#i went to one adult i trusted but when i confided in him- he just spouted bible bullshit at me instead of helping me get help

[eternalknoxy]

Going to vent in the tags, feel free to ignore. Or interact I guess if you're so inclined

[designernishiki]

I feel like whatever was going on with majima/mirei/katsuya in the early 90s was some sort of complicated bisexual love triangle situation. like majima is majima and katsuya’s handsome and eloquent and absolutely doesn’t seem straight to me, but on top of that it feels like there was some sort of confusing tension between katsuya and mirei, not sure if it was romantic or one-sided or what but. SOMETHING. I don’t know what the hell was going on with those three really but no way in hell do I believe the romantic/sexual/??? depth ends with majima and mirei

[tj-is-down]

Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy (Tyler Owens x Reader)

Back again with another random fic for y'all. This is not proofread, so don't hate me!

Summary: Tyler and the reader have been on and off "together" for years now, keeping it secret. Until, suddenly, one of them decides they might want more.

Word count: ~2.1k

Warnings: None except some swearing, and reader is described femininely in this one.

Here’s the thing about Humble Creek: everybody knows everybody. A small town made up of just under five thousand, there was nothing that anybody could do in secret, because if one person knew, then it was just as if they’d taken a bullhorn and announced it to the entire town.

Which made Y/N’s life all the harder. See, she did have a secret, and although it hadn’t gotten out yet, its secrecy was held in the hands of a monster. A tyrant, a tool, a pain-in-the-ass douchebag with a cowboy hat and a Texas accent.

Tyler Owens.

Y/N had known he was trouble since they were kids. Growing up on rival ranches, they were destined to be enemies, and even more so, to blur the lines. Y/N had never trusted him. Not because their families were constantly fighting, as she believed everybody deserved their own chance to prove themself, but because he had fucked his up, royally. 

In elementary school, middle school, high school, Tyler was always the talk of the town. Always with a girl on his arm, Tyler was confident, and everybody else was just putty in his hands. Y/N told herself she didn’t understand what people saw in him. 

She lied.

It started in eighth grade, when Tyler showed up in a too-big tux and a bouquet of flowers he’d handpicked from his family’s garden.

“You wanna go to the dance?” He asked, grinning cockily. Even then he knew how to charm, before he even knew what charm was.

Y/N’s dad had said no, absolutely no way, but Y/N was in her rebellious phase and so this only pushed her to say yes. She went out right then, in her mud-stained t-shirt and jeans, and they’d walked to the school together at seven p.m. and walked home together at nine. He’d kissed her cheek goodnight and she’d wiped it off, embarrassed.

“You’re annoying, Owens.”

“And you’re pretty, L/N.”

On the next Monday he came to school with Cherry Lee.

Y/N tried to be mad. She tried to hate Tyler, to swear that she’d never talk to him or think about him or even look at him ever again. But two months later, when Tyler and Cherry broke up, he’d knocked on her door when he knew her parents weren’t home and, against her better judgment, she’d let him inside.

They’d been on-and-off “together” ever since.

Now, Tyler wasn’t single for long intervals, usually just a couple of weeks here and there, and he would never cheat, nor would Y/N let herself become a homewrecker (no matter how fragile the relationship), but when Tyler showed up on her doorstep, bouquet in hands and that look in his eyes, she knew she couldn’t say no. 

She was an adult now, but still, she couldn’t resist those eyes. Tyler had been single since before leaving for college, and when he came back it was like he’d never left. Sure, now he had a truck, a big name, a crew, and a YouTube channel, but he still had those eyes, and his family still had a garden with a never-ending supply of flowers.

He showed up on her door one morning, after her parents had left for church.

“Can I help you?” She asked, opening the door. As always, a t-shirt and jeans, dirty from the morning’s work on the farm.

“You’re not at church?”

“You knew I wouldn’t be.”

“Well, maybe the two and I can practice praying on our own? I think the first step is kneeling down; you wanna start?”

Y/N went to close the door, but Tyler’s hand reached out to prop it open.

“Come on, Darlin’,” he said, laying the accent on thick. “You want to go for a drive? I’ll buy you a coffee.”

“Hold the coffee,” she said, walking past him. “I’d rather not have anyone see us together.”

He grabbed her waist and stood behind her, kissing her neck. “We’ve been doing this for years, babe. No one’s gonna find out, I promise.”

She leaned her head towards him, breathing in the scent of firewood mixed with his cologne. He pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“You gettin’ sappy on me?” He asked. Though his voice was soft, she could feel his smirk.

“Nope.” She pulled out of his grasp and got into the passenger seat of his truck. “We going, or are you just gonna stand there looking all doe-eyed?”

“For you, I’d stand here all day, sweetheart.”

“Just get in the car, Romeo.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

*** 

They drove for a while, to the outskirts of town, when Tyler stopped the truck and leaned over. He kissed her lips, hard and slow, putting his hand on the back of her neck to pull her closer. She reciprocated, holding his bicep, moving her mouth in tandem with his and letting herself fall into him.

“Why are you being so love-y today?” She asked after they separated.

“I can’t show my girl some love?”

“Is that what I am? ‘Your girl’?”

He shrugged. “Is that so bad?”

“You’re annoying, Owens.” She pushed his shoulder.

He mock-pushed her back as he said, “You’re pretty, L/N.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Seriously, though, there is something I wanted to talk to you about—”

Y/N scoffed. “Are you about to ask me out?”

“Well, no, but—”

“Okay, good.”

“Would that be so bad of me?”

“Kinda.” Y/N breathed a laugh, but when she saw Tyler’s face, serious and a little upset, she stopped. “I mean, it’s not like we have the best thing going on here anyways, and I just don’t want to be—” She paused, about to say heartbroken, or used, or a placeholder for when you find someone better, but Tyler cut her off.

“Yeah, you’re right.” He started the truck, engine roaring to life. “It was dumb, nevermind. I’ll take you home.”

“Tyler, you know what I meant—”

“Yeah, yeah. We’re just messing around, right? That’s all this is, just messing around.”

He didn’t say another word on the ride home. 

He dropped her off, barely waiting for her to shut the truck door before he drove away.

***

Tyler didn’t answer any of Y/N’s calls or texts for the next few days. Y/N was upset, barely leaving her room checking her phone obsessively for any sign of Tyler Owens. She even started watching his YouTube channel, but there hadn’t been any uploads for over a month. Nothing on Instagram or Facebook, either.

Her mother yelled up the stairs to her one night, calling her down.

“That’s what you’re wearing?” Her mom said upon seeing Y/N.

“This is what I always wear. Why?” Y/N was suddenly self conscious, confused as to why her parents cared what she wore in the house.

“Tonight’s the fair,” her mother responded, attempting to jog her memory.

“You’re helping us run our booth?” Her father tried.

“Ah, shit,” Y/N mumbled, remembering. “Do I have to go? I totally forgot.”

“Of course you have to go!” Her father said. “We need the three of us there; it’s a family ranch, remember?”

“Besides,” her mother added. “The Owens’s will be there. We can’t let them get a leg up on us! If you’re not there, Tyler will be running the show for sure.”

“Well, maybe not,” her father said. “He’s doing the kissing booth, remember?”

“The what?” Y/N said. “Tyler’s doing a kissing booth?”

Her father nodded. “To raise funds for his family’s ranch. He and his whole ‘team’ will be there, whatever they’re called.”

Y/N paused for a moment, trying to wrap her head around it all. Was that what Tyler was trying to talk to her about the other day? The kissing booth? But why would it matter what Y/N thought about it?

Her mother ushered her up the stairs. “For Pete’s sake, change into something nice, and quickly!”

Oh, shit.

***

The Humble Creek Fair was bustling with energy. People from nearby towns came to see what it was all about, and it was always the most popular time of year.

Y/N sat at her family’s booth, eyes peeled for Tyler. She kept checking her phone to see if he’d answered, but when she didn’t get any notifications she decided to take matters into her own hands.

“I’m going for a walk,” she said to her parents.

They both nodded, and her father added, “Make sure to see how the Owens’ booth is doing. I want to make sure we’ll still be in business next year.”

Y/N looked around for the kissing booth, and when she saw a long line of women, she followed it to the front. She walked around to the back of the attraction, but didn’t see Tyler anywhere. It wasn’t until she’d nearly given up entirely when she heard a voice behind her.

“What are you wearing?”

She whisked around, coming face-to-face with Tyler, who was holding some sort of weird meat on a stick.

“What are you eating?”

“Pork leg, fried and marinated in pickle juice,” he said, shrugging. “I’m hoping it’ll make my breath smell bad so less people come up. Now, back to you.”

“What about me?”

“You’re wearing a dress. You never wear dresses. ‘Jeans and a t-shirt, that’s me,’” he says, doing a poor impression of her.

“I don’t sound like that.”

“Yes you do, but that’s besides the point. What’s your deal?”

Y/N shrugged uncomfortably. “I wanted to, I guess.”

Tyler looked at her dead-on. “You look nice, Y/N.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’ve been texting you for days. No response. But now that I’m here, all I get is, ‘I look nice’?” 

“What else do you want from me?”

“An answer, Tyler. What’s your deal? Why didn’t you tell me about the kissing booth?”

“I tried to, but then you came at me with all that ‘this is a bad idea’ crap, and I figured you didn’t want me to tell you. Or you didn’t care if I told you or not.”

“Okay, so—”

“Wait.” He stops her. “Do you care?”

Y/N kicks the ground. “If I did?”

“If you did,” he said, stepping closer to her. “I’d drop the pork leg and kiss you.”

“And if I don’t?”

“I’d eat the pork leg, and I’d kiss a bunch of people who aren’t you, and I’d feel like shit about it.” He took another step closer to her, nearly closing the gap between them. “Please say you care.”

“Ugh,” she scoffed. “You’re gonna make me say it? You can’t just, like, infer from the situation?”

“I’m really bad at inferring things,” he said, a cocky grin on his face. “So, I’m gonna need to hear you say it.”

“You’re annoying, Owens.”

“You’re pretty, L/N. Like, so pretty. But I do need to hear you say it, and I’m also gonna need you to—”

“I care, Tyler. Now shut up and kiss me, or I’m gonna take it back.”

“Can’t take it back, babe. It’s set in stone.”

In one fluid motion, he dropped the pork leg, grabbed Y/N by the waist with his other hand, and pulled her into a kiss. It was deep and passionate, not like any of the other times they’ve kissed. They kept it going for as long as they can, holding their breath until they couldn’t anymore, and then they pulled apart, gasping for air with their foreheads touching.

“Will you go out with me?” He asked her, still struggling for air. “Like, on a real date, not just driving in the truck?”

“I guess,” Y/N said, teasingly. “If I have to.”

“I mean, you don’t have to. But if you do, I’m gonna need you to wear this again.” He grabbed her and pulled her closer to him, if that’s even possible. “Because, if I’m being honest, L/N, this is the hottest I’ve ever seen you. Like, I didn’t think you could get hotter, but here we are. Speaking of, can we go? I really want to go somewhere with you. Like, privately.” He winked at her, and she scoffed, rolling her eyes again.

“Don’t you need to raise money for your farm?” She asked him, gesturing to the booth behind them.

“Fuck the farm,” he said. “Save a horse, ride a cowboy, yeah?”

“Fuck off,” she said, pulling him into another kiss.

“Seriously though, can we go?”

[arlos-warm-drpepper]

When I think Derek Hale I think insecurity. Unstable. Unhinged. Derek Hale.

I don’t think “got his shit together” at all!! So in this Ted talk I will explain why I prefer when authors write him as the insecure one, and Stiles as the secure one.

Derek Hale was 19. Truly he was a kid in charge of a bunch of slightly younger kids. A kid who hadn’t had any responsible adult in his life since he was 15 (16?) y/o. I do not know how you can look at this kid and think “oh yeah he’s got his shit together”

The guy who went around biting teenagers the second he became an alpha with NO hesitation. As if that was a totally rational and responsible decision to make. The guy who fell for any woman who gave him the slightest attention. Even if they were evilness.

Because ultimately Derek just wanted someone. A pack. A family. Whether that was in the form of a bunch of teenage werewolves (teen wolfs full name hurhur) or an evil girlfriend. He just needed SOMEONE. Because he was lonely. He was lonely and insecure and probably felt like everything he touched went wrong. Because it did!!! And he probably hated himself for that. Probably blamed himself for everything. For Paige (even though that was peters fault), for Kate (Kates fault. Grown ass woman), for Boyd and Erica (NOT DEREKS FAULT!!!), for everything. Hell, probably even for Laura. And it doesn’t help that Scott and Stiles ALSO blamed him for Laura at first.

Stiles on the other hand, he was pretty secure. Sure, at first he was a little insecure when Scott had just became a werewolf and he felt a little less-than. But he got over that quickly. Over it enough that he rejected Peters offer for the bite. He was hard headed, stubborn, and smart. And he knew he was smart. He knew what he had, his skills. He trusted his instincts ten times out’ve ten. He was secure with himself. He knew when something was off, and he was persistent in trying to get everyone else to listen to him. Because if everyone just listened to him, they would be fine. Because ten times out’ve ten, he was RIGHT!!! And he knew it!!! And he was secure enough with himself to go after the most popular girl in school, despite her having a boyfriend (which I NEVER even questioned the morals of, because he didn’t. Because he seemed so sure in that decision. Because he was SECURE in himself!!!)

Derek Hale might have been aware that he was beautiful on the outside, but that doesn’t mean he was secure within himself. That man is filled to the brim with guilt. Guilt over things that aren’t even his fault. There’s no way he doesn’t absolutely hate himself.

Stiles might have guilt over void, but he knows that wasn’t him. That he tried everything to stop void. He knows he isn’t a killer, and that everything he’s done has been for the greater good. He is secure in every decision he makes. And I know that because that’s practically what he told Scott. Some people are human, some people have to get their hands a little dirty sometimes. He knows that. He is secure in that thought process.

Stiles Stilinski is secure, hard headed, persistent. Derek Hale is insecure, unstable, and uncertain. These are facts. So why are you all writing it the opposite???? I don’t want it the opposite. I want Derek to be pathetic and wet. I want Stiles to be fucking confident, assured, SOLID. Because that’s what Derek needs. He needs someone solid, because he hasn’t had that since he was 15. He deserves that.

[waughymommy]

MOMMY KNOWS BEST 💕

Chapter 16

Progress was coming along nicely in the nursery. So far, Rebecca had successfully kept him from seeing the room’s transformation. She was confident that it would be ready for the big reveal on Friday. Brian also seemed to progressing with the hypnotic conditioning. She planned on really testing his suggestibility after she showed him his new nursery.

