#instead of holy shit that siren is a man

[bamgyw]

˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ the second night ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

the spiritualization of sensuality is called love: it is a great triumph over christianity. - friedrich nietzsche

warnings: +18 getting hornier. pillow,, humping,, heh. a tiny bit of voyeurism as well? fingering. and a lot of male yearning we love that, we love a desperate man. a/n: team we made it to the smut. the hand kissing bit is kind of victorian. jane austen, even. but. i don't care. i’m not 100% happy with the outcome so it might get a little edited in the (distant) future, but nothing fundamental. this is a part of a longer work ♡ go to the beginning here

"i am a forest, and a night of dark trees: but he who is not afraid of my darkness, will find banks full of roses under my cypresses."

beomgyu stumbled upon that quote within the pages of a stolen copy of a book by nietzsche. he had always found himself more drawn to the destructive lunacies of clinically depressed germans than to the saving grace of the holy scriptures. there was no self-pitying in the bible, no self-indulgent sorrow to hold on to.

he had found that book, thus spoke zarathustra, in soobin's room, tossed in the trash. it looked almost new, so he took it out of curiosity.

"why are you throwing this away?" beomgyu asked.

soobin shrugged. "it's a good read if you're a happy person," he said. "but if you're miserable, it'll rot your brain. more spiritual talk and petty self-help in there than in the bible."

but beomgyu quietly took the book without soobin noticing, and he carried it in his back pocket ever since.

he had no intention of reading it from cover to cover, but sometimes he would flip absentmindedly through the pages, fixating on some passages. and that one specifically had reminded him of you. his new meaning. the rose he found in the darkness.

during the day, beomgyu usually roamed aimlessly around the town, drifting along with the rhythms of his headphones. that was pretty much the sum of his daily human activity since he quit college.

it was all he knew how to do, and often felt like all he was good for.

as he walked through the town, the familiar sounds of honking cars, distant sirens, and murmuring conversations mixed with the music in his headphones. the air was thick with the scent of seawater and the faint, sour smell of industry. it was a crummy town, sordid. each step felt heavy, purposeless, leading him nowhere.

he had a few favorite spots he liked to hang around - the port where the boats came in, or the grimy industrial estate where the addicts gathered. they all knew his dad pretty well. and maybe if they knew beomgyu was the son of the man who supplied them with their shit, they'd treat him better. but that's a secret he kept to himself.

instead, he joined in on their petty fights, easily swayed by whatever side fit his mood that day. he was better at fighting than them, but the victory was hollow. he was younger, his body was not rotten –not completely– and he had full motor control over his limbs. but he got pleasure from winning, anyway. he liked to exert some control over someone else for once. 

still, that day he didn't walk to any of his usual spots. he had been feeling a sorrow less violent, an ominous need for silence. his feet, barely in conversation with his brain, dragged him to the town's small church.

he had never really stopped at the church before, just passed by without giving it much thought. but now, standing there, he realized it was probably the most beautiful building in town.

every other construction felt fake, in plastic and plasterboard, but the wooden church had been crafted by the artisan hands of a carpenter and build up by a community. it seemed to be lovingly nursed, too. though the church meant little to him, it was obviously fundamental to others.

when lost and adrift, beomgyu would wander, getting into fights and ruining himself. but under similarly pitiable conditions, others came to the chapel like it was a second home, sometimes safer than their own. beomgyu wished he had something like that, too.

the building was small, but cute. surrounded by a little forest of old camellia trees, its walls painted a crisp white. it was an old building, but it was thoroughly taken care of. the air was different, cleaner, carrying the earthy scent of the camelliae and the faint fragrance of blooming flowers.

beomgyu liked how the wooden cross crowned the roof, marking the building, never allowing anyone to go astray. it must feel good, he thought, to have some guidance like that when you don't know where to go. a flower in the desert, a light in the darkness.

he knew he was being stupid and overemotional. he had never believed in all this religious stuff, and he never would. his relationship with god, if there even was one, was mostly based in resentment. if god was real, he could've treated him better.

and still, he didn't dare to enter the chapel out of some reverential respect he didn't even know he was capable of. so he just stood there, staring at the chapel, feeling small.

he took a deep breath. his cheek still burned where you had kissed him the night before. he really was going out of his mind.

"i want her so bad. and i think she might want me too." he prayed. to the church, to its wood, to the camellia trees, to the sky –he didn't know, he didn't care. "please let me be with her. please don't hurt her because of it, or shame her, or kick her out or whatever it is you do with sinners. i promise it’s not a bad thing. it’s so much purer than you think." he said.

no one answered, of course. there was just silence. some ruffling of the leaves because of the breeze, maybe the trebling chirp of a bird, but no answer. he felt like an idiot.

praying sucked, he ratified. how could you even make sure you were being listened to? it was emotional manipulation, playing with one's hope. feeling down and disappointed, he left.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

entering soobin’s house again would have felt like torture, were it not for the certainty that you lived there, too.

soobin never really left the house. he only went out to go to class in the mornings, and he still chose to skip as many as he could. not because he wasn't a good student, he was disturbingly accomplished. he just disliked the people.

every day, soobin locked himself in his room and studied relentlessly. he was determined to make something of himself and leave his stepfather’s house behind. he had a plan. beomgyu didn’t know the details of this plan—soobin never shared it, fearing it might be jinxed if spoken aloud—but it was clear that soobin believed hard work could get him out of that miserable house.

beomgyu thought that rhetoric too optimistic, alienated from reality. but still, he had some admiration for him. unlike beomgyu, who wallowed in his own misery instead of changing his situation, soobin searched for solutions.

beomgyu sometimes found him too sickly and rancorous, but he still looked up to him for his willpower. not that he would ever admit that to soobin.

so when beomgyu got to the house, certain that soobin would be there, he gave him a call. it was a code they had. soobin leaned out of his bedroom window, and threw down the keys for beomgyu to catch so that he could make his way in. 

as beomgyu climbed the creaky wooden stairs, he realised that the usual thrill and allure of sneaking around that house he had felt at night was dimmed in the daylight. he hated the smell of that place, too. the air inside was stuffy, filled with the faint scent of old wood and something slightly medicinal.

as he reached the top floor on his way to soobin’s room, he passed by a closed door. pristine surface, painted white. he knew immediately. a pink mother-of-pearl crucifix hung on the wood.

he stood in front of it, his heart quickening. inside that room lived his little bird, trapped in an evil cage. his angel, his obsession. he gladly would’ve shattered the door with his own hands. let his knuckles bleed, let the splintered wood stab into his fingers. he just wanted to take you away and set you free.

at first he maintained a cautionary distance. he feared that if he got any closer, he would actually do it. but then he saw the little plaque under the cross, in sterling silver, shining when the light hit it. he approached to read what it said.

"the lord is faithful. he will establish you and guard you against the evil one." it said.

beomgyu scoffed, a bitter smile curling his lips. like some metal plaque could protect her, he thought. he's the only dangerous thing in her life. that superstitious fool.

he found it bitterly amusing, to the point of feeding his ego. some cultures hang garlic on the doors to keep away the vampires and the witches. your daddy had hanged a nacre cross to keep choi beomgyu away from you.

he let his hand reach for the crucifix. he traced his fingers over it, middle and index. all the doors had a crucifix of their own, but yours was the only one that wasn't a choppy piece of wood, crude and utilitarian. his thoughts wandered as his fingers brushed over the cool, smooth surface. he must be aware of how pretty she is, beomgyu thought.

as he did, a noise startled him. he jolted away from the door, retreating as far as he could. only when he saw it was just soobin coming out of his room did he catch his breath.

“you were taking too long,” soobin said, his expression gloomy. “i didn’t like it.”

“you care for me that much?” beomgyu asked, a bitter grin spreading across his face as he walked up to him, hands in his pockets.

"well, i let you into my house, didn't i?" he asked, accusative.

"you did." beomgyu replied. “it's not versailles, but it’s cute. lots of quirky decorations.” he shrugged, poking at the crucifix that hanged on soobin’s door, tilting it slightly. "it's like a theme park."

"eveything’s a joke to you." soobin replied. he seemed distrusting, his chest filled with something he probably shouldn't say. but he did, anyway. “you need to forget about her."

“what are you talking about?” beomgyu raised his tone, a flicker of panic crossing his eyes, quickly masked by anger.

“i know you. you’re going to let your impulsiveness ruin everything for all of us. it won’t end well.” soobin said. “she's not like one of those girls you used to pick up at private schools. if you want to manipulate your way into someone's pants, choose someone else.”

beomgyu’s anger flared. how dared he imply those were his intentions? how dared he assume he had any other purpose than caring for his angel and godsend grace?

he took a violent step towards soobin, who flinched slightly but held his ground. “you think i’m dorian gray or some shit?” beomgyu retorted. “you're just pressed because i'm not a pussy like you, restraining yourself to please that maniac. but whatever happens, it won’t be because i forced myself on anyone."

“she doesn’t know what she wants." soobin said. "she’s confused and love deprived.”

“and you’re a patronising asshole,” beomgyu snapped back. "who are you to say anything?"

“you’re playing with fire. if you wanna be a psychotic masochist, fine. but don’t drag others into your mess. get yourself hurt if you want, but leave us out of it.”

“us?" beomgyu asked with a wicked grin. "she's an adult. she can make her own choices. and if your stepdad wants to mess with her because of it, it´ll be over my fucking dead body."

“is this how you repay me for letting you stay in my house?” soobin asked, a mix of hurt and frustration in his eyes.

“thing is," beomgyu began with a cynical laugh. "this isn’t about you. you shouldn’t be this bothered,” he said. “and if you are, maybe you should check yourself and see if you’re acting like your stepfather.”

soobin’s knuckles turned white, but he took a deep breath and held it in. “just. don’t do it." he said through gritted teeth. "it’s not worth it.”

but beomgyu grinned wickedly. he had one last bombshell, one last thing to get soobin fuming. “i’ll let you know if it's worth it or not when i have your sister go dumb on my cock.” he said, feeling a twisted sense of satisfaction.

he shouldn't have said it.

instead of getting angry, as he had intended to accomplish, soobin smirked, too. it was unsettling. beomgyu got a ghostly feeling about it.  "what is it?" he spat out.

soobin inclined his head slightly towards the room with the mother-of-pearl cross—the room of his little bird. beomgyu turned just in time to catch a sliver of a prying eye, peeking through a barely open door. your eye widened when it met beomgyu’s gaze, then you vanished, the door slamming shut.

shit. beomgyu's heart raced, his breath hitching.

soobin smiled, a hint of triumph in his eyes. "consider her warned."

˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

late at night, thoughts of you consumed beomgyu’s mind. he knew he had fucked up. he knew that now you probably thought he was a creep and never wanted to see him again. his mind raced, replaying the words he wished he could take back.

he could’ve played his cards right. go slow, ease you into it. but he wasn't that sure now. the uncertainty gnawed at him, twisting his insides with each passing thought.

soobin's room felt even stuffier than the night before, the air heavy and oppressive. the walls seemed to close in on him, making it hard to breathe. the need to see you pressed down on his chest, but lingering doubt kept him glued to the mattress.

a lone fly buzzed around, its annoying droning echoing through the room and fraying his nerves. each pass it made seemed to grow louder, amplifying his sense of confinement, maddening him.

his mind wouldn't shut up about you. you had struck him as someone who knew how to watch your back. he recalled how cautious you had been around him the previous night, like a dog used to being beaten flinches at the sight of a stick. but your eyes had never left his. not for a second. they seemed innocent, but not naive.

he liked that, he thought. that you were like him, smartened up by your environment. but he liked the innocence too, so much. an untouched you, drowning in chasteness and self-restrain.

uncaressed belly, uncaressed thighs, uncaressed sweet pussy. he could make you feel so good. that was all he could offer, all he could give you. he had nothing else.

he knew he should let the thought go. that he should start wrapping his mind around forgetting about you. but it was late, and he was tired, and the only picture that lingered in his mind was a pearl choker and a rosary over a tender neck.

with soobin's steady breathing beside him, perhaps even asleep, beomgyu lay staring at the ceiling. images of you fluttered behind his closed eyelids, all imaginations of his lovesick mind. illicit, probably, but fated.

he thought of your pretty lips whispering praises meant for him, kissing his cheeks, his jaw, the curve of his neck. he wanted to know the taste of your mouth, the softness of your touch.

had you even been kissed yet? with a father as twisted as yours, it seemed unlikely. beomgyu wanted you to never have been kissed. he wanted to teach you how to do it himself. eat your mouth out, nibble at your lips and press them gently. but not hurt you. that was new. 

he would start slow, so that you’d want more of him. then he'd deepen the kiss, his grip on you tight, giving into whatever you asked for, never letting you go hungry. the tingling started, the blood pumping.

pause. he thought as soon as he became aware that he was getting hard. his rational mind tried to assert control, to rein in his desires. you loser, just by thinking of kissing. be cold-minded. a voice told him. actions have consequences. 

the voice sounded a little like him, but it was surely an imposter. if it wasn't impulsive and hot-blooded, then it wasn't choi beomgyu. 

"i just want to apologise." he lied to himself as he sat up all of the sudden.

he slipped out of bed, his bare feet padding softly against the cool floor. he moved slowly, mindful of the creaking floorboards that threatened to betray his movements.

but a subtle rustle, not caused by him, echoed in the quiet room. the soft shuffle of fabric against skin. soobin was awake, and he had wanted to let him know. but beomgyu couldn't begin to care.

as he closed the door behind him, trying to make as little noise as possible, a sudden thud reverberated through the silence. "shit!" he cursed under his breath. another door in that corridor slammed shut with a resounding roar.

someone left a window open. air currents cause noise, beomgyu mused as he made his way down the dimly lit corridor, his steps quickening with purpose. tomorrow night, he thought, he would make sure all windows were closed before going to bed.

as he travelled the shadowy corridor, he got a chill. he kept hearing the ruffling of fabric, a doorknob twisting, steps against the wooden floor. a shiver went down his spine, but he told himself to forget about. it was all in his head.

he refused to let the silent threat your daddy stop him from seeing you. that liar, that imposter, that self-proclaimed god keeping everyone hostage in his castle of authoritarianism and indoctrination.

when he got to your door, the mother-of-pearl crucifix halted him like a policeman. it seemed more commanding now than it had earlier. it was stupid, he thought, how the night enhanced every feeling. 

the cross regarded him and he regarded the cross. “i just want to apologise,” he told jesus christ. “i said something stupid earlier today, and i wanna make better.” he tried to convince him.

it was just a symbolic plea. a desperate attempt to absolve himself of guilt, to make him feel less lustful, less like a pig. to find redemption in the eyes of a higher power. 

he thought about what soobin had said, about god, about your father, about right and wrong. maybe he wasn't as smart as he thought. maybe he was loosing the game and they were all making him go insane for good.

he debated whether to just turn back after the thought came to him that you didn't even want him there, anyway. how could you want him at all, after just one meeting where all he received was rejection?

sure, he got a quick kiss in the end, but it didn't outweigh the pulling away, the uncertainty, the avoidance. what was he worth, really? nothing. not even worth enduring a scolding from your dad, let alone the weight of guilt. he was making a fool of himself. better leave now before anyone got hurt for nothing.

but as he turned to walk away, his heart heavy and ready to toss aside, he heard a noise from inside the room.

a whimper. it was so faint he was sure his febrile mind had made it up. that he was so schizophrenically in lust he had made you escape that sound in his brain. a whimper. a sweet soft whimper. 

he tried to make sense of it by convincing himself that he heard you crying. he even allowed his sense of self-importance to fuel thoughts of bursting into the room and offering you his shoulder to cry on. to cuddle you, to comfort you.

but when he heard it the second time, his breath caught. this time it was a moan, unless his yearning mind was deceiving him. he pressed his ear to the door. he clearly heard a trail of soft muffled moans. restrained, but just so lewd to his feverish self. his face burned, his cock twitched.

index and middle finger reached slowly for the doorknob. they brushed over it, hesitating. maybe it was locked. and maybe that was for the better. the hand wrapped around it, twisted it slightly. it was open.

holding his breath almost to asphyxiation and in the most silent motion he had ever performed, he peaked in. 

god existed, he found out. his mouth went dry. like a bird in the clouds, surrounded by snowy plush blankets, he saw his little dove making herself feel so good against her pillow.

facing away from him, your legs draped on each side of it. your hips swayed, heavy and slow, as you tried to suppress the soft whimpers your throat escaped.

beomgyu pressed his lips together, teeth sinking into his lower lip until almost drawing blood. the messy nightdress, one delicate strap slipping off your shoulder. how the the silken fabric fell over your ass, not letting him see but inviting him to find out.

he wanted to see your doll face twisting in pleasure so desperately. to have you take in his cock and use him to fuck yourself so sweetly like that. only one door was stopping him. the door with the pink mother-of-pearl crucifix.

as though hypnotised, he quietly entered the room.

but when the door closed behind him with a click, you whirled around, eyes wide and breath catching in your throat. he froze in panic, too, as he saw how frightened you seemed. what the fuck were you expecting, you disgusting perv? came in the voice in his head.

your instinct was to retreat like a scared spider, flitting towards the head of your bed. fluffy white pillows framed your trembling body, with only a glimpse of your leg peeking out. your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, almost to an unhealthy degree, as you tried to cover yourself.

beomgyu took a cautious step forward, his obsession with you feeling safe in his presence outweighing how turned on he was. "please," he whispered, desperation in his voice. "don't be embarrassed." he said. or be. you're so adorable, all flustered like this.

"i… i'm sorry," you stuttered, your words hesitant.

beomgyu raised his eyebrow, an endeared chuckle escaping his lips. "you're sorry?"

"i shouldn't have… i…" you struggled, avoiding his gaze and pressing your hands to your head in frustration. anxiously, you began to hit your head with the heels of your hands. "i'm so pathetic."

without hesitation, beomgyu rushed closer, wrapping his hands around your wrists in the world’s softest handcuffs. "not at all," he murmured softly, his voice soothing as he attempted to coax your frightened gaze to meet his own.

quietly, almost reverently, he knelt at the edge of the bed, perching himself over the mattress like a praying supplicant.

he was so fucking hard, his blood boiling inside his pulsating veins. scorchingly, painfully. his hands trembled a bit on your wrists as he struggled to contain himself, like the scorpion resisting the urge to sting the frog and drown them both.

“i loved seeing you like that.” he managed out, eyes fixated on yours. “i’m the pathetic one, i sneaked in here like some creep. i... i'm so sorry about what i said earlier today. i was mad at soobin, trying to get under his skin. but i'm kinder than that. i can be, for you. you shouldn’t be scared of me. please.” 

"i’m not." you said.

"good," he said. "i want you to trust me."

"i think... i think i do."

beomgyu took one of your hands, already entwined with his, and raised it to his lips, planting a delicate kiss on the back. you didn't pull away, though a slight flinch ran through you. his voice, soft and concerned, cut through the quiet, "is this alright?"

you met his gaze, his eyes looking up at you dilated and pleading like a puppy's. you nodded silently, allowing him to continue.

he pressed his lips against your skin a few more times, the wet sounds his mouth made filling the room. with a heavy breath, you took in every detail of his gentle kisses—the way his plump lips pressed and nibbled at your skin, how slow, almost ritualistically.

"what were you thinking about?" he asked, his voice a muffled purr against your skin.

"w-what?" you stammered, trying to buy time as your mind raced to come up with a lie less embarrassing than the truth.

"you were so pretty like that just now, all spread out like a good girl...” he murmured softly, "tell me what got you like that."

you stalled. with an achingly slow movement, you mirrored his action. you brought his hand to your mouth, and brushed your lips over it. barely touched, almost imperceptibly.

a shiver down his spine. a sting to his heart. he watched you in awed stillness, his watering mouth half-open. then you whispered, "you."

"fuck, i– i want to do so many things to you. if you'll let me." he said. a blush crept across your cheeks as you instinctively tried to shy away, but his fingers beneath your chin guided you back to meet his gaze. "what did i do to get you like that? was it because of what you heard me say?" he asked.

"because of everything." you replied.

he moved up from the floor with deliberate slowness, each motion purposeful as if he were approaching a skittish forest creature, determined not to scare it away. cautious, he inched closer, finally settling beside you on the bed. "tell me." he said. "i wanna hear."

"you're smarter than daddy," you began to say, your voice mumbled, as you gazed at him, his features so close you could count the flecks of gold in his eyes. "daddy thinks he's god's chosen one, but you keep outplaying him. so what does that make you?"

"a hellhound," he replied with a cynical smile, drawing even nearer.

"no," you said softly, shaking your head in disagreement. "you're good. and you're sweet to me." with tender care, you brushed his bangs, your fingertips delicately tracing the contours of his face like a child exploring a new toy. you lingered over his brows, his long lashes, the graceful curve of his cupid's bow, and the strong line of his jaw. "and you're… really pretty."

an impulse like a mighty wave of devotion pushed beomgyu to cup your face, his thumb tracing delicate lines over your skin as he asked, voice barely more than a whisper, "have you ever been kissed?"

"yes." you nodded. though there was a flicker of fear in your eye, like he would've been disappointed at that lack of purity. but if he did, he said nothing.

"show me how you do it." he urged, his words a gentle plea as he drew closer, his breath mingling with yours.

you leaned in painfully still, the weight of his gaze bearing down on you. but just before your lips met, you paused. hesitated. this changed everything. but beomgyu met your gaze unwaveringly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of regret or doubt. then, with a soft smile, he encouraged you forward.

you brushed your lips against his, ever so slightly. it was a trembling little touch. chaste. when you pulled away, beomgyu's eyes remained fixed on you, half closed and drunk in longing.

he gently pivoted the hand that had cupped your face, trailing its back along the curve of your cheekbone to finally rest it at the nape of your neck. "so pretty," he whispered. "why are you so scared?"

"i don't want to disappoint you," you mumbled softly.

beomgyu's response was immediate, a fervent shake of his head. "never," he insisted, his voice a husky plea, "you're doing so well. please, kiss me again."

with trembling fingers, you reached up to his neck, your heartbeat a wild rhythm in your chest. you nestled his upper lip within yours. a little more intensely this time, but still experimental, like you were gingerly trying to color within the lines.

beomgyu was gone. you were so soft and plush and just so scared to do anything wrong. he lingered, his thumb tracing the outline of your lips. "they're mine now," he said in a low growl.

he took over, giving you a deep wet kiss. unrestrained, heavy like a lion’s roar. as you moved your lips together, beomgyu demanded more and more, leaving you breathless. one of his hands rested on your thigh, tentatively stroking, fondling over the skin, as if to soothe you, to tell you everything was alright.

he tilted his head, seeking depth in your mouth. one of your hands traced up the length of his chest and reached his neck, which you squeezed tightly as you felt his mouth opening yours to let his tongue in. you tensed. he noticed. “do you like that?” he asked, breath heavy.

