: “you will be freed only if the king survives.” Gaston swallows. “Can I trust you?” (LULWAT). And in answer, Marchal shoves him against the wooden post he’s chained to, grabs his shirt front and says, “if he dies, you die.” Then the church bells begin to chime, the hymns swell and we see Bossuet walking with the wine and wafers… Montespan starts to cry…. everyone lines up to receive the blessing as Bossuet reads from the bible in Latin…. then we are back with Gaston and Marchal and Gaston says, “Hmmm. Easter Sunday. A sermon. Prayers-” Marchal begins to think as Gaston adds, “Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.” And Marchal strides out. Cut back to the chapel, to the singing choir as Bossuet picks up a wafer and places it in Louis’ mouth… and Montespan is desperately trying to hold it together, tears now falling, her face torn with emotion. And damn, GO, MARCHAL!!!!! RUN LIKE THE WIND!!!! He races through the gates, across the courtyard, then pelts up the stairs, screaming, “DOORS!”

Back in the chapel, and the queen receives the wafer, then the wine is uncovered and poured, and Montespan is losing it now, in real distress. And the hymn still plays over the top of these scenes, giving them all a creepy, fatalistic ambiance. The wine is poured in slo-mo, and then the camera pans to the crowd – we see Louvois, Bontemps – and the wine just keeps going. Bossuet stops, Louis makes the sign on the cross… and we are running with Marchal, the camera all shaky, heading hell-for-leather straight to the chapel doors, and the guards quickly open them and then we see the choir still singing, all pure and ethereal as Louis takes the wine glass and brings it to his lips… Montespan wipes her tear-stained face, openly distraught, and Louis tilts the cup up and OMG THE TENSION IS KILLING MEEEEEEEE and JUST as he is about to take a sip, Marchal charges in and screams, “NOOOOOO!!!!!” and Louis stops, Marchal races up to him and takes the cup, murmurs breathlessly, “it is poison, Sire.  De Foix  confessed.” As everyone whispers, Louis and Bontemps look shocked, then Bontemps takes the wine jug and Louis says, “who else? He could not have done this alone.” And Marchal and Louis share a look, Marchal looking confused then thoughtful and they both slowly turn to look at the assembled crowd. Louis knows. He scans the faces… then he sees her, tears in her eyes and gasping. He knows. His expression is almost disbelieving for a second, then his face hardens as it sinks in. Montespan gasps, hand over her mouth, turns and walks out.

Next scene – we enter a private room of Louis’ and see Montespan in front of Louis, Maintenon standing near a window, a fire burning in the hearth. “Someone tried to poison me while I worshipped God,” Louis begins tightly. Montespan says she is innocent, but Louis does not believe it. “Innocent?” He holds out Agathe’s black book. “Yet you procured poison.” Ah, now she changes her story to “It was a mistake. I did not go through with it.” And what about the heretic priest? A satanic mass? The blood of a child spilled? Montespan is teary. “No, I could never do such a thing!” Yeah, Louis ain’t having none of that. “You went to see him! ADMIT IT!”

Her reply? “Everything I did, I did for you.” Oh, okaaaay, then. That makes it perfectly OKAY and TOTALLY NOT HER FAULT.  Louis slowly circles her, his anger and disgust clear…. then slowly, almost as if against his better judgement, he reaches out and gently touches her bare neck, his fingers stroking. “I gave you my heart,” he whispers, almost disbelieving. “My soul. My love.” Then he looks across the room to where Maintenon stands at the open window, light streaming through, and the metaphor of Godly light is so very obvious. Louis’ gaze returns to the back of Montespan’s head, his expression firm. “That love has died.” Montespan is nothing but uber-determined as she whispers back, “it cannot die.” Louis slowly removes his hand from her as she gets out in a teary, breathy whisper. “I made you who you are. I made you complete and I cannot live without you. You cannot live without me.” Louis looks at her directly, replies almost gently: “That was true once. But not now.” She weeps as he adds, “without you, I am myself.” Montespan finally gets it now: “I will leave. If that is what you want. You will never hear from me again.” Louis glances to the still-silent Maintenon, then back to Montespan.

