#is always so uncertain of in All of his relationships w/ women

[uwooyoungs]

//

[bingoboingobongo]

hi there! i love your work! i have a request for a cod fic💕💕

so i actually just learned there is ONE(1) all-female spec ops team in the world, and it's norway's jegertroppen("hunter troop"), so maybe how the 141(plus alejandro, rudy and könig) would react to meeting the leader of (or being in a relationship with) jegertroppen who is a no-nonsense, absolute bamf who can, in no uncertain terms, take care of herself

again, love your work and thank you for reading my random 2 am thoughts💕💕💕

task force 141 + bamf!reader

Characters: Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, John Price, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra, König, Valeria Garza

Warnings: explicit language, reader is referred to as a woman/girl

A/N: yes i realize like half of these ppl aren't part of tf141 hush. also this is why i love u guys bc i would've never learned about this w/o u anon. also srry these are short we have a lot of characters and not a lot of time

simon "ghost" riley:

alright so when ghost first met you he's pretty impressed ngl

like he knows how hard it is to be in special ops and he can only imagine how hard it is when you're a girl

like task force 141 is all men and most, if not all, of the people he works with on a daily basis are men

so yeah he has a lot of respect for you for making it to your position

he also has a lot of respect for your entire crew and he honestly really supports the idea of an all female special ops group

off topic but in the comics we see simon go through an attempted brainwashing (really pared down explanation sorry) where roba essentially tries to make him like a misogynist/rapist which obviously simon is disgusted by so yes simon is canonically a feminist

he's also in love with your strict no-nonsense style of work because it aligns really well with his

together you're pretty much unstoppable

literally the definition of a power couple

john "soap" mactavish:

alright so soap is honestly wowed the first time he meets you (and a little lovestruck too)

what can i say women in charge do things to him

he's definitely sorta intimidated by you at first though

idk it's like imagine ghostsoap but ghost is you

like he's always trying to fool around with you which maybe you tend to shut down

but honestly he doesn't mind and sometimes he'll keep going just to get a rise out of you/hear you talk

idk man he honestly just has so much respect for you

like if he could he would stop in the middle of an active warzone just to watch you work

also if you guys are dating he takes every chance possible to brag about you to anyone who'll listen

he just thinks you deserve a lot more recognition than you get

kyle "gaz" garrick:

alright so the first time gaz meets you he's honestly a little shocked

it sucks but women are a pretty rare sight to see especially in his level/field of work so an all female special ops team is like finding a needle in a haystack

that being said he has nothing but respect for you and what you do

he knows how bigoted people in the military can be and so he's glad to see that you've found a space for yourself where you're relatively unbothered by it

also it makes him happy to see more gender representation because it reminds him of his younger siblings and it makes him happy that they can have someone to look up to

like soap he also really likes watching you work

and when he's not fighting or falling out of helicopters he likes to just spend his time with you or watching you train or do menial tasks

maybe he's just too in love with you but you can make doing the dishes seem badass

john price:

alright so like pretty much everyone else here when price first met you the only thing in his mind was respect

he's read up on you and he knows a lot about your work and honestly he just really admires you

he's a leader and so he knows how tough it can be to have that job

plus to do that while being a woman in a male dominated space

yeah that earns you major points in his book

honestly he's hesitant to make a move because he doesn't want to feel like he's disrespecting you by initiating something romantic

but like you're literally such a badass motherfucker he really can't help but catch feelings

plus you're literally stunning so that's not helping the growing crush he has either

he loves to work alongside you whenever he can because you're literally inspiring on the field

plus he knows he doesn't have to worry about you or your forces which takes a lot of stress off his shoulders

alejandro vargas:

okie so like price alejandro really really respects you

again he's also a leader and he knows how taxing that can be which is why he respects you so much for it

i mean alejandro has a history with bamf women (valeria) so it's no surprise he falls for you too

idk man seeing a woman who can take care of herself just gets alejandro going

honestly you kind of remind alejandro of valeria but like in a good way

like not a "he can't get over his ex" kind of way but like a "damn he definitely has a type and his type is hot, badass women who really don't need a man but hopefully will date him despite it" kind of way