“i... yes."

and so he did it again. another painfully lusty kiss that left your lips soaked and swollen. you escaped a moan that he loved so desperately, making him bite on your lower lip, drawing another embarrassingly whiny whimper out of you. after a softer peck, he outlined the bitten skin with his tongue.

he devoured your lips again, eating out your mouth. he slipped his tongue back into your mouth to circle yours, playing with it; then he pulled back, as if urging you to follow him. he wanted you to try yourself.

his hand on your thigh moved to embrace your waist, fingers poking into your skin. you felt firm, secure. in the middle of the unbridled kiss, your tongue ended up in his mouth. so soft. my good little girl. he let out a grunt of satisfaction. happy with his reaction, your instinct got you to hold on to him tighter, trying to find a closeness that was impossible in that position.

he got frustrated at it, too, his groans turning into hummed pleading moans against your lips. for a painful second, he pulled away to say, "let me watch you fuck yourself, just like you were when i came in. please." he said. "would you be comfortable with that?" he asked. 

you nodded slightly, though you weren't even sure you were telling the truth. they were irreconcilable, avoiding embarrassment and giving in to the aching sensation in your pussy the moment he spoke those words.

he stretched his arm out toward the pillow, gently offering it to you, observing as you knelt on the bed and retook the position he had found you in. he helped you through it, caring for you with caresses and soft kisses, but he went back to seat at the edge of the mattress, gnawing lightly on his lip with anticipation. you didn't want that, you realised. you wanted him close.

you reached out your hand for him to grasp, "what is it, baby?" he asked, tending to you with gravity.

you guided him towards you, maneuvering him to recline half-seated against the bedhead. he caught on to your intentions and leaned in to give you a gentle peck before allowing his hands to settle on your hips, helping you in adjusting the pillow beneath you.

now on all fours, with him facing you, he noticed you wanted to say something, the words lingering on your lips. "is everything alright?" he asked, his hand tenderly caressing your arm.

you stammered a bit before shyly asking, “can you keep on kissing me?”

he smiled fondly. he would never in a million years be able say no to you. “of course, my angel.”

he drew nearer, his proximity warming you up. having him there like that, you didn't need to support yourself on your arms- instead, you found yourself instinctively clinging to his neck. with a mellow kiss and his hands firmly securing their hold on your hips, he led the start of the back and forward motion.

the first reactions the rubbing of your clit against the fabric drew out were subdued, mere soft moans and gentle breaths mingling with his the plush of beomgyu’s lips. but with his grasp pressing you down, those initial movements evolved into more intense and profound ones.

he let one of his hands abandon your hips to entwine his fingers in the strands of your hair. the louder your moans got, the tighter his grip on it. he was so hard, with no escape for it. but he liked the pain, the desperation. "you sound so beautiful, fuck–" he breathed out. "but i'm gonna feel so much better than that."

the promise echoed in your mind, getting you to let out a crying plead, "p-please, beomgyu..." you moaned out, as you fumbled with your hand to find his.

"you want me to help you out?" he asked, almost like it was a privilege.

"mhm," you whimpered with a sheepish, frantic nods.

"cute." he breathed out. his face was flushed and burning hot, his cock ached uncomfortably, but he spartanly focused on his little angel’s pleasure above anything else.

he wrapped his arms around your waist and took you to his lap, where he held you tight. "are you comfortable like this?" he asked, placing a a soft peck to your forehead.

"yes." you answered, embarrassingly. you were wet to the point of dampening your inners thighs, and you were mortified to have him see, to even stain him. but he'd notice soon enough.

he grunted as he kept on kissing down your face. your temples, the tip of your nose, the corner of your mouth, your ridiculously tasty lips. he held on to your waist for dear life with one of his arms, but allowed the other to travel down, slowly and deviantly towards your virgin pussy.

"you're soaked, my baby." he breathed out. you would've felt self-conscious at the exposure, but you saw in his eyes how bad he liked it. how starved and aroused he seemed when he began to caress your wet cunt with his slender fingers.

his cold touch startled you at first, making you hold on to his neck tighter. you were too sore, too sensitive. "don't be scared. i'm gonna take such good care of you," he said. "i promise."

tentatively, he stroked over the surrounding area of your aching centre, index and middle finger touching softly over your wetness. he performed circling motions in your clit, taking his time. getting to hear you. “b-beomgyu, you—god—you feel really good…”

he learned that when you liked something he did, you'd shower him in desperate soft pecks, like a puppy licks your hand after you pat its head. he wanted to see you react further, he wanted to try it all. he spread your pussy with both fingers and pressed forcefully against your throbbing clit with a third one. startled, you clutched his hair so firmly you feared you might have hurt him.

as by instinct, your thighs twitched from the overstimulation and seemed to want to close around his hand, but he didn't let them. he shushed into your lips with a soft "shhh," soothing as the seashore before leaning in for a honeyed kiss. he traced patterns against your cheek with his nose after pulling away. "its alright. you're doing so fucking well."

he let you catch your breath, but not for too long. he quickened his pace, your moans getting too loud, wept out and filthy enough to horrify all the saints in the house of god. it became a duel of you trying to suppress yourself and keep it quiet, and beomgyu trying to get everyone in the house to know how good he was for you.

to restrain the growing sound of your moaning, you buried your face into beomgyu’s neck, trying to muffle your voice against his body. but he huffed into your ear, "don't hold back. only you and me matter, no one else."

"i think i–" you whimpered into his ear, choking on your own puffs. the pleasure crept up on you, becoming too strong to bear and making your whole body shudder against his. "beomgyu, please..." you cried out.

he saw how close you were, and quickly thought if he should or should not stop it. tease you, edge you, have you go on all night. he could do so many things, he ached so much to do them all. but as he saw your pretty face so desperate to cum, how needy and palpitating, you were, he decided he had all the time in the world.

his movements quickened, each motion filled with urgency and strength. his veiny, strained forearm bore the weight of the world as he got you to your peak.

you came with a stifled cry but you muted your voice against his neck again. he wished he could've heard it in its full, piercing clarity, but he understood. you were so sheepish, his perfect little girl.

he didn't pull his hand away immediately, instead letting you feel his warmth for a little longer as you trembled against his chest. "my baby, you did so well," he whispered into your ear, his voice a soothing balm as he gently cradled your body.

now that the tension had drained from your limbs, you found yourself collapsing against him, your body limpy and worn out. it was then that you noticed the bulge in his pants. "beomgyu…" you murmured, your voice heavy. "teach me how to help you out."

"forget about me," he replied with a gentle smile. "i just wanted to get you to trust me tonight. to show you how good i can make you feel." 

you gazed at him, cherishing his handsome features. his cheeks were flushed, too, and his eyes so gentle. you couldn't help but cup his face in your hands, drawn to him. but as you leaned in to kiss him, he stopped you faintly, saying, "wait. don't kiss me. i want you to have something to look forward to, so you'll be excited to see me again tomorrow."

"you'll come back tomorrow?" you asked, your eyes lighting up with hope.

“i couldn’t stay away even if i wanted to,” he replied. but as he said it, he noticed a flicker of guilt crossing your face. gently, he brushed a strand of hair away from your reddened cheek. "how are you feeling?" he asked softly.

your gaze darkened slightly. "like i shouldn't have done it," you admitted. "like daddy saw everything."

"i'm… sorry," beomgyu said, his voice full of consternation.

"no, it's not your fault. those thoughts aren't real. i can make the guilt go away, in time," you reassured him. "but i like it when you hold me. that's real. i… like you. a lot, i think."

beomgyu didn't even know what to say. he struggled to understand how this could be wrong to any human religion or faith since the dawn of time, because to him this felt like heaven. he held you in his arms, all flushed and a little tired, your lips swollen like ripe cherries from the kisses he had given you. this was fucking nirvana for all he cared.

he deeply regretted his no-kissing rule, and he sought to end it immediately. he leaned in, but you stopped him.

"no," you chuckled, "don't kiss me. i want you to have something to look forward to so that you're excited to come back tomorrow."

he smiled back at you, like an absolute fool. maybe he was in love, even if it only had been a day, whatever. but how could he not be when he had the cutest being in existence all to himself? "give me a gift before i go, then," he said. "something i can carry with me.

"what do you want?" you asked.

"this," he said, pointing at your rosary beads. with a gesture that felt almost ceremonial, you took off the pendant and placed it around his neck. as you did, he couldn’t help but stare at your lips. "can’t i kiss you just a little?" he pouted.

you shook your head with a soft giggle. "your rules," you reminded him. "be stronger."

“fine. have it your way.”

he smiled, but it quickly vanished as you remembered him; “you should go. or soobin will know.”

he nodded, eyes filled with disappointment. the moment you lifted yourself off his lap, detached yourself off of him, an intense wave of pain surged through both of you. like a limb had been atrociously ripped off your body.

but just as he was about to leave, you grabbed his wrist, halting him. “beomgyu, wait,” you called out, rising to your knees to meet his gaze.

you pressed a gentle, lingering kiss on his cheek, just as you had done the night before. the softness of your touch sent a shiver down his spine. as you pulled back, beomgyu instinctively leaned forward, craving more. but you placed your index finger against his lips, stopping him. “you’re so weak,” you teased with a playful glint in your eyes.

he smiled ruefully. “i am,” he admitted with a sigh, the weight of reality settling back in. he really had to leave. “good night,” he murmured.

stepping out into the dark, the world felt colder, and his eyes struggled to adjust to the dimness. he lingered for a moment, leaning his back against the door, not wanting to leave just yet, but his head bumped against something.

of course.

he turned around to regard the crucifix, holding the one you had given him in his hands. same color, same material. a bittersweet smile played on his lips. “she was so good,” he told jesus christ. “and i think i made her happier, just a little. i feel a little happier too. i told you, it was much purer than you think.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ next part

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ so. i really struggled through this one. lemme know what you think.

[dovveri]

sun-kissed

bachelorette masterlist - part 1 • part 2 • part 3 • part 5 • part 6 • part 7

synopsis: an unexpected arrest deters filming for day 4 so instead, y/n and sana spend the day together. almost like a date?

warnings: mentions of child pedophilia! suggestive, cursing - i forget to tag that alot bcs its in all my fics but just assume its always there oop

w/c: 5.2k

a/n: okay this took me way longer than it should’ve to write but i think it’s maybe my favourite chapter so far… or maybe i’m soft rn 🤭 enjoy!

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could they have made any less of a scene?

the sirens have stopped but the blue and red lights continue to blaze as you stand in shock with the rest of the contestants while the cops raid the mansion.

sana had been taken away by the producers as soon as the police cars had pulled up.

when they're finally done checking the mansion, they walk out a cuffed wonsik. his head is down, refusing to look at any of you, hands behind his back as he's shoved into the back of the police car.

none of you had a clue what was going on, you were all enjoying the third rose ceremony and nothing could've predicted where this night had led you.

eventually, after the police have long driven away, the producers return with sana who looks a little shaken up. you head towards her immediately, wrapping your arms around her shoulders, but she can't seem to face you, eyes blank as she follows the producers instructions for everyone to come back into the mansion.

"sana? sana?" you're trying to get her attention, shaking her slightly.

she snaps out of it with a blink, looking up at you in confusion, "hm?"

"you okay? kinda lost you back there."

"mm yeah i just- it was just really unexpected."

"what was?"

she nods her head towards the producers who are now standing in front of the leftover contestants preparing to make an announcement.

"okay guys so we only just found this out but wonsik has been arrested on charges of owning child pornography, engaging in pedophilic acts, and sexual assault of a minor. the police have searched the house and confiscated all of his items and any incriminating evidence they could use in court. as you all know, we do conduct background checks on all contestants before they are accepted onto this show, and we apologise that this incident has been overseen. we won't be editing wonsik's arrest out of tonight's episode, but he has obviously been eliminated. we'll take tomorrow off filming to allow you all a small break and please do let us know if you have any concerns moving forward with filming."

what the actual fuck?

as soon as the producers are done with their announcement everyone is talking on top of each other, trying to figure out just what the hell happened and how this happened under everyone's noses.

"did you know?"

"holy shit i never saw that coming out of him-"

"man its always the quiet ones that are the most fucked up-"

you turn to sana in shock, feeling much like how she had looked just a little earlier. "sana?"

she's still a little distracted when she looks at you, "hmm? i'm tired y/n. let's go back home?"

you're nodding quickly, leading her away from the aftermath to the quiet cool of the outside air. you wave down your driver and quickly lead sana inside, stuttering out directions to your villa and sitting back, sneaking a glance at sana who's looking out the window with glazed eyes.

the drive back is silent save for the low hum of the engine. you're a little surprised when sana shuffles closer to you, linking her arm through yours and placing her head on your shoulder, still not saying anything.

you take her hand in yours, interlock your fingers, and lean your head on hers. the rest of the short drive is spent like this, the silence is thoughtful, but not awkward.

even as you arrive back at the house, your hands never leave each other's, you lead her towards your shared bathroom and brush your teeth side by side. only letting go of each other when you both go to start your nighttime skincare routines.

sana has a much more intricate routine than you because of her obsession with all things health-related and her need to take care of her skin well. so you finish earlier than her, mumbling a quick goodnight while she's still bent over the sink and moving past her to retire yourself to bed.

you close all the blinds, intending to have a full night's rest and wake up late tomorrow because filming was cancelled, climbing under your sheets and sighing at the feeling of soft fabric against your skin.

your eyes are slowly drifting shut when your door peeks open, and sana's slipping in, closing the door behind her, shrouding the room in darkness again. she tiptoes to the edge of your bed, lifting the cover and sliding inside, cold feet come to entangle themselves with your legs, shuffling close as you get a whiff of her night serum, the sweet, tangy smell of mandarin subtly descending upon your senses.

"this is okay right?" she's murmuring against you, you're lying face to face, eyes sleepily open while your eyes readjust to the darkness, making out the soft curl of her eyelashes and the perfect slant of her nose.

you hum against her, sliding an arm over her waist and pulling her closer, resting your foreheads together and closing your eyes comfortably.

you think she's drifted off to sleep after a few minutes, but she speaks up in a whisper, barely there, you wouldn't have heard her if you weren't almost lip to lip, "y/n?"

"hm?"

you feel the soft breath of her sigh against your lips, "i... i should've known... he- i could've put him away faster- i gave him a platform- he was on national television and oh y/n, kids the kids he took advantage of could've seen him on tv and thought-" she's slowly panicking the tone of her voice getting shakier as she spirals and allows herself to voice her thoughts out loud for the first time, "-thought that he was in the right that it was okay that there were no consequences and then i kissed him oh my god i kissed him y/n and what kinda message does that send like-"

"sana sana baby shh, shh c'mere-" you're pulling her into you, tucking her head under yours and she starts crying and shuddering, hands twisted at the collar of your shirt.

"i just- like what's worse is i actually liked him-"

"mm no no sweetie stop stop. listen no-one knew what he was okay? it's not your fault you fell for him you can't blame yourself for that. he literally came here with the intention of making you do that you were just another one of his unlucky victims okay? and look, once this gets out on the news he's not going to have that platform anymore okay? in fact he'll probably hate that he came on here because he's going to be even more infamous than if he had stayed anonymous. we can only be real and truthful going forward so that those poor kids are validated in their feelings. he's going to be put away for a long long time now and he's not gonna have the chance to pull any more of that shit okay?"

she's sniffling into your shirt, listening to you talk and soothe her. you continue whispering sweet reassurances into the night, waiting for her to calm down.

she sniffles again, finally looking up at you, eyes red and snot dribbling out of her nose, your heart aches, "can we go out tomorrow? just us, like old times."

you smile at her request, nodding and pressing a gentle kiss onto her forehead, "of course baby. we can go do whatever you want. i promise i'll be yours for the whole day."

she's smiling, thanking you softly and closing her eyes. you wait to hear the her breath slow into quiet even snores before you stop stroking her hair, just holding her against you and closing your own eyes. drifting off to sleep with the adorable mimimimi sound she lets out only when she's exhausted and sleeping well.

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the next morning the both of you wake up around 10am, a comfortable time that allowed you to sleep-in, but not so much that you'd miss out on the entire day.

some producers stop by to check in on sana and go through a small debrief of everything that's happened and what they have left to film in the show.

you can tell she's still a little on edge and wants to get away from everything as fast as possible so you politely ask the producers for time off today and to leave the both of you alone until tomorrow since no filming was happening anyway.

eventually, they're leaving and sana's throwing on casual white pants, a light cardigan on top of a knit button-up, sunnies, grabbing her prada handbag and she's ready to go.

you're lucky you have so many things at your disposal, even multiple cars in the garage to pick from as you grab a random set of keys and click unlock. spotting a white convertible respond with its headlights flashing twice and leading sana towards the car, hopping in. sana's mood has already improved greatly, bubbling with excitement as she lists off some names of a couple restaurants you could try in town for lunch. you smile at her nodding along and humming as you start the engine, pulling out of the garage and onto the valley road, turning on the radio and laughing at the way sana almost jumps out of her seat, neck craning up, eyes closing, letting the wind sprinkled with a hint of sea salt blow through her hair, breathing in a deep breath of satisfaction.

you know you're meant to keep your eyes on the road but it was empty anyway and sana looked so so beautiful. you traced the slope of her nose, down to the curve of her lips as she smiles, the sharp lines of her jaw, and the smooth plane of skin at her neck.

she's peeking an eye open at you, laughing when you realise you've been caught, her giggle high and airy. you loved her so much. and it was getting harder and harder to say that to her without it meaning something a little more.

you're pulling into town soon, she's babbling excitedly and pointing at things that interest her with the curiosity of a child, you're trying to find parking and smoothly drive into an angled spot just in front of the restaurant you had both decided on.

you're jumping out of the car and running to the other side to get her door, and she's giggling and smiling when you take her hand, pressing a sweet kiss to her knuckles, and helping her out of the car.

you enter the bustling shop hand in hand, smiling kindly at the waiter who greets you and ushers you to a table situated next to a large window, allowing a picturesque view into the bay area with a couple fishing boats coming back in after an early morning.

you continue your act of chivalry, pulling out her chair before she sits, and then walking over to take your own seat across from her.

you both glance over the menu enjoying the hum of a busy eatery.

"do you know what you want yet y/n?"

the words on the menu were quickly meshing together, lots of french and seafood terms you wouldn't be able to take a first guess at the meaning of. you pout and shake your head.

she giggles at your antics, "it's okay i'll order for us." she's waving over the same waiter who greeted you at the door, then listing off a few menu items, her french sounding poised and elegant, though you knew she had not-so-secretly spent a year obsessing over french ballet and had even taken up a few lessons herself, only to realise she was much too clumsy to continue it. she had thanked your mutual friend mina for the gracious lessons but resorted to attempting to learn french as an outlet for her obsession.

"-leave out the pickles in everything. and that'll be all thankyou."

your heart picks up a little at the small gesture. you despised anything with pickles in it, and she knew that, making sure you wouldn't have to pick out any of those sickly green slices.

you smile in thanks when the waiter leaves with your order, only to come back quickly afterwards with a bottle of chardonnay which she pours into two elegantly carved wine glasses she's brought along with her.

you raise your eyebrows at sana, questioning the alcohol, but she only sits forward, propping an elbow up on the table and leaning her head into it with a smile.

"day drinking?"

"what? i'll drink yours if you don't want it."

you roll your eyes at her affectionately, taking the glass and sipping, humming at the sweet and tangy bitterness that fills your mouth.

she copies your actions with a beam, setting her glass back down and licking her lips. you follow the action.

"is there anything else specific that you wanted to do today?" you're asking her, taking another sip from your glass.

"mm, not really. i don't mind as long as i'm with you."

"glad to know you're feeling well enough again to flirt."

"oh always with you baby. you're the only one for me."

"that's a bold faced lie and you know it."

she pouts at that, and you can't help yourself, leaning forward and pressing lightly on her bottom lip.

"stop that. put that back in there."

she licks your finger and you hiss, pulling away quickly in mock disgust while she laughs, "please you've made me suck on your fingers and now you're grossed out?"

the waiter decides to come with your first dish at that exact moment, a light dusting of pink on her cheeks when she overhears sana's comment, you don't fare much better when you flare up in embarrassment, hastily wiping your finger on your skirt and babbling out a loud thank you to the waiter.

you glare at sana who's trying her hardest not to laugh, no shame whatsoever, shaking in her seat at the effort of keeping it in, her lips pursed and eyes twinkling.

"you're so going to get it when we get back." you mumble as you stab into a mussel on the plate in front of you.

"awwwwh poor baby's embarrassed, don't worry, mommy will make it better."

your fork drops at the term and you feel yourself going extraordinarily red. she's laughing now, loud and boisterous, drawing the attention of a few onlookers and you throw your napkin at her, whining and slinking back into your chair trying to hide your face.

it's a few seconds after you've folded you arms across your chest and tucked your chin in, willing the heat in your cheeks to go away while staring into your lap, that sana's stopped laughing.

she picks up a mussel with her fork and holds it out to you, leaning forward onto the table again, eyes bright making an 'ahh' sound.

you turn your head, not giving her the satisfaction of paying her attention, but she's persistent, "c'mon y/n. i'm sorry i won't tease anymore i promise."

it's no surprise that you can't resist her, rolling your eyes and opening your mouth, accepting the fleshy piece of seafood and chewing. she's smiling and poking her own piece to put in her mouth, humming at the taste and making sure it was to your liking as well.

the rest of lunch is spent like this, playful and fun, it's good to be able to feel like yourselves again after all the hectic film shooting.

you're standing up to grab the bill after you're both finished when sana shakes her head at you, "i got it already don't worry."

"huh? what do you mean?"

"i told the waiter earlier in french so you wouldn't know. just let me treat this time? i still haven't really been able to thank you for coming along with me for this."