Ohhh, the look on his face. LOOK AT IT. Then he drops it: “No. You will remain here at Versailles. An anonymous noble without the king’s favour. That will be your punishment. Bear the guilt and shame forever. You will leave behind the life you once led. You will attend prayers and mass. You will neither drink, nor gamble. You will be known for your piety and your humility.” And oh, Montespan is in distress weepy tears mode (but still looking gorgeous, dammit) as she struggles out, “you condemn me to death!” But Louis is not swayed one bit. “The Marquise de Montespan,” he says, “who had the world and the king of France at her feet, no longer exists.” Montespan struggles to breathe as she cries, knows it is now truly over for her. Condemned to be a nobody, a nothing. Everything that she loathed and desperately tried not to be. Everything she spent her last waking moment trying to avoid. And finally, as she stands there in tears, Maintenon hurries over and embraces her, gives Louis a look, then leads the fallen-from-grace Montespan from the room.  Maintenon then returns to a stoic Louis, puts a hand to his cheek, then whispers cryptically, “even the darkest night gives way to dawn.”

*Historical note: It was never suggested that Montespan ever tried to poison Louis, rather just put things in his wine and food to ‘increase his passion and love’ for her when she suspected her favour was falling. An ex-lover of Louis was, however, accused of wanting to poison him, a Claude de vin des Œillets, who was angry that Louis did not officially recognise her daughter as his.  You can read all about her here.

Well. Nearly over now. We are in Philippe’s rooms and he is standing before a mirror, dressing in a golden sash and OMG I am expecting some more emotional shit to go down. Liselotte says, “but if you are killed, what of our son?” Philippe replies: “you will find someone else to take the role of the father.” They both glance across to the Chevalier who is standing by the window… WAT. AHAHAHAHAAAAAA NOPE. SO WRONG.  

Anyways, Philippe takes Liselotte’s hand, says, “we will write to each other. Every day. I want a full report on your health and well being.” She nods with a smile. “And remember,” he says lightly, “this is Versailles. You should be happy.” They laugh softly, he kisses her cheek and then he takes a bolstering breath and walks to the Chevalier. “How do I look?” The Chevalier can barely glance at him, he’s so upset. “Passable.” Philippe is sad; “I thought you’d be pleased for me.” The Chevalier replies: “And I thought you’d be grateful to me.” Philippe’s eyes fill with tears as the Chevalier continues, moving to him: “Didn’t I save your life? So why risk it now? On a stupid battlefield?” UGH. Poor Philippe, you can see the emotion on his face and we know the Chevalier’s words are because he is hurting that he may lose Philippe again. Philippe looks at him, says calmly, “I will always love you. But there are things I must do before I can love you again.”

WAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!! *SOBS UNCONTROLLABLY*

The Chevalier’s gaze drops to the floor…. Philippe leans in and their foreheads touch, their eyes both gently close as the moment fills with emotion. “-as I wish,” Philippe finally whispers. “And you deserve.” They kiss, sweetly, tenderly and I am an absolute mess because this is what they need, an honest moment sharing what is in their hearts, a kiss that shows what they mean to each other. The Chevalier is shaking, they both smile through the tears, then the Chevalier finally whispers, “go.”

Philippe turns, looks at Liselotte, picks up his sword then strides to the doors, goes through them with his generals, the servants bowing. He glances back as he walks, and Liselotte and the Chevalier are framed in the doorway, Liselotte slowly taking the Chevalier’s hand in a show of solidarity and support… he turns back, gives a sigh, and then – as we all know this has been his dream all along – smiles to himself because he is FINALLY off to war.