he'll also make sure that all of his forces treat you and your troops with the respect you deserve because he's not about to let you guys deal with that on his watch

that being said whenever someone is being a hassle he knows you can handle it yourself

rodolfo "rudy" parra:

alright so when rudy first meets you it's sorta like a mix between awe and also nervousness

like on one hand he's like "omg this woman is literally like the definition of badass motherfucker"

and on the other hand he's like "omg this woman is so pretty i hope she picks me omg can she tell im nervous gahdhshs"

you make his heart flutter what can i say

he's definitely a lot more shy asking you out than he might be with someone else

but that's because he really respects you and he doesn't want to come off as rude or disrespectful if he's too assertive

that being said when you do let him know you reciprocate his feelings he is over the fucking moon

he just can't believe that someone as independent and no-nonsense as you would choose to be in a relationship with him

like soap he will always find an opportunity to brag about you

and honestly he'll compliment you like there's no tomorrow

idk man he's just crazy about you like he respects you so much and so it's mind-blowing to him that you actually picked him

könig:

okay quick disclaimer but i've never written for könig so umm yeah

anyways könig is definitely really really impressed when he first meets you

you definitely make him nervous just because you're really good looking but he'll still talk/engage with you

even though it can be pretty nerve-wracking for him because of his social anxiety he'll suck it up because ultimately the anxiety of wrongly being perceived as a misogynist/sexist who won't talk to women is worse

but he's definitely a lot shyer and less inclined to talk to you outside of work

even though he really wants to

that being said if he's given enough time he will open up eventually

and even though you're no-nonsense you're more than happy to take things slow with him to make him feel comfortable

which honestly just makes him fall in love with you more

i mean i feel like this is obvious but you're definitely the "he asked for no pickles" couple

with you being the one saying it ofc and him being the one asking for no pickles

valeria garza:

ughh valeria is sooo hyped to see you oml

um don't ask how it works out with her being el sin nombre and you technically being in the military

love finds a way okay

anyways as a woman in a male dominated space herself it is so refreshing to not only see you, but to see your whole troop

honestly valeria definitely wishes she could have been a part of it

and tbh if she wasn't el sin nombre i could definitely see her considering joining

like in a way it kind of makes her sad because she knows how different her life would be if she had a group like this in mexico

also im just know realizing the connection to artemis' huntresses (is that what it's called?)

anyways valeria is not shy about flirting with you

like you tick all of her boxes

you're hot, you're a natural leader, you're more than capable of taking care of yourself

win win win

and if you let her she will treat you like a god damn queen

and also she absolutely loves seeing you work if she could she would just perch on some treetop with a pair of binoculars and watch you while you work

i realize that sounds creepy but um it's not

[throwaway-yandere]

A/n: ansy speaking, not her. Please. P l e a s e. Don't read ANY of the endings unless you've reached the end of the story in your own way.

Link to the fic.

In the public eye, it's known that you and Gepard were not the closest. Given how harsh his father was to you both, even the spouses were sure that you two had an unspoken rivalry. Expectations for greatness and undying loyalty for the Supreme Guardian had been ingrained so much that everyone thought you both always wanted to outdo the other to gain Mr. Landau's approval.

But that is far from the truth.

"(Y/n)."

"Yes, Captain?"

He looked away, cheeks and ears both red.

"I-Is my hand too cold?"

You smiled vibrantly.

Except for Serval and Pela, no one knew that you and Gepard had been dating for seven years. Lynx must've had a hunch, but you were both skilled enough to dodge suspicions. 

Perhaps that's exactly what made your relationship exciting. Loving him was quite an expensive vice, and you relished every second you squandered. He thought the same as you; your pervasive cheerfulness reserved for his eyes only was something he often mentally chastised himself for obsessing so much, but he can't get enough of you. Being his "vixen" had been a label you cherished ever since he confessed his reciprocation of your feelings, especially when he said that you have made him resort to discreet flippancy when he saw other men and women take an interest in you several times. 