"what? sana this was like... a one hundred dollar meal at least. don't be silly let me pay you back."

she's humming and putting her cardigan back on, standing up and walking in front of you, "pay me back by winning something for me at the arcade?"

you sigh, grumbling along as she giggles at you, taking your hand and leading you out of the restaurant, thanking your waiter who still looks a little off-put by you, and walking down the street to where you had spotted the small arcade earlier.

you purchase a hefty amount of arcade tokens and get straight into all the classics. sana just barely won air hockey against you, jumping and whooping with every goal, you have to take off your jacket midway through the game, sweating as you try and focus on hitting the little puck. you get her back on the dance machines though, you can't keep in the laugh when she somehow ends up sprawled on the floor, limbs tangled and missing every following beat.

you cycle through the arcade, speeding through mario kart and midnight run, shooting with abysmal accuracy at the gun games, trying your hand at some of the more unique japanese arcade games they have (which sana completely destroys you at), and eventually ending up at the wide variety of claw machines.

sana's pulling you towards one with spy x family collectibles, and you furrow your eyebrows in concentration as you try to get the small anya keychain for her.

she's giving you instructions from the side of the machine, trying to give you as much perspective as possible before the time runs out and the claw drops. you wait with baited breath as it grabs the keychain, comes back up with a whir, and then... the keychain falls out at the bump at the top of the machine.

you don't even hesitate when you push in another token, determined to win this one thing.

sana's with you the whole way, her reactions only getting more and more expressive with each loss.

you're probably on your 9th try, the claw grabs onto the keychain, lifts it up, and with a whoop the keychain's falling successfully into the claim box. sana's caterwauling and jumping into your arms and you lift her up in glee, spinning her around once before setting her back down. you bend down to pick up the keychain, presenting it to sana with a flourish, and then she's kissing your cheek and squeezing you against her in a hug, thank yous spilling out of her in rapid succession.

you giggle against her, hugging back, relishing in the contact.

after you exchange your arcade tickets for prizes, you head down towards the docks, stopping for some ice cream before making it to the boardwalk.

there are a few other couples doing the same thing, and when you nod politely to an elderly couple holding hands, you're hit with the abrupt realisation that you and sana must look like a couple right now. unless people were homophobic, then you'd just be a couple of close friends, maybe roommates.

you're suddenly hyperaware of the sweat starting to collect on your palm, releasing her hand and wiping it on your skirt when she looks at you with a cocked head, mid-lick of her ice cream cone, eyes wide.

you switch your own ice cream cone to your other hand so it looks like you had an excuse to let go, avoiding her questioning gaze.

eventually you both decide to sit down at the end of the boardwalk, legs dangling over the edge and looking out across the bay. there weren't any boats currently docked in so you had a clear view of the blue vastness in front of you.

sana's leaning in and looking up at you with puppy dog eyes.

"...what?"

she doesn't speak, her eyes darting down to your own ice cream cone and back up.

you roll your eyes and hold it out for her.

she's grinning and sticking out her tongue to lick a long strip along the side of your cone, humming in satisfaction.

"wanna try mine?"

"i'm okay thanks."

she's pouting and you can't have that so you lean in and lick some of hers, cringing at the overly sweet taste of artificial fairy floss but the smile she gives you afterwards makes up for it.

you both sit back and enjoy the light afternoon breeze, a calming presence after the hectic running around you did at the arcade.

"i missed this." sana speaks up first.

"me too."

"things have been pretty crazy with the house. i'm really glad that you're here with me though."

you turn to her and smile, "i'm glad you let me come."

"of course. the home visits later on are gonna get a little crazy. every season those are always full of drama."

"do you know who you want to end up there yet? your final four?"

she hums, thinking for a little, "still not really. we have... nine- wait no, eight since wonsik's a pedophile. so jacky, eunji, jihyo, momo, jun, jiwon, nayeon, and dae."

"it's a good mix i think. they all have different types of chemistry with you."

you're distracted by a buzz on your phone, taking it out and opening your messages.

miyeon: y/n!!!!! i just saw the news about wonsik! its everywhere rn r u guys okay?

"who's that?" sana's looking at your with a curious lilt in her voice.

you hesitate to respond, knowing how she reacted the last time you and miyeon were together.

"oh just my uncle. he's asking what to get my mum for her birthday later. you'd think he'd know since they're siblings but..." you trail off, typing a quick response back to miyeon.

y/n: it was crazy no one saw it coming! the producers called off filming today.. probably so they can deal with all the legal disputes that'll come up bcs of this

you tuck your phone back into your jacket, ignoring the new messages you get. you could respond to miyeon later. today was meant for you and sana.

sana's sighing and leaning her head on your shoulder, "wish i wore swimmers. it's such nice weather and the water looks soo good."

"we can head back and go for a swim in the pool if you want? we haven't had a chance to use it yet. may as well get the most out of being the main character on this show."

she's up in seconds, grinning, all fatigue gone as she practically prances back towards the car, only turning back to yell at you to hurry up.

you beam at her, running to catch up, laughing and smiling, just the two of you.

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sana's yelping when you cannonball into the deep end of the pool, splashing her with cold water in your wake.

"y/n!!"

you break the surface grinning and laughing, trying to splash more water on her.

"sto- stop! y/n oh my god-"

"hurry uppppppp! it's not cold if you get it over and done with!"

"no! i need to put on sunscreen first!"

"sunscreen? it's 4pm!"

"there are still UV rays at this time! i don't want to die from skin cancer and if you're a good girl you'll get out and let me put sunscreen on you too."

you narrow your eyes at her while she's lathering her legs with the white cream.

you decide to ignore her, diving into the pool and resurfacing a few times, splashing around by yourself while she takes her sweet time. to be honest, you're glad for the coolness the pool offers you, when sana first stepped out in her pale yellow bikini, you had felt your cheeks blush all the way up to the tips of your ears. you'd avoided her gaze quickly, instead opting for racing her outside and jumping in right away.

now that she wasn't watching you though, you couldn't help the way your eyes drifted over to her. she had finished with her legs and was now applying lotion to her arms. you traced the outline of her-

"y/n!"

you startle in the water, and she's looking at you curiously when you make a sort of weird strangled sound and water goes swashing around. "y-yeah?" you clear your throat, hoping you weren't as red as you felt.

"can you help with my back? i can't reach." she's looking at you with a dangerous pout, eyes pleading.

you mumble incoherently as you swim towards the shallow end, stepping out of the pool and grabbing the sunscreen bottle from her, gesturing for her to turn around while she grins at you.

you squirt some of the lotion onto your hand, rubbing it diligently into her back. you knew how much she cared for her skin, and even though you cared significantly less for your own, it mattered to her so you had to make sure you did a good job.

the problem arose when you started reaching her lower back. the pressure you've been applying becomes considerably less when you realise just how close you are to sana's ass. sana's very very attractive ass, only emphasised in these bikini bottoms.

"feeling shy y/n?"

"s-shut up."

"you can do my ass too if you want y'know. it's not like it's anything you haven't felt before."

you can picture the cheeky smirk on her face while you recap the sunscreen bottle after you're finished. and really, you just felt like you had to do something about that so before you know it, a hand's coming down and smacking her, a loud resounding slap followed closely by sana's yelp.

you're jumping back into the pool, trying to push the image of her cheeks rippling in the most perfect way to the very back of your mind.

when you break the surface again with a bubbly laugh she's still standing by the side of the pool, arms crossed and an unimpressed look on her face.

"did you just spank me y/n?"

you stick your tongue out her in defiance, sending a splash of water her way.

"oh you are so dead!" she's jumping in now, and you're scrambling away trying to put as much distance between you two as possible. but she closes in quickly, tackling you underwater and pulling you down so you're both submerged.

you're grinning and then you're laughing, but not in a good way because her fingers are at your sides tickling you and digging into all of the sensitive points in your body she's discovered over the time you've known each other.

you spend the next few minutes trying to one up one another, droplets of water flying everywhere, noisy screeches and laughs sounding out. you're lucky this mansion of a house was situated in the valleys with no neighbours or you most definitely would've gotten a noise complaint.

eventually, you decide to call a truce, cheeks sore from smiling, stomach sore from laughing. you float onto your back, closing your eyes and letting out a loud sigh in comfort. you can feel sana floating next to you, your heads next to each other, hearts beating in tandem.

she’s speaking up after a minute, "cats or dogs?"

you snort, "i don't mind."

you can hear the whine in her voice, "just pick one."

you hum thinking about it for a little, "whatever suits my lifestyle better i guess. if i'm really busy with work or i have to stay home a lot then probably a cat. but if i have a big backyard or something then probably a dog. knowing me though, i'll probably end up with cats. i'm too lazy to keep up with the energy dogs have."

"not with me though right?"

"what? of course not with you. also, you're not a dog sana."

"people say i look like a shiba inu."

"that's not the same thing."

she giggles a little before sighing, "you suit cats. okay. it's decided. we're getting a cat when we go home."

"huh?!"

she's breaking into high-pitched laughter again and you can only find yourself to be slightly concerned over whether she's being serious or not. you could deal with that at a much later date though. you drift back into a comfortable silence, listening to the sounds of the night wildlife slowly wake up in the valleys next to you.

"y/n?"

"hmm?"

"i love you."

your eyes are opening now, heart rate picking up. there's no reason to panic right? she meant it as a friend. a friend. so why was it so hard to say it back to her? as a friend?

instead, you say, "enjoy our date that much minatozaki?"

she doesn't respond with the same teasing tone you're expecting, "i really did." all honest and pure.

you're gulping, "...me too."

you know she's standing when you feel light waves push against your body, so you lift yourself up, looking at her puzzled, but she only goes to stand in front of you, grabbing your arms and wrapping them around her waist.

you let her, squeezing slightly and dropping your head onto her shoulder, your eyes drinking in the pinks and oranges of the sunset.

"you're not gonna say it back?"

you stiffen behind her, "what?"

"you know what."

she's tightening her hold around you even before you try to subconsciously escape.

you let out an almost-laugh breath, "...i love you too sana."

"was that so hard?" she's turning now, pupils dilated when they meet yours, pink lips slightly parted, noses almost touching.

you're shaking your head no, breath caught up in your throat.

a crinkle appears between her eyebrows, you have the urge to smooth it out, "are you lying?"

another shake of your head.

you feel her breath against your lips as she lets out a soft exhale, the tightening of her hands against your forearms helping ground you, if only slightly.

"i hope one day you'll be able to tell me the truth." you're confused, what was she talking about? "for now i guess this is fine." and then she's leaning in and pressing her lips against yours.

its almost an automatic reaction now. your mouth is moving against hers even before your brain registers you're kissing.

she's sweet, she always is. but this kiss is a little different. it's not filled with passion or heat, not like all your previous kisses that have always led to tangled limbs and heavy breaths. it's soft, tender, like she's trying to tell you something with her lips. you just weren't particularly versed in this form of sana communication yet to be able to tell what that was.

when she breaks away, the sun is dipping behind the horizon, her forehead leaned against yours, breaths coming in shorter after the lack of air.

she shivers a little when a cool gust of wind starts up.

"inside?" you ask.

she nods, letting you go, and following you out of the pool to dry off.

the rest of the night, even when you end up sprawled on messy sheets, sweat coating your bodies and arms around each other, your lips still tingle from her kiss in the pool. you fall asleep dreaming of small kittens, ice-cream, and sana.

[watchmegetobsessed]

SIREN

A/N: italrry is superior and im very much enjoying the content we've been getting

WORD COUNT: 2.3k

SUMMARY: It was supposed to be a little lonely getaway in your dad's Italian villa, but plans get a little messed up and you end up having to share the villa with your dad's friend, Harry.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

It’s fate. 

Nothing else could explain how you ended up in Italy with your father’s hot friend you’ve had a crush on probably since you were eighteen, the man who was behind your sexual awakening and all your deepest, most dirtiest fantasies. 

Well, you didn’t come here with him. You just ended up in your father’s villa at the same time thanks to a coincidence. 

You were supposed to spend a week here with your two best friends, just sunbathing, eating pasta and pizza and drinking the days away under the hot Italian sun. It was all you could think about the past few weeks, but then they both ended up canceling on the trip.

Daphne had a family crisis, her mom broke her leg and her dad is away on a business trip until the end of the month, so she had to stay back and take care of her mom. 

Syd on the other hand chose to spend the week with her boyfriend who is set to move to a different state at the end of summer, she’s been moping about having to go long distance for months now, so it wasn’t a complete surprise she decided to stay with Connor.

That’s how your plans were messed up, but instead of being upset and canceling the whole trip you decided to just come on your own, have some much deserved alone time and not let the circumstances ruin your mood.

Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, when you told your dad about the change of plans he completely misunderstood you and thought the trip was canceled, so he ended up telling Harry he could take the villa for his trip, because it would be vacant. You’d arrived just an hour before you heard the front door opening, you jumped over your suitcases and grabbed the closest thing you could reach, which happened to be your platform heels, you rushed down the stairs, ready to attack the intruder when you saw that it was Harry.

“What the–?!” he took a step back, dropping his duffel bags.

“Holy shit, you scared the hell out of me!” you groaned, dropping your arms. “What are you doing here?”

“Me? What are you doing here?” he asked back.

You untangled the story and realized that you both planned to take the villa at the same time. Harry offered to find a hotel, but you told him there’s no need.

“This place is big enough for the two of us.”

You could see some resistance in his eyes, but then ended up staying.

Now it’s been three days and you never want to leave this place and it’s only because of Harry.

It’s no news that the man is fine. At thirty-eight he is better than any man your age in any sense. Physique, looks, manners, there’s nothing you could bring up that Harry doesn’t check out. His ridiculously handsome face has been the subject of your wet dreams for a long time now and he is sporting a mustache, something you usually can’t stand on a man but Harry makes it look good, of course. His sporty figure is adorned by dozens of tattoos that are mostly hidden under his designer clothes, but you’ve been ogling them quite often since his arrival.

Every morning Harry goes on his run and you sit on your balcony when he arrives back, just so you can see him all sweaty. His short shorts, tank tops or no tops at all… It’s the perfect view for your morning coffee.

You haven’t mingled too often so far, Harry is here partially on business so he is usually out and about during the day. You happened to have breakfast at the same time once, then he gave you a ride into the town just yesterday. You run into each other usually in the evening, but you haven’t spent any time together. 

It seems to be changing tonight however. 

You spent the day on the beach, swam quite a lot so you tired yourself out enough not to want to go out for dinner this time. Instead, you made some pasta and got yourself some nice red wine, so you end up eating on the terrace by the pool, watching the Sun go down over the horizon. You hear Harry get home and expect him to go to his room, but he surprises you when he opens the sliding door and walks out with a plate and a wine glass in his hands.

“Hey, do you maybe have enough for another person?” he asks with a charming smile.

“Of course! Sit down!” you gesture with a chuckle. Harry sits by the table and fills his plate while you pour him some wine. “I don’t take accountability if it tastes shit though,” you warn him.

“I’m sure it’s great,” he smiles before digging in and you wait for your reaction. He lets out a pleased hum and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel it between your legs. “It’s good, Y/N. Really good.”

You take the compliment with a smirk as you take a sip from your wine.

At first you sit in a comfortable silence, you’re watching the view and Harry eats beside you, it’s quite idyllic.

“So how did you end up here alone?” he asks when he’s done eating. Leaning back he grabs his wine and watches you with curious eyes over the rim of his glass.

“My girlfriends ended up canceling, but I really wanted to get away so I decided to come alone,” you explain with a shrug.

“And no boyfriend to come with you?”

You can’t help but laugh at his assumptions.

“No, no boyfriend,” you say, finishing up your glass so you reach for the bottle and refill your drink.

“Why is it so funny?”

“It’s just… if you knew what’s been going on in my dating life, you’d have never asked me that.”

“Now that sounds interesting, fill me in.”

“I don’t want to bore you.”

“Nothing about you is boring, Y/N.”

The way he is looking at you has you swooning. Maybe it’s the wine buzz or more like his charisma, but he could get you to say… or do anything.

You tell him the long story of your ex, how he cheated on you and tried to blame it all on you, sometime halfway into the story Harry brings out another bottle of wine and by the time you get to your latest couple of disastrous dates you both are tipsily laughing.

“And then he asked if I wanted to come over, for real! I imagined us hooking up while his grandma is making cookies in the kitchen, fucking hilarious!” you cackle, gesturing around with your empty wine glass.

“Snacks after sex! That’s a win!” he laughs, making you practically wheeze. 

“God, no, I hope I’ll never see him again,” you shake your head, placing the empty glass to the table as you pull up your legs while your laughter dies down. “Alright, we talked enough about my catastrophic dating life, now it’s your turn.”

“My turn?” He arches his eyebrows.

“Yeah, I wanna know all the juicy stories of your dating life, it’s only fair if you share it all too.”

“I don’t have anything mentionable,” he shrugs. “My last girlfriend was pretty okay, we just didn’t work out. I’ve only had one-night-stands since then, but nothing outrageous.”

“No awkward stories? Come on!”

“I swear!” he chuckles. “It’s always the same, I tell them what I want and they are okay with it. Sometimes they try to make it into more, but I’m always straight forward with them.”

“Oh my God! You and your fucking BDE!” you chuckle, not even surprised that he is excellent even in one-night-stands.

“BDE? What’s that?”

“You never heard it?” you scoff, Harry shakes his head. “Maybe I shouldn’t be the one explaining this one to you,” you chuckle, hugging your knees to your chest.

“Why?” he keeps pressing and the way his eyes pierce into yours has you folding already.

“Alright, you asked for it,” you chuckle, letting your feet return to the floor. You cross your legs and lean closer, as if you’re about to share a secret with him. “BDE stands for Big Dick Energy.”

You watch his reaction, his gaze darkens and you notice the change in his vibe, but you can’t tell where it’s heading, so you keep talking.

“It could originate from a lot of things, manners, a way someone acts usually, how they appear in front of others. It’s usually confident and self assured, but not too much, that could result in the polar opposite of BDE. How you react in certain situations… stuff like that.”

For a few long moments Harry just stares back at you, as if he needs time to process the information he just learned. Then he leans back, a tiny grin tugging on the corners of his mouth. 

“And what’s the female equivalent of BDE?”

“No idea, Tight Coochie Vibes?” you joke, making him laugh out loud.

“So… you think I have that? Big Dick Energy?”

The words sound so obscene from his mouth, you have to stop yourself from whimpering. 

“I don’t think, I know,” you confidently answer.

“Why?”

“Oh, you just want me to feed your ego now,” you chuckle as a breeze dances across your naked shoulders and you shiver lightly. The sun has set a while ago and though it’s still pretty warm outside, your strapless dress is definitely not enough to be just sitting out on the terrace. 

Harry stands up and walks inside, only to appear with a blanket that he wraps around you.

“Thank you,” you smile at him. 

The two of you sit in silence, but then you start talking, as if you were under a spell.

“It’s the way you walk,” you start, Harry’s attention snapping back to you. “And the way you treat others. You’re caring and considerate, but also… there’s a hint of dominance in you. It’s very hot.”

“It seems like you’ve been paying attention to me a lot,” he comments, obviously as just a joke, but you want to play a different game.

“Yeah, I have,” you admit and that something, that darkness flashes through his eyes again. 

“Y/N…”

“What?” you chuckle, the wine you’ve consumed has definitely brought your braveness out of you. “I’m just telling the truth. You’re obviously a charming, handsome man, inside and out. And I’m not blind, Harry.”

“No, you’re not blind, but you’re also quite young.”

“I’m twenty-five. I have several girlfriends who like to date men in their forties and it’s totally fine.”

“It’s absurd,” he shakes his head, looking out to the starry night sky.

“What?”

“That we’re even talking about this. How did… fuck,” he breathes out and you know this is the moment where you should just keep pushing it and then… you might get what you’ve always wanted.

“Two adults talking about their attraction, that does not sound absurd to me… or��� do you not find me attractive?” you ask, tilting your head to the side, looking as innocent as possible.

“I do,” he answers right away, his honesty surprising both you and him. “I do,” he then repeats. “But you know it’s… complicated.”

“It’s not. I want you. Do you want me? It’s a simple yes or no question.”

Harry’s gaze burns into yours, his jaw clenches and you notice how his knuckles are turning white as he is gripping the arm of his chair. You’ve never wanted anything more than to just climb into his lap and finally find out if he really does have a big fucking dick.

But then the moments pass by and he remains silent, your courage deflates and your doubt bubbles from the back of your mind where you kept your rationality during this whole conversation. 

Chuckling, you shake your head and get yourself ready to leave or more like escape.

“Forget about it,” you sigh, as you slip your feet back into your slippers. “I had too much wine.”

From the corner of your eyes you see him nodding. You’re already regretting being so bold, because there’s an obvious awkwardness lingering around you now, but then, as you stand from your seat and the dizziness hits you in the head and you lose your balance. You start falling, but Harry jumps to his feet and catches you with ease, pulling you into his steady embrace, your face now only an inch away from him.

“Careful,” he breathes out, his hand pressing into your lower back while yours is resting at the base of his neck. 

Up this close, he looks even more irresistible, you can see every freckle and blemish and those unfairly curly eyelashes framing his gorgeous, green eyes. Your lips are tingling, begging to make contact with his skin.

His gaze drops to your lips and you’re convinced this is the moment he will give in, but then something else, something confusing happens. 

One of his hands reaches up, cupping your jaw and he runs his thumb across your trembling bottom lip, but instead of kissing you he just says:

“Siren.”

Before you could question, his hold loosens around you, only keeping a gentle hand on your back.

“You think you can walk up to your room alone?”

“I-I’m good,” you breathe out, feeling enchanted by his closeness.

“Good night, Y/N.” His hand falls from your back and you want to beg him to keep touching you, but you just mumble your goodbye and then somehow walk back inside, though you feel like you’re sleepwalking. 

Harry stays outside and when you go back to your room and step out to your balcony, you catch him still sitting outside, leaning forward, his face buried in his hands. Then, as if he could feel your gaze on him he stands up, picks up the two glasses and the empty wine bottles and walks inside. 

You hear him shuffling downstairs and then his bedroom door closing. Your heart still hammers when you fall into bed and drift off to sleep.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[milgram-tournament]

MILGRAM Best Song Tournament, Round 1, Match 6 ALL KNOWING AND ALL AGONY vs. TEAR DROP

Propaganda for both options under the cut!

Propaganda for AKAA:

"AKAA is wonderful song with such bitter irony, bc that doesn't look like song someone who was voted inno… And we know more about Haruka! we see his mother! AND "MAKE MY DREAMU COME TRUE"??? NO I AM NOT CRYING YOU ARE CRYING (also I should say this is first song i heard and I love AKAA so, so much <3 let's do it <3)"

---

1. It establishes so much of Haruka's character and backstory that was omitted from Weakness!! It helps shape Haruka's character so much and really helped with voting.