She wondered how Brian was faring at work. I wonder if Samantha has revealed our conversation yet. Speak of the devil. Her phone buzzed with a text from Samantha:

            Good morning. I wanted you to know that your baby boy soaked his diapers right in front of me. You have done such an amazing job regressing him.

            Rebecca: Oh I am so happy. I can’t thank you enough for your help. I feel so much better that he has someone to watch over him at work.

            Samantha: It’s really no problem. He is just precious when he is little. You must let me babysit him at home sometime.

            Rebecca: I think that can be arranged.

            Samantha: I never in my wildest dreams imagined changing a grown man’s diapers. But now that I have, I think if I ever get a man of my own, he will have to return to diapers.

Rebecca smiled. Not only had she gotten her baby, but it seems that a new friendship was budding.

After Samantha changed his diaper, Brian knew that she was never again going to view him as her boss, but he hoped she would at least pretend for appearance’s sake. She filled up his sippy cup with apple juice and set it on his desk. “Ok sweet boy, its time to be a big boy for a while and get some work done. I will check on you later. And remember its ok to use your diaper, but just come get me if you want to try and use the potty,” she said much like a mother to a toddler.

Brian blushed again at the mention of his diapers. She left the office and closed the door behind her. How on earth could he possibly focus? He realized he was still sucking on the pacifier and he quickly removed it. If these two women could regress him with such ease at any moment, was he now permanently bound to diapers. He had fantasized so many times about being reduced to a helpless baby. Now that it was happening and he questioned if this is what he wanted. But he feared it was too late. He was going to have to accept and trust that they would keep him safe.

He tried to act like everything was normal. Now that he was alone, his adult clarity started to return. He needed to start brainstorming how to market this new Babies R Us line. Brian always liked to sketch out ideas by hand whenever he was brainstorming. He even kept a whiteboard in his office for this very purpose. He went up to the board. His mind was blank. How could he ever have a mother’s perspective? He looked down at the sippy cup sitting on his desk. He brought it too his mouth and tasted the sweet juice. Maybe he couldn’t tap into the perspective of a mother, but he knew what it felt like to be a baby. Maybe not entirely, but then again, he was in a very thick diaper. He closed his eyes and tried to recall the feelings he had when his mommy was in control. In those moments, he didn’t think in words, but feelings and sensations. He opened the cap to the marker and started scribbling the feelings he experienced with his mommy: warmth, safety, trust, love, giggly. He kept scribbling across the board: cold, wet, hungry, scared, small, full, peaceful. He stared at the words he had scrawled out. He keyed in one word in particular: trust. He grabbed a red marker and drew a big circle around it.

Trust could be a nebulous word. It gets tossed around so much that it sometimes lost meaning. But with his recent experiences, it took on new meaning for him. When he was wet, he had to trust that his mommy would change him. When he felt scared, he had to trust that she would keep him safe. He thought about the night that this all started. By him agreeing to be her baby, he was entrusting her with his greatest vulnerability. Obviously, babies aren’t able to articulate what they are feeling, but who would know better as to what a baby was feeling: mothers. He still had a long way to go, but this exercise was getting the wheels turning.

Brian was so consumed with his work, he didn’t realize that half the morning had elapsed. He was so happy that he had been able to regain that focus. It gave him a glimmer of comfort that maybe he still in control of some things. Maybe he could be both a big boy and a baby. But then a rumble in his belly snatched his attention. He hadn’t had a bowel movement since Saturday. Perhaps his anxiety and nerves had bound him up. When he had played in diapers before this all began, he had never messed himself. It was one thing to wet, but he wasn’t willing to do that. He felt nervous about having to ask Samantha to go potty. He could just use his diaper, but having her change a messy diaper might be even more embarrassing. He looked back at the board. Trust. He had to put it to the test and trust that Samantha meant everything she said to him.

He peaked his head out the door, “Umm, can I see you for a moment?”

“Of course,” she smiled.

Inside the office, Brian started to have second thoughts about asking, but then another rumble in his belly made him find the courage to ask. “Ummm, I need to use the potty… I mean the restroom.”“Oh! Ok. Let me help you,” she was actually surprised that he came and asked. Brian started to unbutton his shirt. She playfully slapped his hand, “Uh uh uh baby, let me do that,” she chided him. After removing his shirt and pants, she pulled his onesie over his head, “Lay on the couch for me.” She undid the tapes of his diaper and set it aside. Fortunately, these diapers were refastenable. She then went through the trouble of redressing him. “Alright, I think you look acceptable to walk through the office. You don’t have any big boy undies, but I think you will be ok for a few minutes. When you get back, I will get you back in your diaper,” she said.

            “Thank you,” Brian said timidly.

            “Thank you what,” she said with one eye-brow raised.

            “Umm… thank you Auntie Samantha,” he said like a child that had just be scolded.

            She patted his bottom, “Off you go.”

After a few minutes he returned. Although he still struggled with his embarrassment, Samantha was helping him feel more at ease. Back in the office, she had Brian undressed once again. The haze of regression swept over him again as he stood before her in nothing but his birthday suit. His thumb made it to his mouth. “Lay down baby,” she cooed. She pulled out some wipes and proceeded to clean his bottom.

“But Aunfie Samanfa, I wiped myself after I went potty,” he said with his thumb still ensconced in his mouth.

“I know sweetie, but I just wanted to make sure that you are all clean,” she responded.

She rediapered him and got him dressed again. When he was finished, he started to “grow up.” He pulled his thumb from his mouth and blushed.

She placed her hand on his arm, “Brian what did I tell you. There is no need to feel embarrassed. Do you think if I was judging you that I would be standing here? I want you to feel comfortable to act as little as you want around me. Ok?”

“I know, its just hard. And if it makes you feel any better, I still get really nervous with mommy too,” he said not even realizing that he said mommy instead of Rebecca. “Its hard and scary, but I want you to know that I am really thankful that you are here to help me. It really helps to know I am not alone. To be honest, I felt really scared yesterday, especially when I had my accident.”

“I have to imagine that must have felt really scary and lonely. You aren’t alone Brian. You can count on me anytime,” she said. Brian felt a tear run down his check. He felt like he had cried so much over the past few days. “Oh sweetheart, there isn’t any reason to cry,” she said as she pulled him in for a hug. “You are such sweet boy and you are just too cute in your diaper. I could just eat you up,” she snickered and started tickling him. Brian’s tears turned to giggles. “Now I don’t want to hear anymore about feeling embarrassed, whether its around me or even around your mommy. We both want you to be a happy baby. Now let’s try to get a little more work done before I take you out to lunch, my treat,” she smiled.

[americanwh0rerstory]

KINKTOBER DAY FIVE

Brainwashing and Manipulation - Kai Anderson

kai anderson x f!reader

SUMMARY: becoming infatuated with a politician didn’t seem too bad, not until you joined his cult…

CONTENT WARNING: adult grooming, manipulation, sex, condescension, degradation, oral (m!receiving), abuse? i mean he slaps you around a bit so i guess, LONG INTRO+ANGSTY ENDING

A/N: after realising that the jpm fic wasn’t as bad as i thought it would be, i decided to make this one darker in a more emotional sense. hope you all enjoy

MDNI. CONSUME MEDIA AT OWN RISK

A politician. cold, calculating, and manipulative. they all were, there wasn’t a single politician who wasn’t corrupt in one way or another; you were a firm believer of this. However you found yourself at one of kai’s rallies, completely captivated by him. so captivated that you completely forgot how corrupt politicians could be, how selfish they could be

the way he carried himself: confident, determined, assertive, as though he had been born for the job. There wasn’t a crinkle in his suit, not a single hair was out of place in his tightly pulled man-bun, his posture was perfect as he addressed the crowd. It was impossible to deny how he got you a little hot under the collar.

You went to more of his rallies after that day, at every rally you were there. front row, eyes trained on kai. he seemed to know how charismatic he was, but also how powerful he was. he’d occasionally make eye contact with you, and look away as though nothing happened. day by day, week by week this continued with your infatuation growing worse; Until the day he finally spoke to you

“wanna grab dinner later?” his direct and authoritative tone rang out as you turned to leave the now finished rally, obviously you accepted, why wouldn’t you?

he asked about you, listening intently with his neutral expression. whenever he spoke it was empathetic to whatever you were talking about. all you could think about was how perfect he seemed, so perfect that you accepted his invitation back to his house. he seemed so perfect that you ignored the strange pinky ritual he had you do, so perfect that you ignored the small warning given to you by his silver haired sister about how he wasn’t the best person to be involved with.

weeks passed. you saw kai often and whilst you thought it was innocent dates he knew that he was merely indoctrinating you into something much more sinister; you, the trusting lamb, fell right into his trap exactly like flys in spider webs and moths to flames

——————————————————————————

“suck harder” he grumbled harshly, pushing your head down on his spit-covered dick. you gagged, feeling his balls against your chin with his entire length down your throat. you didn’t dare disobey him though, hollowing your cheeks and using your tongue on the underside of his member whilst you deepthroated him

tears pricked in the corners of your eyes, your gag reflex being put to the test by taking kai this deep. you didn’t dare object though, continuing to suck him off. after all, last time you disobeyed it didn’t end well for you. mindlessly obeying, you just continued to suck his dick. It brought you a strange sense of belonging when you pleased kai, knowing that you was helping his cause. he told you that it helped him de stress, and it became your job to keep him satisfied.

he gripped your hair with one hand and began to use your throat like his personal fucktoy, which was exactly you were. you felt his length hit the back of your throat with every forced movement. his nails dug into your scalp, urging you to keep up with the pace he was setting with his rough movements. the stinging sensation only fuelled the tears in your eyes, you hoped he’d assume it was just from the extensive gagging.

“you’re fucking pathetic when you cry like that. keep going. you wanna make me happy don’t you? want your divine ruler to be a bit gentler?” he scoffed, his tone filled with condescension as he spoke down to you. you were worthless, insignificant, and he would remind you of such.

you obliged nonetheless, taking as much of kai as you could and as fast as you could. with glassy and tear filled eyes, you silently served kai’s needs. the taste of his precum overwhelmed your senses, the bitter taste slipping down your throat

his words made you think for a moment, you wanted to please him. you had to please him, you felt like you wanted too but deep down in your subconscious you knew that it was just his manipulations and indoctrinations that he had carefully crafted ever since he saw those doe-eyes full of wonder in the crowd at his rallies.

he continued to force you down on his dick, his eyes glued to whatever political thing was on the news. the familiar voice of trump echoed in your ears which only reminded you of kai’s radical views. the thought of being with someone who actively supported these views disgusted you, but he was too good to leave.

your mind continued to drift whilst you sucked him off, thinking about how different kai was from the man you had become infatuated with previously. you never took the kai you met as a misogynist, racist, trump-supporting cult leader.

you looked up at him with eyes full of devotion, hoping to please him so he’d give you mercy. he payed no attention to you and just forced your head back into his crotch without taking his eyes off of the TV. his stoic expression never faltered nor moved from the TV. his nails were still planted in your hair, gripping you and forcing you to keep up with his movements; treating you like a ragdoll

your pace slowed slightly, not meeting kai’s expectations which caused you to be met with the sharp stinging sensation and the whiplash of your face being slapped. “what the fuck is wrong with you? i give you ONE job and you can’t even do that. why do i even keep you around? you’re just wasting my time with your bullshit”

he pushed you to the floor, standing up and pulling his boxers up with him. “worthless. fucking worthless. maybe i should find someone else who would appreciate being able to worship my cock” he huffed before leaving the room, with you still on the floor

the tears that formed earlier due to the gagging now silently spilled, this time for that guilty feeling of failure that overcame yourself. you felt disgusted with yourself for letting kai use you like this, but it felt so right to be his. you couldn’t leave though, no, despite all this treatment you still loved him. you were still infatuated with him and it would always be that way.

A/N: angsty ending? manipulative sex? sounds great. hope you all enjoyed this <3

[goggles-mcgee]

Harry Potter being smaller than all first years (which we all knew anyway) but twice as feral.

Prefect Percy immediately noticing his small stature and being worried, Boy-Who-Lived or not. So he always offers him more help or just lends an ear. At first Harry is wary of him, no one is nice to him for no reason. Either it's a trick or with his new fame in the picture, because they want something but slowly he begins to trust Percy. Percy feels like a big brother for the first time in a long time. Ron and Ginn rarely went to him with their problems, they preferred Charlie or Bill (he couldn't blame them as he too preferred them but it still hurt), or worse the twins (that hurt worse). They didn't care for his advice. For his knowledge.

Harry was a breath of fresh air....well somewhat. Things he said were concerning and when Percy tried to get an adult to help (*coughMcGonagallcoughDumbledorecoughHisMomcoughHisDadcoughMADAMEPOMPFREYcough*) they brushed off his concerns which was more than a little concerning. So he just vowed to help Harry whenever and however he could. Then Harry somehow made the Quidditch team. At eleven. AT ELEVEN.

----------

Oliver Wood loved his new seeker! He was timid at first but quickly found his confidence! Sure it was on the feral side but that's how Oliver liked his players! I mean, look at the twins! Plus Harry had the perfect seeker build! Though...he was on the small side. But Oliver chalked that up to the lid being literally eleven but when he looked closer he realized that no...Harry was really small. Too small. And Oliver would know, his mum was a healer and she taught him some stuff considering his love (obsession) with Quidditch.

So he pays more attention. And what he witnesses and notices is not...good. it's very telling. He tries to go to some adults about what he's noticed but nothing came of it and that really got him mad. Then out of no where Percy Weasley came up to him and started lecturing him on Potter's health and all Oliver could think was, oh thank Merlin I'm not the only one who's noticed!

He and Percy stayed up well past curfew talking about their smallest cub and somehow it ended up with them coparenting the Boy-Who-Lived. Oliver would be completely honest and admit he didn't think it would be so difficult until the troll incident....then the dragon incident.....then the CERBERUS incident!

Oliver became something of another big brother to Harry and another confidant. So when Harry told him more about what happened at the Dursley's (because Harry never called it home. Never) Oliver was already plotting to kidnap the boy from the house or the station whether Percy thought it was a good idea or not.

[anghraine]

This is unnecessarily long, but: I was just thinking about Wickham's predation on fifteen-year-old Georgiana Darcy and then, almost exactly a year later, Wickham's predation on sixteen-year-old Lydia Bennet.

There are obvious parallels between the two incidents. In fact, they're so obvious that I think the incidents are sometimes treated as equivalent, with the consequences only differing by happenstance. I don't think that's true, personally.

There are some mechanistic sort of differences—Wickham put a lot more effort and planning into the Georgiana situation. He wanted to marry her for her money and to make her brother suffer. She had to be isolated from people who would look out for her interests, he had Mrs Younge in place, he had known Georgiana as a child and was able to exploit his own previous kindness to her as her father's godson, etc.