You were certain he was obsessed with you as much as you were obsessed with him 

A secret this big would certainly give Mr. Landau a turn, but when the time comes, you wouldn't mind the slaps and shards of ceramic and glass you'd have to face as long as you get to be with Gepard.

Your hold on his hand tightened. This led you to notice how ringless his fingers were and you frowned. You know Gepard. If you don't tie him down, one of his many fans will beguile and win his unwavering loyalty. That was his nature. And you couldn't accept being "just" some near-servant he was forced to grow up with. 

"Not at all, no.”

He liked that response. Gepard flashed you a small lopsided smile that was incredibly attractive given how he rarely shows it to anyone.

"You don't have a ring on you..." You cast your gaze down. "Will we ever have a chance at getting married?"

Gepard ducked his chin, considering his words.

"W-Well, I don't know about that."

Your stomach dropped.

... You get it. You got it from then on.

Despite being together for 7 years– 7 YEARS– He will always prioritize his duties before you. You knew that was the core of his character– loyalty, and obedience– and it's likely the only real similarity between him and Mr. Landau. You’re used to it. However, seeing it confirmed again in this context hurts more than you thought it would. 

You dropped his hand, you doubt he notices the absence of your warmth.

"So… the future's uncertain."

"Of course."

You didn't speak. There was no reason to do so. You knew that he was aware of how much you didn’t like his response.

Admittedly, Gepard's hands were always cold. It'd be funny to utter false romances on how perfectly warm his hands are when it feels like he walked straight out of a freezer. Today, his hands were ice, and so was his heart. 

“(Y/n), I have something I’d like to tell you…”

Gepard gulped, ashamed.

“The truth is… You frighten me.”

…

…

…

"What…?"

You tilted your head, chuckling. His words didn't make much sense, especially when he was holding you so delicately. 

"What do you mean?"

"Perhaps the proper phrasing is that I'm... afraid," Gepard looked away. "Of what's in store for us in the future... Should we continue this route."

You blinked.

"We are not in the Ministry of Education. Be more concise."

"I'm afraid to love you as much as you love me."

...

...

"... That doesn't answer anything."

"I'm afraid that I'll lose my sanity, being so close to you like this, holding you like this" he tightened his grip. "I'm afraid I'd lose my– myself, my hold on reality, my–"

"Name." 

You let go.

"You're afraid that being in a relationship with me will end up getting you disowned. You're afraid of loving me because you have a duty you're obliged to uphold, especially since you're of noble blood and I am just an orphan your father picked up, right? You're afraid to get attached because growing up you've witnessed how little I'm worth. How I lived not like a human child, but a pawn, right? How– despite my skills– I will never be promoted based on my background and upbringing, yes?"

"(Y/n)..."

"Enough, Captain." 

You laughed cruelly. Your breathing rehearsed– your face stiff as a board.

"Let's just forget we ever had this talk."

“Through highs and lows, we’ll always prevail,

Hand-in-hand, we’ll conquer any trail…"

You kept a fixed gaze on Gepard as he continued to sit in his cozy office chair. The unsettling aura that permeated your entire existence didn't appear to trouble him too much. He was aware of why you had come, but he was unable to express himself as he let you in. 

"Gepard."

His suspicions were correct. You weren't here for official matters. This visit was personal.

And he is the one at fault here.

"(Y/n)."

"Don't." You shook your head. "Don't get me started."

"Well, what is it that you wish for me to say?"

"Say that you didn't want it." You spoke, unfettered. "Say that you don't want us to be siblings."

"I don't."

"Then why?" You laughed breathlessly. "Why did you let father– your father do this?"

"I don't– I didn't let him do it. It's just the way it is. They want you as the official third Landau, that is all."

"That's all I am to you? A rival to heirdom?"

"(N/n)..." He covered his mouth with his hand; his stare melancholic yet enraged. “You know it’s not true. Take it back.”

"But ultimately, our relationship means nothing but a waste of time." You shook your head. "It would've hurt less if you just rejected me early on. It wouldn't be this fucking painful."

"I know."

You raised your axe.