2.THE VOCALS OH MY GOD. This song really lets the voice of Haruka's VA shine!! It has some really nice growls but also has that soft part in the bridge!!

Overall it's just really good I love Haruka Sakurai

---

Propaganda for AKAA:

Definitely one of the most hype songs from T2

The vocals are Banging

Absolutely love the taxidermy symbolism

Haruka is a sad little puppy

Everyone stand for the Mommy Issues Athem 🫡

Propaganda for TEAR DROP:

"yuno kashiki enthusiast here anyways tear drop propaganda WE BALL

let's start off with the lyrics! holy fuck, i'm so glad yuno finally got to say what she's wanted to say!!

and she fully shows the fact that she does compensated dating through the lyrics ("the wanted wanting the wanted")

and even if it sounds like she's scolding the audience for the song, she's also scolding her clients! they only perceive her as a certain type of character and deciding that's all she is. She's upset that we decided based on how "naïve" she looked instead of her actual crime (to be honest, I could write a whole analysis into why her murder is perfect for her character anywa) and she doesn't care what will happen to her, she needs her opinions heard

also kinda rap section?? banger fr

THE VISUALS!! GOOD LORD THE VISUALS!!! THEY ARE SO BANGER!!! they're really pretty and gosh i literally don't know what to say, the scene where vampire is in the background and it transitions to yuno sitting on her bed... the pink tinted glasses (YES FUCK I LOVE THAT MAN!!!!) THE COAT!! THOSE INBETWREN SCENES i'm obbing

AND THE INSTRUMENTAL!! PLEASE IM BEGGING YOU ALL LISTEN TO THE INSTRUMRNTAL OF HER SONG THERES SO MANY SMALL DETAILS!! SIRENS, TEAR DROPS RAHHH THE CLAPS/CLICKING TJE TECHNO PIANO GUITAR??? THE INSTRIMENTS I CANT NAME I THINK THEY ALL HAVE SOME READON OF BEING IN THE SONG AND I WILL FIND OUT IN AN ANAKYSIS POST I JUDT LOVE IT AUEUEU

literally tear drop is the banger ever i listen to this shit religiously thank you for listening to my tear drop propaganda"

---

-Yuno’s voice. Enough said. -The imagery in the MV is brilliantly used, and doesn’t shy away from the horrors of Yuno’s line of work. -Vampire cameo!!! -Almost Lo-Fi vibes to the instrumental?? I can’t really explain it but it’s a vibe and I’m 100% here for it,

---

"For teardrop: The pink aesthetic in the MV as a whole makes it super nice to look at :D"

[thlayli-ra]

Stray (part 8)

Characters - CM Punk, Drew McIntyre, Larry, Samoa Joe, Ludwig Kaiser, Giovanni Vinci, Gunther

Pairing - CM Punk/Drew McIntyre, CM Punk/Samoa Joe (past)

AU - Stray AU

Rating - Mature

Warnings - Graphic depictions of violence and torture, blood

Words - ~4,700 words

Summary - Punk gets in over his head

(To celebrate bloodied CM Punk, here is some... bloodied CM Punk! 😁)

'PHIL! PHIIIIL!!!!'

Joe yelled into the blackness of the night but Punk was gone. His feet felt like they were stuck in quick-drying cement, trapping him in place while his mind whirred with what to do. Call the cops, it was screaming at him. If he won't do it then you do it. Call the damn cops!

They're all I have.

Joe hitched a breath at Punk's voice filtering through his thoughts. Words he had said to him just moments before. They're all I have.

Suddenly it made sense. Why he wouldn't get the police involved. A quick search would be all it took to find out that Drew was in the country illegally and they would pack him off home. Punk couldn't let that happen. He wanted to keep him. 'You selfish, selfish prick,' Joe muttered under his breath.

Just... watch them for me, ok? ..then I'll never ask for anything else again.

'Fine,' Joe acquiesced the phantom voice in his head. 'I'll watch them, but you'd better come back soon or else.'

Heading back inside, Joe started at the sight of Drew in the sitting room, looking around him in alarm. He circled his palms out in front of him then did the figure of eight on his chest. Where's Punk? Joe didn't answer straight away, instead closing the door behind him and locking it tight. Drew tried again, with more urgency this time.

'He's gone out, I'm not sure where exactly but-'

Drew barged past Joe towards the door and tried to haul it open. Panic gave him unspeakable power and he almost yanked the entire thing off its hinges in his desperation to follow Punk outside.

'Hey, woah, woah,' Joe tried to calm the frantic behemoth he had been tasked with babysitting, lost at how to soothe it. 'He's coming back. He said he'll be right back.'

But Drew wasn't buying it any more than Joe had. He shook his head and began banging the side of his palm against his temple, like he was a broken toy soldier wildly saluting his commander.

'I... I don't understand.'

Drew grabbed at his collar, practically choking himself as he displayed it to Joe then went back to saluting. Yet still, Joe wasn't catching on, all his usual logic blinded by the whole bizarre, frightening situation he found himself in.

'Just... come back in, Drew,' he tried to steady the ship, allow himself a chance to think straight. 'Sit down and we'll wait for him together and-'

Drew grabbed him, iron grips on his upper arms that even made a man-mountain like Joe wince. Their eyes locked, faces close as Drew furrowed his brows in deep concentration.

And his mouth began to move!

'D... d....'

'Holy shit...' Joe hushed out as Drew forced his neglected lips to try and form the word he needed.

'D...d-d-d....'

Joe knew. Knew what he was trying to say because the same word was blaring in his own ear like an air raid siren.

Danger!

Punk's apartment was dark. Carefully, he stepped over the mess at his feet, trying not to disturb anything with his cautious tread. The whole time ignoring the voice berating him at the back of his head, a voice that sounded exactly like Joe's. What are you doing? Are you crazy? What the hell are you doing?

They had to come back. He knew it in his gut. That's what they always did, come back to the scene of the crime. Everybody knew that. But looking around, he found no sign of change or disturbance, everything was still.

He passed by his kitchenette, purposefully ignored the dining table to his left with its gruesome shrine upon it. He thought he could hear the blood still drip, drip, dripping off the edge onto the floor but that might have just been his overactive imagination, high on adrenaline. It had been a lot of blood. He wondered who or what had donated it.

Thnnk!

Punk crouched down low. It had come from upstairs. He stalled his breathing to listen. No doubt about it, there was footsteps coming from the floor above.

He was right!

They were here!

The wraps around his hands creaked as he balled his fingers up into tight fists, holding them in front of him like a shield. He passed by his sofa-bed where Drew had slept peacefully the night before, passed the coffee table where Drew had kindly left him his last muffin towards the staircase. Deliberately lowering each sole down silently as he twisted his way up and up.

It had clicked back in Joe's garden. The house had never been Drew's sanctuary - it was Punk himself! He had been his fingers that had freed him from the muzzle, his arms that had held him close when he'd been afraid and now his fists would rid him of his captors forever.

Reaching the upper level, Punk followed the muffled sound of voices to his master bedroom. Inching his way towards the door, he suddenly wished he had a baseball bat or something to use as a weapon but it was too late. He had to make do with-

The door opened! And a man walked out!

The two of them jumped at the sight of each other but Punk recovered sooner and swung. His right. A savage hook. The man went down. Out cold. Muttering a curse under his breath, Punk shook out his arm, trying to ignore the slight ache that radiated from his recovering tricep. Still got it!

He looked over the intruder and immediately recognised him as one of the men who'd knocked on his door earlier. 'Knew you guys weren't fucking cops,' he muttered icily to the unresponsive blonde. That meant the other was around here somewhere.

'Ludwig?' The voice came from inside Punk's bedroom. Flattening himself against the wall, he listened as heavy footsteps lumbered towards the door. He had enough time to spit out the word 'merda' before Punk lunched, aiming another right hook. Horrific flashbacks to his championship loss came flooding back as the bald man ducked low, Punk's fist skating harmlessly over his head.

But Punk was wiser these days, knew what was coming next and changed his body position in an instant to defend against the tackle to his gut, thwarting the take-down. Snaring his opponent's head in a choke-hold, Punk rammed his elbows into the man's spine, trying to force him to his knees. Ground and pound, you know this routine, ground and pound.

Unfortunately, the man was no rookie to combat and managed to slam his own fist into Punk's gut. Doubling over, Punk tried to ignore the terrible cramps in his stomach as yet another blow pummelled his abdomen. When another caught him right on the diaphragm, winding him badly, he had no choice but to relinquish the hold and back off to regroup.

Too late, he realised that Joe had been right. Joe was always right. This wasn't a cage fight. There no rules, no relegations, no officials. And no respite. The bald man came charging for him again and Punk had no option but to meet him head-on despite the agony flooding his guts. Locking horns, the two men tussled, ramming one another into walls and doors, trying to dislodge the other.

Punk was forced back against the bannister, his foe's hand pushing down on his face and bending his spine painfully over the handrail. Out the corner of his eye he could see his living area far below, pooled in murky darkness like the mouth of the abyss itself. The hand drove down ruthlessly. Punk nearly lost his footing but caught hold of the wooden balusters to stop himself falling over and plummeting to the floor below.

The struggle continued, Punk's hope dwindling as the ache in his injured arm became unbearable. It was then he spotted their stances and saw his chance. Driving his leg up, he whacked his opponent square between his open legs. The man squealed, falling like a sack of bricks and Punk was freed from his peril.

With his foe on his knees, the cage-fighter attacked. Jabbing and punching until blood spilled freely down the bald man's face. Yet still he would not surrender. Fighting back with his own strikes, Punk was forced to retreat when the man successfully managed to wrap his arms around Punk's waist.

Quickly, Punk widened his stance to stop the take-down and both men wrestled for dominance. Fuck! This guy is strong! Punk cursed, aware that his own body was running out of adrenaline and starting to fail. You stupid, stupid old man!

Punk hammered his fist into the other man's kidneys, his blows becoming slow and sluggish, but he put what strength he could behind them. The fake cop responded by ramming his shoulder into Punk's gut, squishing it against the unforgiving surface of the wall. A pocket of something wet and metallic leapt up Punk's throat and began to drip from the corner of his mouth. At first he was convinced it was vomit but when he quickly wiped it with the back of his hand and saw the red smear on his wraps, his worst fears were confirmed.

That's not good!

His foe bulldozed into him again and Punk's knees gave out. His opponent wriggled free and without his support, Punk fell onto all fours, coughing up frothy bubbles of bloody saliva. Come on! Get up! GET UP!

He did. Wobbled up onto his feet like a drunk, swaying from side-to-side, blood pouring down his shirt. His opponent was enraged. Furious at Punk's defiance, he let out a roar and rushed for him. But Punk did not fight back. Instead, he ducked down out of harm's way. The man hit thin air and tripped over Punk, losing his balance.

Right at the top of the staircase!

Punk looked back and saw the panic in the man's eyes as he failed to right himself, feeling the momentum pulling him backwards into nothing. Reaching out, Punk tried to grab him but it was too late and the man fell. Sickening crunches tore throughout through the silent apartment as he tumbled the entire length to the bottom.

Punk ran to the banister and peered down below. He could see his foe, lying face-up on his sitting area floor. He wasn't moving.

'Sssssshit!' Punk cursed and rushed down the staircase, carefully stepping over the man's legs which were splayed on the bottom-most rungs. 'Shit! Shit! Are you alright?'

No answer fell from the man's lips. Hanging as loose as his eyelids, his pupils large and black as they stared up into the void. His chest still while a grisly pool of dark liquid spread out beneath him.

Punk grabbed his own hair by the roots, glanced back up at the spiralling grey structure of wood and steel. Joe had been right after all. 'Fucking death trap stairs!'

What did he do now? He'd just killed a man! Or at least, there was a dead man in his apartment. That he'd just killed. Or had he? He kinda killed himself. It was an accident, he'd been acting in self-defence but would anybody believe that? Did it matter? He couldn't just leave a dead guy on his sitting room floor. He had to do something, he had to call somebody, but... he couldn't call the cops because they'd ask why the intruders were here and then they'd find out about Drew and take him away and-

'Eh-hem!'

The sound of somebody loudly clearing their throat directly behind him made every drop of Punk's blood grind to a halt in his veins. Turning around, he faced down one of the largest men he'd ever seen. As wide and as thick as Joe but taller. Big! Too big!

The man sharply cried out in a foreign language, some kind of command and swiftly folded his hands behind his back. Punk blinked like a little minnow hypnotised by the anglerfish's lure.

He never even saw the strike coming. So quick was the blow to his head that he was knocked out long before his body collided with his own coffee table.

'Drew, I understand you're scared. I am too. But Punk said he would be right back.'

The Scot was refusing to back down, kept tapping his forehead over and over. 'D-d-d-d-d-d-' But he couldn't get the word out. Drew began smacking the butts of his palms against his forehead in frustration.

'Danger, I know!' Joe cut in, letting the taller man know he understood. 'Those men hunting you are dangerous, I get that, but Punk's only going to the convenience store.' Joe felt terrible using the same feeble lie that his ex had given him earlier. 'He's getting some supplies then he'll be back. He promised.'

Drew put down his hands, his large barrel chest heaving up and down with panicked breaths. He swallowed noisily before raising his right arm again. Making the figure of eight on his chest with his thumb, he followed it with the shape of an 'x' using his finger. Punk promised?

'Yeah,' Joe tried to mimic the two signs. 'He promised.' The tide was starting to turn, Drew was calming down. He was nearly there. 'Drew... do you trust him?' The Scotsman's blue eyes blinked, thick dark eyelashes fluttering as he glancing up sheepishly at Joe.

Cat paw.

'Do you believe him?' Another long, hard stare.

Cat paw.

It suddenly hit Joe how well he knew that look in Drew's face. The fear and anxiety that always seemed to go hand-in-hand with a certain tattooed cage-fighter. He found himself feeling a fresh pang of concern, something altogether more wicked in its nature.

Drew... do you... love him?

He didn't dare ask aloud. In case he got an answer he sorely did not want to hear.

'Come on then, come sit down,' Joe motioned back towards his sitting room. 'I'll make us some fresh coffee and we can wait for him to get back. He shouldn't be long.'

Now, he wasn't sure if he was trying to convince Drew or convince himself. After coaxing the large Scotsman down onto his couch, Joe disappeared into the sanctity of his kitchen. He went through his breathing exercises, old, familiar routines that had become second nature to him by now but at that moment, they weren't working. His hands were still shaking. His mind replaying that moment he'd seen Punk go down in the cage. Only when Joe rushed to his side, his eyes were still shut. His hair was short and speckled with greys, the wrinkles on his face more pronounced. And blood began flowing from his nose and mouth...

Joe rapidly made the coffees and returned to Drew. With someone else to take care of, he could occupy his anxiety. The pair sat quietly, the coffee turning cold in their untouched cups.

'I should have moved out of here months ago.'

Joe didn't know what prompted him to speak. Perhaps just a need to break the stifling silence before it suffocated him completely. 'Told myself it was only for a little while. A month or two. Just to make sure he was alright.'

Drew's blue eyes were on him, still large with worry. He couldn't bring himself to look at them. 'I just... never did. I'm still lingering on... still stuck. Like I was when we were together.

'We both agreed that when we got older, started to wind down, we'd retire and move back to SoCal. Punk was champion at the time but he told me that once he lost the belt, we'd talk again. He loses it. We don't talk. We spend two years together in semi-retirement, two amazing, blissful years... then he says he wants another shot. I'm disappointed but, I love him, I support him. So yes, go for it. I've got your back.

'He gets injured. I'm devastated for him but I'm also hoping, deep down, that maybe this time, we could look into new places. He says not now. His doctor is here, his surgeon is here, his PT is here. Fair enough, his foot was badly broken and I want him to heal so...

'He gets better. He says he had unfinished business. He needs to win his championship back. We fight. I give in and say ok. So he enters the cage. Tears his tricep. I say now, come on, this is a sign. You're over. You're done. He walks out. He's gone all night and I'm frantically calling the cops thinking he's done something stupid but he it turns out, he was just at Ace's and I'm so fucking angry with him. I call him a selfish motherfucker and every other curse under the sun. I get it all out of my system and I calm down. I tell him we'll stay until his tricep is healed. He says ok. And that's that.'

Joe sniffed loudly. He had no idea he'd been crying. Drew was looking at him with so much pity it hurts.

'Then he starts talking about one last chance. He just needs one last run and... it suddenly dawns on me. He was never gonna leave. Fighting is all he's ever cared about, it's all he's ever had. Nothing else will ever compare to it.' Joe took a deep gulp, wet tears spilling down his cheeks. 'Not even me.'

Drew dipped his head, levelled his eyes to the ground to give Joe some space to release his grief.

'So I left him. He didn't take it well. He was angry at first but when he realised I wasn't joking, he spiralled into this black hole. I've never seen him so bad. So I got this place, said I'd be around if he needed me, help him get back on his feet. And here I am, nearly eight months later and I'm still just sitting here in limbo. Still waiting... for him.'

Punk awoke to a world of groggy pain. His head felt like it was on the brink of bursting like a gory balloon, the swelling pushing into the back of his eyes. There was a ringing in his ear, a high pitched screech like the kind he'd have after seeing a local punk rock band play, the terrible noise adding fuel to his throbbing headache.

His vision was blurry but he recognised his sitting room, which was a small comfort, even if he was viewing it from a unfamiliar angle. However, the fear started up when he spied the stranger pacing in front of his large windows. Not the tall, dark-haired angel with the blue eyes that he'd scooped up off the street but one with a fierce grimace and a long, dark military coat that snapped every time he turned around.

He didn't seem to notice Punk in the room with him, so the cage-fighter took the opportunity to slink away but found to his horror that he was stuck fast. Looking up, he discovered both of his arms were tied firmly to the balusters of his staircase. A loud sting on his brow bellowed, making him wince against the stickiness of dried blood smearing his face from forehead to jaw.

His heart kicked up several notches, finally understanding the terrible danger he was in. A plight that only got worse when another figure entered his apartment - the blonde cop from earlier, now sporting an impressive black eye that Punk guessed was his own handiwork. The blonde began talking in a foreign language (it sounded European, German perhaps?) when the huge man cut him off.

'In English, Ludwig.' Then he looked directly at Punk. He wanted him to hear!

The blonde - Ludwig - cleared his throat and started over. 'I've wrapped Giovanni's body in the tarpaulin and stored it in the van, General. Thatcher is on his way to dispose of it.'

'Good,' the other man said, never taking his eyes off of Punk. The cage-fighter tugged weakly at his bonds, trying to break free but they had no give at all.

'Do not struggle,' the large man ordered, his voice punching right through Punk's aching skull. 'Do not fight, or you will join Giovanni at the bottom of the lake.' Punk stopped, but only because he could see it was useless. He would have to think of another way out of this predicament. 'Ludwig?'

The blonde took over, stepping smartly towards Punk with his hands behind his back and a smug air of superiority. 'You will answer my questions. Once you do, we will leave and you will never see us again.'

Yeah, right! Punk wasn't buying it.

'Where is the Scotsman?'

Punk glared back with gritted teeth and was punished with a brutal back-hand to his cheek. His head snapped to the side as Ludwig repeated the question again. 'Where is the Scotsman?'

'Don't know,' Punk said, running his tongue over his teeth to make sure they were all still there, well, except for the one that was already missing. 'Guy took one look at the mess you made in here and took off. Haven't seen him since.'

Another blow, a harsh slap to his other cheek. 'I know you are lying.'

'You don't know shit.'

A punch this time and fuck, that hurt! Almost knocked Punk's jaw right out of joint.

'No more to the face, Ludwig,' the larger man warned with a growl. The blonde replied with a 'yes, General' and continued his interrogation.

'We know you left together early this afternoon. Where is he now?'

Punk allowed himself a small glimmer of hope that they hadn't seen them going to Joe's place. 'I told ya already, I don't know,' Punk retorted.

Ludwig punched Punk right in the gut. The bruises from his earlier fight with Giovanni exploded like cluster bombs, spreading bursts of pain throughout his abdomen. With his arms pinned above him, Punk couldn't bend over to relieve the pressure and had to endure the horrific cramping in his gut, trying to breath through the agony in short, jagged pants.

'I expect the truth this time. Where is the Scotsman?'

'Fuck you,' Punk croaked. Another gut punch and Punk started coughing up blood again. That was the least of his worries. Ludwig had turned his attention to Punk's left hand. One-by-one, he tapped each of the cage-fighters inked digits, all of them turning blue from the tightness of the rope wrapped around his wrists.

'Ene mene miste,' Ludwig muttered under his breath. 'Es rippelt in der kiste, ene mene meck, und du bist weg.' He settled on Punk's pinkie finger and held it taut in his fist. Punk only managed to grab a breath before his finger was bent back fiercely, breaking the fragile joint with a loud snap! Punk screamed, his face twisted with the shock and pain while neither of his captors blinked an eye.

'Where is the Scotsman? Or I break another.'

'Ok, ok,' Punk hissed between his teeth. 'I get it. Look.' He motioned upwards with his head, Ludwig followed his gaze. 'You see this one?'

Punk stuck up his middle finger.

Unamused, Ludwig snagged it in his fist.

Snap!

'AAAAAAAGGGGGHHHHHHHH!'

'Where is the Scotsman?'

Punk spat at his captor in reply, hurling a large, wet glob of blood and spit that splattered across his face and dripped down his cheek. The smug, calm mask evaporated, a tight snarl took over and Ludwig grabbed Punk by the jugular, cutting off his air supply.

'I still have eight of your fingers left to break then I will move on to another piece of you and break it too. Now, tell me. Where is the Scotsman?'

Punk struggled to gasp in a breath, his face turning scarlet.

'Ludwig!'

The blonde stood down at the order and stepped away, keeping his cold, hard stare on Punk who coughed and spluttered, trying to heave some oxygen into his empty lungs. Clawing dread tore down his spine when the larger man stepped forward and he knew his dire situation was about to get far, far worse.

'I knew you would be a tough one to break,' the so-called 'General' said in his brash accent. He was holding something in his hands, large and shiny. Punk recognised his old championship belt in its glass case. 'You're a fighter? A champion. Me too, back home in Austria. I defended it all over Europe. Retired unbeaten.'

Before Punk could blink, the man rushed at him, glass case raised above his head like a club. Holding his breath, Punk braced himself for the blow, stuck fast as the titan thundered towards him. Punk yelped as the case smashed directly above his head and shards of glass fell like hail onto his bloodied face and shoulders, getting stuck in his hair.