And Georgiana, despite all of this, and despite being swept away by a teenage infatuation with an extremely attractive man, was still uncomfortable with it. She was worried about disappointing a brother who raised her and whom she deeply loves and admires. When her brother actually showed up by surprise, she decided to tell him everything; Darcy takes pains to give her credit for this. Adaptations generally downplay Georgiana's active decision-making here, but the only element of chance is Darcy deciding to go to Ramsgate at all. He insists that he was only able to act because Georgiana chose to tell him what was going on.

This isn't meant to be an indictment of Lydia, though. Does she admire the parents who raised her? No. But why would she? Especially why would she admire a father who treats her mother and sisters and herself with profound contempt and no sense of responsibility? Why would she ever confide in him?

It's not like Lydia doesn't confide in anyone. In fact, she too confides in an older sibling, her sister Kitty. And in one sense, her trust in Kitty is not undeserved. Kitty does keep the secret. Presumably, she does this because, despite her occasional annoyance with Lydia, she is very much under her influence and goes along with whatever Lydia does. Regardless, she is trustworthy in that sense. Moreover, we see at the end of the book that Kitty is easily improved by being placed in better environments and taught how to behave. She just didn't know better.

How was she going to judge Lydia's situation correctly? Who was teaching her to judge anything correctly? Certainly not their parents.

If Mr Bennet had bothered to interest himself in his younger daughters and try and influence them for the better, impressionable Kitty is probably the one who would have benefited the most. The whole Lydia/Wickham thing would have fallen apart before it went anywhere if all the girls had been been properly raised, even if Lydia did exactly the same things.

And Lydia likely wouldn't do the same things if she'd been brought up properly and, you know, treated with a baseline of respect rather than being openly mocked by her father, the person most able to affect her development. Instead, at barely sixteen, she's been continually rejected by her father, over-indulged by her mother, and flattered by adult men (28-y-o Darcy says he and Wickham are nearly the same age). And she still tells someone what's going on, even though she doesn't care about her parents' opinions or the consequences of her actions. And she was under the protection of a colonel and his wife at the time, who also could have told someone or acted, and didn't.

It's not that nobody could have done anything about the Lydia/Wickham situation. It's that nobody did until Darcy found out and tried to extract her. But it was, in one sense, too late. To Lydia, he's just some unfun acquaintance who says boring things like "go home to your family and I'll do what I can to cover for you." That is, he tries to do what he did for Georgiana.

But Lydia is not Georgiana—she did not choose to tell him about any of this. She did not want to be extracted because she didn't know and couldn't be quickly made to understand what marriage to Wickham would mean in the long term. And she didn't care what her family thought because she had no reason to, pragmatically or psychologically.

Georgiana, otoh, did care about her family's welfare and the good opinion and affection of the head of her family. But despite their radical differences in personality, the most fundamental difference between the girls IMO is that Georgiana had every reason to believe that disappointing Darcy and losing his respect would be a change from the norm.

Normally he is affectionate and attentive towards her. They write each other long letters, he defends her to other family members, and praises her frequently. Georgiana, quiet and intimidated though she may be, talks more when he's around. Disappointing him had actual stakes for her.

Put another way, the potential loss of his good opinion mattered to her because he's gone to the trouble of raising her as well as he can and forming a good relationship with her. She chose to tell Darcy the whole thing because he had earned her affection and trust in a way that Mr Bennet has utterly failed to do. Even Darcy happening to visit Georgiana at Ramsgate comes from his affection and attention to Georgiana's welfare, even if he couldn't have known what would follow from checking on his sister at that particular moment.

Chance is always part of life, and it's part of the novel and these situations. But a lot of how these scenarios wound out was not determined by chance but by long-existing patterns in these girls' educations and relationships.

[detectivesvu]

Sharing Secrets

Mike Dodds x Fem! Reader Tags: Brief mentions of child abuse. Word Count: 3.6k "I just...hope I haven't completely messed things up."

The air of the SVU victim interview room was completely still.

It wasn’t uncomfortable per se, but it was definitely quiet and not much conversation to fill the air. After all your years at SVU, talking to victims and hearing their stories still stung just as much as your very first day on the squad.

Of course, as time went on and you had more experience under your belt, you were more confident and comfortable talking to victims. You knew that in some cases, you were the only person in their corner. You were the only person who understood what they were feeling and what they were going through. Work experience helped, but it didn’t put even a dent in the way it still made your stomach turn to hear such traumatic events day in and day out.

And certainly, adults were one thing…kids were entirely another.

Too often, SVU was handed cases of kids being assaulted and abused…traumatized and scarred for life. With the adults, you always managed to move on, but kids? Kids’ cases stuck with you forever. Hearing small, meek children tell you that they had been touched or beaten…almost always by someone they knew and trusted. It was impossible to get used to hearing and seeing that every day…it was inconceivable to believe that anyone could lay their hands on a child.

Today was no exception.

He hadn’t hardly said a word since he sat down. He was practically trembling with anxiety as he did everything he could to avoid looking at you and your detective partner sitting directly across from him. If he did sneak a glance, his eyes tended to go to Detective Dodds, who only returned a quick soft smile each time he locked eyes with the 5-year-old.

His eyes were trained on the numerous pieces of paper strewn in front of him, a variety of different colored crayons scattered there as well. He was doodling away with the different crayons, silently dreaming up and sketching multiple pictures as a way of entertaining himself…and distracting himself from the two of you attempting to speak with him.

You and Dodds had been trying to get through to him for nearly half an hour. Each question you asked only earned a meek response and an uncomfortable body movement.

He was scared to death no doubt. Confused as to why two police officers were asking him so many questions that he didn’t want to answer…and even more confused about the situation that landed him here in the first place.

“That’s a really nice picture,” Your voice — soft and full of warmth — spoke to the young boy sitting across from you. “Do you like to draw?”

He said nothing. His eyes — full of fear and yet still so full of innocence — only flickered to you for a moment as a physical show that he had indeed heard your question. His left eye was swollen and a grisly shade of black and blue…evidence of what he had endured that landed him at SVU. His head barely nodded up and down as he set the crayon in use down, his cheeks tinting pink under your gaze.

Mike studied the picture that the child was currently working on. It was no Picasso masterpiece by any means…but even Mike could put together what it was supposed to be.

“Are these your favorite foods?” Mike asked, noting that he could spot a variety of foods that were universally kid friendly.

The child gave another small nod. Eyes now focused on his hands fiddling in his lap. This boy had been through hell and back, so it was no surprise he wasn’t interested in chatting about what foods he liked with two adult strangers. If that boy knew anything for sure, it was that the adults that were supposed to love you could hurt you beyond comprehension…so trusting an adult he didn’t know was not an option unless they gave him a reason to.

It was odd though. The boy had been much more talkative when Sonny picked him up and brought him into the precinct. He hadn’t been a chatterbox by any means, but according to Sonny — the kid wasn’t so clammed up like he was now. Something was making him uneasy.

“Pizza, ice cream, sandwiches…all really good stuff. I like all of that too,” Mike said, trying to establish some kind of common ground with the kid. Mike pointed to one particular image on his picture, a rectangular shape with a symbol on it that he identified to be a certain type of fruit. “Is this a juice box?”

The boy nodded once more, shrinking down into his seat as Mike continued.

“If you want, we can get you a juice box. We have some around here.”

For the briefest moment, the boy perked up. His eyes glimmered just long enough for you and Mike to catch it and know that you were making some progress.

He cowered and shrank into himself again when he locked eyes with you, and that’s when it clicked for Mike.

“Detective,” Mike turned to you, a small, reassuring smile on his face. “Would you get my friend here an apple juice?”

Mike had a look on his face, a look that let you know he had something in mind. You and Mike — a dynamic duo as work partners — understood one another. Your thoughts often flowed together smoothly and with ease. In many ways, your bond went well outside of work. The two of you didn’t just blend together as partners…but as people. If Mike needed you to leave, then you trusted him.

“Sure thing,” You retreated from your chair. “I’ll be right back.”

Mike kept his eyes on the kid, who allowed his own eyes to follow you as you exited the room and disappeared behind the wall. He released a long breath once you were gone, unbeknownst to him that you would be watching from the other side once his promised juice box was retrieved. Mike let the silence simmer for a few minutes, not wanting to immediately start asking more questions.

It wasn’t until the boy snuck another glance at Mike that he decided to try and press further.

“So…let me ask you something. Does Detective [L/N] make you nervous?”

The boy’s wide brown eyes locked with Mike’s for only another moment as he nodded, fiddling with his small hands.

“Can you tell me why she makes you nervous? You didn’t seem to like her being here," Mike asked. "I'm your friend. You can tell me."

The boy was clearly wrestling with himself. Not wanting to give in to Mike’s question…but deep down knowing that he wasn’t here to do anything other than help him. The boy then spoke for the first time in half an hour. The tiniest bit of comfort filled his senses as he finally began to answer Mike’s questions.

“She’s pretty…” He gave the tiniest, shyest grin with a small voice.

Mike couldn’t help himself. His laugh was light and surprised, but genuine. This was the first time he had said anything, and he chose to say that.

You yourself gave a small laugh, cradling the beloved apple juice in your hand to be delivered once Mike made some decent headway in this conversation.

“He’s getting through to him.” Olivia, who was standing to your immediate right, said aloud. “Even if it’s at your expense.”

You shook your head and shrugged, completely unbothered.

“I don’t mind,” You answered. “Mike knows what he’s doing.”

Mike could tell the kid was warming up. He didn’t want to lose momentum now while he was on a roll.

“Is that why you didn’t want to talk with her in the room?”

The boy nodded and surprised Mike by posing a question of his own.

“Do you think she’s pretty too?”

Suddenly, the questioning at your expense was getting a bit personal. Mike shifted in his seat a bit -- he wasn't going to lie to this boy, but he also knew you were listening. Right now, this kid was his priority.

“Yeah, bud. I do.”

The boy brightened up, clearly interested in this ordeal. Mike didn't mind. If it distracted him from what he had been through, then he was more than willing to dish out his personal business.

“Are you boyfriend-girlfriend?” The boy straightened up, now having no trouble keeping eye contact with Mike.

“No, we’re not boyfriend-girlfriend.” Mike chuckled again at the phrasing of the youngster's question.

“Why not?” He tilted his head slightly with curiosity.

Mike's eyes widened at that question, a sly smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He wasn't expecting that question, and it caught him off guard. Mike was too far down the road of this conversation to turn back now. If he lost this kid's trust, they might never really know what was happening to him. He turned his attention back to the child, a soft sigh escaping his lips.

"It's a bit more complicated than that," Mike admitted, trying to maintain his composure. "We're partners...but not the kind that dates."

It seemed that suddenly the boy was very invested in your and Mike’s relationship because he continued to press on like he needed to know for his own personal reasons.

“But if you think she’s pretty, why don’t you date?” He asked. “You like her don’t you?”

Mike chuckled again, amused by the boy's curiosity and keen eye for detail. He leaned back in his chair, contemplating his answer for a moment before speaking.

"Well...you're right. I do like her," he admitted, a smile on his face. "But it's not always that simple. We work together every day...and sometimes," Mike said, hesitating for a moment, "Work can get in the way of things."

“Oh…” The boy said quietly, thinking for only a moment before continuing. “So you don’t like her more than a friend?”

Mike pondered on the question. It really was a difficult one to answer. Because the feelings he had for you weren't just that of friendship. They were stronger, deeper, but he didn't know how to articulate it to a 5-year-old child. He leaned closer to the boy, his voice serious but still friendly.

"I do like her more than just a friend. A lot more," He confessed, his smile still on his face. "But it's a bit tricky when we work together. Does that make sense?"

The boy picked up on Mike’s quiet tone, and he matched his whisper when he spoke next.

“Yeah but…why don’t you tell her you like her?”

Mike was caught off guard again by the boy's insightful question. He shifted in his chair, feeling a pang of guilt and regret in his chest. The simple truth was, he had thought about expressing his feelings to you more times than he could count. But there was always a reason not to.

He sighed, his voice low and conflicted.

"It's not that easy. If I tell her how I feel...it could mess up our friendship."

Mike realized he was probably oversharing with him. In no way was his feelings for you the child's responsibility...but the boy didn't seem burdened in the slightest -- this was the most interested he had been in talking all day. A slight smile appeared on the boy’s face as he leaned over the table, whispering even quieter to Mike.

“I think she likes you too.” He grinned.

Mike kept his expression unchanged, but his heartbeat was beginning to quicken in his chest. He knew there was no turning back from this now. He leaned in toward the boy, mirroring his whispering tone.

"What makes you think that?" He asked in a hushed voice.

The boy shrugged, but his eyes were completely lit up at this conversation.

“I don’t know…” He giggled. “I can just tell.”

Mike knew this conversation was getting way off track. The purpose of this interview was to get this boy to tell him about what he had endured at his daycare center, and how he ended up bruised and beaten — but at this point, Mike figured it was valuable to finish it out.

“You’re a smart kid,” He said. “You can tell me. How can you tell?"

Mike was impressed at how observant and perceptive this kid was. At such a young age, he had an astute sense of things that many adults didn’t even pick up on in their own relationships. The boy scrunched his eyebrows, thinking hard. Mike chuckled at the sight and waited patiently for his answer.

"Well," he began, his voice barely above a whisper. "She smiles at you a lot. And she listens when you talk. Like...she really listens."

Mike was speechless. He could tell this kid was observant, but this was beyond impressive. It seemed that this five-year-old was beyond smarter than he was.

“But I won’t tell her if you don’t want her to know you like her,” The boy said. “I promise."

Mike knew that it wasn't a secret anymore, given that you were probably watching from the other side and had heard this entire conversation. Still, Mike admired the kid's loyalty. He leaned forward, a conspiratorial smile on his face.

“Thanks, kid. Let’s keep it just between us for now, okay?”

Mike knew you had to have been watching and listening this entire time. His stomach was in knots knowing that you had just heard him spill his liking for you to a child. He hoped and hoped that this kid was right, and that your friendship and partnership wasn’t over.

As if on cue, the door to the room opened — revealing you with two small boxes of the promised apple juice. The boy shrank into his seat slightly when you entered, but shared a knowing glance with Mike.

Mike's eyes darted from the boy back to you, trying to keep a casual demeanor despite the wave of nerves that washed over him. He could sense the boy's slightly timid behavior as you entered the room, and the knowing glance the boy shared with him was both reassuring and foreboding. He tried his best to act natural, standing up to take the juice box from you and set it on the table in front of the boy.

"Perfect timing, thanks." Mike said, his voice betraying a hint of tension underneath.

She knew Mike was going to try and continue the conversation with the boy now — and get the full story of the abuse he had endured. She wouldn’t be sticking around - just long enough to give him his juice.