"Of course you do. You always were sharp." You scoffed. He gulped as the rough edges of your laughter struck a chord in his chest– Gepard had never heard you cackle this much. 

Strange how the same axe that used to bring him security on the frontlines now overwhelms him with obvious dread.

"At this point, I'm so convinced this pain I'm feeling right now– it's intentional. All a way to keep yourself amused under the guise of upholding the family’s orders."

"(Y/n)." he attempted to speak your name firmly, but there was a quiver by the end of it. "Stand down."

Gepard breathed in.

“I… I can always help you find a match–”

“YOU DON'T GET IT, DO YOU?! I DON’T NEED A MATCH. I JUST WANT YOU!!!”

Your breathing no longer seemed "rehearsed"– resoundingly jagged and feral. Should Gepard be lucky enough to have an outsider witness his final moments, they would've seen how you were crumbling– every inch displaying how you were expiring out of heartbreak.

He gave you half a smile as he approached cautiously. Gepard had always been keenly observant– able to deduce who true criminals were by a single testimony– and you do not have that advantage.

"(N/n)..." 

"Why…?" 

The glint in your eye as you hoisted your axe upward never left. 

"Did you ever... love me back?" You cracked. "In all our years together, sneaking out— carefully unscrewing your windows just to go wherever– did you ever think about us? Or... Or were you just kind this whole time? Were you just afraid of breaking my heart?"

Gepard shook his head, walking towards you with heavy footsteps. He took your shoulders and stared at you dead in the eye, his eyes watering.

"N-No...! No, no, I love you, more than you think. It’s why I’m doing this. I— I love you so much that I knew if I– If I let myself go," he gulped. “I might end up killing Dad.”

"Then why?" You sobbed, wiping your tears quickly to save face. "Why are you giving me up so easily?"

"(Y/n)... What I feel for you just isn't normal." He smiled crookedly. “No sane son would constantly dream about suffocating his father with a pillow just to be with someone. This isn’t right anymore. I-I don’t think I’m sane.”

Gepard cupped your cheeks. 

His hands were cold. As it always was.

"I want you all to myself and it's... I can't. I can't say it out loud. It feels like a crime against Belobog." He leaned in, touching his forehead against yours. Gepard closed his eyes, worried that if he continued to face you, he'd dissolve into nothing. 

The great Captain Gepard Landau, adored by many, was scared of himself.

"I'm always paranoid. I'm scared of watching you– watching you succeed. It's not a person I'm supposed to be. I'm your Captain, I should be happy whenever others imply your promotion but I'm not! I'm– I don't even understand why!!! I’m unhappy when other people have your attention– I just don't want to see that look of fixation in your eyes for another man– I don't want you to look at people like Sampo Koski over— over..."

… me.

With a perverse mixture of mischief and rivalry, Sampo manipulated circumstances that engineered chance encounters with you. He strategized himself in your path, feigning coincidental meetings while leaving a trail of subtle clues only you would realize.

Gepard despises acknowledging it, but he is quite certain that Sampo Koski's strategy of losing from the start is what led to your imminent promotion. Irritatingly, you don't seem to care for his creepy antics and his upfront need for your attention, even inside metallic confinement. In Gepard's eyes, your irritated grin showed that you were taking pleasure in Sampo's "comedic" performances. You don't appear to be bothered by Sampo. Gepard is not identical.

And to this, your dear Captain was starting to see his father when looking in the mirror. 

A bitter old man with little patience when another person touches what’s his.

Gepard breathed in shakily. 

"I don't... want… And that’s why I am not fit to be your lover. You deserve a life much better than this. A life where our opportunities are the same– and I cannot give you that Landau name, but my parents can."

He dropped his trembling hands as they led to his sides. Gepard faced the floor, ashamed with his conscience dirtied. It's as though he's dumping all his dirty laundry on you. No matter how much he voices how much these thoughts plague him, he doubts you understand the extent of his love.

But you do. And you feel it more strongly than he does.

"... You don't want to be ruined by love, that's all?" 

You sighed, ghost-like. 

"I see. Truly, you carry the will of Qlipoth."