But there was no pain. It hadn't touched him - just a ploy to scare him.

And it had worked!

Punk trembled from head to foot, creaking his eyes open again to find the General looming over him, blood dripping from the hand where the glass had sliced his skin. He didn't even seem to notice.

'Now tell me where my slave is?'

'Your... your what?'

The bloodied hand grabbed Punk by the chin, smearing fresh blood through his beard. 'The Scot. Where is he?'

Something about hearing that word being used to describe Drew, confirming the fears that Punk knew deep down but was loathe to admit, ignited the cage-fighter's rage and he stared down his tormentor with his brow furrowed and teeth bared.

'Fuck you, you son-of-a-bitch!'

The General stared back stoically, unmoved by Punk's outburst. His gruesome hand trickled down from Punk's jaw to the collar of his shirt and shredded the fabric, slicing it down the middle like he was gutting a wriggling fish. The painted skin of Punk's chest was exposed and examined expertly, the General placing his finger right on the centre between Punk's pecs.

Then he drew back his hand...

Every single muscle in Punk's body tensed up.

The blow sent him crashing against his own staircase, his spine colliding with the hard wood. Any air he had gulped back into his lungs were flushed out and Punk felt himself begin to suffocate. He was given no opportunity for respite, blow after blow pounding against his battered torso, cracking a new rib with each brutal strike.

By the time the onslaught finally came to an end, Punk hung like a mangled piece of meat from the butcher's hook, mouth drooping open as his shattered chest tried to catch air. Each raspy breath stung like a knife slicing between his ribs. His chin was grabbed again, fingers digging into his jawbone.

'How about now? Now, will you tell me where my slave is?'

Despite the fear, despite the pain, Punk laughed. A loud, obnoxious laugh. 'You empty-headed fucking dumb fuck!' he sneered in his tormentor's face. 'You really think this is working? You have no fucking idea. I'm from the cage. I know pain! I've broken my fucking fingers during a fight and kept on punching. Whatever you dish out, I can take.'

The General tilted his head back, narrowing his eyes.

'But the more you hurt me, the more you convince me...' a glob of blood dribbled from Punk's lips, sticky crimson staining his teeth, 'that I'm never gonna let your ugly ass take him again.' He paused to grab a strangled breath, letting his words sink in. 'So I guess, you're just gonna have to kill me, because I'm never gonna tell you where he is.'

The hold on his chin became unbearable and Punk tried to calm his stampeding heart, waiting for the end to come.

But then... his captor began to chuckle. 'You hear that Ludwig? He said to kill him. He makes the orders now.' The blonde gave a snide grin but nothing more. 'No, no, no, no,' the General shook his head. 'No, I am the one in charge here.' He pulled Punk in close, so close the cage-fighter could smell his foul breath. 'And I don't want to kill you. I actually quite like you. You're a lot of fun. I think we should have more fun together, do you agree?'

The General placed his thumb against Punk's lips, pressed them through and into his mouth. Punk could taste the acidy tang of the other man's blood on his tongue as the strange digit hooked itself around his bottom teeth.

'You won't tell me where I can find my slave? Fine! Then you will take his place.'

To be continued...

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[dcficrecs]

I'm a Good Pretender

By on shipNslash on AO3

I just finished the first chapter of this, so my apologies if the rest of the fic isn't as good, but the last line of the first chapter was actually so genius I had to share. Minor spoilers for how Dick finds out Bruce is Batman, I guess. Although everyone knows that he does find out eventually, so the only spoiler is how. In this scene, Batman is interrogating Tony Zucco's old cellmate. He refuses to talk and Batman just knocks him out.

The whimpering tapers off until it's just blubbering and then nothing but unconscious breathing. Batman drops him with a sigh, stopping only to zip tie his hands to his apartment radiator.

What a waste of his time-

Creak.

Batman freezes, melting into the shadows out of instinct more than any sort of training. He peeks around the corner, ready for- for…

For anything but that.

Crawling in through the seventh story apartment window is a young Richard Grayson, dark jeans and black hoodie the only thing separating him from the glittering Gotham backdrop of flickering street lamps and red and blue sirens. He pads across the creaky floor on silent feet and stops only when he sees the unconscious resident.

The boy mutters something in an unfamiliar language but it's clearly a swear.

Bruce, never one to waste a dramatic entrance, steps forward a foot. "It's a little late to be out of bed, Richard Grayson," he whispers, voice still as loud as a gunshot in the silence.

"Câcat!" To his credit, when the kid jumps three feet in the air, he lands without a sound. Even more impressively, he doesn't have any other reaction besides for dropping a hand almost imperceptibly into his pocket- a weapon? "Holy fuck. You're Batman."

He cocks his head to the side, trying to get a clearer shot with his contacts. "Yes. How’d you scale seven flights of an exposed building?”

"I’m good at climbing,” the boy says dismissively. “You know my name. Why?" Chin tilted back, eyes a bright splash of anger in the dark- Richard is more confident in this moment than Bruce Wayne has ever been in his entire life.

Instead of answering, Batman nudges the man between them with his boot. "I know it's not a coincidence that you're here. What was your plan?" He's burning with curiosity.

"I- I was going to make him tell me where Tony Zucco is. I know he killed my parents and the last person he associated with was this piece of shit." Richard sounds angry. Fascinating. "What'd you do? He’s not dead, is he?"

"I don't kill people, Richard."

"Stop saying my fucking name unless you tell me how you know it."

Bold.

"Your face has been in the news a lot lately. I've been trying to solve your case."

The kid seems to crumple. "...why? The police obviously don't give a shit."

"That's not true. It's not exactly police procedure to discuss the details of a double homicide with the couple’s orphaned eleven year old." Bruce almost winces -that wasn't good socializing- but Batman doesn't care about those types of things so, for now, neither does Bruce.

Richard doesn't seem to care either. "First I'm going to catch him and then I'm going to kill him. And if you think anything is going to stop me, you're not as smart as they say," he spits out.

Bruce almost laughs, if only in disbelief. Who is this kid?

Instead, he pages Gordon with the address. There's usually an officer patrolling this block. "Listen, kid-"

"Dick."

"Excuse me?"

"My name." God, Bruce feels like he's looking in a mirror. For all that the boy doesn't look anything like an eleven year old Bruce Wayne, that burning rage is achingly familiar. "Nobody in this stupid fucking city might care about me, but I have a name and it's not Richard," he spits like a swear. "It's Dick. Dick Grayson."

Okay, now you know how he met Batman. Here's how he met Bruce (The second time, anyway. The first is at the circus, after his parents' murders). And for context, Miss Lopez is Dick's social worker. More context is that Alfred met with Dick at the orphanage and said that Bruce offered to buy Dick's parents' trailer and all their belongings and give it to Dick whenever he was ready.

Carefully pulling on a more refined accent (Mama loves southern France, she thinks their dialect is ‘fancy’), he jerks to his feet and gasps. “Mister Pennyworth! You came!”

“I told you I would,” the old man says simply, pushing the door all the way open.

And behind him stands-

“Do you remember Mister Wayne, Richard?”

Dick almost collapses under the weight of-

Strong arms, wrestling him to the ground. “Don’t look. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Just don’t look.”

So, yeah, maybe he’s off his game a little, but the first thing that pops out of Dick’s mouth is, “you don’t look like a billionaire.”

Mister Pennyworth laughs in a distinctly British way while said billionaire makes a face that Dick would hazard to describe as a pout. “It’s early,” he mumbles, shoving his pale hands into the pouch of his hoodie.

Aw hell, Dick thinks and suddenly feels guilty. Even though he really shouldn't because it’s true. He’s dressed like a homeless person, layers of old clothes and mismatched aesthetics, and he even has a ratty backpack over his shoulders. Shouldn’t a billionaire have someone to carry his stuff for him?

They’re saved from the awkwardness by Miss Lopez, who sweeps into the room in her usual chaotic way, her stupidly big bag overflowing with all the stuff she never seems to need.

She doesn’t even acknowledge the two men already in the room. “Really, Richard? Again?” She asks, sounding so tired.

“I’m sorry,” Dick whimpers. (He’s not). “I won’t do it again, Miss Lopez, I swear!” (He will.)

He watches her deflate. “Oh, Richard. What am I supposed to do now?”

“Can’t I just go back to-”

“Please don’t bring up the circus again-”

“But it’s where I belong-”

Mister Wayne interrupts, his voice painfully quiet. (Mama says enunciation makes the difference between talking and speaking.) “I'll take him.”

…what?

Dick and Miss Lopez both freeze. She just now seems to realize that they’re not alone and Dick can pinpoint the exact moment she recognizes who’s standing in front of her.

“Oh my god. You’re- Oh my god. Hello, Mister Wayne!” She gushes, the hand not holding up her stupidly big bag reaching up to swipe at her hair.

Mister Wayne doesn’t exactly look like the type of person to judge someone for a bad hair day but even Dick feels the urge to fidget under the weirdly intense stare. He knows better, though, and keeps himself perfectly still while Miss Lopez and Mister Pennyworth start talking about things like state certified foster homes and mandatory wait periods and generous donations.

He follows along with that side of the conversation with perfect ease. People with enough money can do whatever they want and Mister Wayne has ‘more money than God’ according to the cop who brought him in. The only thing he doesn’t understand is…

“Why?” He asks when there’s a lull in the conversation.

Intense eyes lock onto him. “Hm?”

“Why are you offering to help me?” Dick asks. He knows he’s blowing his act. The optimistic orphan would never look a gift horse in the mouth. But he just doesn’t get it. “You don’t even know me.”

Mister Wayne shifts so that he’s facing Dick head on instead of Miss Lopez and Mister Pennyworth, who are looking over a thick legal document. “You don’t have to. I’ll still help in any way I can. If you'd rather try a different foster home, I'll pay for a lawyer,” he murmurs and Dick gets the impression that this is more talking than Mister Wayne has done in a long time.

To be fair, he seems harmless. Dick doubts he’s a pervert or something. There are plenty of less famous orphans he could have snatched up if all he wants is to cop a feel. And he definitely isn’t a good actor, so this has to be at least a little genuine.

When Dick doesn’t answer, Mister Wayne sighs and crouches so that they’re almost eye level. He’s very tall and Dick is very not tall, okay? And he doesn’t say any stupid shit either, like ‘I’m sorry for your loss’ or ‘how are you doing?’ that everyone else seems so insistent on. Instead, he pulls an envelope out of his backpack and offers it to Dick wordlessly..

“Um. Thanks.” Dick takes it, checking to make sure that Miss Lopez isn’t watching before opening it-

Holy fucking shit.

Mama and Papa’s faces smile back at him, a chubby cheeked Dick balancing on their shoulders in front of the Eiffel Tower.

This time, the tears in his eyes are real. “Mister Wayne…”

“I want to help, Dick,” he whispers.

There’s a long list of thoughts running through Dick’s head right now.

He’d somehow forgotten that Mister Wayne has his parent’s trailer. He wants to kiss the picture of his family, safely sealed inside of a little plastic bag. He knows that he’s going to juvie. He knows that Mister Wayne is his best chance at getting out of juvie. He knows it’ll be way easier to sneak out of some big mansion than it will be to break out of a detention center. He knows that Tony Zucco is still alive and roaming free.

But all he can think about is the fact that he’s only told one person in this god forsaken city his real name and it was Batman. So why did Bruce fucking Wayne just call him Dick?

Literally holy shit. I love obscure details that the reader can miss, sometimes is supposed to miss, becoming important later on. I sure as hell missed it.

This fic is good so far, but one thing I know I don't like is the tags saying that Dick's parents were slightly abusive. That's just too out of character for them for me. But I am really into any 'Dick Grayson becoming Robin' fics right now, so I'm trying not to be picky. If this fic does end up being good despite that, I'll probably post more excerpts here.

[shion-yu]

Day 24: Tales from the Waiting Room

1,855 words for @sicktember - this prompt was announced months ago and man, I had so much muse I wrote it immediately. Ft. college Cliff and Elliot being good boyfriends. CW: blood mention thanks to unintentional stabbing.

Cliff’s fear of hospitals and their associated needles is strong enough that Elliot’s seen him refuse to go with a 104 fever. But the day he drops a knife into his foot while slicing corn off the cob for their salad is the first and only time Elliot ever hears him say, “Can you take me to the hospital?”

The way Cliff says this is so eerily calm that Elliot’s not sure if he would have been more scared if Cliff had just screamed bloody murder like a normal person. Which would have been totally valid, based on the knife that’s currently, literally sticking out of his foot. 

“Holy shit,” Elliot gasps, ten times less calm than his stabbed boyfriend. “Oh my god!”

“It’s fine, just, call a cab,” Cliff says. He isn’t moving at all, frozen in place and his face suddenly several shades paler than it was seconds prior. “And toss me that towel…”

Elliot thinks tossing the towel seems a bit too casual. Instead he attempts to wrap Cliff’s foot with several towels while keeping the knife in place as he’d learned in first aid class. Unfortunately, “keep the knife in place” proves to be a far more difficult task than they made it sound and he unintentionally dislodges it. A cartoonish spurt of blood sprays upward from Cliff’s food and the knife clatters next to him.

The way Elliot screams while slapping the towel on top of Cliff’s foot is almost comical, and they’ll laugh about it later. But at the moment it’s really not funny and it also attracts the attention of another student passing by the shared dorm kitchen, who also yells and immediately calls 911. So now it’s a whole big thing and Cliff is looking annoyed and questionably conscious as he sits on the porcelain kitchen floor and presses a towel to the top of his foot. 

“Um, you’re gonna be okay,” Elliot tries to reassure him.

“I know, are you gonna be okay?” Cliff asks dryly. Elliot has tears streaming down his cheeks and lets out a hysterical sob. Cliff thinks at least one of them is calm, although it has a lot to do with the fact that he’s feeling really numb right now.

An ambulance comes quickly, two EMTs quickly led in by the RA. They ask Cliff a few brief questions, staunch the bleeding and load him into the ambulance. “This is super unnecessary,” Cliff says. “My roommate called a cab.” 

“No I didn’t, don’t listen to him,” Elliot says quickly. Cliff shoots him a look of annoyance and Elliot doesn’t even blink. He frankly does not care about Cliff’s attitude right now. He dashes to their dorm room to grab their wallets with Cliff’s ID and insurance card inside, and then they’re off. No lights or sirens, but Cliff knows the entire dorm is probably watching him through their windows right now. He’s never gonna live this down. 

For once, Cliff doesn’t faint when he gets an IV on the way there, although that probably has to do with being thoroughly impaled already. He’s feeling dizzier as the rush of adrenaline wears off, and apparently his vitals show that because they seem to move a little faster after he throws up into a bin that’s very hastily shoved underneath his chin by the experienced EMT. 

“Thanks,” he coughs. 

The EMT laughs. “You don’t need to thank me, but my pleasure,” she says.

Elliot’s sitting a few inches away, no longer screaming but clearly still horrified. “E, I’m okay,” Cliff reassures him. He was sort of annoyed before but now he just feels bad for Elliot. Elliot takes several seconds to process that he’s being addressed, but finally nods with a grimace. 

By the time they’re at the emergency room, Cliff’s triaged as medium priority since the bleeding’s already been stopped. Therefore, he is deemed in great shape to wait on a stretcher in the hall. The lobby room is packed with people - the ER is the place to be a Friday night, apparently. 

“Uh, how long do I have to wait out here?” Cliff asks awkwardly, eyeing the chaotic scene in front of him nervously. There’s like a million sick people waiting to be seen, flu season’s in full swing, and the simple face masks the EMT hands he and Elliot in pity seems insufficient. 

“Probably a while,” the EMT says. “Good luck buddy.” Then he disappears out the sliding glass doors and Cliff very badly wishes he could follow. If he didn’t have a hole in his foot, he absolutely would.

Elliot sits in a chair close to Cliff and reaches up - it’s an awkwardly high height difference but oh well. He has most of his own color back now that Cliff’s surrounded by medical personnel. Not that any of them are ready to pay attention to Cliff, but it’s a start. A safety net, if you will. Cliff takes his hand and closes his eyes, not because he isn’t feeling well but because then he doesn’t have to view the very contagious looking room he’s in. That doesn’t block out the sound though. There’s people coughing and sneezing every ten seconds and Cliff just knows with his bad luck he’s going to come out of here with something worse than what he’s come in with.

“Sorry I freaked out,” Elliot says, interrupting Cliff’s anxious contemplations. 

Cliff squeezes his hand. “It’s okay. I know you don’t like blood,” he says. “Next time just call a cab though.”

Elliot snorts. “I am not calling a cab next time you freaking stab yourself,” he says indignantly. “Better yet, don’t stab yourself ever again.”

“It’ll be at the top of my list,” Cliff says, grimacing as one particularly noisy patient who is sitting all too close for comfort sneezes wetly, directly into their hands. “Elliot… there’s too many sick people here.”

“I know,” Elliot says. “But you need to get your foot fixed. It’s not exactly just a little cut,” he says. Cliff knows, based on how much it hurts now. In fact his foot is throbbing incessantly, which makes his patience for this animal house even worse. Still, he knows Elliot’s right. He can’t just ignore a knife wound.

However, five hours later, Cliff is one hundred percent ready to ignore a knife wound - or worse - if it means getting out of this hell hole. He’s seen more people come in looking like an ad for contagion than he ever wants to see again. From his bird’s eye view atop the stretcher, he sees every streaming red nose, every poorly covered cough and sneeze, and every feverish sod that joins the swarm of disease. He wants out. NOW.

“Fuck this,” Cliff uncharacteristically swears. He’s angry, he’s in pain, and he’s starving. They never finished dinner after all. “Elliot, we need to go. I need to get out of here. I’ll glue it back together. Don’t you have cement glue from your art class? I’ll do it.” 

“Cliff…” Elliot groans. They’ve already had this conversation at least twice per hour with varying levels of desperation. The difference is, Elliot’s also getting fed up and starving. “Just shut up and wait. Take a nap or something.” 

“How am I supposed to nap here?! I can literally feel myself catching the plague. I’ll take a hole in my foot, seriously,” Cliff says. He sounds way too serious. “I’m-“

“Clifford Barrows?” 

Elliot sighs a massive sigh of relief. Finally, not a second too soon (arguably, many hours too late), they bring Cliff back to a small curtained off bay and start working on his foot. He needs stitches - quite a few, they say - and Elliot knows any relief Cliff felt at moving one step closer to getting out of here is gone once they bring back a tray full of needles and surgical thread.

“Hold my hand,” Elliot says. “Don’t look.” 

“Do you think you can stay still?” The doctor asks. “It’s crucial you don’t move.”

“No,” Cliff says, his face entirely colorless and sweating buckets. “I don’t think I can.”

The doctor nods and straps both of Cliff’s legs down with Velcro, which doesn’t seem like it should be strong enough but it actually is. Then he tells Cliff to take a deep breath and begins. Cliff makes it through about half of the stitches before he passes out.

The doctor seems used to this, even though Elliot is alarmed. He finishes working even with Cliff unconscious and then rolls over to Cliff’s head on his little wheeled stool and wakes Cliff up. Cliff looks confused, then embarrassed, then nauseous. He manages not to puke again though and the doctor tells Elliot a nurse will be in with a tetanus shot and discharge instructions. This takes another two hours and by this time Cliff is practically crawling off of the gurney. Elliot promises him his favorite Thai food as a reward. 

“I’d eat anything,” Cliff says. “Even trash sounds good right now.” Elliot’s so hungry he actually agrees. The vending machine only takes cash and he only had two dollars on him. The protein bar they split a few hours ago was definitely not effective enough to hold them over. 

Finally they get the discharge instructions. Cliff has an updated tetanus shot and a prescription for antibiotics for the next week. They say Tylenol and Advil for the pain, plus ice and elevation. Cliff thinks he could have done that part himself without the two hour waiting to be told. He leaves the hospital on crutches to use until his return appointment in two weeks - thankfully, this appointment is outpatient, not in the ER. Cliff thinks he’d probably take the stitches out himself before returning here willingly again.

They take a cab home, dropping by the Thai place to pick up their food that Elliot ordered two hours ago. It’s cold by now, but neither of them can care less as they dig into their takeout with more fervor than seems human. Someone cleaned up their stuff from the dorm kitchen and returned the utensils and plates to their dorm - minus the knife. Cliff likes to think they threw it away and is very glad he never has to see it again.

“So, how fast do you think we’re going to get sick now?” Cliff asks when they’re finally no longer loopy from hunger. 

Elliot huffs. “Cliff, c’mon. We did wear masks… maybe it’ll be fine.” His face looks totally unconvinced though. “Okay, I bet five days.”

“I bet three,” Cliff says.

Elliot rolls his eyes. “Such a fun thing to bet on,” he says sarcastically. “What, loser has to go to the pharmacy when we run out of supplies or something?” 

He’s being facetious, but Cliff says, “Deal.” And when they’re both absolutely drowning in head colds three days later, Elliot’s the one who has to drag himself to the pharmacy to stock up on tissues and NyQuil. Next time, he thinks to himself bitterly as he shivers all the way back to their dorm, maybe they should just glue Cliff back together after all.

[thechekhov]

Dungeon Meshi - Quick Reacts (CHA 15: Porridge)

It’s time for... VOLUME 3!

It’s them again! The guys who got got by the bug coins! 

NO ONE checked their pulses - confirmed. Lmfao. Great job, main party. You all failed your medicine checks. 

This is the... third time? That there’s been mention of monsters moving UP floors. Something has been driving them up out of the lower layers of the dungeon? 

I don’t think it was our guys who did THAT. Fallin was the one who was handy with anti-ghost spells, right? Marcille didn’t know how to do it? 

But the trail says otherwise. Interesting. 

.....business is business..........I guess.

Damn, they got down there FAST. Guess the paintings didn’t slow them down much. I wonder if doodle-Laios is still there.......trapped. 

The idea of having a water level that you WALK over is honestly a super cool dungeon concept. It creates such a unique atmosphere that forces the characters to think about their surroundings in a totally different way. 

I would die for you, dog-man.

“Mermaids, hm? Average Tuesday.“

Those mermaids can pull me underwater any time they want. 

This is kinda cute, not gonna lie. 

NOOOOOOOO SHE DIDN’T HEAR HIM BECAUSE OF THE EARPLUGS!!! NOOOO

Oh, how the tables have turned. Now it’s Marcille and Senshi as the sensible ones. 

They really did just die again, huh. 