“I brought you a second one…just in case you were extra thirsty.” she smiled at the boy, her heart pounding at the new knowledge of Mike liking her so much more than she ever realized. “If you want anything else, let Mike know, okay?”

The boy took one of the juice boxes, unwrapped the straw and punched it into the hole.

“Okay,” He gave her a shy smile. “Thanks.”

The thought of you potentially knowing Mike's feelings for you — the fact that he may have given away his secret to you via a 5-year-old — was almost overwhelming. But he pushed it aside, needing to focus on the task at hand.

As you excused yourself to leave the room, he shot you a quick nod, a silent thank you for the juice and giving him and the kid some privacy.

“Okay, buddy…” Mike said calmly, trying to shift gears. “Can you tell me about your daycare teacher?”

For the next hour or so, Mike and the boy talked back and forth. The boy told Mike all the details of how his daycare teacher abused him and other kids in his class — and gave SVU enough reason to question and potentially arrest her.

Through the boy's detailed and sometimes-heartbreaking account of the abuse he and others had suffered, Mike listened intently, his heart breaking a bit more with every new piece of information. He jotted down notes as the boy spoke, making sure to capture as much information as possible for the investigation. The more Mike learned about the daycare teacher's treatment of the children, the more determined he was to bring her to justice.

When the boy was out of things to say and SVU had enough information, Mike stood from the table and held his hand out to the boy.

“You’ve been very brave and helpful to us,” He said, smiling once more when the boy walked around the table and took his hand. “Thank you for helping us.”

The boy nodded, walking out of the room hand-in-hand with Mike — entering Olivia’s office where you, Olivia, and Carisi were waiting. Olivia wore an expression of curiosity, Carisi looked as if he was about to explode to go tell the entire squad room what just happened, and you were looking at Mike...purely in awe as he stood in front of you.

Mike squatted to meet the boy’s height, gesturing toward Carisi with a grin.

“I need to get back to work now. Detective Carisi is going to take you now, okay?”

The boy nodded again, leaning in to whisper one more thing to Mike before going with Carisi.

“I won’t forget our secret.” He said, and Mike patted his shoulder affectionately.

Carisi took the boy with him, leaving Mike alone with her and Olivia. As Carisi led the boy out of the office -- no doubt going to tell Fin and Rollins about this -- Mike stood up and stood stoically, now facing you and Olivia, his nerves mounting. He avoided your gaze, focusing instead on straightening out the notes he had taken during the interview. The silence in the room was deafening, and Mike's heart was hammering in his chest.

"I'm going to call Barba," Olivia said, which was Olivia's way of saying she was leaving the room. “I'll send Fin and Rollins down to that daycare center."

Mike nodded in acknowledgement as Olivia relayed the news about the teacher, his heart racing even faster at the impending prospect of being alone with you. He swallowed hard, bracing himself for the conversation that was to come. Olivia swiftly left the room, closing the door behind her.

Mike stood frozen for a moment, mustering up the courage to finally look over at you. He took a deep breath, his gaze meeting yours. It wasn't like Mike to be so nervous. Mike was always confident...super focused on work. But right now, he was terrified that your partnership and friendship was ruined.

He could tell you weren’t angry with him or anything of that nature. If anything you looked…relieved.

“So…” You couldn’t help but flash a small grin, his chest fluttering at the sight. “You think I’m pretty?”

Mike let out a nervous laugh, a mix of relief and anxiety coursing through him. Seeing your small grin made his heart skip a beat. He couldn't deny it now - he was about to see the outcome of his confession.

"Guilty as charged," he admitted sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "That kid wasn't wrong."

He paused for a moment, the weight of his feelings for you heavy in his chest.

"I just...hope I haven't completely messed things up."

“Come on, Mike…” You took a step closer. “You know it would take way more than that to mess things up between us.”

Relief washed over him as you took a step closer. The distance between you guys was shrinking, and he could feel the tension in the room growing. He studied your face, searching your eyes for any hint of rejection.

"I was worried that you'd think this completely changed everything." He said, his voice quiet but firm.

"Well…it certainly does change things…in a good way." You smiled.

Mike's head was spinning. This was certainly not how he expected his day to go...and for the first time ever, he was distracted from the current case at hand.

He took a cautious step forward, closing the distance between you guys even further. His eyes searched yours, looking for any sign of doubt. He saw nothing but genuine hope.

"The kid was right after all," You said. "But this is a conversation we can have when we get this case figured out. We need to get him taken care of."

He gave a slow nod, his gaze locked on yours. As much as he wanted to blurt out everything he was feeling, he knew you were right — there was work to be done first.

"You're right," he said, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "We need to focus on the case. But when this is all over…"

"When this is all over..." You finished his sentence for him. "We will see where we go from here."

The promise of "what's to come" overwhelmed him like no other. It had been so long since he had something other than work to focus on. He took another step forward, the urge to be closer to you nearly overwhelming him. But he stopped himself, knowing that until the case was closed, he couldn't act on any impulses.

"Right," He agreed. "How about dinner at my place?"

Your smile grew, and a slight heat rushed your cheeks.

"It's a date."

The matter was put to rest for now. They had work to do and a case to solve. But neither of you could deny that it sat in the back of your minds for the rest of the day. The day had taken an unexpected turn after all, and a most welcome one at that.

Mike was patient, and he knew with a little more time you would be able to see where this would lead.

Although, you both already had a pretty good idea of what that would be.

[yrrtyrrtwhenihrrthrrt]

Yanno something I don't think is explored nearly enough? Ambrosius's relationship with the Director, and I'm referring to both versions here because they're both interesting in both similar and different ways

For the movie version (I will talk about the comic version on this post too, don't you worry) first of all my pal @walrus150915 wrote an incredible fic exploring this for the NBB please go read it right fucking now, but moving on from that, Ambrosius arguably saw the Director as his mom, or at least a stand-in for his mom.

She was (or seemed to be) a nurturing but authoritative adult who guided him in the role he was supposed to fill. A lot of people like to write her as an overtly nasty bitch in pre-canon fics, and while I completely get that, let's not forget that Ballister, at the beginning of the movie, found it potentially believable that he was her favorite student. He was dumbfounded and devastated to see she had been the one to frame him, he couldn't believe it and never suspected her for a second. I'll talk more about Ballister's relationship with her in another post, but the point is this is an Oscar-winning actress, people!

Ambrosius had every reason to look up to her and believe she cared about him. And she went from (in his perspective) treating him with patience, kindness, sympathy and respect, to trying to MURDER HIM.

You don't just get over a parental figure doing something like that to you (then oh yeah, promptly fucking d y i n g). The pain, the loss of realizing someone you loved and trusted was never who you thought they were (after he'd been battling those same feelings about Ballister) and never really cared about you as a person, it would be devastatingly traumatic. Like poor guy what the fuck. He had to cope with that WHILST trying to repair his broken relationship Jesus Christ

And that's not even getting INTO the comic version, which I will be getting into now. There's a big difference between the two and I think that's in no small part due to the timeframe. C! Ambro has been under the Director's thumb a full 15 years longer than his counterpart. This gave her time to exert more control over him, and also gave him time to grow more aware of her behavior. M!Ambro and the Director have the relationship of a person and their (non-sexual) groomer, while C!Ambro's relationship with her is more overtly that of a person and their abuser.*

She's regularly seen threatening him, threatening to have his loved one (Ballister) killed if he doesn't obey her thereby forcing him to do things against his will (like murder a child), insulting him, and showing him absolutely zero sympathy or kindness, even when he's seriously harmed. I think Ambrosius would, by this point, know that the Director isn't a good person and that she doesn't love him, but she's had much more time to sink her claws into him.

He's not going to leave her. This life, being the Champion, working for her, it's all he knows, and it's all he has. Where is he going to go, back to Ballister? Ballister hates him (because the Director took measures to isolate Ambrosius from him) and he's worked for the Institution his whole life. He knows the Director is bad, but he still trusts her. This is the devil he knows, at least, so by the time the story takes place he at least feels confident that they have a mutual understanding.

I imagine it took time to get to this point. He saw her as a mentor and spent most of his life desperate for her approval. After the joust, I can only imagine this got worse. She was all he had, and he'd do anything to prove himself worthy of the championship title he knows deep down that he stole. He probably saw her as a real friend for a long time, no matter how obvious she made it that the feeling wasn't mutual, and that he'd have to try ever harder to earn her praise.

What I'm saying is this man spent fifteen years under the boot of his abuser, then after fifteen years of grooming and psychological abuse she threw him in the trash, stripped him of his title and everything he'd worked for, tried to have his lover executed, then fucking died. And NOBODY TALKS ABOUT IT??? HELLOO?????

*this is not to say that M! Ambro's relationship with the Director was not abusive, it was, or that C! Ambro wasn't groomed, he was. Simply that for him, the grooming had more time to develop into overt, recognizable abuse.

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Someone is eager to see Mafia Mamma and that someone is me. So anyway.

When a twenty-two year old Steve Harrington gets the call, he isn't in the best spot in his life. Sure, he survived all the Upside Down crap, but his parents finally had enough of his so-called trauma ("the earthquake was bad, Steven, but you can't let that influence your life forever! It's like you're not even trying!"). He didn't get to college and his love life is abysmal, but hey, at least he does something useful now - he's training to be a paramedic and he lives in a small, old flat, regularly calling Robin and his gaggle of kids and hanging out with Eddie whenever possible. So maybe it's not the best spot in life, but it's his.

Well, apparently his great-uncle that his mother never really talked about died and asked that Steve takes over the family business in his will. Family business that is in Italy. Cool.

Look, Steve likes first aid, saving lives and all that, but, after the second shared joint with Eddie, admits he's curious. No one said it has to be forever, but maybe it would help him to try something else for a change. Eddie absolutely approves, squeezes Steve's shoulder, but - a little sadly, it seems to Steve - admits he's going to miss the only person who went through all the shit and stuck around. He even jokes he'll hide in Steve's suitcase and will go to Italy with him. "You know, somewhere far away from the Satanist rep. Well, Vatican is there so that's not ideal, but maybe with no murders and levitation this time, I'd just pass as the weird American?" And without thinking, Steve blurts out: "Come with me."

They land in Italy with almost nothing, Eddie with a beat up backpack and his guitar ("not even death or other fucked up dimensions will us part, Steve!"), Steve with a sports bag full of clothes and graduation pics of his kids plus Robin and Nancy, and his trusted hair spray. He really, really wanted to take his spiked bat, but apparently that would be a hazard on the plane. Go figure.

And of course, the "family business" is full of black suits, guns, rapid Italian threats and on top of that, the other families know that the old head of the family is gone and they smell the blood in the water. Especially when the new leader is barely an adult who looks more like a model than a criminal. And his friend who looks like a criminal? That one looks more like a petty thief or vandal than an actual mafia member. Now is their time to strike.

Turns out, that wasn't the best idea. Not when the doe-eyed metalhead grabs the nearest chair and smashes it repeatedly over the assailant's head while yelling "I-DID-NOT-SURVIVE-BEING-CHEWED-ON-TO-DIE-TO-A-FUCKING-BULLET-YOU-MOTHERFUCKER!" while the new boss reaches for the nearest lamp and, like a bloody ninja, renders three assassins unconscious, then setting down the bloodied rod (goodbye, lamp shade and light bulb) and tells his advisor that he wants a baseball bat, a hammer and a bunch of nails. For...reasons.

They gradually settle in. Steve excels in keeping his family in line by adopting his best mom pose, hands on hips, while sternly uttering "What did we say about excessive violence, Francesco? Hm? If you start there, what do you do when you need to escalate? Why do you start with the worst? And they call me dumb." When his bodyguard cocks his gun and asks who called him dumb and where do they live, Eddie snorts into his coffee. (also Steve later apologizes to Francesco for calling him dumb, but also adds that rules are made to be followed, especially those that save a lot of blood and pain)

As for Eddie, without the academic pressure he becomes and unstoppable language student. He's like a sponge, being semi-fluent while Steve struggles with basic phrases. They study together and Eddie begins feeling more confident, takes up more languages and slowly starts functioning as Steve's interpreter and teacher in one. Also a bit more, when they have to evade another assassination attempt and Steve finds himself laying on top of Eddie, on the ground where he pulled him to save him from a nasty punch, and no one comments on it when they get up a few seconds too late, their lips and faces red.

Eventually Steve becomes fluent as well and that's when Eddie experiences the best time of his life - when they walk together in a market, bodyguards giving them just a little bit of privacy, and someone spits on the ground behind them - "stupid American." But before Eddie can react, Steve throws a bitchy look at the offender and says in perfect Italian: "and you look like a poorly shaved goat, yet I'm not judging."

Eddie howls in laughter and nudges Steve's side. "Careful, Stevie. I might think you don't need a teacher anymore."

Steve wraps his arm around Eddie's waist. In here, surrounded by the bodyguards and his family, he can finally do that. "Maybe not. But I'll always need a boyfriend. Wanna apply?"

[sciencebecameouraddiction]

my own alastor headcanons…

warnings: discussion and mention of abuse, hell, killing, racism

note: i am also getting through my asks. i promise. ☺️

second note: these are just my own head canons. things i’ve noticed, how i write alastor, what plays into why i write al the way i do… etc. purely my own opinion.

- you know the whole thing hurt people, hurt people… at the core that’s who alastor is.

- he was a mommas boy and loved his mom so much

- his father was abusive, physically, mentally and emotionally

- his father would hit his mother and alastor

- many people turned a blind eye, this taught alastor to never trust anyone and that it’s just you for yourself at a very young age

- finally, alastor was tired of seeing his mother upset and hurt so while his father was asleep he killed him. alastor was 13-15 at the time.

- i believe that alastor’s mom is in heaven

- i also believe that she helped alastor hide the body of his father. in the same bayou that alastor used when he buried his victims

- his mom never knew there was anyone else alastor killed after his father.

- after killing his dad, he started down a slippery slope. he liked the power he felt when he had control over someone’s life or death. it was all in his hands

- but alastor has been said to have a unique moral code

- so i think he would kill any adult, but it was those that were distasteful

- the fathers who were abusive, the men who preyed upon women, the women who tore families apart just because, the mothers who were abusive

- he’s the equal opportunity killer and if you’re a shitty person you were on his radar.

- he got into voodoo to help his mom

- his mom got sick, nothing could cure her, he felt helpless, weak, so he turned to something that could help when praying didn’t. voodoo didn’t help either, but it was already too late… you know what they say about power corrupting you and when you make a deal… they stick

- ladies man, little fucking flirt, charming, suave, disarming. you’d want to take him to meet your momma

- he never married in his human life, chalked up to never finding the right girl.