Suddenly, you were back to being a model soldier.

Gepard refused to open his eyes.

…

…

…

It seemed as though he had forgotten.

How much you resembled his father more than he did.

A scream echoed throughout the vicinity. 

No one else heard it but you. Not even Gepard realized that guttural sound came from him. 

Always so rehearsed. So calculated. 

As Mr. Landau used to say: "With a strength like yours, (Y/n), it'll take two chops before you can take out a limb."

And he was right. He was always right about you.

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

You blinked slowly.

Time moved slowly. You grabbed the chopped wood on the floor. You tossed it to the side. It's a lot more moist than usual, and heavier as well, like an over-drowned rotting cactus. The temperature must've dropped again. You should consult Lynx about this later.

"Captain. There's not enough wood for the soldiers at the outpost."

"ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?!?!" Gepard screamed. Strangely enough, he sounded like he was in pain.

You blinked again. Why is the Captain so agitated? Is there an emergency?

"What's wrong, Captain?" You voiced out, awfully calm. A silent voice begged you to panic, but you were a soldier first and foremost. How will you protect the people if you're easily swayed by your captain's mood fluctuations?

Gepard shook, holding himself up against his desk. A surge of searing pain coursed through his body as the “chopped wood” was ruthlessly severed. The shock and disbelief enveloped him, no different from a fog. Collapsing to his knees, he clutched the mangled “stump” where his arm once was, blood staining his trembling hand.

Tears mingled with the beads of sweat on his forehead. He gasped for breath. Amid his physical agony, you stood tall, wordlessly threatening to consume him.

"(Y-Y/n)...! P-Please!!!" He yelped in pain.

"Did you hurt yourself? May I see?" 

"Y-You..." Tears rolled down Gepard’s face. “W-WHY DID YOU?!?!–”

"Don't worry. You've helped me train on my combat lifesaver course, please allow me."

You took a step forward, hands moist from the “snow”.

His non-dominant hand slapped yours away.

Why didn’t he use his dominant hand?

"D-DON'T!!!"

You stopped.

"Captain. You're being hysterical. Please take deep breaths."

"H-Hah... H-H-Hhahh… H-Hahh, why? H-Hahah…"

Gepard looked down again.

You both stayed there for minutes.

You stood with a worn axe in hand, a single “lumber” at your feet. In your mind, it was a simple task— chopping wood for your comrade’s warmth and comfort in the upcoming expedition. But Gepard's eyes revealed a different story. 

You observed his trembling form, his gaze fixed on the place where your swing had connected. What had you missed? You couldn't fathom why he seemed terrified. What had you failed to see? Innocently, you believed you were going about a mundane chore. The weight of the axe felt ordinary in your grip, the act of splitting wood a routine you had performed countless times. How could you have known the magnitude of what had transpired?

But he couldn't turn a blind eye to the truth as you tilted his head up, smiling vibrantly.

"I.. .... ..u."

All he could hear was the syllables “I” and “U.”

You knelt and kissed his cheek. He was wet, probably from the snow. Yes. The snow. Gepard was a clumsy man, he must've stumbled on his way to his office. Mr. Landau had always berated him for his unrefined movements, but you secretly thought it as endearing.

"I.. lo.. ..u. So much, Geppie." You grinned as you sloppily slid the axe in your possession to his remaining hand. "But you need to stop crying. You’re a soldier."

That sentence. It was just like hearing them out of Mr. Landau’s lips.

You pointed at yourself— your thigh— your leg.

"Dry your tears and help me chop wood, okay?"

It took him seconds before he met your gaze.

Your eyes were like staring at the blurry snow beyond the gates of the Administrative district. He knew there must be something there but all that gazed back was foggy and bottomless. The problem is, his vision too was starting to blacken.

He weakly pecked your lips.

“Okay… Okay…”

Gepard laughed mid-tears, his energy draining.

His cries reached a hauntingly high-pitched cry that echoed like metal against metal. His mournful wails never resembled wolfish growls but rather heartbroken cries. His speech resembles the guttural syllables "I" and "U" in an auditory expression of grief.