To be fair, I don’t know if it’s their skill level that’s at fault. It feels like they just have shit luck. 

Laios did not pay enough attention to care, I think.

Old take on kobolds that makes them dog-like! That’s fun. I’m personally fond of lizard-flavored Kobolds myself but it’s still fun to see familiar terminology.

Do mermaids really turn into fish-faced people when dead??? 

for a second there I thought he straight up slapped him ahahaa

oh my god. Laios is. Singing terribly. To combat. the mermaids. 

Does that...........work? SHOULd it work? Holy shit. 

IT WAS THE MERMAID’S OWN SONG??????

THE COMMITMENT!!! THE CHUTZPAH

Incredible. 10/10. 

Laios is incredible in that he is basically a Horny Guy trope that’s constantly berated by the cast for a base instinct but... instead of sex his base instinct is just hunger and the urge to eat the weirdest ass thing he finds.

I’m gonna ignore whatever emotional turmoil Chilchuck is going through in order to ask.... WHAT?? Are they different species or not? And if so, do they.... work together? Are they filling different niches? Do they not compete for one another? 

Or maybe they’re just a dimorphic species. Maybe the sirens are the dude fishes, and the fish-mermaids are the females. 

The spectrum of this man is edging into ultraviolet territory. 

This is. A fantastic meme base. 

guys can we call it literally anything else

10 photos taken before a disaster

Top DnD College Kid Dinners

Honestly, I respect her ability to just say ‘meh’ and move on though.

DO NOT. RUIN THIS FOR HER.

[3mcwriting]

Any Fan's Dream, Part 5

Any Fan's Dream Masterlist

Synopsis:

When you look around and see Avengers Tower in front of you and Peter Parker beside you, you wonder how the hell you managed to get into the MCU.

Taglist: @secretly-sirens, @zeeader, @imdoingathingmom, @x-theolivia, @ainsley-official, @huntress-artemiss

"You look weirdly tired and excited," Tony commented as you entered the workroom. "Interesting combination."

You had bags around your eyes, and you were walking slowly and stiffly. However, your eyes were alight with excitement and you had a large grin on your face. You had pulled an all-nighter with Peter, well, you weren't actually with him. "Your" mom had told you that you had been away from home a lot and she wouldn't let you leave the house or let you have him over. So, instead you had spent the night sprawled on "your" bed, phone plugged to the charger while you talked to Peter over the phone.

Your body was berating you for that, but you couldn't bring yourself to regret your choices. Even with the way all your limbs were both stiff and sore and you looked like a zombie, you weren't sorry for the night.

"You look fabulous," you retorted, "and- oh shit I forgot all of my insults. Sorry, I'm a little drowsy right now."

"You're lucky that Capsicle is busy training Rhodey and the rest of them, otherwise, he would've had something to say about that language of yours." Tony looked at you, an unimpressed expression on his face. "And, kid, you don't look 'a little drowsy', you look like you're about to fall asleep standing up. There is no way we're working on your suit-"

You protested, "but-"

"Uh uh, no 'buts'. You're either gonna end up drilling through the table or your hand, or you're gonna eventually wear the suit and mid-flight something fails and you plummet to your death. Neither is ideal, so no suit today."

"Fine," you agreed. You were sad that you were slowing down the finish of your very own Iron Man suit(holy shit your very own Iron Man suit!!) but you didn't want your stay in the MCU to ever end. Although, ngl dying in an Iron Man suit would be so cool. Wait a- wtf I'm tired. 

"What are we going to do then?" you asked.

"Whatever you wanna do, I guess."

"Can we hack Area 51?"

Tony teared up, "yes, yes we can."

Two hours later and the two of you had discovered some of the nation's biggest secrets. And you had to say, there was some crazy ass shit going down.

"-holy alienfucking shit! So they knew!!"

"I fucking knew it." Tony said, "I knew they knew it."

"The government has been lying to us for decades," you stated.

"Kid, they're the government. Of course they lied. You've met Fury."

"I met Fury?" 

Tony looked at you. "Yeah, remember on the first week of your internship he was here?"

"Uh huh." You nodded. "Now I remember."

Dammit I met Fury except not really! I wanna meet Fury. Hmph.

"(y/n)! Where you at, babe? Time to train!"

You felt the blood drain from your face, you pleaded with Tony. "Help me." 

He shook his head grimly. "No one can save you now. She's already here."

"Found you!" 

You screeched.

~~

"I hope you know that when I pull every muscle in my body, you and Steve are paying for my hospital bill."

"We would never push you that hard." Natasha told you. "We would never give you the satisfaction of going to the hospital and relaxing in a bed for days doing nothing. We'll just push you as hard as you can go before the hospital is warranted."

"You fucking sadist."

"Tch, I don't think Steve would approve of that language."

"Who said I give a single flying fuck about what Steve approves of?"

Natasha laughed. "You know that all this training is for your own good, right?"

You scoffed, massaging your tired legs. 

"Really," she reaffirmed, "everybody was worried when you didn't come for your internship. Especially when that 5-year-old burst through the lobby yelling about you being taken. We worry about you."

You looked down, "I didn't know I had scared everyone so much."

You really didn't. Which may have been stupid considering how serious Peter was about you getting kidnapped. You knew that in a normal situation being kidnapped was horrible, but you had been far too star-struck to be rational. Plus, you were new to people being concerned about you. You never had the invested parents, the protective ones, not even the strict ones. You had the cold, emotionally-distant parents that you rarely ever saw. The ones that weren't mean, or abusive, they just weren't there. 

As pathetic as it sounded, you had gotten used to people not giving a shit about you.

You forgot that people cared about you here. 

"Yeah," Natasha spoke, "so me and Steve are helping you learn how to protect yourself."

You weren't sure what you should say, did you thank them? That was probably what you should do. "Um, thank you- I mean, you guys are really busy and you make the time to train me. Like- I- you don't have to do this, but you choose to so thank you."

You fidgeted with your hands, not sure where to look. Here you were with your heroes, people who had saved the world multiple times. And they cared about you, they worried about you, and you were complaining.

Natasha's eyes softened as she saw how guilty you felt. "Of course we have to, we care about you. So, no thanks required."

"I'm sorry."

Natasha looked surprised. "For what?"

"I'm being ungrateful."

You hated this feeling. The feeling of being a burden.

You remembered when you were younger, probably 9. 

You had aced your spelling test, you were so proud of yourself. When you got home, you couldn't help the grin on your face. You were so excited to tell your parents about how you had done, you stayed waiting up past your bedtime for hours, hoping to see your parents. 

You fell asleep, but you had left your graded spelling test with the 100% on it on the kitchen table. You had fallen asleep at some point, and when you woke up, you went to go find your mother and father. It was a Saturday, they were asleep in their bed. You dragged them out of bed to show them the paper. 

Your dad had looked at the paper on the table. "What have we told you about leaving trash everywhere?"

Your mom crumpled up the paper and threw it in the trash. "You have to clean up after yourself, we're not always going to be here to pick up after you."

A burden. 

That's what you had felt like your entire life.

And here you were being nothing but a bother to your heroes. You were complaining and whining, being ungrateful about what they were doing.

"You have nothing to be sorry about-" Natasha was perplexed, "-you didn't do anything."

You nodded, still feeling guilty. "I won't complain anymore."

"What?" Natasha shook her head. "What are you talking about?"

"When you train me, I'll stop whining."

Natasha put a hand on your shoulder. "What are you- you know it's okay to have complaints? It's a hard training regimen, nobody expects you to take it like a vacation. It's hard, and you're sticking with it. A couple grumbles and jokes are normal. You know that, right?"

You were unconvinced, too used to the feeling of being a burden. But, you had managed to hide it most of your life, you could hide it now. "I know, I think I'm just a little tired. I stayed up all night so I'm just a little sleep deprived."

Natasha's expression showed that she believed you about the same amount you believed yourself, so not a lot. She figured you could use a bit of relaxation. "You should go take a shower, and after you get out I'll give you a massage. Your muscles are unused to this exercise so we have to make sure they don't get really tight and you end up pulling something."

"Massage?" 

Your thoughts stopped. A massage from Natasha fucking Romanoff? Just so that you wouldn't get injured? Why was she so awesome? Your simp-heart couldn't handle such amazingness.

Unfortunately, that sentence only distracted you from your thoughts, and once you were in the shower, they all came flooding back. Standing in the bathroom, alone, you looked at yourself. You weren't sure what you were looking for, but whatever it was, you didn't find it because you stopped with a sense of defeat.

You stepped out of the bathroom, seeing Natasha seated on her bed. Her hair was wet and she was in new clothes, indicative of her also taking a shower whilst you were. 

She was scrolling through her phone but looked up when you opened the door. You were wearing loose shorts that fell halfway down your thighs, and another one of her worn t-shirts.

"Ok, come sit down." Natasha said, patting the spot on the bed next to her. 

You did so, looking at her curiously. "Where are you going to massage me?"

"Your legs." She gestured to your mostly bare legs. "That's why I got you shorts this time instead of sweats."

"Oh," you were having trouble finding words, "um, how do you want me to sit?"

"Just lay down on your stomach," she answered, "I'll massage your calves, not your thighs. You're probably unused to massages so if I start massaging further up your legs, it'll make you tense because of how unused you are to it and the whole point of this is to relax your muscles.

You nodded and laid down on your stomach, the feeling of her kneading your calf muscles was slightly painful at first but it felt good after a while. 

"You feel how I'm pressing with the heel of my palm?" she asked.

You nodded, her comments asking about how it felt and the technique popping up throughout the massage.

When she was done, you sat up and looked at her. "Thank you, it felt good."

She smiled, winking at you. "My pleasure, babe."

You grabbed your phone, turning it on and seeing the time.

Your eyes went wide. "Oh shit! I have to go, I was supposed to leave half an hour ago."

"Calm down, you don't have to leave."

"No, I- Peter's waiting for me, shit!"

You grabbed your stuff. "Thank you, Nat! See ya!"

You ran out of the room, unlocking your phone as you ran. You pulled up your contact list and right when you were about to call him-

You got pulled into a closet.

Your phone was snatched out of your hand by someone. You had a suspicion of who it was before you saw the person.

Your suspicions were confirmed when you hit the light switch beside the closed door and Loki stood in front of you.

"Can't have you calling anybody," Loki pocketed your phone, he looked at you. "You don't seem that surprised to see me."

"Well, you did break into my apartment two days ago and kidnap me the day before that," you commented dryly, "I figured it was coming sooner or later."

He smiled. "You are an interesting human."

"Thanks, Hotstuff. What am I doing in the closet? I came out of it years ago."

"I just came to bid you goodbye, I have business to attend to. Although, with your knowledge-" he smirked, "-I'm sure you already knew that."

No way, there is no way he knows. He can't know.

You smiled humorously, trying to hide your nerves. "I'm pretty awesome but I'm not a fortune teller."

"Is that so? You obviously know more than you should."

You remembered something, an idea sparking in you. 

Maybe you could change something.

"You're right about that, and I have some advice. One day, there's going to be a big, purple, man with a nut-sack chin. When he approaches your spaceship, you need to get the Asgardians out of there. Otherwise, a lot of people are going to die." You included. Please listen, Loki. 

He looked at you, uneasy at your sincerity but not being fully convinced either. "Alright, I'll remember that when the time comes. For somebody who claims not to be a fortune teller, you seem to have a significant awareness of future events. Care to explain, darling?"

"I've already given you enough information, why would I give you more?"

"Hmm, you're right about that. Knowledge is valuable." He fixed you with a piercing stare, "I suppose I should thank you."

His words made you all too aware of the small amount of space in the closet, of how close he was to you. His face moved closer to you, hovering mere inches from yours. 

"Tell me, darling," he whispered in your ear, "do I have permission to thank you?"

"I-" you couldn't think. He was so close and he smelled really good and holy shit his voice was sexy-

"Well?" he murmured, "do I?"

You could only nod, wondering where the hell your voice had gone.

His face moved closer, the inches disappearing as his lips brushed against your cheek gently, tenderly. He pulled away, smirking at your flustered state. 

You didn't enjoy his amusement, and resolved to make him the more flustered person there.

You moved forward, caging Loki between you and the wall behind him. He couldn't quite hide the shock at your boldness, simultaneously surprised and attracted to the change.

"Are you alright with me this close?" 

As much as you wanted to appear suave and confident, the most important thing was that both of you were comfortable with the situation.

Loki had absolutely no problem with the situation. "Darling, I am more than alright."

You looked at him, admiring his beauty. His eyes were intense, piercing, and mischievous, looking at you in a way that was unbelievably tempting. His hair fell a little above his shoulders, dark and alluring.

Damn send the haircare routine-

You tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear, fingertips grazing his cheekbone when you moved it. You smirked when you heard the way his breath caught. If you were honest, you really, really, really, wanted to one-up him. There was a short strand of hair falling over his forehead, your eyes locked on it. You pressed your lips gently over it, then moved backwards and brushed the strand to the side.

He stared at you, strangely silent. His expression was one of shock, but not for the reason you thought. He was surprised that you had expressed affection so kindly and softly as if you worried your adoration would bruise.

The two of you stared at each other, neither willing to break the moment.

But your phone buzzed somewhere in Loki's outfit and the two of you snapped back to reality.

"Ah shit! I need my phone, Loki."

He handed it to you, that odd silence still with him. 

You hesitated for a moment, wondering if you should say something but your phone buzzed again and you ran out of the closet. You answered your phone as you ran. "Gah, I'm so sorry, Peter. I'll be down right now."

[saiyanlpkwife2013]

Midnight Siren

Chapter Five: Secrets

Romantic relationship: Hitoshi Shinso x y/n (female/AFAB)

Chapter warnings: Cursing

MINORS: DO NOT INTERACT BELOW THE "KEEP READING" BREAK.

Waking up at the ass crack of dawn is not one of your favorite things to do.

Aizawa wanted to start early in order to make the most of the individualized training sessions you would have at the training camp, which you were grateful for; however, 5:30am rolls around and you start wondering if this is gonna be worth it. You start to realize why the man always looks so tired all of the time.

You quickly get dressed in a tank top and athletic leggings and head towards the dining hall, remembering that breakfast would likely consist of just toast that you would make yourself this morning. Upon entering, you see Aizawa already there with a cup of coffee.

“Morning.” He says sleepily. “I trust you completed your assignment last night and slept well.” It was a statement more so than a question. To be honest, you were surprised that he was chatty at all this morning.

“Yes sir, I did. I’m looking forward to learning new ways to use my quirk to its full potential and I have some ideas that I am excited to experiment with.” 

“Very good. Once Shinso joins us, we can get started.”

You two enjoy a comfortable silence while you butter your toast and Aizawa lazily sips at his warm beverage. A cursory glance at the man, no one would expect someone so dedicated to his students. His overall aura came off as detached but to someone paying attention, quite the opposite is true.

In the short amount of time that you had been under his wing, you already started to see him as a father figure. Of course, this wasn’t hard considering the man you called father was, well, everything you DIDN’T need. Maybe that’s why you so appreciated the man in front of you. He offered you accountability but also understanding, whether he realized it or not. Even if you becoming a hero somehow fizzled out, there’s no way you would ever regret transferring since it meant that you had him as someone to look up to.

Suddenly, the door to the dining hall opens and in walks the indigo haired man. Geez, he looks almost worse than he did yesterday. I’m guessing he didn’t sleep very well. 

Aizawa noticed this too, though didn’t necessarily say anything about this out loud. You heard him think to himself, I guess the insomnia is still a problem. Hmmm… We will have to have this addressed at some point, otherwise it could affect his fighting ability… His mind wandered off, considering possible solutions while simultaneously remembering that coffee was going to be the only thing that would help him get through the day. His mind quickly became a soft background noise to you.

“Good morning, Shinso. I hope you slept well.” You say brightly, though already knowing the answer to your sentiment was the exact opposite.

He couldn’t bring himself to look at you. You notice a soft blush run across his face and the tips of his ears at the sound of your voice. You hear Shit.

“Everything alright?” You ask when your initial greeting was met with silence. Plus the internal “shit” had you a bit concerned.

“Yeah, sorry, couldn’t sleep.” 

Aizawa raises an eyebrow. “I trust that this won’t interfere with your training today.”

“No sir, it won’t. I’ll manage fine. It’s not like this is a new problem for me.” Except for the fact that I can’t look at her right now without having a DIFFERENT problem.

Confused, you tilt your head slightly but decide to drop it. After all, you didn’t want to raise any suspicion regarding your “secret” quirk so you offer something else instead.

“I know it’s none of my business, so please, if I’m out of line, I do apologize. I was just wondering if perhaps I could help with your sleeping issue.”

Aizawa looks at you with an inquisitive expression while Shinso seems more embarrassed than anything. 

Holy fuck. Is she suggesting what I think she is?

“My...uh...quirk can change the emotional atmosphere. If you are having issues falling asleep, I could try to help by introducing a sleepy atmosphere for you. Just a suggestion though. It may not even work.” You know damn well that it will but not wanting to cause him any more distress than he already seems to be experiencing, you shrug off your own proposition.

Is that really her quirk? Why would that be a secret? Wait, am I supposed to even know this?...Shit, her fucking clothes are—

You cut him off before he can finish his thought. “Anyway! You don’t have to accept. I just can sympathize with not being able to sleep very well and—“

“That might be something to consider, Shinso. We can revisit this later. Right now, we have training to do.” Aizawa ends the discussion and gets up from his seat at the table, making his way to exit the dining hall.

You look over to Shinso and you see him intensely inspecting a spot on the ground, refusing to look your way.

“Well, I suppose we better get going.”

“Yeah.” And he quickly walks off without meeting your gaze.

This is going to be a long two weeks.

~*~

You had gone ahead of the two men in an effort to try to have a few more moments of mental silence. You understood where you would be training today thanks to a few quick thoughts running through Aizawa’s mind and you took it upon yourself to let the two of them walk together.

***

Shinso walks beside Aizawa looking at the ground with hands in his pockets, quietly mulling over the most recent interaction he had with you in the dining hall. 

“Everything alright?” Aizawa asks without looking in his direction.

“Yeah, well, um. Actually, I’m just more confused than anything.”

“Go on.”

“Well, sir, I didn’t think I was supposed to know what her quirk is and I’m confused as to why it was so casually referenced back in the dining hall.”

“Ah, I see.”

“And…” He waited for his mentor to elaborate further.

“And nothing. It’s not my place.”

Shinso then shifts his focus ahead of him, seeing you walk in the far distance towards your mutual destination, eyebrows furrowed. The HELL does that mean?

“Look, I understand your confusion; however, I must leave the explanation up to Y/N. Just remember: Things aren’t always as they seem. Sometimes half truths or misdirections are necessary. I am hopeful that she might open up to you during these next two weeks. You two have a lot in common which is a large part as to why Principal Nezu and I thought this training course was a good idea. I do feel the need to warn you though: Should she divulge any of her information to you, especially regarding the nature of her quirk, you will be expected to honor the knowledge with the utmost discretion. I trust that you understand I do not do things without reason. With that said, it should be painfully obvious that if you should go against my advice, it could directly affect how you do in the hero course. Understand?” 

Shinso’s eyes widen slightly at the gravity of what is being said to him.

“Y-yes sir.” What the HELL is this shit?

“Very good. With that out of the way, let’s get today started.”

~*~

You have already reached the outdoor space that the three of you had been headed. It was a somewhat rocky terrain, with cliffs and boulders scattered throughout the area. You take a moment to familiarize yourself with your surroundings, bringing to mind the various evasive training moves you learned as it feels as though you might need to reference that knowledge sooner rather than later…

Walking up to join you in the middle of the training area, Shinso makes eye contact with you for the first time this morning. You offer a slight reassuring smile as it is obvious that he is embarrassed about something as it relates to you. His heart rate increased ever so slightly causing the atmosphere to feel a little more tense than it did previously.

You resist the urge to use Vibe since you had not received permission to do so from your teacher. Besides, he may not have even noticed the sudden change in the emotional air. 

That was just something you were hypersensitive to.

Aizawa walks forward between the two of you until you both are faced with his back. Without turning around, Aizawa keeps his hands in his pockets and begins the explanation of today’s training.

“Today, I have decided to assess where your physical weaknesses lie. Even though you both have quirks that are more suited for stealth opts rather than all out hand-to-hand combat, it would be best to make sure that you are prepared to attack and defend yourselves when that time arrives. Today’s instructions are simple: Shinso,” His eyes flick up to meet his mentor’s piercing gaze as he turns around, “you are to attempt to capture Y/N with the binding cloth.” Shinso’s eyes widen, taking in the instructions he has just been given. Up until now, he had just been attempting to master the scarf on its own, trying to force it to bend to his will. Now he is expected to actually CAPTURE someone?

Great. A chance to make a fool of myself. Just what I have been waiting for.

You chuckle internally at his self-deprecating sarcasm then suddenly

Wait, that means he’s expected to capture—

“Y/N,” Aizawa cuts through your thoughts, intent on finishing his instructions. “Your objective is to not get caught. Understood?”

You nod hesitantly, praying to gods your muscle memory from your evasive training won’t fail you now.

“Very well. To keep you motivated, there is a consequence to every failed capture attempt and failed evasion.” You and Shinso briefly steal a glance at each other, dreading what your teacher has in mind for punishment.

“Each time one of you fails to succeed in your objective, you will need to run two times around the training facility. So, if Y/N fails to avoid capture 3 times, she will need to run 6 laps around the facility. Understood?”

You both nod. I guess it could be worse.

“Think of it as cardio which will assist in endurance training as well. Now, one more thing: You will not be allowed to use your quirks during this exercise. I know it seems counterintuitive, however, building up your physical strength and agility is important. In the event that you are unable to use your quirk to aid in the task at hand, you will still need to be able to offer assistance in the fight against villains.”

Makes sense but it’s not like I can turn off mind reading. I’ll just have to do my best to ignore them...

You look again over to Shinso. His hands absentmindedly twisting around the binding cloth, thoughts leaking out of his mind regarding strategy. You switch your gaze over to Aizawa, wanting to ask out loud—

“Y/N, I understand that there...is a part of your abilities that you cannot shut off.” You gulp. “Just do your best to keep the fight fair.”

Wait, what? Goddamn, this is frustrating. 

You wince a little but not enough for either of them to notice. You didn’t want to be the cause of frustration in your fellow classmate. In fact, you were really hoping that the two of you could become closer. Something about Shinso seemed so...genuine. You really didn’t want to screw up any chance of you two becoming friends. You wish you could just explain.