No time to wipe those tears, people. We are here for the witch burning. We are in a courtyard and it has drawn a crowd. Burnings and hangings and other sorts of punishment were entertainment in those days: Tyburn Hill in London was like a regular day out for all, with refreshments being sold and nobles watching the hangings from the comfort of their carriages. Not only that, it was supposed to serve as a deterrent. Here we see the townsfolk gathered, and a royal box is set up to get full advantage of the spectacle. Agathe is led out, looking dirty and beaten, in chains and barefoot. The crowd yell at her, she remains silent with her head high. She is strapped to the pole. Then the camera cuts to the dungeons, to Gaston in chains as Marchal enters. Gaston smirks. He thinks he’s won his freedom…. nup. Marchal says, “take him to the pyre,” and his smug face falls.  Back with Agathe as she is tied up, and a parade of people in dirty fancy clothing walk past her…. the nobles she supplied poison to? I think so. They are herded before the pyre, and Gaston is shoved forward. Witnesses to the burning. Punishment. Louis steps up to the royal observation platform with the queen, the rest of the royal court spread out, and there are chants of “long live the king.” He looks to the man holding the huge burning torch and the pyre is lit. Agathe is expressionless… until the smoke drifts up and her feet feel the heat.

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We see reaction shots from the crowd – Montespan, a guard holding Luxembourg’s head so he is forced to watch. Peasants crossing themselves and glancing away. And the flames rise higher around Agathe. Louis reveals no emotion as he watches, stepping aside as the Dauphin walks up behind to watch (FINALLY we get to see him again! It’s been, like, eight whole eps in between). Agathe yells,”The Sun King! It is for his greed that you toil! For his vanity! You suffer! Rise up and fight! I URGE YOU! FIND YOUR POWER!” And the camera pans to the peasants but we cannot see any discontent, no nodding or whispering or agreeing with her. She’s two Louis too early. Still she screeches as the flames get higher, “Your days are numbered. Louis, King of France. You and your spawn!” Louis puts a hand on the Dauphin’s shoulder as Agathe keeps ranting, frothing at the mouth, spouting about how their flesh will be eaten by the worms of tyranny. It is a great monologue and, knowing what we do about French royal history, very prophetic. We see Maintenon looking a little distressed, Liselotte the same, the queen showing nothing and Louis with a ‘yeah, burn, you witch.’

And so she does, wailing like a banshee as the flames finally reach her. Marchal watches expressionless, Montespan glances away. Marchal’s guard struggles with Gaston, forcing his head up to watch Agathe burn. The camera pans over the royal platform, to all the expressions of horror while Agathe screams. Louis is still and silent, his gaze direct. And then, just the tiniest twitch of his lips in a smile.

THE END!!!! *Collapses* 

So…. that is it until next year, when Season 3 hits our screens. No word yet as to a Season 4…. but did we all enjoy this series? What did you love? What did you hate? What/who do you want to see more of?

For me, the biggest drawcards by far are Fabien Marchal and his dark and broody brilliance as he prowls across my screen. The dialogue, which is always fabulous. The romantic moments between Philippe and the Chevalier. Sophie’s quietly growing strength and determination. Liselotte’s everything. The clothes, the jewellery. And the stunning visuals of Versailles, Vaux-le-Vicomte and the interiors.  Stay tuned for another article on the smexy bits, plus what we can expect (and what I would love to see!) in Season 3.  And merci beaucoup for reading along and your comments. You guys rock xxx ❤

Versailles season 2, episode 10 – deaths, downfalls and departures So here we are. The finale of Season 2. I hope you're sitting down because there is A LOT to unpack in this ep.

[iliyovunjika]

@skyvar bby I’mma bout to write u another essay on why I love this.