Like a monster whose flesh was stitched with a Silvermane Guard uniform, he grabbed the axe and began to chant mindlessly.

Gepard remembered Pela said something about this before.

‘When the body loses a substantial amount of blood, it can disrupt the delivery of oxygen to the brain, affecting its function and leading to altered mental states, including distress. Hypovolemic shock can also occur within a matter of minutes to hours after experiencing significant blood loss.’

That's right, that must be it. It was even in his lifesaver training course. As a Captain, how dare he forget about it? 

Gepard took the axe with his remaining arm, weakly swinging it as tears rolled in his eyes. His legs are giving up and he’s starting to feel queasy as the world whirls around him,

For a minute there– or the last minutes he would ever have– he finally gave himself the release he needed.

He's been a good child for too long. He couldn't say those three words when you needed motivation. He couldn't whisper when you asked for his relief. He couldn't scream it when you craved its solace.

At least now, he can confess his love when it counted. 

“I-I love you, (Y/n).” Gepard harshly took a deep breath as he lowered his arm. He's a soldier. He wasn't supposed to question the orders from his superiors, and right now, you were the only person he looked up to.

The clock struck 10:10.

“I love you, so, so much.”

An eye for an eye, and you were forgiven.

“In our home, you’re always free to stay…”

It was lunchtime when people started returning to their posts. Pela took a half-day, begging Serval to kindly deliver the papers instead of her due to a convention. This was something the now-promoted intelligence officer wished she had never done.

Pela wished she didn't force Serval to witness the gruesome sight of her brother embraced by his cold-eyed murderer.

She couldn't scream. For once, the vocalist had no smart words to say. She let herself run on auto-pilot hauntingly as though it was a mere volunteer job at the orphanage. 

Serval avoided staring at your chopped leg and Gepard's arm strewn to the side, neatly sitting together like lumber. Her breathing was abnormal as she clawed her skirt. None of this was real to her. None of this made any sense. 

"H-Hey... (Y/n)..."

You looked up.

"W-What… happened?"

"We were just chopping wood." You replied, monotone. “And then he felt sleepy…”

You were starting to feel tired too. You don’t want to stand up anymore. 

"Chopping.. w-wood..." Serval's voice cracked as she began to cry. "W-What... for...?"

"The soldiers at the outpost. We have an expedition. I suppose the captain was just too tired to move…"

"O-Oh dear Qlipoth— (Y/N)!!!" Serval felt bile rising to her throat. “GEPARD!!!”

Serval's heart pounded in her chest as she reluctantly sprinted, her steps quick and frantic. There you “sat”, cradling Gepard's lifeless form in your arms, a serene expression on your face.

With shaky hands, she held Gepard alongside you. Large tears soon splotched Gepard’s peaceful expression, painted with his older sister’s grief.

Your gaze met Serval's, and at that moment, the lifeless confusion etched across your face sent a sharp pang of pain through her heart. You spoke, your words tinged with innocence, unaware of how the dried red liquid soaking both your clothes was starting to turn brown.

Painfully, Serval misunderstood your words. In her mind, she envisioned a violent attack, a scenario where someone had assaulted both of you, clouding your judgment and leaving you lost in confusion like a wounded deer. Afterward, she thought of how you must’ve been mad about Gepard’s passiveness concerning their father’s decision, attacking him without much thought.

Serval's cries intensified. Her understanding of the situation clashed with your warped perception. 

Did she see you not as a perpetrator but as another sibling caught in an ambush? 

Or did she understand what happened, and simply wanted you to get away from the crime you had committed?

Temporarily, her focus was on you. Looking only at Gepard was too much to bear– like another half of herself was burned to sunder.

“Shhh, it’s okay, it’s okay.” Serval smiled warily and replied in an overly pert tone. “I’ll get a mop— w-we’ll clean this mess, okay? You didn’t do it. You did what you can. You did nothing wrong…” 

Serval sobbed.

Either way, she won’t lose another important person in her life.

Not again.

You tilted your head, eyes slowly fluttering shut. 

“W-Why are you crying, Serv?”