- no one met his momma when he was alive. like girls just weren’t brought, people just weren’t brought to meet his momma. if you met her through alastor, you were very very special to him

- never happened though!

- he had the most gorgeous southern accent when he was a young man before getting into radio.

- he was told to loose it after the first broadcast. so he adopted the transatlantic accent we hear, to be more palatable to white listeners in the south. i mean, he was given an opportunity of a life time “especially for someone like him.”

- he went to church every sunday with his mom until she died. he’s very very knowledgeable about the bible

- just intelligent over all. likes reading, very meticulous, detail oriented, sharp and quick witted.

- he is deep deep deep down insecure. buried under years of acting like he’s the shit; pretending he’s amazing and the self assured confidence needed to be the radio host he was. this only became buried deeper when he went to hell.

- having someone who is supposed to protect you tear you down when you’re a kid does shit to you. (his dad)

[pandagalo]

[PJO SERIES EPISODE 1x08 COMMENT]

What an amazing episode!!

Starting from the RECAP: Poseidon speech as we relive Percy's quest is amazing, not just a montage of what has happened, but actually video editing to tie all together!

Annabeth confused about Kronos, great continuity.

THEY ARE IN MONTAUK. Poseidon is right by his side in the exact place where he met Sally! I know it was for time and budget, but it's a change that I personally L O V E.

WAIT, YOU PUT PERCY'S TRAINING WITH LUKE THERE? AND YOU MIRROR THEM AS IF YOU PUT THE TWO SHOTS TOGETHER THEY ARE POINTING SWORDS AT EACH OTHER. WHAT?!

Fight with Ares check: Percy easily overpowered, he finally has confidence in his powers and distract Ares as he hurts him. Of course Ares thinks Percy is going for the head. Ares thinks everyone in battle wants to kill the other, Percy used his brain and went for the ankle.

GOLDEN ICORE.

ANNABETH'S NECKLACE.

Now to Zeus. That sequence is absolute PERFECTION. We saw kids acting most of the time, now we got two adults that just DELIVER with their perfomance. Zeus is scary, has authority, HE IS A GOD. Poseidon portrayal is such a loving father, such powerful emotions and acting. They killed the scene, I couldn't stop smiling from how good it was.

"DO YOU EVER DREAM ABOUT MOM?"

Now to the Luke scene. Percy figured it out, but this time it was too late. He was already alone with Luke in the forest and was recalling the prophecy. The scene is masterfully portrayed, Luke tries to recruit Percy, only for him to have developed trust in his father, which push him to try and change Luke's plans. But when he mention Hermes, the fight starts.

PERCY APOLOGIZES WHEN HE HURTS HIM. He wasn't being serious, he probably thought it was like sword practice, but this time he didn't have a wooden sword. It's only when Luke hurts him that he understands how grave is the situation.

AND ANNABETH SHOWS UP. Because she had the same thoughts as Percy. She emphasized that they needed CONCRETE PROOF. Something wasn't quite right. She actually followed them with the cap. And when Luke harmed Percy, she understood that they weren't getting their friend back. And Luke couldn't bear her seeing him like that, and he escaped.

MR. D WHAT A SWEETIE PIE YOU ARE.

Gabe wasn't portrayed as abusive and bad as the book, if it was Sally to petrify him it wouldn't have sound right. BUT TO POSEIDON TO DO IT? To send back the Medusa's head, knowing Gabe would have opened their mail? To Poseidon to actually save Sally? (Friendly prophecy reminder: "You will not save what matters the most" in the book is about Percy letting Sally use the Medusa's head on Gabe, it isn't Percy who saves his mother, but herself)

GROVER GOT HIS LICENSE. Well, it's not actually that they never checked the sea, it's just no one ever returned. But probably no one knows it.

In the end, loved the episode and the show. Episodes 7 & 8 REALLY sold it to me. In my opinion, it went from a 7 to an 8/8.5 just because of the last two episodes. I'm really excited about Sea of Monsters, I don't think they will have any problem with the green light for Season 2, as the show is a success and it deserves it.

[hoffmannwrites]

You Better You Bet

Previous - PART TWELVE - Next - Masterlist

Author’s Note: Holy shit y'all. It's been a hot minute, huh? I have spent a lot of time thinking about finishing this fic and I just simply must be done with this. I've got a few more chapters coming your way, and then I must bid au revoir to YBYB. It's just been so long. I love you guys so much and thanks for sticking around.

Pairing: Riverdale, FP Jones, and 19-Year-Old Reader

Description: A bet with Jughead leads to so much more than winning.

Warning: Language, Adult themes, Age Gap,

Song Inspiration: Everybody (Backstreet's Back) - Backstreet Boys (Get it?)

By the time Thursday came around, you were doubting everything. Your mind changed every five minutes. You shouldn’t tell Jug. You should have told Jug from the beginning. Well, better late than never, right? You shouldn’t even be with FP. You should be with FP and not tell Jug outright, but not hide it either. Your head cycled through every possibility all day long. You barely accomplished anything other than going through the daily motions, as you were too preoccupied with worrying over how tonight was going to go. No matter how anxiety ridden you were, you never texted FP. For one thing, you didn’t want to freak him out. He was probably already worried and didn’t need your freak out on top of his. But more than that, you trusted him. You knew this was important to him and the right thing to do overall, so you let him take the reigns. It was comforting to know that whatever ended up happening, at least you and FP would have to deal with it together.

You weren’t sure when Jug was heading over to the trailer, so you sent a text to FP after you got out of school simply asking him to keep you updated. He texted back quickly saying Jug was coming over now and he’d let you know how it went as soon as he could. You thought about doing something to preoccupy your mind while you waited, but knew that trying to do anything would be useless. So you just went home. And waited. And waited.

It felt like decades had gone by when your phone finally chimed with a text from FP asking you to come over for dinner. Was he serious? No context, no update. Just a dinner invite? You typed back furiously “uhhhh what am I walking into here, Jones?”. Fuck, it went bad. You knew it was a bad idea. Fuck.

His response came quick, but not quick enough to calm the rising anxiety in your stomach.

“He took it good. Invited Betty over too. Figured it'd be nice to get everyone on the same page right off the bat”

Oh. Okay. So Jug didn’t hate your guts. That was promising. You’d have to feel out exact how he was taking it when you got there, but knowing Betty would be there too was promising. You got yourself ready, texted Betty to see if she wanted a ride, and then you went on your merry way.

Betty had a lot of questions in the car ride over. She knew you had seen FP again because of your sleepover text escapades and you’d made some casual comments about how it was going here and there, but nothing of any substance. You kept FP from Betty mostly because you didn’t want to have to ask her to lie to Jughead. She kept the little information she had known to herself, but now that it was out in the open, she was ravenous for details. Between her and Jughead’s thirst for knowledge and inability to leave anything alone, you were shocked it had taken this long honestly. She asked how serious things had gotten and how often you saw each other and if you’d discussed any future plans. And you told her everything. Honestly, it felt nice to be able to confide in someone about your relationship.

By the time you got to the South Side, Betty was fully clued in on your life. You walked up to the trailer, letting Betty enter first. You ambled in behind her nervous as all hell. It was like telling Jug about the bet all over again, except with way more than 50 bucks at stake. FP greeted Betty with a warm hug and then turned to you. “How’s my girl?” he asked with a grin, throwing his arms around you and kissing the top of your head before you could even get a word out.

“Oh you know, living the dream,” you responded angling your head up so he could plant a quick kiss on your lips.

“God, it’s so much worse seeing it. Like I knew it was happening but- fuck, that’s just off-putting” said Jughead, with no real malice in his voice and just a dash of pure disgust.

“Aw, stop it; they’re cute!” Betty gushed. Your cheeks turned pink at the attention, but FP made no move to let you go which comforted your anxiety.

You hadn’t really thought about the whole “my boyfriend can’t cook anything that isn’t microwaveable” thing when you had originally made dinner plans, but thankfully he had taken the initiative to order in at some point. And Chinese food was bound to make anyone agreeable to even the most uncomfortable of situations.

But luckily, things were mostly normal at dinner. Jug and FP caught up on Serpent news, while Betty filled you in on Riverdale’s mystery de jour. (She was 100% convinced that there was something funky up with that new girl and her weirdly blonde dad, but everyone else thought she was crazy. You believed her, but knew better than to get involved. You were NOT going to be the next girl knifed to a musical background because you sniffed around too hard at the insanity that followed B around). Somehow, the conversations got intertwined when FP and Betty connected the dots that maybe this weird girl’s “Farm” was where Fangs had been disappearing to, and you found yourself extremely out of the loop. You excused yourself to start dinner clean up, and, to your surprise, Jughead volunteered to help you. Not that Jughead was a necessarily unhelpful person, you just assumed he would be of more help with the discussion at hand. And that he would probably want to give you a wide birth while he processed the news that you were dating his father. Either one.

You started to silently put away leftovers and wash dishes by hand, as you couldn’t think of anything to say to each other. Silence with Jug had always been comfortable before- a time to think and write and not have to fill the void with mindless bullshit. But for the first time it felt fragile- like one loud noise and the whole trailer would blow up. You just had to say something. Anything. But before you could decide on whether or not it was stupid to talk to your best friend about the weather, he decided to point out the giant leather-clad elephant in the room.

“I’m trying really hard to not be weird about this,” he admitted while drying the plates you were washing. You blinked at him, afraid to cut him off. “I mean, logically, i’m not…opposed. Dad and I have never been particularly close and it’s not like I even live here. You’ve just always fit into a particular space in my life and now I have to find a way to fit you into a very different space.”

“I get that. And I’m not asking you to change anything for me. I know we’ve always had a bond over growing up the way we did. Independent" - i.e. neglected- "and rocky." - i.e. unstable- "And I don’t want this to change that.”

He looked mildly incredulous, “Of course it changes that. I can’t-“

You cut him off. “Yes you can". You lowered your voice and turned to look Jughead in the eye for possibly the first time in weeks. “Yes, FP is my boyfriend. Yes, I have incredibly strong feelings for him that I’m still trying to work out. But I was your friend first. And he was your dad first- a shitty one! And you’re still trying to repair that relationship. You can still talk to me about him, even the bad stuff. I’m not going to automatically take his side in everything. I knew who he was when I started seeing him, don’t think I don’t know.”

Jughead studied you like one of the boards with red string and different clues he has set up. He just stared at your with those unwavering eyes and you refused to look away, not even once. He finally found whatever he was searching for. “Okay,” he sighed. “Yeah. You’re right. It’s just going to be an adjustment period. But if you’re both happy then…” he trails off and shrugs, but you can tell there’s more thoughts in that always one-step-ahead brain of his. You wait for him to form them into a sentence. “I don’t want you to get hurt either. He wasn’t always particularly good with my mom. Or Alice. Once things settle, he gets... complacent. Stops caring.” Jughead's gaze found a point in the distance to fixate on while he thought, surely, about his own relationship with FP Jones and how once things got hard, he stopped trying with him too.

“I know. And this has only been a few weeks, I’m not expecting anything at this point. I’m not saying he’s changed because I don’t know. I wasn’t there for the before and I can’t be sure if we’re in the after. i just know that I believe he has the capability to be a good guy, and that’s enough for me to give him a chance. I see it in the way he tries now. Please don’t think I would ever date a man believing he’s still shitty.”

Jug snorts at that. “You do love to put men in their place.”

“I really, really do.” Jughead bumps his shoulder into yours and it feels good. Normal. Feels like acceptance.

-------------------------------------------------

By the time Jughead and Betty left, you’d decided it was late enough to warrant you staying the night. You and FP flopped down onto the couch, coming down from a joint anxiety wave that you hadn’t even really noticed.

"That went well,” he stated to no one in particular. “I think,” he added, scrunching up his face just the tiniest bit.

“Very well,” you responded, turning towards him and tucking yourself into his side. “Jug and I talked for a little. He’s okay with it.”

FP just twisted his head to look and you and quirked it to the side, looking for more details. “It'll be an adjustment period for him,” you continued. “But nothing he can’t handle. I think he knows that this makes sense. We make sense.” You laced your fingers in between his as he kissed the top of your head.

“Good. That makes this so much easier,” he admitted, resting his head on top of yours. You sat like that for a while, wrapped up in each other, breathing slow, enjoying the silence, and sharing small kisses and light touches.

Eventually FP scooped you up and carried you to bed, where light touches became heavier and kisses became feverish, until you were both so warn out that you passed out, wrapped up in each other again.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Author's Note Pt 2:

I will never get over the Chad Michael Murray Organ Harvesting Incest Cult plot line.

Why are you, as an adult man, blonde, CMM?

Trying to get back into the flow of writing this as a full blown adult is crazy because I lack the suspension of disbelief that I had when I started writing this. Why are you dating that child, FP Jones? But for you all?? I will suspend my life if you asked.

Tags under the cut:

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@ragweed98 @reblogserpent @cassidyiscool @cyberbadman @ohhmyexo @anondunar @colie87 @scintilla-morningstar @princess-east @xxghostnappaxx @ee17s @prettyinpunk85 @popcrone818 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @shittylittleweirdo @notquitecannon @startwiththeridingcrop @derangedcupcake @what-the-hap-is-fuckning @castixlswings @abrunettefangirlnerd @nijiru @mochionly @shskyem @missirenlove @bxtchopolis @feywildwolf @djarinsblaster @nhavs-bhat @chloe-skywalker @mrsmacherloomis @decodedlvr

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

ep 3. take your time | myj, jjk

sugar, spice, and everything nice ep 3. take your time.

pairing(s): yoonji x reader x jungkook

summary: Er, how to put this? The previous mission was a total fail. Min Yoonji can't face Jeon Jungkook after being so overly confident in her plans - so she avoids him. Yup. Surely this means she'll avoid his fuckbuddy too, right? Wrong. The universe must be working against her... or is it?

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; pan!f!reader; pan!Yoonji; internalized homophobia; gay panic + w/w sexual tension; best friend!Jung Hoseok visits; minor alcohol consumption; boiled dumpling Yoonji; f/f/m love triangle? slow burn; minor smut (sex dreams); non-idol!AU - Yoonji's POV

--

She did her very best.

In the end, it wasn’t enough.

It was pretty easy to not interact. After all, scheduling conflicts made it difficult to have the entire friend group meet up. Everyone was an adult with their own lives now, like it or not, and they were all at different stages in life. Still, they made an effort to at least meet up in small groups.

Min Yoonji had started making sure that she wasn’t alone with Jeon Jungkook.

She wasn’t sure if she could look him in the eyes without him knowing something was up. He was spacey, not an idiot. Acted like one, ha, but she didn’t really want him to change that.

Turned out, though, that Yoonji had nothing to worry about.