But that would just mess everything up before anything could develop.

No, I have to stick to my guns. He’ll just have to be frustrated. There’s nothing I can do about it.

“Alright,” Aizawa states over his shoulder as he turns to walk towards the edge of the rocky clearing. “Begin.”

[definitelynotshouting]

Ahhh!!! Im so so happy you liked my analysis 😭😭. I love your writing sm <3.

I am not the same sun anon as before. If the first one is still here ill change it, and for now ill just hover uncertainly lol. Anyway! Here's some more!

-☀️

"The words slice right through the air between them, cleaving a massive chasm where the bedspread ripples and arcs. Scar freezes mid-speech, mouth hanging open in a way that could be comical in any other situation. There was a time when Grian would have been unbearably smug about that— it’s not every day you render silver-tongued Scar speechless. Now, all he can summon is a low, rolling trepidation; a gut-clenching thundercloud on the horizon, steel-grey and devouring the sky."

- There have been too many firsts lately. There was a time where this would have brought grian satisfaction, but all he feels is dread. Now every time scar reacts, or someone else reacts, it is WRONG. Another anon already beautifully talked about how none of the characters are acting like themselves, so i wont go into any detail there other than to paraphrase their point here. Before, if scar reacted like this it would mean grian did something RIGHT, now it's only another tally onto his list of wrongs.

-☀️

"It takes all of Grian's strength not to descend like a carrion bird on top of that spark of alarm, rile it up into a dread so great it would collapse Scar entirely beneath its gravity. For a moment, the idea rolls over his tongue, flits around the gilded, constricting cage of his mind; something to pick apart and chew. Something he can sink his teeth into."

- This thought is so tangible. I just adore how visceral this description is. It feels heavy and dangerous and predatory. Grian can imagine exactly what he couls do to his friends and he is so scared of himself for it.

-☀️

"It sinks into the marrow of Grian’s bones, lingering and dark, a gentle tug for truth. This isn’t some act— Scar emanates earnestness, the fathomless depths of his concern, in a wave that threatens to bowl Grian over beneath its crest. He's struck with the flashbang image of Scar kneeling in waist-high water, arms spread and voice slinking around Grian's ankles, curving over the hilt of a bloody diamond sword. He knows this siren song, in all its honeyed glory— and Scar knows it, too. The familiarity hovers just within reach, urging him to clutch at its iridescent hook."

- AH!!!! My mans can NOT understand that people care about him and are willing to put themselves on the line for him!!

- It feels like he's SO close to giving in here, to let scar KNOW him (and to admit that he cares instead of killing scar in that pond). The help is there, so long as he is willing to reach out and grab it... but then:

"Xisuma’s hesitant voice, however, buoys him back above deep water. “Grian, you aren’t… actually dying right now, are you?”

Grian grasps the distraction with both hands, letting it pull him away from danger. "

- ah yes, the age-old method: redirecting the conversation and avoiding your problems 😎. I love how the drowning metaphor kind of gets subverted here? As in, usually the surface is where you need to be, and the bottom of the ocean is what is dragging you down. This IS what's happening from Grian's pov- Xisuma is "buoy[ing]" him back to the surface so that he doesnt have to face scar- but it's not actually helping him. The surface isn't where he needs to be. The surface is devoid of substance, it is empty air, and grian has already depraved himself of enough. Does that make sense???? I am insane

-☀️

Enjoy!! :D

RATTLES AROUND IN MY CAGE. ANON YOU SPOIL ME HOLY SHIT, IM LOSING MY MIND!!!!! This is so amazing and just is really reassuring too because i was SO worried about the quality of this chapter djsbdkwndjejsj MAN,,,,,, going to stare off into the sunset for a while this is so sweet and kind tysm king i hope you are having an excellent day

[casspurrjoybell-27]

Claimed by the Beast - Chapter 14a

*Warning Adult Content*

The USB - Part 1

The kiss should've lasted longer than it did.

That thought is the only one lingering at the forefront of Knox's mind.

It stayed there for the rest of the evening and after Everett fell asleep while watching another one of his silly little movies, the thought rang even louder in Knox's head.

It was like a siren call stuck on a loop, taunting him for not having done more with Everett when he'd had the chance.

The boy had become so needy and flustered that he ended up finishing what Knox had recklessly started, effectively taking control and completing the kiss.

Trying to think up a logical explanation for why he froze at the very last second has led Knox to a dead end every time.

But that was then.

The moment is long gone now.

No more wallowing in past mistakes.

There's important business to handle.

"Jeez, can I get any fucking cornier or what?" Knox mutters to himself while scribbling down the reason behind his absence on a yellow sticky note.

He makes sure to include phrases like don't worry,everything is fine and stay in the room until I come back because he isn't sure how Everett will react when or if he wakes up to find he has been left all alone.

The buttons that set the boy off seem to change day by day.

Seeing how broken Everett looked after having that panic attack in front of Finn, Knox concluded he had to do better.

Despite his conflicting feelings, he could no longer be careless with Everett.

No matter how ridiculous he feels in the moment, Knox will do whatever is necessary to make sure that Everett feels safe and secure while they live together.

When finished with the note, Knox places it on top of his pillow.

Everett is asleep on his side and facing Knox's direction, so the note will be the first thing he sees if he wakes up before Knox returns.

On to business.

Knox exhales a deep breath before turning to leave the room, anxiety at what's to come and irritation over leaving Everett alone weighs heavy on his shoulders.

He gently closes the bedroom door shut behind him, sporting a look sinister enough to deter a person from stopping to interact with him as he sets off down the hallway.

Tracking down a man like Mason has never been a difficult chore.

The guy is obsessed with only two things, tech and women.

If he isn't in his bedroom on his computer working a job for Gavin that usually consists of him hacking into some shit that he has no business being in, then the horny bastard is most likely getting his dick wet with a patch whore in the jump-off room.

A place Knox hasn't visited in a long while.

It's the only spare room at the clubhouse that no one wants to clean because it's strictly used for sex.

Truthfully, half the members don't think twice about bringing a random to the place where they lay their head at night but the other half prefers to keep their bedrooms off limits when it comes to strangers.

That private space is typically reserved for their partners.

Funny how Knox barely bat an eye when Everett had to officially 'move in' with him.

What that says about his cold heart and current state of mind... well, he'd rather not acknowledge it right now.

I don't think this room has ever gotten a proper break.

Knox's first stop is the jump-off room, being that it's the closest.

From several feet away, he can hear a couple moaning and the headboard of the bed thumping aggressively against the wall inside.

Knox isn't in the mood to be polite, so he opens the door instead of knocking like a sane person.

"I'm close, baby. Holy shit, you're so fucking big. I-I think I'm going to..." screams the blue-haired woman riding one of his brothers.

The position that they're in has her pale back facing the door, preventing Knox from getting a look at who she's presently fucking the soul out of.

"Mason?" Knox calls during the couple's climax. "That you under there?"

"Nah, man. It's me." Alvin, the club's VP, laughs and comes into view after the woman slides off him in a hurry, pulling the sheets up to her blushing face.

"What can I help you with? Or are you looking to join in?"

Knox rolls his eyes.

"Not interested. Have you seen Mason around?"

"No. He's probably holed up in his room doing work on his computer."

Alvin flashes Knox a look that only he could decipher, not wanting to verbally give anything away while his company is around.

"Since you don't plan on participating, can you kindly shut the fucking door? My dick is gearing up for round three and my girl ain't into that exhibitionist shit."

Knox doesn't waste his breath on a response.

He closes the door and continues on his way, making Mason's bedroom his second stop.

This time, he knocks.

"Hey, man. You're right on time," Mason says after opening the door.  "Pres just called for church. We can head there together while I fill you in on the news."

He steps outside and locks the door behind him.

With the kind of shit that he gets into for the club, every single member could go under if his computers ever fell into the wrong hands.

Not implying that he doesn't trust his brothers but more so the naughty company they keep.

"What news? And when did he call for a meeting?" Knox asks as they walk.

"The news I tried to tell you about earlier today when you were all hugged up with the kid," Mason smirks. "Pres just sent a text to everyone about a minute ago. You didn't get it?"

Knox shakes his head, ignoring the teasing remark.

"I forgot and left my phone back in the room. Tell me more about this news of yours."

"I know it's been a while since you last checked in but I finally got into that damn USB. Pres was so impressed that he ended up paying me double for the job," Mason says.

He cracks his knuckles as if he'd just finished working the world's toughest shift.

"The Jackals are fully exposed, man. More than they've ever been before. And now that their secrets are in our hands, if we play this the right way, we can put an end to them for good."

"Keep talking," Knox says, intrigued. "What secrets do we have of theirs?"

"All of them." Mason grins something wicked, looking exactly like an evil villain that succeeded in taking out the hero. "Okay, so check this out..."

Knox gives Mason his undivided attention during their walk to the basement.

Apart from the underground brothel that the state knows nothing about, The Jackals also run a construction business.

But like most MCs, it's used as a front for washing money gained from their illegal activities.

That much is neatly documented inside a lengthy excel sheet on the USB, along with a list of people, some being high-ranking officials, that The Jackals have done and currently do business with.

Many of them are married yet remain frequent patrons of their brothel.

"Some of the shit on there is prime blackmail material," Mason explains, excitement dripping all over his tone. "The son of the goddamn mayor goes to that brothel every other week. Do you realize how many strings we could pull by having the mayor's son in our pocket?"

Knox merely grunts in response, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

"What did Pres say when you first told him all this?"

"Not much," Mason replies. "He wanted to call a meeting to tell everyone else about it and get their input. I've already told him my stance. It doesn't matter what The Jackals were planning on doing with the USB that night. It's in our possession now, so we need to work on flipping their clients. We have to..."

"Slow your roll, brother." Knox chuckles, clapping Mason on the back. "Save that shit for the meeting. What else did you find in that thing?"

"Right. Well, there are also tons of..."

Documents that contain information and transactions related to The Jackals clients, plus those overseas.

It includes street names of gun suppliers, drug lords, and how much money The Jackals earn in exchange for doing business with them.

Money that could become The Fallen Angels if, like Mason said, they successfully flip The Jackals clients.

The greatest discovery, however, has to be the sheet titled SCHEDULE.

Covering the next thirty days, it lists the time and location for all local and international jobs The Jackals plan on executing.

Jobs connected to some very dangerous people but in turn will result in glorious payouts.

"They're going to make a move tonight," Mason finishes. "A shipment of weapons is supposed to arrive sometime around ten at that old dock by Hickory Springs. Under the assumption they think we haven't been able to get into the USB, we can intercept and take the weapons for ourselves. Flip them and sell them for double the price."

"And then we become the target of their supplier," Knox adds, shaking his head. "It's too risky. We first need to get rid of The Jackals before we go pissing off their partners."

"Point made. But we could always take the weapons and then present them to the supplier. Make a case for ourselves that The Jackals are incompetent and explain why they should do business with us instead," Mason suggests. "You think Pres would go for something like that?"

"We'll find out soon enough," Knox says. 

[sorikkung]

moc my beloved it has taken me forever to get back to you but im HERE NOW...

love how mingis just like. i think itd be pretty funny to see you clock our captain in the face. SDFKJGSKFJ LIKE HELLO. love him tho

"Simplifying things in such ways, however, is far from your forte." i support mc's right to be a MESSY ASS BITCH!

“Why are you believing every word out of San’s mouth?” “Did he not tell you how he manipulated me? What game did he play to do so, I truly wonder, Ghost? How did he tell you? Were you in bed? Were his hands on you, telling you foul and hideous words with his lips but touching you so gently with his fingertips?” OOOH BITCH this is MESSY messy.... way to make things Extremely unsettling Extremely quickly godDAMN i got shivers

“Though I suspect San would sooner die than harm you. Suppose that’s where we differ.” thats a lot more reassuring though!

OOOP YEONJUN KNOWS SANS APOLOGIES R FULL OF SHIT... damn that is such an interesting dynamic what the fuck... i feel like i say that abt every dynamic but you make them all so SPICY

now what the fuck is up with those pills... does minho have a problem or is he prescribin the whole crew painkillers 😭😭😭😭 or. "painkillers"....

oooh i really like his take on diagnoses and disorders though that was fresh.

jisung and mcs dynamic confuses the fuck outta me i really oughtta go back and reread from the start to try piece it together again, among other things... im excited for that but i wanted to find out what happened next first before rereading so i will probably be rereading this chapter again soon <3

damn did they kill the other three crew members??? i feel like the more mc asks around and pries for answers all we get is more questions. which is as addicting to read as it is frustrating.

god i adore jongho and mc's almost sibling-like relationship <33 gonna pinch that lil shithead (affectionate)

hwa says not to overanalyze what hes saying but good god i have no idea what anyone is saying anymore when they speak in metaphors like this i Really gotta go back n reread everything cause it seems like all this distrust has been building up for ages but it kinda feels like its come outta nowhere but thats probably more on me forgetting important context clues.

"One that despises the man he loves." MOC!SEONGJOONG AND YALLS UNHEALTHY ASS DEEPLY DEVOTED DYNAMIC YOU ARE EVERYTHING TO ME!!!!!

oh my god seonghwa is having a full on menty b my boy what is wrong (the answer is everything.) but what does he mean hongjoong wanted him dead. hello.

OOP SHE FINALLY DONE FUCKING SAID IT..... SHE STILL LOVES HIM.. I MEAN WBK BUT SAYING THE QUIET PART OUT LOUD IS LOUD YK. i wonder how san feels about that. “You were never after anything more than sex but you hoped it would change things?” CALL HER OUTTTTT GODDAMN THIS IS SO DRAMA IM SO HERE FOR IT SHDFKJGKSJFKGJSKFJD

DAMN WAIT WAS SHE GLARING AT HIM DURING ALL THAT WHAT HKSJDFKGJSKFD oh wait suppose the sirens intuition thing wouldve helped him feel all of that huh... crazy cause in the moment it sounded so sweet and romantic despite the underlying... whatever this is going on SDJKHKJSDFHK

"Hate him to the point of obsession as you’ve clearly already pushed yourself to that point. Did it feel good imagining his dick inside you instead of mine? When your hatred turns to infatuation, I’ll be sure to tell you all the ways in which Hongjoong has orchestrated the destruction of your psyche since your arrival here.”

HOLY SHIT. NOW THATS.... HELLO. HELLO???? IM. HELLLOOOOOOO???? THERE IS. SO MUCH TO UNPACK HERE.

“If your aim is to become a monster, Seonghwa, then you are doing a fine job at it." HITTING HIM RIGHT WHERE IT FUCKING HURTS HOOOOLY LAWDT THIS IS SO INTENSE

“And I told you that I still loved Hongjoong.”

“After lying to me about it the first time we discussed it!”

“I guess we have that in fucking common then, don’t we? Lying about wanting our captain?"

IM GOING TO THROW UP AND SCREAM CRY AND YELL AND PULL ALL MY HAIR OUT AND??? HOOOOLY SHIT..... LITERALLY TEARING UP THE WALLS RN I AM SO NOT NORMAL ABOUT THIS

“I do love you though, for whatever that’s worth. I’m sorry that’s… I’m sorry.” YEAH COOL ILL BE SO NOT NORMAL ABOUT THAT ONE THOUGH THANKS. HOLY SHIT. LITERALLY WHERE THE FUCK ELSE DO YOU FIND A DYNAMIC AS MESSY AND DELICIOUS AS THIS. I AM EATING GOOD TODAY! also “And I hate myself for many things, Y/n, but I would not have you hate me for those same reasons. That is why I do not wish to share those things with you.” got me too holy fuck like what do you even SAY to that. how are you even MEANT to react to that. like HELLO...

"this is Mingi, and should you earn the ire of your captain here and now, it might reward you an early grave. If it were San by his side, you wonder how different things might be." she says this knowing full well mingi wants to see hongjoong get beat up just a little bit. SDFKJGSKFDGKSFDKGSDFG but tru i suppose if hongjoong ordered it he would not hesitate.

“Tell me you were so disillusioned by my hand of kindness, Y/n. Tell me you truly believed I was a gracious man. Tell me you painted an image of me in your mind that was benevolent, so that I may bask in that glorious misconception while I pleasure myself by my own hand at night.” HKAJDFGHJKSKJDFGKJSFDGKS WHAT A FUCKING BANGER LINE???? OH, TELL ME YOU REALLY THOUGHT I WAS A GOOD PERSON, SO THAT I CAN JACK OFF TO THAT LATER. GODDAMN

THIS JUST KEEPS GETTING MORE AND MORE INTENSE HES LITERALLY MAKING HER KNEEL HELLO I AM BARKING BUT ALSO IM NOT BUT I AM BUT IM NOT BUT I DID BUT I DIDNT <3 MINGI STEPPING FORWARD TO DO IT ANYWAY DESPITE NOT WANTING TO IMMEDIATELY FOLLOWED BY HONGJOONG TAUNTING HER WITH HWAS PETNAME I AM CHEWING MY NAILS OFF HOW DID WE GET TO THIS POINT OH MY GOD ITS SO FUCKIGN SPICY... the fact that he doesnt even raise a hand to do so- suppose he grabbed her neck for a second but then got his underling to do the dirty work for him so he can wipe his boot on her face like WHY IS THAT FUCKING HOTTTTT IM GONNA BITE THINGS

“Do you even intend to stop at Kebos or was that another pretty lie meant to make me docile?” you spat out at the captain. He laughs in your face.

“What does it matter what my intentions are?”

HOLY FUCKING SHITTTTT HE GOT HER SO GOOD BC I RLY BELIEVED WE WERE SEEING HONGJOONG CARE FOR MC IN THAT MOMENT I.... HOLY SHITTTTT WHAT THE FUCKKK MASTER MANIPULATOR HONGJOONG FRFR.... I SHOULD BE TERRIFIED BUT MY DICK IS ROCK SOLID HSKFDGKJSKDJFGKAKFGKJDFKJ AM I GONNA UNPACK WHAT THAT SAYS ABOUT ME? NO <3

"I have killed my own men for less. Siren or not, San’s lover or not — your timer ticks ever closer to zero so long as you continue with these charades. I will have you obey, and you will respect me all the while. Do I make myself clear?” DICK HARD ENOUGH TO CUT DIAMOND RN BUT IM ALSO QUAKING IN BOTH FEAR AND ANGER KIM HONGJOONG YOU ARE ONE HELL OF A MAN AND I MEAN A HELL OF A MAN I SEE WHY SAN CALLED YOU THE LITERAL DEVIL BUT GOOD GOD WHY AM I INTO IT. OP HOW TF DID YOU MANAGE TO WRITE SUCH A CHARACTER.

“I will not hesitate to humiliate you further before the whole crew if I must, Y/n. We can make a spectacle out of it. I would quite enjoy it, in fact. Now, do you understand?”

IM. I. IM . HELLO. HELLO. HELLO. HEY!!! HEY HELLO!!!! WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!! WHAT THE FUCK!!!!! HFDGKJAFKJGKJDAFKGAHGAADSKFKDFJSDF WHAT THHTUEUFUCUFKK1!!!! GOING THRU IT RN

calling her pretty after that entire spectacle OOOOH YOU WANT HER SO BADDDDDD HONGJOONG... also tf is yunho doin in his room is that the rebound dick. goddamn. GODDAMN! hope hes all bricked up from humiliating her like that bc then i wont be the only one here with an erection god bless-

oh right mingi knows shes a siren now thats wild. literally who doesnt at this point SKJDFGKJSDFKG and wow hongjoong is Really good at making devotees out of people huh cause mingi rly witnesses all that then his first instinct is to say he means well? wow.

“That’s love, Mingi. Love and devotion both.” POWERFUL. once again driving the narrative of love being something that can be so, so fucking destructive in the wrong hands thats insane youre insane for this i love it

"Would you deny San?”

Love, as it turns out, is the cruelest master of all.

WHAT DID I JUST FUCKING SAYYYY!!!!!!

"She wields a knife so sharp that one slight cut would have you bleeding out across the floor in mere seconds." YEAH YEAH YEAH YEAHHHH FUUUUUCK FUCKFUCKFUCKFUFCK

mingi is the real fucking mvp in all of this i fucking love mingi. mans is so real and honest and its refreshing compared to everyone elses deeply convoluted bullshit SDJHJSJDFHJSDFH

“Why did you tell me that story? Why would you do that, why would you say that, why, San?”

what kind of love hopes for suffering?

"but when you close your eyes, it’s Hongjoong’s face you see behind your lids and between your legs rather than your lover’s — a curling hatred that serves to deepen the pit already formed in your stomach." god this is going to fucking HAUNT me dude the GRIP moc!hongjoong has on both me and this fuckin mc on god....

"Hongjoong was above you earlier, boot pressed into your cheek as you sat on your knees before him with no relief in sight. How much would it take to reverse the roles and have him in such a humiliating and debasing position? Beyond that, if he made good on his promise, what would that look like for you? And how deep are you willing to submerge yourself just to find out?" I AM GOING TO FUCKING BLACK OUT. OH COOL NICE REPETITION OF THE DIALOGUE GOOD TO KNOW I AM NOT THE ONLY ONE CUMMING TO THE THOUGHT OF HONGJOONG SAYING ALL THAT COOL NICE IM NORMAL- SHDFKJGKSJFKGJAFKDJG

"You think, as the room begins to fade into black and sleep settles in, that your will to fight is nothing more than a dull flame about to be snuffed out for good." thats so fucking OMINOUSSS ON GOD I CANT TELL WHAT I THINK OF ANYTHING ANYMORE I FEEL LIKE MY BRAIN IS BEING ACTIVELY REWIRED RN

is hongjoong also getting off to calling me his dog and threatening to put a collar and leash on me bc im getting off to- [TRAIN PASSES BY]

gas masks stay on at night? what the fuck is IN that water? guess we'll probably find out why gorgon is relatively unpopulated despite it seemingly being a paradise... yes i had to check the planet guide for context SDKJFGKJSFDKGfd

also just the fact that you asked if san calling her 'my treasure' was intentional or not makes me think it is but i dont know what the fuck that MEANS. oh my fucking god did hongjoong sic him on her too but he just actually fell in love fr in the process. god i dont even know what to expect i never know what to expect with moc im gonna go inhale all 400k words of this all over again and go insane with brainrot for weeks THANKS love you bye <3

mists of celeste ➻ 49

➻ pairing: ??? x fem reader ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst ➻ word count: 19.7k ➻ rating: M ➻ warnings: language, talks of abuse & violence, minor violence, smut ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

⇐ previous | next ⇒ | masterlist

act seven ➻ part one

​​​

What rots away at your insides in the days that follow is nothing pretty — a deep profound obsession that drives your hatred towards a particular man into the skin until it sits engraved there, with wounds oozing blood all the while.