“(Y/n), i-it’s okay! C-Calm down, calm down. Things just happen. I’ll help you okay? Shhh, d-don’t cry, don’t cry, I'm here… I won’t let you leave me.”

“... Who’s coming to take me away…?”

“N-No, no… I won’t let it happen. They don’t even have to know you were here. P-Pass the mop now, shhh…”

She was speaking to herself more than she was speaking to you. 

Even when she is her only conversation partner, Serval was a lousy liar.

But despite all those lies, she knew that she would never recover from losing Gepard.

“Together, we’ll face each passing day…”

Your eyes fluttered open, your body drenched in cold sweat. 

You’re out of the back alley.

You breathed shakily. You’re free. And yet, a lingering sense of fear clings to your senses. Gasping for breath, you found yourself in an unfortunately very familiar room. You didn’t know what time it was, but the soft glow of moonlight casting a gentle light across the hospital walls told you what you needed to know. And there, by your side, sat Serval who held your hand the entire time, a mix of relief and concern etched upon her face.

"S-Serval?" Your voice trembled as you whispered her name, still reeling from the remnants of that nightmare.

Serval's eyes widened in surprise, her voice laced with a hint of guilt. "You're awake! Oh, thank– I didn't know what I would do if I lost you."

Not you too.

She continued. 

“Seriously, why did you try to escape?”

Her hold on your hand tightened. 

Serval’s hands were cold, just like Gepard’s.

“Don’t you know how worried sick I was?” Serval’s voice was airy as if she didn’t want anyone else to hear her concerns. “I thought you and Sampo eloped. Not to mention this whole event about a murder happening at 10:10– I genuinely thought you were dead when we found you lying down near the Golden Theater at that time!”

She took a deep breath.

“I thought you were dead. I genuinely thought I’d lose another sibling.” Serval cried as she pulled you closer, her head now resting on your shoulder. “Don’t scare me like that again!!!”

You gulped, feeling something stuck in your throat.

“Were… you singing?”

“Ah!” Serval’s eyes widened. “Yes, yes I was.”

“I’m sorry, was it too cheesy?” She laughed quietly. “Lynx, Pela, and I are still working on it. We were hoping to perform it for you once you got better. Dunn was even willing to help out.”

This is wrong.

This is wrong.

This is wrong.

You don’t deserve her kindness. You don’t deserve their affection.

Your obsession with Gepard Landau was consuming, swallowing you whole. With an already fragile mind– he had effectively shattered your mental state, no matter how merciful he had done it. 

Human unpredictability is a terrifying variable. Who would’ve known that the unofficial Landau could lose themselves in blind rage and desperation? A hole so deep, you haven’t realized the axe you wielded severed his arm. But such a tragedy was only the beginning. Gepard tore your leg off your body in the process as well. 

Most importantly, unable to control both physical and mental anguish, you took his life, extinguishing your raison d’etre.

Finally, the lines between reality and delusion crispened.

In his final moments, what was he thinking about? Why was he smiling as you ripped away his arm? Why did he still hold you so gently? Why did he...

You cried.

“I killed him.”

You shook.

“I killed him, Serval!” You grasped a handful of the hospital bedsheets, sobbing wildly. “I killed your brother!!!”

You couldn’t face him. A murderer couldn’t face the family of their victims with a heavy conscience. You couldn’t see her eyes after this. You want her to gouge them out for you.

…

…

“Hah.”

But amidst that silence, you heard a soft somber chuckle.

“I know.”

You snapped your neck towards her.

“What…?”

“I know. I know you killed Geppie.” Serval spoke, emotionless. “And I won’t ever forgive you for that. I’m sorry, (Y/n), but you know how long it takes for me to let go of past grudges. It was so easy for you to just take my brother off this world... Don't you at least owe me an explanation!? I don’t want another "I blacked out" as an excuse. So don’t bother if you can’t give me a good honest answer.”

She’s right.

You can never give her a good honest answer. You can either give her a good one or an honest one– they’re mutually exclusive in this scenario.