“Oh, Jungkook? He said he had to cancel last minute. Something came up. But, hey, that kid gave me some money and said we can eat on his dime today,” Park Jimin had laughed, holding out some folded bills. “Can you believe that kid? I tried to tell him we were older than him, but he just replied with, whatever, Jimin-ssi. Rude!”

And, well, Yoonji herself didn’t accept invitations sometimes. She was, at heart, an introvert after all, and at times it was difficult to muster up the energy for a social interaction. She used to feel bad about that, but therapy – and her best friend Jung Hoseok, surprisingly – helped her understand it. Strange that high-extrovert Hoseok was the one who insisted Yoonji to stay home and rest sometimes. Perhaps it was because he could easily sense the disparity in their tolerance for social situations since they were so different. She had always told Hoseok that he was rather wise, but smiley Hoseokie had always laughed and swore it was the opposite when it came to the two of them. She always trusted his judgement, or, rather, his lack of judgement. He had always been easy to talk to. It was rare for him to be without a smile.

Jung Hoseok smiled now, hugging Yoonji without hesitation when she came to pick him up at the bus stop.

“Thanks for spending one of your vacation days to come see me.”

That cheerful laugh stuck the air and Yoonji realized how much she missed the infectious, bubbly quality of it on the regular. “Don’t be silly. And, you know, before this I went to see Namjoonie too.” Bright orange beanie, caramel-colored coat, big eyeglasses with a rainbow pattern printed on the inside of the black plastic frame. Hoseok still had his healthy tan complexion but he seemed more built now, which was a little strange since he had always been a slender, lithe man. That hug had some real strength behind it. “I saw my parents the day before too. My mom cooked me a feast even though it was only a few vacation days, haha! So many plates! If you hadn’t been working, I would have invited you to come to Gwangju but that would have troubled you too much. My dad asked how you were too. I asked him how I was supposed to know when I’m stuck at the base?! He’s so funny!”

Yoonji couldn’t help but smile at his healing energy.

They walked to a restaurant with Hoseok doing most of the talking and Yoonji listening, passively beaming at his presence. She had missed him. She didn’t say so, but she didn’t need to. It wasn’t like her to be sappy anyway. Not without a drink, at least. Hoseok knew, anyway. He would tell his animated stories, lightly holding her arm for emphasis, and at the right time Yoonji would provide the exaggerated reaction, causing Hoseok to double over in laughter, his shining eyes getting crinkly and his mouth forming his signature heart-shaped smile.

They naturally settled back into their friendship as if Hoseok hadn’t been away for months for his mandatory military service.

With Hoseok, it was hard to have any worries.

They sat down, ate, conversed. It would have been nice to have the rest of the friend group there too, and maybe they would have a chance to all configure together later, perhaps at a karaoke bar late at night, but for right now it was only Hoseok and Yoonji. She had asked him if it was possible to have a conversation, but Hoseok had set several hours aside instead and suggested to get dinner.

“Something’s on your mind.”

They had half-drunk glasses of wine in front of them. Their plates were cleared now, and they were patiently waiting for dessert. Hoseok leaned back in his chair and smiled at her. A comforting, gentle one. For a moment, Yoonji looked away. A mixture of embarrassment and collecting her thoughts.

“It’s obvious, hah,” she mumbled.

“Hey, only because I’ve known you for so long,” he chuckled, waving away her doubts. “If it was something you didn’t want to talk about for the sake of hurting others, you would practice avoidance. If it was something you wanted to be asked about, you would come for advice but not forget to treat me first.” Hoseok shook his head, smiling warmly. “But, noona, you know you can say anything to me whenever you want, right? You always listen to my worries right away. I want to return the favor, too.”

She sighed ruefully. “It’s not just for you. Me, too. I can’t say something without working up the courage to it.”

“Courage? Aish. You’re a lot stronger than you let yourself know.”

Hoseok was, as always, wise. Maybe without he himself knowing it.

Sure, Yoonji had been able to push through a lot of hardships. Loving music when her parents had been against it. Bullying at school and trying to avoid troubling her parents with what was going on. Rough financial patches during university where she had to choose between one meal a day or going home on the bus. More than once having to weasel her way out of a potentially dangerous situation that involved alcohol and potential harassment.

But none of these things were love.

Intense attraction. Layers of guilt. Daydreams bordering on delusion. Unseen, intangible, and yet unmistakably there. It made no sense. It made all the sense. She had tried to push the thoughts away, but they always came back with a vengeance.

In dreams.

Yoonji bit her lip.

The dreams.

Even just last night. Another dream that had forced her awake with her blankets twisted around her body like snakes, her heart pounding and shivers all over, breathing fast. Often, her dreams resembled a house of cards, stacks of different images, imagination and memory blending. Thoughts colliding, collapsing into each other, and Yoonji would wake up catching bits and pieces but ultimately mostly remembering the last scenes. The ones that woke her up.

Darkness.

A weight over her eyes. Her breath catching as a soft touch traced her inner thigh. Her brain catching up, the weight on her eyes resembling fingers. A hand. An elegant one. A whisper, smokey-sweet, that became lost to the abyss even though the impact of those words lingered, causing an addicting tingle throughout her veins. Pleasure. Warm and encompassing even though it was only between her legs. Familiar and yet unfamiliar because Yoonji knew it wasn’t herself that was doing it, but effect was the same, if not stronger due to the foreign excitement and maybe slight fear too, not because she was exposed but because there was some level of expectation, wasn’t there?

Nervous?

Of course not. Just because she had never done it before herself didn’t mean she didn’t know how it worked. She had seen enough porn in her lifetime.

Don’t let acting mindfuck you into being unable to appreciate the now.

That was true. She tried to clear her head, tried to simply feel what was happening, and that turned out to be easy. Her breath catching in her lungs as she felt soft, plush lips against her neck. Teeth nipping at her throat. A hand over her eyes and another between her legs, stroking her clit and making her hips flinch with the sensitivity, profoundly aware of how slippery those fingertips were against hot, wet skin, electricity crawling over her chest, short on air, and then.

The hand lifted.

Scorched eyes close, darker with desire.

She couldn’t look away, even as she felt another pair of hands against her side, kneading her thigh and up her torso. Afraid? Shook her head, too nervous to speak and then she saw the tousle of black hair, the two lip rings punctured into the right side of a lower lip graced with a small mole under the center of them.

Her head jerked and Jeon Jungkook grinned back at her, his naked chest glistening with sweat.

Last night, once again, Yoonji had been jolted awake by the shock.

“Hoseok, I…”

Guiltily, she looked up, into inquisitive, bright brown eyes behind lenses framed by black and rainbow colors.

“I think I might do something stupid, and it involves a girl.”

-

The roar of the train tried to deafen her thoughts.

Unfortunately, Yoonji’s mind was a persistent bitch.

Hmph.

Despite it all, she couldn’t even begin to confront the tumultuous whispers within. It was a not-so-complicated problem with a simple solution, as long as emotions weren’t factored into it. As long as daydreams of day dates and nightmares of lost nights weren’t factored into it. As long as Yoonji didn’t sit on the subway using every minute to analyze every tick of the head and struggle to recall exactly how those fingers fell upon each object held, she’d be fine.

She simply couldn’t bring herself to let go.

Yoonji sat against the window, headphones in, clutching her phone as if she was scrolling, but all she could see was the unfairness of life and its impossible choices. Her music had paused. At the moment she didn’t notice for, once again, she was mulling over Hoseok’s words. Not much had changed since her best friend had provided her a listening ear. After some time and more wine, they had chosen to walk along the streets, reminiscing with each step, but then eventually Hoseok brought up the subject again.

“I don’t ever want to see you sad, noona.”

“That’s literally impossible. Sad shit happens all the time.”

“I know it’s impossible,” Hoseok had laughed, and then sighed softly. His cheeks were still rosy from drinking. “I know it’s impossible, but I can’t be your friend and not wish that. As your friend, I’m always on your side, yet I’m no problem-solver either. You were always better at that.”

Yoonji had snorted even though it was unwomanly.

Hoseok had chuckled, not minding it. “There are no right answers in life, remember? You told me that a long time ago when I was having a hard time.” Like waves, her words drifted back to shore. “Life isn’t meant to have correct answers. Life is meant to live.”

Then why did it have to be so fucking complicated?

Of course it would be logical and lovely to stay silent and distant. Of course it would be reckless and exciting to get closer to the flame even with the foreboding threat of trampled sandcastles and broken hearts. Was it better to burned and better for it, or burned into ashes with nothing but the smoke of regret? It would be so much easier living in a vacuum without knowing other people could be affected by her choices, but love was not that kind of space, no matter how vast and endless it seemed. Yoonji chewed the side of her lip, focusing on the tug of velocity from the moving train underneath, searching for the physical sensation to ground her. The train slowed, yet she couldn’t help but be jolted by the stop nonetheless. People filtered out. People filtered in. The crackling announcement overhead murmured out warnings no one quite listened to but everybody knew. Stay away from the doors when they close, keep track of one’s belongings, those standing should hold on as the train begins to move. Next stop was–

Yoonji felt the air being sucked out of her lungs.

If love was not the vacuum of space, then why couldn’t she breathe now?

She looked away quickly. The image had already burned into her memory. Between the business suits and the trendy streetwear stood the instigator of all her current conflicts. Tousled hair, tight little black top, red plaid miniskirt. Oversized leather jacket over her shoulders. The woman leaned against the wall with a relaxed stance. Not a care in the world. What is she doing here? It was quite late but not so late for the drunkards and creeps to crawl out onto the streets. Yoonji, well, she had been working late taking over a shift for a vacationing co-worker. Although the shop wasn’t open late, she had been busy doing repairs. She noticed the heavy black boots and torn fishnets out of the corner of her eye. Her eyes flickered up and she saw something sticking out of the inside pocket of the leather jacket. A swaying black strap with a grey flame, hanging off a shiny black plastic rod with mother-of-pearl accents.

A lightstick?

She froze up as she felt the burn of scorched eyes.

Looked up and Jeon Jungkook’s girlfriend was staring back at her.

Maybe?

The train slowed.

The ricochet in Yoonji’s ribcage ramped up in speed and intensity as she realized people filtering out, people filtering in, and one gliding towards her. She kept telling herself they hadn’t locked eyes, even right up to the moment that she had a good view of that manicured hand, black with red glitter, wrapping around the train strap in front of her.

“Oh, hey.”

A wry smile and light bow.

The politeness both confused and flustered Yoonji. She sat in her seat, the others next to her indifferent to the mild confrontation that was shattering her composure.

“Ah… hi,” was the best Yoonji had.

The harsh overhead train lighting made the tangle of silver necklaces in front of her face gleam and sparkle. She tried not to look, because that would mean staring at another woman’s chest, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at that face either. She tried to appear nonchalant, except she forgot what that even meant.

“Hey, about last time we met,” she heard above her. Soft, silky, and smokey. “I wanted to apologize.”

They were close enough for Yoonji to smell the remnants of a heavy, sweet, boozy fragrance. It filled her lungs and made blood thunder in her ears. She couldn’t, for the life of her, recall what an apology was needed for. Although, she couldn’t form any coherent thoughts right now.

“A… Ah.” Yoonji shifted her eyes. “For what?”

“For being a dick, heh.”

She glanced up.

One of the woman’s arms was in her jacket, the one that was holding onto the train strap. The other was tucked behind her back, causing her hips to angle out a bit from the jacket, towards Yoonji. She had fantastic legs. Not that Yoonji was looking or anything. The other woman cleared her throat a bit and looked sheepish.

“I shouldn’t have said what I said. It was rude of me to pick you apart like that.”

That day in the café seemed like it happened ages ago. “Oh… I haven’t thought about it that way,” Yoonji confessed. She looked down, feeling a little bit ashamed. “You weren’t entirely wrong. I just didn’t want to admit it then.”

“Hmmm.” A brief pause. “The date didn’t go well, then?”

Her hands clasped together. She tried to chuckle to let out the tension. “Hah… You were right that there wasn’t one. The purpose was more to…” Yoonji trailed off. She didn’t know what to say now. Her eyes cautiously flicked upward. Those dark orbs looked down in return, so shadowed they seemed almost black. Burned. An eyebrow raised.

“You really were trying to scope me out, then.”

Yoonji felt her insides wince. “I’m sorry myself.”

A light scoff. “Don’t be. I get it. I give off that vibe, huh?”

There wasn’t a good response to that. She glanced again at the lightstick inside the woman’s jacket. “Did you go to a concert?”

That observant gaze followed hers. “Ah, yeah.” She tucked her head down, and Yoonji noticed the black belt around her waist now. “I try to keep everything on me. Essentials only.” There must be a leather pouch attached to her waist, then. That was why she was keeping a hand on her back.  “Since I go to these events alone.”

She couldn’t help but ask. “Why alone?”

The other woman mused with a pensive expression. “I guess I don’t have many friends that are into the same music I am into. Besides, there’s no stress of looking silly when you’re by yourself. You can enjoy however you like without considering others.”

“That’s just how you are?”

Those scorched eyes locked with Yoonji’s.

“That’s how I’m made to be.”

The sounds around her sounded all muffled. The people around her seemed not all there. She looked upwards with her heart aflutter, her thoughts racing, goosebumps popping up under her hoodie and jeans as Jeon Jungkook’s sort-of, kind-of, definitely-so-damn-hot girlfriend tilted her head at her, and Yoonji wondered why she couldn’t be the cool one, the smooth one, anything but the timid one.

“What brings you out so late?” that hazy, calm voice asked.

“Work,” was all Yoonji could manage.

An understanding nod. “Ah. Must be difficult.”

Not as difficult as this. “When are you getting off?”

The other woman raised her head and looked up to the LED sign. “Hmm, dunno.”

“You don’t know?” Yoonji furrowed her brows. “What do you mean by that?”

“I feel like wandering around,” was the lackadaisical answer.

“Are you crazy?” She straightened, frowning. “You can’t go wandering around at this hour.”

A striking gaze under lashes. “You worried about little ol’ me?”

She scowled. “That’s simply common sense.”

It happened so fast that she couldn’t react. In a swish of leather and chains, that teasing face was suddenly centimeters from Yoonji’s. Eye-to-eye and inescapable. The layered scent of her perfume became more intense, sweet and heavy and boozy, reminding her of Friday nights and bad decisions. That smirk was as annoying as it was arousing, and immediately after thinking that Yoonji wanted to unthink that, but it was too late and she was too fucked.

“Don’t pretend like you want to take responsibility for someone like me.” Her soft breath brushed against Yoonji’s lips. “You don’t like me that much.”

The other woman winked.

She fucking winked.

And as soon as the interaction started, it ended. She stood back up, letting out a soft sigh as she took her perfume away from Yoonji. She glanced at the doors as the train was slowing down again, not saying anything more. It was an ominous comment with an ominous connotation. Unsettling. Definitely dangerous. Borderline infuriating.