I RLY WANNA RP IT TOO OKAY. Think about this, Shiro just getting back from another clean up mission only to find himself at a complete stand still in awe of a fight happening none too far away from his docking point. ( The Arrancar arc, Ichigo & Grimmjow’s first fight ) Although he’s not particularly familiar with Karakura town, he’s well aware that there’s Shinigami and Arrancar ( He hasn’t had the displeasure of meeting lower level hollows yet. ) and he remembers Grimmjow talking about his own war. So his first instinct isn’t to run away from the scene but to run towards because this man is war bred after all that he’s been through, he doesn’t know how to run away anymore.

Of course this means he’s going to see Grimmjow’s tactics. Everything he does from that point on is something Shiro can see and he’s not pleased, no. Not because he doesn’t understand but because there’s nothing warranting it from what he can see where he’s at. But he doesn’t intervene at first, he can’t. He knows Grimmjow is prideful and wouldn’t allow anyone interfering in his fights. Fast forward to afterwards and he’s left to simmer on what he’d seen. To think over, try to justify or find a logical reasoning behind Grimmjow’s actions. Why would he attack a teenage boy? Why would he attempt to kill a Shinigami? Why was this war his to begin with? Think about it, the man’s become friends with several Galra who were his enemies in the war he fought. He’s come to understand how differently enemies think and how their ways are theirs, how he can’t change them and he wouldn’t dare but he’d try to compromise, to find a common ground to stop the senseless bloodshed.

Yet he doesn’t once think about despising Grimmjow. There’s not an ounce of hatred or confused anger at all. And when he sees him again? He doesn’t immediately jump to converse with him or find out. Rather, he’s stunned into silence because gods the first thing he sees is that voided space. His heart tears and he knows that wasn’t a result of the fight he saw and he hadn’t heard or seen any other ones since he’d been there. So how did it happen? Just imagine it, a plain to see scour of emotions turning his expression every which way before it settles on an almost pained look of sorrow because he’s been there, he’s lost his arm and its still gone, only the space has been replaced with something inorganic. Just think about him putting every confusing and wondering thought about that fight aside to immediately ask him what happened. Concern filling his voice, tearing his expression from that usual smile or devoid one as he grasps at Grimmjow’s shoulders. “What happened when you left?”

And its clear he knows there was a fight because he knows that limb loss didn’t occur there but he’s not even mentioning it at all, he just wants to know what happened to him. Why his back was scarred, why his arm was missing, why he looked dejected and angry (more so than usual.) “Please, please tell me what happened.” And when he finds out, he recalls back to their first conversation. How he pointedly talked about Zarkon and how his rule was nothing to be under because he didn’t care for his subordinates and treated them like disposable garbage. How Grimmjow should never subject himself to that, how he is so much more than that and no one should ever have that kind of reign on him. And he begs and pleads, trying to reason with him about at least coming with him to get it fixed because he doesn’t want him to go into a fight at anything less than his best. (He saw the flares, felt the immense pressure and knows its nothing to play around with.)

Just imagine how distraught he would look, trying his best just to convince him and finally it comes to trying to figure out what was going on so he could better try to convince him. “Why would you fight a teenager and a Shinigami girl? What exactly is this war about? Why is it your war?” And the longer that discussion runs? The more he’s got to use to convince him, or so he hopes. And he’s just trying so hard, he doesn’t care about the stares or anything else going on around him because this man is too tired and too war torn to give two flying fucks about someone thinking he was a loon. He just wants to care for Grimmjow because while he doesn’t understand his reasoning yet, he knows there has to be one and it only really has to make sense to Grimmjow. He knows he needs to try to stop him from attempting to gun after Ichigo again because there’s no point in it. He knows Grimmjow’s been put through hell and there has to be something he hasn’t seen yet that’s pushing him to be so destructive and vengeful towards the entire Shinigami community and this one stray teenage boy that doesn’t seem to fit into the puzzle in his head yet.

He knows he has to try to convince him to let him fix his arm more than anything because its dangerous, its painful trying to fight without everything you have. And he knows, most of all, that he wants to care about Grimmjow first and foremost because he knows there’s so much more to him than what he’d seen.