“Have you seen Nightingale around?”

Soojin jerks her chin up at the sudden interruption of your voice cutting through whatever pretty silence she constructed for herself. You feel bad, though only mildly, for disturbing her without warning. It’s become somewhat common to find her in the mess hall these days, with Luca off to the side with the two resident Berserkers. Your stare lingers on Mingi for a few more seconds than necessary. The last conversation you shared with the man rings in your ears like it was mere minutes ago and not several days.

“Um, training room I think? That’s where he’s been hanging around at least.” Soojin passes you a little half-hearted smile. You don’t doubt that your discomfort and likely unabashed anger is on full display to her; however, she opts not to ask further about your reasons for asking, so you deign not to say anything other than a quiet ‘thank you’ and nod your head.

Mingi shifts where he’s kneeling close to the child. His gaze finds yours the second you turn to head out, stopping you in your tracks and forcing you to return the fierce eye contact for several seconds. You let it stagnate for too long, apparently, because the Berserker stands without warning and moves in your direction. You don’t consider your next move to be one of avoidance, though it must look like that to anyone else aside from you with how you retreat the way you came and head for the arched doorway leading out. Mingi persists still.

“Ghost.”

Keep reading

[moon-ursidae]

SESSION #8!

THERE WILL BE SPOILERS FOR BOTH TLOU GAMES AND THE HBO SERIES HERE SO BEWARE OF SPOILERS!!!!

it’s been over a month since i last played…

this semester has been kicking my ASS and i’m at the point where i do NOT give a fuck. and i finally have the urge to play this game. so yknow. let’s pick it back up!

total play time: a lil over 4 hours!

okay so the last i remember was that i had J U S T started the abby section

i’m excited to see laura bailey’s acting

this section is called “tracking lesson”

4 years earlier! as abby!

so in the timeline this is one year before ellie’s bday flashback!

this feels odd

like i’m trying to be positive about it

but i just- it’s hard man

this is gorgeous also holy shit i missed this

I LOVE LAURA BAILEY

just hearing her voice makes me all warm and fuzzy

ooo zoo lights pamphlet!

WAIT WHAT DOES ABBY HAVE IN HER BAG ALREADY

omg there’s a letter from mel :(

and a drawing from owen??

“i’ve trued to draw you sleeping, but these damn hands just can’t capture your mesmerizing beauty.” i would find this kinda cute if it wasn’t from owen

he just makes me uncomfy idk

also how much older is he than abby?

wait how old is abby hold up i gotta look this up

okay so she’s 20 in seattle so she’d be 17 rn

there’s no exact age for owen but the approximation is in his mid 20s in seattle

i was slightly concerned bc owen looks so much older than abby and just thinking about how they were together when she was 17 i was like -_- hmmmmm

ANYWAY

that is a TINY ass coin holy shit

SO UR TELLIN ME ELLIE’S THING IS BRIGHT CARDS AND ABBY’S IS TINY ASS COINS??

there’s no way that my horrible ass eyes are finding all of these

i’ll be surprised if i find any after this

goddamnit. they’re trying to make me feel empathetic about their relationship

it’s not happenin

ohhh so the coin thing is bc of her dad

still i’m not falling for this

this is a cool ass playground

NOOOO THE ZEBRA

i fucking love this track btw it’s so good

THE HOSPITAL.

UR JOKING.

WAIT. WAIT WAIT WAIT.

THIS IS DURING PART 1??????????????

OH FUCK.

THE WAY THAT MY JAW IS ON THE FLOOR

MARLENE!!!!!

“and what if this was abby?” she’s asking the good questions here

depending on his answer, this is what is gonna seperate him from joel.

FUUUCK.

i wanna hear his answer bro

and collateral playing here?? so good

“i’m gonna go tell joel” HAHAHAHAHAHA YESSSS

“if it was me, i’d want you to do the surgery” well ya see abby you can make that choice rn, ellie cannot

oh god. oh god. the sirens jfc

THIS FUCKING HALLWAY MAN I’VE SEEN IT SO MANY TIMES

FROM SO MANY DIFFERENT PERSPECTIVES

oh shit

AND THEN BACK TO THE FUCKING CABIN

PLEASE DON’T WITH THIS BRO

I’M CRYING ALREADY

I HAD TO PAUSE AFTER HEARING ELLIE GO “joel..” LITERALLY BEGGING FUCKNSKABSKSBSKS

GODDAMNIT

SEEING HIM FROM ABBY’S POV THIS TIME??? INSTEAD OF ELLIE’S???

what if i vaulted off the side of a bridge?? what then???

FEELING THE VIBRATION IN THE CONTROLLER FROM THE FUCKING IMPACT IS ACTUALLY THE WORST.

THE WORST.

ellie’s cries :(

fuckin seattle day 1 i guess

showing me that again, and then making me play her immediately afterwards is so fucked

so fucked

jesus fucking christ man

hmm that weather chick talking aboutna storm was right maybe you should have paid more attention to that or sumn bc it’s COMING

jesus she’s fucking massive

like her arms are the size of texas jesus christ

WAIT THIS IS THE TV STATION

the math is mathing

omg manny and the teacher? so funny

the way she was like “hey manny” immediately put 2 and 2 together LMAO

the kids are so cute

the butterflies everywhere just remind me of sarah after watching the show :(

manny wants sumn spicy let’s see what’s up

i’m gonna get him something not spicy bc he had the audacity to spit on joel

i heard sam riegel

maybe yuri lowenthal??

that kinda sounded kike taliesin jaffe at the table where they’re playin a board game???

wait this is some tea he must know the girl w the ps vita bc he’s playing w it rn

and also he’s going to the seravena 👀

TRAVIS WILLINGHAM I HEAR YOU

omg there’s ppl talking about the seraphites at one table

there’s so many voice actors here that i recognize but cannot name it’s aggravating me

YEAAAA SAM RIEGEL I HEAR YOUUUU

talkin about a book w wizards and magic hahaha

abby uses pine scented soaps? slay

manny cutting the line

he would

abby walking around w a single lil burrito w her hulking arms is so funny

omg wait manny what’s the tea between mel and abby???

WAIT I HEAR SOMETHIN ABOUT A MLM RELATIONSHIP

LBBTQIA+ REPRESENTATION IS ALL OVER THIS GAME I LOVE

wait i totally missed hearing manny and his dad talk

FUCK

this is weird hearing about how people wanted joel dead while she’s eating a goddamn fucking burrito.

what the fuck

wait is this her room?? her room alone??

oh wait shit her and manny are roomates

i thought abby gave them the key to some room on base grounds

not THEIR room lmao

looks like manny’s a photography buff oml there’s supplies to develop film and different camera lenses

there’s a bunch of different movies and some anime cool cool cool

and they designate who does dishes what day lmao

THE BRA lmao

omg wait this picture above abby’s bed was in her dad’s office

holy fuck they have an OPERATION huh? jfc

that’s crazy

mel looks so pregnant :((

“why would it be up to owen” SLAY MEL

ARE THOSE COWS??

SOME MFIN MOO MOOS???

THEY HAVE SO MUCH FUCKING FOOD HOLY SHIT

HOLY SHIT I FOUND A COIN??

i fucking LOVE world building like this

i would spend SO MUCH time here if i could

there’s so many details it’s crazy

THE DOGS :(

WE’RE TAKING A DOG???

NOOOO DUDE :((

I’M PLAYING FETCH WITH A DOG OH MY GOD

THIS IS GONNA HURT ME LATER HUH??

BEAR IS SO CUTE :(

THEY HAVE SHEEP???

sheep… 😭😭😭

JOEL😭😭

also the way they’re setting up mel to be more of a pacifist? so good

makes what happens later worse

I HEARD LIAM O’BRIEN IN THE NPCS REPAIRING GUNS

okay woah this gun is different

kinda plays though

ANOTHER COIN?

WTF

how the fuck do they get all of these tires and ammo

this is insane

YEAAAA MEL IS PUTTING TWO AND TWO TOGETHER TEAAAAAAAA

owen still loves abby bro

he wants her and not the woman CARRYING HIS BABY

men 🙄

SERAPHITES???

OH SHIT

TRUCK CRASH

IS MEL OKAY???

IS THE DOG OKAY???

IT HASN’T BEEN 5 MINUTES OUT OF THE COMPOUND

okay i thought these coins were gonna be hard to find

kentucky coin!

there’s enough stuff to make a pipe bomb?? oddly convenient to point that out manny

there’s gonna be infected in here i feel it in my bones

the halloween stuff :(

that same goddamn frankenstein statue :(

i just heard infected bro i was so right

i forgot how intense this shit is

so it is manny that likes anime

i fuckin knew that shelf was gonna collapse

SHAMBLER???

i’m so scared to use my bombs around the dog

damn not a single hammer in here for me?

i love manny trying to get them to talk

GOD THIS IS GORGEOUS

MASSACHUSETTS COIN WOOO

i went to boston in the summer many years ago and it was awful

the heat was so bad and it was just amplified in the city

plymouth was super dope though

ANYWAY

OOOOOOOOOO seeing their perspectives on what caused the truce between seraphites and wlf to end

the kids killed some wlf, and so they killed those kids

and mel doesn’t like that at all, but manny and abby justify it and stand by it

interesting considering their perspectives on jackson

hmmmm

good stuff naughty dog

ABBY BOOSTING THE MAN UP

WE LOVE TO SEE IT

oh my god i forgot about abby’s fear of heights

ABBY’S STRONG HOLY SHIT

i don’t like how the music and ambience just changed when entering this boat workshop

WORKBENCH WOOO

stability please i sway like a goddamn tree

ooo and recoil this slays

JOEL DESERVED WORSE???

ya’ll need to keep your mouths SHUT around me

ANUTHA COIN BABY WHERE’S IT FROM?

😱😱😱😱 O-H BABY LET’S GOOOOOOO

W THE WRIGHT BROTHERS FLYER ON IT BIRTHPLACE OF AVIATION LET’S GOOOOOOOO

i’m from ohio if you can’t tell

REMINDS YOU OF OWEN’S BOAT?

unfortunately me too mel..

mel is better than i am bc i would never climb a rope pregnant jfc

SAFE CODE WOOOOO

INDANA COIN WOO

but where’s the safe?

SPOTTED

ooooo hunting pistol

AND A WRENCH LET’S GO

this is all ao fucking gorgeous jesus christ

so many seraphites!!!

DUDES IN TRUCKS TO THE RESCUE

awe abby helping mel :(

alice wondering where mel’s going :(

oh optional dialogue??

omg they’re sharing count of monte cristo haha

SAM RIEGEL AND MATT MERCER AND TALIESIN JAFFE?!!!!

MARISHA RAY?!!!

LIAM O’BRIEN???

CRITICAL ROLE CAST ALL TOGETHER HERE EXCEPT FOR TRAVIS AND ASHLEY 🥹🥹❤️

OH MY FUCKING GOD

THERE’S 2 PEOPLE BY THE RADIO THAT SAY THE SCHOOL HAS GONE QUIET

IT’S ELLIE

THAT’S SO COOL

IT’S THE PS VITA GIRL

HER NAME’S WHITNEY AHHHH

HOTLINE MIAMI

“really hard.. really good too” HOTLINE MIAMI HAHAHA

they’re being sent to a hospital huh?👀

seeing how all of this shit connects is soooooo crazy

OH SHIT IT’S NORA

holy fuckin shit this is a lot of bodies

oh shit wait danny was posted w owen

abby’s WORRIED holy fuck

god laura bailey is so good

are we ever gonna fucking see isaac jesus christ

i keep finding notes and hearing aboutnisaac but never seeing that bastard

LETTER

sgt. foster?? like brian w foster?? hmmmm

SOUTH CAROLINA COINNN

god the way the people in these cages scramble and turn away when you walk up to them :(

oh shit i actually will see isaac

HE’S been doing all of this to people??? goddamn.

this guy’s got his parts cut off :(

these poor people jesus christ

bro he’s scary

lead the first wave???

they’re fully gonna kill ALL of them???

“when are he and danny getting back?” oh she’s good

and he sees right through the bullshit haha

the salt lake crew? interesting

owen shot danny?? to protect a seraphite?? hmmmmmmm

abby don’t be so quick to judge you’ll be doin the same goddamn thing

3 years earlier!!!

so this is the same year as the birthday flashback!

damn she got buff FAST then bc she’s still fairly lean on muscle here

abby what’s ur workout regime?? i want my arms to look like that

i also still don’t like owen

again, i LOVE laura bailey

UGH i love the music

this is gorgeous

this reminds me A LOT of the music that played while going through the robert section by the docks at the beginning of part 1

the way that they’ve never been to an aquarium lmao

WAIT abby going through the aquarium while ellie goes through the museum :(

THIS IS GORGEOUS

UUUGH just the thought of swimming in that fucking tank is triggering my thalassophobia

oh god it’s THE boat

awe there’s kid stuff :(

this is fucking awesome

i wanna go to the aquarium and zoo now

max’s place

i’m getting heavy ish vibes

does going in here progress the game?? i wanna go upstairs!

it’s fuckin locked anyway haha

is the family infected? i hope not that’d be hella sad

seeing her perspective on things makes it so obvious of why she wanted to go after joel. abby’s a lot like ellie at the beginning of left behind. how she defended fedra. and now abby’s doing the same.

owen sees it as a “how are we better than them?” and he’s kinda right

into max’s place!

hey owen legally i cannot go into this elevator shaft bc i have VERY BAD memories associated with it okay? okay

holy shit wait this is awesome

SEA LION

WITH SPOTS

“don’t be sorry. talk to me” okay that was kinda sweet

and how he tried to break the tension by joking

IT’S ABOUT JOEL???

UR THINKING ABOUT FINDING AND KILLING JOEL WHILE KISSING YOUR MAN??

HUH??

THAT’S why she got buff as hell. she wanted to make sure that he couldn’t overpower her

so that she could have the upper hand

goddamn.

cool sequence!

alright i’m gonna end here bc it’s fucking 6am lmao

i’m excited and scared to get more into this! there’s still A LOT of game left to get through though haha

i’m not sure when i’m gonna play next, hopefully soon!

[milgram-tournament]

MILGRAM Best Song Tournament, Round 2, Match 4 TEAR DROP vs. BACKDRAFT

Propaganda for both options under the cut!

Propaganda for TEAR DROP:

"yuno kashiki enthusiast here anyways tear drop propaganda WE BALL

let's start off with the lyrics! holy fuck, i'm so glad yuno finally got to say what she's wanted to say!!

and she fully shows the fact that she does compensated dating through the lyrics ("the wanted wanting the wanted")

and even if it sounds like she's scolding the audience for the song, she's also scolding her clients! they only perceive her as a certain type of character and deciding that's all she is. She's upset that we decided based on how "naïve" she looked instead of her actual crime (to be honest, I could write a whole analysis into why her murder is perfect for her character anywa) and she doesn't care what will happen to her, she needs her opinions heard

also kinda rap section?? banger fr

THE VISUALS!! GOOD LORD THE VISUALS!!! THEY ARE SO BANGER!!! they're really pretty and gosh i literally don't know what to say, the scene where vampire is in the background and it transitions to yuno sitting on her bed... the pink tinted glasses (YES FUCK I LOVE THAT MAN!!!!) THE COAT!! THOSE INBETWREN SCENES i'm obbing

AND THE INSTRUMENTAL!! PLEASE IM BEGGING YOU ALL LISTEN TO THE INSTRUMRNTAL OF HER SONG THERES SO MANY SMALL DETAILS!! SIRENS, TEAR DROPS RAHHH THE CLAPS/CLICKING TJE TECHNO PIANO GUITAR??? THE INSTRIMENTS I CANT NAME I THINK THEY ALL HAVE SOME READON OF BEING IN THE SONG AND I WILL FIND OUT IN AN ANAKYSIS POST I JUDT LOVE IT AUEUEU

literally tear drop is the banger ever i listen to this shit religiously thank you for listening to my tear drop propaganda"

---

-Yuno’s voice. Enough said. -The imagery in the MV is brilliantly used, and doesn’t shy away from the horrors of Yuno’s line of work. -Vampire cameo!!! -Almost Lo-Fi vibes to the instrumental?? I can’t really explain it but it’s a vibe and I’m 100% here for it,

---

"For teardrop: The pink aesthetic in the MV as a whole makes it super nice to look at :D"

Propaganda for BACKDRAFT:

"Backdraft may be a minute shorter than Bring It On, but it’s still over three minutes long, and it makes up for the lost minute with a complex form. The “Pressure! Pressure!” might be the only part that truly repeats.

At the beginning, Fuuta is showing off, acting cool. Then the music slows down as he ponders his verdict. Then the music picks up the pace again and gets more and more frantic as the consequences of his actions catch up to him.

See that structure in the three distinct verses that sound nothing like anything else in the song: cool, contemplative, and “oh no, what have I done”.

The “chorus” (burn burn!) never stays the same. You’ve got the “cool” first chorus. Then you have the muted second chorus as it sinks in that Fuuta’s victim was a middle-school girl, which leads into the tense final chorus (which is twice as long as the first) as the victim and Fuuta both burn.

The instrumental and the spoken-word from the beginning combine in the end, changing the mood of the stanza from confident and showy to panicked and desperate.

And the words… You can hear the wordplay in the last stanza, even if you don’t understand it.

Appreciate this chaotic masterpiece of a song."

---

- Fuuta being very cocky at first before realizing how fucked he is (it is kinda funny) - The use of spray cans and overall graffiti symbolism, it’s so good - The multiple eyes and people off camera showing how paranoid Fuuta has become, it’s really well done without being obvious - The name backdraft meaning when a fire deprived of oxygen gets a sudden influx of it. A kind of metaphor for what Fuuta did. Then it being shown through a spray can explosion, aaaa it’s really cool! - Fuuta’s overall look changing, being more realistic on how he actually looks contrasting Bring It On’s idealistic version of himself - Es at the end!! The only time Es shows up in a prisoner’s MV!!! And they looks so damn cool - Also the entire eye thing referencing the audience, he perceives us lmfao

---

"Back draft is incredible because it not only has great visual symbolism with the use of the spray cans but its visual symbolism shows a progression from ‘Bring it on’. In ‘Bring it on’ the channelling is glorious , fuuta is surrounded by people and fuuta idealised himself (taller , better teeth , better posture ect) , the people he cancelled were portrayed as these powerful rpg monsters but now in back now the channelling is portrayed as vandalism a crime as destructive , the ally is empty we only ever see others as hands or his victim fuuta is alone and fuuta is no longer idealising his appearance and his mind is now portraying his victim as a harmless cutesy drawing. This shows a change in how fuuta views his crime between T1 and T2. It wasn’t glorious, it wasn't justified , he was at fault. The fire being recontextsied as something out of control , all consuming and out of control which is the opposite of how it was portrayed in ‘Bring it on’ we really see how the vote has changed fuuta."

"There are so many things in the song that show a progression "

-“ deliciously scorched till your mouth waters” > “I don’t want any more”

-fuuta spray paints the camera hen as the end es spray paints him/the camera

-the pressure graffiti changing

"There’s so many interesting details like the applause towards the start of the song , the personality in the subtitles like them going from “Burn , burn!” To “burn , burn?” But the pressure’s punctuation mark stayed the same:   “pressure , pressure!” , the way FIRE is the only word in full caps till LIES. The thumbs down fuuta does during “the fights up here! Come up to the ring and face me!” Part which is like his T1 art , the way the lighting changes from green towards the start and becomes red by the end (stop go colours) , The way fuuta is constantly interacting with the camera , spray painting it twice and kicking it."

"Backdraft actually makes amazing use of the camera , things are often shown from the (camera)audience’s perspective rather than us seeing the events removed. We are there like we are the ones doing it/looking through the eyes of the person doing it. When fuuta/the others spray paint the graffiti of his victim and the ice gorilla it's from the audience’s perspective , we don’t see them do it, we see it like we are doing it. When the spraypaint can explodes it's like it’s exploding in our face and then when es spray paints fuuta at the end they are spray painting the camera(audience). "

"Backdraft makes the most references to the voting system and uses it well to make the audience re-examine if they really are any different. Aren’t we using little information and inferences to hold people accountable for crimes we have no stake in? Aren’t we causing unintended harm? Aren’t we judging them from the safety of our screens? "

"And on a more silly level"

-ARTHUR CONANT GOES SO HARD IN THE VOCALS!!!! COME ON LISTEN TO BURN BURN AND TELL ME THIS MAN ISN’T GIVING IT HIS ALL!

-cat mouth fuuta :3 how can you not love cat mouth fuuta?

-lowpolydog designed amazing graffiti 

[ao3feed-crimeboys]

How to Ruin a Nation (a step-by-step guide)

by LostLavenderer

Wilbur would like a break. With college, his upcoming internship and his incredibly unhinged best friend, he already has enough on his hands. He would like a break. Instead, he gets powers.

***

Wilbur blinks, staring at the loaf of bread held out to him. “... Aren’t you going to tell me the price?” “You said you wanted a loaf of bread.” “Wha— for free?” “Sure.” Wilbur stares, mouth hanging open slightly. He narrows his eyes; he has a hypothesis to test. “... Cluck like a chicken.”

The man does it, loudly and proudly. Holy shit. So Wilbur can compel people. Somehow. With just his voice.

Noted.

***

or, everything has to start somewhere. Even a great nation like L'Manberg, built on powers and superheroes, has to start somewhere. It starts with Wilbur.

Words: 5410, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Dream SMP

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: Gen

Characters: Wilbur Soot, Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Phil Watson | Philza, Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), Alexis | Quackity, Toby Smith | Tubbo, Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Charlie Dalgleish | Slimecicle, Niki | Nihachu

Relationships: Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Kristin Rosales Watson/Phil Watson

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Sleepy Bois Inc as Found Family, Found Family, bc duh, Vigilante Wilbur Soot, yuh, Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings (Video Blogging RPF), Protective Wilbur Soot, Siren Wilbur Soot, but not siren in the mermaid way yk what I mean, Anarchist Syndicate on Dream SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Morally Grey, Alternate Universe - Spider-Man Fusion, not really but like... it's significantly similar lmao you'll see what I mean, Teacher Wilbur Soot, he's an intern but it counts, Other Additional Tags to Be Added