No.

Actually infuriating.

“Hey.”

The woman was about to back up, her lips parting, but Yoonji twisted her knee and hooked her leg around the back of those shapely calves, locking her in place. People around them hurried to their destinations, not looking down at their feet, not noticing the shot of tension and challenge between two women. Not that they would know the history between them. It could easily be interpreted as Yoonji helping her friend stabilize from the jerky train.

Those dark eyes darkened.

Yoonji frowned back, not backing down.

The crackly announcement flitted overhead. The train doors closed in unison. The train started again.

“I can’t let you do that,” she said tightly, unsure what the fuck she was doing.

A tilt of the head.

“And why’s that, Min Yoonji?”

There was a low purr in that question. It must be her imagination. She tried not to think about how her heart was doing backflips and quaking in terror from hearing her full name like that.

“I can’t in good conscience let you be so careless.”

They were at a standoff now.

Those berry-stained lips curved into a smirk.

“So your very good, respectable conscience is why you want to interfere?”

Yoonji relaxed her leg. They hadn’t been skin-to-skin because of her jeans, which was a good and bad thing. It was impossible to take a deep breath without being obvious, so she simply didn’t. She didn’t entirely back off though. She should have pulled her leg back. Her little stunt had made those boots take a step forward, nearly colliding with Yoonji’s other knee.

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

Strangely, Jungkook’s fuckbuddy didn’t back off.

“Oh, but that’s how you’re acting.”

No, she wasn’t. “I’m not.”

Instead of answering, spiced perfume and leather closed the distance and placed herself right between Yoonji’s open legs. She started, trying to scoot back in her seat, but it was impossible. No one seemed to notice, or at least no one was saying anything. There weren’t that many people now. The train was reaching the end of the line soon. Plenty of seats were empty and people were shifting to sit further apart as the space was freed up.

Point was, there really was no reason to be closer.

“Ah, sorry. There just isn’t that much space, you know?” Cocked eyebrow. “Hope you don’t mind.”

Yoonji gritted her teeth.

She didn’t know if she wanted to slap that smirk off that face or make out with it.

“I have to get off at the next stop,” Yoonji stated as matter-of-factly as she could. Tch. This wasn’t increasing her blood pressure in a good way. No. This wasn’t what she imagined at all. Yeah, of course people were different than daydreams. The other woman didn’t respond. She just smiled. Knowingly. Yoonji didn’t have a type. Nope. She also wasn’t scared of her either, no matter how hot, no matter how seductive, no matter how many positions Yoonji was putting them in her head right now.

The train slowed down.

That head of tousled hair tilted to the right exit behind her.

“Well, of you go, then,” she said with a resigned sigh and inviting smile.

The announcement overhead crackled. The train began to slow. A couple people stood up, getting ready to leave, accounting for their belongings with them. Headphones on, or immersed in conversation with their travel partners.

Yoonji growled under her breath, grabbed Jungkook’s definitely-not girlfriend’s free hand, and dragged them through the open doors and onto the platform.

-

Yeah, um.

She hadn’t thought this though.

“What was your grand master plan, Romeo?” came the amused, husky tone from behind her.

They were standing at the train platform, with Yoonji’s right hand in her crush’s right hand, wait, no, that wasn’t what I meant, and then she stiffened up when she felt spiced perfume and leather brush up against her back. Yoonji clutched her tote bag with her left hand, spinning around quickly, immediately locking eyes with a mischievous expression. Scorched eyes and berry-stained lips. She twisted her gaze away, trying to let go of that hand, but her fingers got caught in the other woman’s rings and a hand wrapped around her wrist.

“Don’t freak out.”

Don’t freak out?! She bristled but all the woman did was unlock their fingers and push down her silver rings. “You know Romeo and Juliet die at the end of the story, right?” Yoonji snapped to that nonchalant hand, not making eye contact.

“Yeah.” A wispy chuckle. “They’re also sixteen and thirteen, but something tells me you’re way past that. It doesn’t apply, but it did get a cute reaction out of you.”

She glared. Jungkook’s lady friend gave her a cheeky grin.

“You’re rude.”

Was it her imagination or was the tip of a pink tongue tracing that smirk?

“I can be a lot more than that, so consider yourself lucky.”

Either it was very warm in the train station or Yoonji was getting red in the face. She was about to turn her heel but then this lunatic spun around and began sauntering off the opposite direction. For fuck’s sake, what the hell? Before she could think about it too much, Yoonji crossed the distance with her long legs and snatched a handful of that leather sleeve, dragging the woman with her.

“Oh!”

“You don’t even know where you’re going,” Yoonji muttered with gritted teeth.

“Sure I do.” That relaxed tone was beginning to aggravate. “Your scary face is telling me you don’t want me to bother you.”

“My face is not scary.”

“Oh yeah? Then look at me in the eyes, then.”

This annoying–! They had arrived at the escalator. Yoonji let go of her hand and spun around with one smooth motion, checking if her unpredictable travel companion behind her was about to run off again. Her eyes widened when she realized they were nearly colliding. They were occupying adjacent steps. Due to the platform boots versus Yoonji’s sneakers, the other woman was taller. It wasn’t much of a difference, and then the steps of the escalator became more evident, creating a greater height disparity so now Yoonji was looking up into those piercingly dark orbs. She froze, unsure how to react.

A slow smile formed on those full lips.

“You’re not scary. I just wanted you to look at me.”

Irritation flared. Yoonji narrowed her eyes. But before she could spit out her distaste, the other woman spoke again.

“What?  Are you mad that I think you’re pretty?”

Fuck.

She couldn’t maintain eye contact any longer. Her face was burning. I can’t do this. Yoonji quickly turned around, using the excuse of stepping off the escalator to keep her eyes forward, hurrying quickly, not sure if the woman was following or not. It was obvious that she was out of her element. Out of her league, shit. She was playing ball while her opponent had trapped her in a pinball machine, Yoonji being the target, knocked this way and that with whatever obstacle that came out of her mouth, how could such ridiculous statements fluster me that much, and she was aware that she was annoyed yet also unable to stop thinking about that face, those words, and how their closeness had made her heart race just like how her body reacted around a hot guy.

Which was stupid.

So stupid.

“Ah, wait, let me make a stop here.”

Yoonji almost yelped, suddenly yanked by her hoodie sleeve into a small convenience store. She faintly registered that Jungkook’s – oh, for fuck’s sake, her, um, never mind, the woman was picking something up from a far aisle and hurrying to the counter. Paying for the item in a flash and politely refusing a bag while looking like a damn delinquent that could star in a porn movie. What? Yoonji shook her head furiously and was pulled out back out to the train station, right before the entrance to the street, which was how they ended up standing in front of a bookstore closed for the day.

One woman tore open a package of lemon-flavored gummies and the other clutched her tote bag, white as a sheet of paper.

“Want one?”

Yoonji only stared at her.

“Mm. I’ll save some just in case.”

How is this even happening?

“Are you a kid?” Yoonji sighed, feeling annoyed at herself more than anything.

“Are you an adult?” was the chirp back, complete with the same condescending tone.

She shot her an indignant look. The woman raised her eyebrows and popped another bright yellow gummy into her mouth. She was about to snap, of course, I am, but then her witty comeback was interrupted for possibly the nth time that night.

“’Cause, ya know, most adults wouldn’t do what you just did with me.”

Actually, night was better in this case. “Don’t make this weird,” Yoonji mumbled, looking away again.

“Who cares?”

She jerked her head away and stared at the black sky, wondering how she was losing her cool this fucking fast. How could someone be this smart-mouthed, this devil-may-care, this freaking annoying? It was like hanging out with an extra cunning, female version of Jeon Jungkook. It was driving her absolutely bananas on how to feel. Who cares? Hmph, so irresponsi–

Oh.

Oh my god.

“So, what’s the plan, kidnapper?”

Yoonji grumbled. “I’m not kidnapping you.”

“Aw, I was looking forward to being tied up.”

What the fuck? “Don’t tempt me.”

“Why not?”

“Look, are you drunk or something?” Yoonji scowled, gripping her tote tightly and sneaking a side-glance. “You’re just saying whatever you want.”

She was bouncing on her heels, enjoying her sour sweets. “That would be convenient for you, huh, if I was drunk,” she hummed.

“So you’re simply weird.”

A half-smile. “Better weird than putting up a front.”

A short pause. Her anger dissipated a bit. What am I doing? This isn’t like me at all. She sighed, somewhat defeated. Yoonji pondered how she got swept up like this. I don’t like her. But she did. Shit. How did all her buttons get pressed so fast and with such playful aggression? Damnnit.

“For the record, I don’t drink that much. And especially not when I’m walking alone in places. That would be stupid. In fact, I don’t think I’ve had a drink in a couple years now.”

Yoonji didn’t know if she appreciated the clarification or not. “And why’s that?”

No answer.

She turned her head and was given a pointed, disbelieving look.

“Come on. If I’m this irritating now, imagine me drunk?” Cock of the head. “You’d be on the floor.”

In what way? She didn’t respond to that. Yoonji could tell when she was getting provoked. “I’ll call you a taxi.”

A snort. Classy. “I can call myself a taxi.”

“I don’t trust you to get in it,” Yoonji countered, frowning.

“You don’t trust me at all.”

“That’s not true. I trust you to be a smartass.”

A sly grin at her deadpan words. Those scorched eyes glimmered from the low light of streetlamps. “How about this, then?” She folded the little packet of lemon gummies and tucked it into one of the many pockets of her leather jacket. “Let’s go somewhere together. Chill. Have some conversation. I feel like we are grossly misunderstanding each other. I don’t want us stuck like this. And then I’ll go home and pretend to be the good girl you want me to be.”  

You’re the one causing all the trouble. No. She sighed again, realizing it came out a bit shaky. This whole situation was giving all gas, no brakes, and Yoonji didn’t know why she was considering getting on this ride. What was she supposed to do? What was right? And then there was the way she was being spoken to, Argh.

“Too scared, huh?”

Yoonji glared. “Don’t try anything.”

A deep exhale. The other woman shook her head solemnly. “Hah, what are you thinking I would do?”

-

Min Yoonji concluded that she must be the stupidest person on the planet.

It was late, which was precisely why it wasn’t too busy at this hour. It was surely busier on the other side, considering late-night salarymen and odd-hours workers were getting off their shift. But on this side, the women’s side, well, there really wasn’t anybody at all. There were a few small groups of two or three women, crowded in their semi-private spots, but a lot of open space in the warm, medicinal pools of the public bath.

Yes, that was right.

Yoonji was in a public bath with Jungkook’s lover.

Fuck, she was stupid as all hell.

She sat in the bath with a towel wrapped tightly around her body and tried not to stare. A smaller towel was wrapped around her head with a bun twist at the sides. Yeah, sure, Yoonji didn’t have to get fully naked, but it wasn’t like she brought a set of extra clothes with her. Neither had her companion, of course, so renting towels was a must. That was fine. Everything was fine. Her face was ten thousand degrees. So was the bath. Everything was fine.

As soon as the towel had gotten wet, Yoonji had gotten a pretty good look at that womanly waist-to-ass ratio. Plus those perky tits. Slim, pretty shoulders. Pretty obvious why Jeon Jungkook was coo-coo for those delicious curves. The other woman had opted to tie her hair up instead, not wanting it to get wet, oblivious to the few strands that brushed sexily against the nape of her neck.

“Nice legs,” she had commented, keeping her voice low.

Yoonji sank further into the cloudy medicinal bath. “Keep your eyes to yourself.”

The faintest of smiles. “You aren’t good at following your own advice, are you?”

She couldn’t believe that she had gotten cornered into this. She also couldn’t believe that she was acting like a teenager caught with dirty magazines. She also couldn’t believe that her eyes weren’t deceiving her and there wasn’t a monster under those clothes but an actual hottie who damn well knew it. Just her luck. Not that it mattered, considering Yoonji had apparently forgone all logic. Hmph. She could be like that too.

Not right now, obviously. Wrong situation.

“I haven’t visited a public bathhouse in a long time,” that husky voice mused.

“I used to come with my family,” Yoonji replied distractedly. “But it’s been a while for me too.”

“It’s kind of nice.”

She floated a bit, her shoulders still above water, clavicles glistening with dew. In contrast, Yoonji was neck-deep, soaking like a boiled dumpling.

“Don’t have a group a girl friends to go with?”

Yoonji frowned. Sighed. “No, not really. You’ve seen my friends. I’m sure they’ve gone without me,” she added, flicking her eyes to wandering ones. “You?”

A light scoff. “I don’t have people I’m close with.” A quick, fleeting glance. “Unless it’s in bed.”

Crass but honest. This time, though, didn’t seem like those words were said to catch her off guard. She accepted the moment of mercy. “Why is that?”

“Because everyone loves the idea of trying to tame the outcast.”

The steam was nearly as heavy as the silence.

“Being lonely doesn’t make you cool,” Yoonji quietly murmured, watching the ripples in the water.

“Not trying to be cool. Just trying to survive like the rest of us.”

The heat was almost as soothing as her tone, but her words held the weight of a past full of nightmares. They stayed quiet. Eventually, both of them floated to the edge of the pool. Maybe it was an outcast thing. Yoonji thought to offer some consolation, but she didn’t know the words nor what the other woman had been through.

“You haven���t had it easy, huh?” she mumbled to the milky liquid.

“Heh. Has anyone?”

She soaked for a few minutes. Ripples fanning out. Such a small thing becoming so large. She was vaguely aware of arms resting against the side of the bath.

“You strike me as a lone wolf yourself.”

Yoonji shifted her eyes to see a poised hand millimeters above her barely-covered shoulder. She looked away again. “I’m not. I don’t need many friends, but I need the ones I have.”

“I don’t think you’ve always felt like that.”

Damn. She wasn’t surprised anymore though. “Hah… You’re right.”

A wispy chuckle. “What made you change your mind?”

She thought about it. “Before I knew it… I had begun to rely on them. I’m close to my older brother, but my parents… and then my brother went off to university. Started working long hours in a high-class hotel restaurant. I was just the daughter that fiddled with guitars. My parents paid for my music lessons, starting with piano and then whatever instrument I wanted to learn, but I don’t have anything interesting to show for it. And, anyway, you know how it is. I can’t blame my brother for being a son. It was probably because of his support for me that my parents paid for my music degree.”

“Or because you’re good.”

“Even if I am,” Yoonji exhaled, blowing ripples in front of her. “I wouldn’t enjoy standing out.” She ruminated on that a bit. “With the emotional distance between my parents and the physical distance between my brother… I chased a lot of dead ends. Didn’t know where I was headed or where I wanted to go. I don’t know why those guys… Don’t know why they bothered with such a mess.”

“Probably because of your cute face.”

Yoonji scowled and flicked water next to her.

An unbothered laugh. “Maybe they saw something in you.”

Can’t imagine what. “Through school, shared hobbies, friends of friends.” She thought of each of them. It had happened organically, beginning with Kim Namjoon during university, bonding over books and music. “We just ended up like this.”

“Mhm, that’s usually my explanation too when I wake up the next morning.”

A muscle in Yoonji’s eyelid twitched. The implication was obvious. “Is that all people are to you?”

“That’s all people want me to be.”

She said it so casually, so calmly, that those words didn’t seem to hold the gravity that they should. The steam around them curled and snaked in the air. Several women were leaving now, chattering away with their gossip. The whole situation felt surreal.

“You don’t mean that,” Yoonji finally said.

A sigh.

“Sometimes I believe that’s all I am too.”

They listened to people pad away to the sauna. Someone in the corner was getting a thorough back scrubbing. Yoonji snuck a glimpse of a meditative profile. Glistening cheekbones, lips, clavicles. The top of the towel was saturated and stuck to softly rounded mounds that skimmed the surface of the water. She tried not to look for too long. The prominent peaks were noticeable and tempting.

She understood why Jungkook was so attached now.

What?

“Don’t feel bad for me.”

Somehow, Yoonji had sunk nearly chin-deep into the water. “What?” she mumbled. She almost jumped out of her skin when she felt a delicate hand plant onto the crown of her toweled head. Five points of contact. She clutched her body towel in a death grip, as if it was going to be ripped off her.

“I said, don’t feel bad for me,” chuckled the teasing voice beside her. “Getting all emotional?”

She was about to shake off the hand forcefully but it moved away just as quickly as it came.

“I don’t feel bad for you,” Yoonji muttered.

She regretted saying it when she did, and yet it was too late to take it back. Long, agonizing seconds ticked by along with ripples of moving water. She wanted to reach out somehow, but it wasn’t possible to do so. They weren’t that close. She was Jungkook’s, well, his in general. And Yoonji felt the way she did, which was complicated altogether.

The silence was broken by softness.

“You just feel something you can’t quite explain.”

Slowly, Yoonji turned her head.

Curled, damp strands of hair clung to an undefinable expression, framing burned eyes and a not-quite smile that seemed more like a hint than an actual answer. Yoonji was neck-deep in hot water and half-crouching at this depth. Her hands were twisted around themselves. She carefully pulled them apart, looking away, then back, heart racing. The bath was opaque with medicinal salts and herbs. She had to feel her way forward, feeling more confident as she waited for her companion to react.

And then.

There was nothing but water.

“Let me get out first.” There was a slosh of water and Yoonji backed up instinctively, seeing the other woman slink upwards, standing to step out. She quickly jerked her line of vision away from wet towel plastered to prominent curves. “I can endure the embarrassment, heh.” She did not sound even an iota of embarrassed.

Her cheeks flared hot. Yoonji kept her eyes firmly on the water. “I’ll… I’ll finish up and follow in a minute.”

“Take your time.”

Light, drippy steps faded away, leaving Yoonji alone, sinking into the water with only her eyes showing, terrified someone could somehow tell she was red-hot from seeing an almost naked woman. Not just any woman. Fuck. She closed her eyes, screaming in her head. Why does it have to be her? Eight billion people and counting on this planet and this had to happen.

That’s all people want me to be.

Yoonji really didn’t like how that sounded.

Don’t feel bad for me.

This dumpling boiled for a little longer until her redness could be explained away by the heat.

Eventually, she got out and padded off to the locker room too, both startled and relieved that she was alone. She dried off and got dressed, thinking about the undertones of those statements. If she had been a liar, Yoonji would have assured with, no, not to Jeon Jungkook, but that idiot’s actions were the complete opposite. Yes, Yoonji knew otherwise because she had known him for such a long time – but did she, though? How well did she know him, really? She paused, holding her hoodie. She hadn’t been talking to him lately, trying to avoid giving herself away.

The memory of his Instagram post lingered in the back of her mind.

And then the image of those scorched eyes surrounded by steam.

Yoonji pulled her hoodie over her head. She couldn’t pretend to ignore the trees in front of her even though she hadn’t seen the whole forest yet. She looped her hand over the handle of her canvas tote bag. Gathered the rented bath house items, preparing to return them. Jeon Jungkook. The nightmarish woman of her dreams. These complicated feelings she both didn’t recognize and knew all too well. First and foremost, she was a friend. She would not betray that.

She couldn’t bear that.

It took a moment to pay for the rented items and then Yoonji found herself in the waiting room at the front. Sitting at the bench was none other than the one of leather and silver, her spiced perfume faint and replaced with the sweet herbal scent of the bath. She stood up as Yoonji entered, tucking her arms into the sleeves of the jacket and flipping out her hair from the collar. The sides of the oversized jacket flapped open. The lights of the bath house were dimmed for an ethereal glow, and it was just enough light to spot the jutting peaks of large nipples against that tight black top.

Before she could stop herself, Yoonji raced forward in her sneakers and snatched the sides of the jacket, yanking them shut over that chest.

“What are you doing?” she hissed, gripping the leather between white-knuckles fingers. “Are you crazy?”

“Hm?”

Yoonji froze.

She gripped the jacket closed, not looking up. Couldn’t.

“What’s with you?”

Confusion above her. How does she not know? “Weren’t… Weren’t you wearing a bra?” Yoonji tried to ask as calmly as she could, hands shaking as they slipped down to the bottom of the placket where the zipper head was. She prayed the fabric was thick enough so the other woman couldn’t tell.

“Yeah, I put it in this bag the bath house gave me.” There was a rustle and Yoonji perceived a brown paper bag held up in her periphery. She fumbled with the zipper, letting out a puff of air to appear as annoyed as possible. “But all I’m gonna do is go home and go to sleep. What’s the point of putting it back on for twenty minutes?”

“You…”

“I called for a taxi already, by the way. I wanted to wait for you to finish, though. Want me to get one for you too?”

“No,” Yoonji blurted out a little too fast. She cleared her throat and busied herself with zipping up the jacket. “My place is close to here.”

“I can walk you there. Change the address of the taxi.”

She clicked her tongue. “I’ve walked home alone for years. Don’t flatter yourself.”

All of a sudden, a hand caught one of hers in the middle of retreating from the zipper.

Fingers wrapped around hers tightly.

She snapped her head up and became the closest she had ever been to kissing another woman.

They stared at each other for seconds that felt like hours. The hand was warm with slim and elegant fingers, similar to Yoonji’s own. She felt searched. Exposed. Her hair was a little damp from the bath so Yoonji had pulled the hood up to cover it. They were so close she could see the edges of her bangs curl towards those dark eyes. With a start, she realized that meant that the other woman was bent down ever-so-slightly due to their current height difference.

Silence.

She could have said so many things but Yoonji watched her hold her tongue.

For some incomprehensible reason…

The silence made Yoonji’s heart ache.

A small, pleasant smile. She didn’t say anything still. Instead, she took a step back and let go of Yoonji’s hand, letting her gaze stay only a second longer, and then those scorched eyes slipped away, disappearing behind waves of wild hair, out the door and into the street where headlights waited.

Yoonji watched the taxi purr away into the night.

She walked home, one of her hands pressed to her racing heart, a lasting tingle radiating from her fingers.

-

She couldn’t take it.

She should, and she would. But she couldn’t take it, knowing they shared moments that existed only for them. She told herself she would get over it, but some part of her didn’t want to get over it. Some twisted, masochistic part.

Min Yoonji sat in front of her computer and keyboard in the dead of night and composed a song.

She needed something to occupy all of her mind. Or something to explain it all, this strange high and down low all at once. Her sound could never be called overly optimistic, but she tried a bit of a higher key this time, with brighter, chirpy samples to go alongside her keyboard. She just sang words into the mic that came to mind, not really thinking too much about what it meant or why.

It was one of those jumbled tracks that she probably wouldn’t listen back to in a long time, but something in her needed to make it.

She fell asleep in her chair with her headphones still on and her head nestled on her hoodie arms.

She told herself to get over it.

Don’t feel bad for me.

In her dreams, Yoonji wasn’t guilty.

In her dreams, she could watch them. She knew how Jeon Jungkook was around the person he liked. He seemed all tough and cocky, but there was no way he could be. Not to such powerful femininity, and certainly not to kind eyes that had obviously been burned so many times. Jungkook was playful. Gentle. So obviously trapped but acted like he wasn’t.

I could have been you.

Not really.

Could have.

She was lost in her dreams.

Black nail polish with red glitter. Deft fingers gliding over his chest. Fingers tracing his tattooed shoulder, followed by soft, full lips that made no sound. Hands that traced his body, framing him like art as lips brushed against his ear. Whispers of things unsaid. Barely visible under messy hair – dark, scorched eyes shadowed by lashes and lust. Fascination at quickened breath falling from parted lips adorned with a small mole underneath them, right at the center. She continued to watch, transfixed at how they moved like water, seamless and in unison, twisting their bodies to face each other. Lips hovering over lips. Bare shoulders, bare waists, legs over the other, the hand cradling Jungkook’s face elegant, possessive, holding him in place as that wet, pink tongue extended, tracing his open mouth with the tip, teasing him, making him moan softly.

She blinked slowly.

Now it was her holding Jungkook’s face, staring into his lidded eyes.

She tilted her head, leaning in.

Yoonji shot up from her desk, gasping, overturning her lyric notepad and sending it flapping to the floor, along with her pen catapulting across her bedroom. Her muscles screamed in discomfort, cramped from the hunched position, and Yoonji winced, placing a palm on her chest and sensing the layer of uncomfortable sweat that had suddenly appeared.

Her heart ricocheted in her ribcage.

Her face burned. She tried to take in several breaths, pulling her hand away from herself. Slowly. Carefully, as if denying such physical reactions. She spotted the picture frame on her desk. Her and her friends standing next to each other, ages ago. A visit to a ski resort. Jungkook was standing next to her, flashing a peace sign and a toothy smile.

His arm was around her shoulders.

Bundled up, she looked a mix between disgruntled and pleased.

I have to do something or I’m gonna lose it.

Yoonji got up from her desk and flopped face down onto her bed, hoping for a dreamless sleep.

-

ep 4. hey, you alright? sugar, spice, and everything nice

--

min yoonji masterpost | masterpost

[kaycode1999]

Hi, I hope you are doing well. 

I’d like to have a JJK matchup haha

Pronouns: they/them and she/her

Sexuality: Biromantic Asexual (but I prefer men)

Height: 150cm (I’m travel size, but I’m an athlete. I throw hands)

Visual info: I’m Southeast Asian with short straight black hair, somewhat pale skin, and black almond shaped eyes. I have a boyish appearance: flat chested, masculine mannerisms, and slim swimmer body. I rock a suit with sunglasses. Seriously I dressed like that for a presentation and got the best compliments. I don’t wear makeup, not because I’m poor but because don’t have time and I have sensitive skin. 

Personality: ISFJ, introverted but very affectionate/teasing with friends, been described as a cat (skittish around people I don’t know well but all over my favorite people), very professional but I laugh when I’m too nervous or struggle to tell a joke, a lot of profanity when I’m confident (example of something I actually said: I am dressed good. Therefore I have no fucks to give. I ignored his ass. I ignored his hair still recovering from his bad dye job when he tried to look like Yung Gravy last year. Just kidding I noticed and I still laugh at it.) 

Likes: I love feeling confident in masculine clothing but I don’t have the money :(. I like singing while doing chores. Sometimes I sing like I’m tipsy. I love krnb, Korean dream pop, sometimes Kpop for working out, Japanese city pop, Mitski, and wave to earth. I love science, mainly biology stuff (best place I went to with a friend was a natural science museum that had a live butterfly exhibit). As for food, I love seafood, meat, fruit, and coffee gelato. 

Hobbies: I’m a swimmer. I like to write (working on a short story for young adults and I like making essay on things I like). I like anime and manga obviously, mainly ones that are sad or psychological, sometimes romance. This taste also applies to the books I read. I’m a bookworm that loves depressing contemporary fiction and classics. I used to be in a dance class so now I know how to dance like an idol (poorly). 

Dislikes: Disrespect, people not taking me seriously, the obvious racism and homophobia, people who try to push their beliefs onto me, spicy food, obnoxiousness

My type: Glasses (๑^ω^๑)

Extra: I’ve never been in a relationship before, but if I were dating someone I’d be very committed. I would make them food and wrap them in a fluffy blanket as we sleep or cuddle. I know ASL and Vietnamese so I’d like to teach my partner if they want to learn, especially Vietnamese (it’s not my first language but it’s important to my culture). I’m a mess but I try to be organized. I’m pretty smart and often help my friends with work. I’m aiming to be in the medical field but if that fails I’m gonna be a writer. Because I’m interested in the medical field, I put health and happiness as the top priority for my partner, but I am likely to forget that for myself. And lastly, I often cry after getting yelled at. 

Thank you for reading this 

Hope you have a great life ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

JJK

I match you with

Kento Nanami

He is also introverted

He is more so the type to just stand there and watch you sing while you’re doing chores and he has a fond smile on his face

Will never be disrespectful to you but maybe sometimes to Gojo because you know Gojo likes to mess with him

Demon Slayer/ Kimetsu No Yaiba

I match you with

Kyojuro Rengoku

Your introverted makes a nice balance to his extroverted nature

Will both join in on the singing while you’re both doing chores and stand there watching you with a big smile

Rengoku loves all food so he’s always down for whatever you want to eat

He doesn’t mind if you curse but he doesn’t do it at least not in front of other people

Combined

Both appreciate your affectionate and teasing side and love to see that you truly trust them

They both think it’s really adorable that you’re short

They both appreciate that you have some professionalism to you, but also find it funny and cute if you do a nervous laugh

They both would spoil you with whatever clothes you wanted

Both enjoy learning about all types of things along with you

Both are so supportive and enthusiastic of your hobbies and are your #1 cheerleaders

Both of them also dislike disrespect and are respectful

They both definitely enjoy being brought into your music taste

They both would love to learn ASL and Vietnamese not only because it’s important to you but because it helps them communicate with more people

They both make sure to have their home stocked with favorite foods and drinks

Being in the medical field would work well with both of their professions

They both really appreciate that you’re concerned about their health and happiness and just that you dote on them in general

However, they both make an effort to be as doting and caring as you are because you deserve someone who will put just as much effort and care into you as you do them

Sorry this took so long, I started my new job last week and unfortunately I caught a bad cold almost immediately so I haven’t felt the greatest🤦🏼‍♀️

I hope you enjoy though!