You gulped. “I-I’m so sorry, Ser–”

“But,” she chuckled, full of self-loathing. “I grew up with you. You were always there for me, as a servant, friend, my dad’s favorite, my brother’s lover, or my sibling.”

Serval took a deep breath.

“You’re still our third Landau. I don’t know how I feel about you, but what I do know is that I need to keep you alive.”  

“B-BUT—”

“I’m not the only one who will lose another sibling. Lynx will too.”

Serval shook her head, placing a finger on her lip as she closed her eyes.

“I should’ve locked the door to the basement.” She repeated those words with more conviction. “I should’ve locked the door to the basement. You wouldn’t have remembered everything if I just asked Molly to double-check the locks.”

You slipped your hand away from hers.

“What do you…”

You can no longer form complete sentences and Serval won’t let you do so either way.

“Dr. Kang Tu’s medicine has worn off quickly, huh? Maybe I can get Pela to find better connections. She knows people with a Ph.D. in medicine or pharmacy or something, right? It shouldn't be too hard. Maybe I can ask Dr. Kang Tu if it's possible to up the dosage— surely there are a ton of customers who aren't too satisfied with this therapy device. Heck, maybe I can tinker with it for a little. My engineering degree isn't worth dust. Maybe I can adjust the settings just a bit better. Yeah... It'll be fine. I can work this out. I'll just have to—"

You stared blankly as Serval talked to herself. If there's something worse than watching her lie, it's to watch her be incredibly earnest about something vile and wrong.

"Serval?"

"Yeah, I can do that, no sweat!" She laughed out loud. Her pupils were dilated, as though her self-encouragements can make her run a mile. "Yeah, I can do this. Dad may think I'm useless but I’m the only one who can save his favorite kid. Sure, I’m an ex-engineer from the Technology Division, but I’m also the only one that can still protect– preserve this family."

Her prolonged rants were unnerving as she fumbled with what was in her bag. 

Suddenly, remembered all the "experiments" she had done to you when you were tied up in her basement. The stuffy air, the strange electrifying devices, the cables, the sockets that connect to both your temples-- the flickering lights that made you pass out and wake up in a never-ending cold sweat.

Suddenly, you remembered why you wanted to leave.

"What are you—"

You finally shared a gaze.

Your heart dropped.

Her eyes were empty. Cold. Yet it squinted as she wore a large smile. Too large to be considered normal. But this was the same sight you'd see whenever you woke up. And it never fails to make you worry despite the pain you endured.

Serval Landau is broken, yet she wanted to be the one to "fix" you like a good older sister. 

And it's all your fault.

Like all Landaus, there's no stopping them once they've made up their mind. A “family code of conduct”— one that you had once followed before.

“I’m sorry, (Y/n).” Serval smiled as she turned something on.

The mobile amnesic therapy meditation device looked like it belonged naturally in her hands.

“But I still need this happy family to work. If not for Gepard, then for Mom and Lynx. They’d be too heartbroken if they knew the truth.”

You started to hear that familiar radio static again.

“So forget everything that happened, okay?”

[havin-fun-imagining-twd]

What were your nightmares about?

When - right after It was a pragmatic cigarette, so we’re in season 2 at the Greene’s farm while Carl recovers, the family mourns Otis’ death, and the search for Sophia continues.

Genre - you get some backstory to that little reveal in the aforementioned chapter. The subject matter (death of a parent and self-defense) may be upsetting.

Relationships - familial via you and your big brother, slow burn will-be-romantic-one-day via Daryl x You, and platonic via you and your friend Glenn.

Pronouns - none used, but female is strongly implied by some of the subject matter.

TWs - some language, aftermath and discussion of death of a parent, aftermath and discussion of killing in defense, brief allusion to that fact that situations like break-ins may lead to sexual assault (on women in the house). Also, Daryl is noshing on a can of tuna for breakfast so read with caution

Word count - shorter than the last chapter, slowpokes. If you’re new, you can become slowpoke today by heading to the Masterlist!

References - I’ll link the pertinent stories in the morning, kiddos

All the muscles in your body had felt stiff and weighed down, but you pushed through it, unwrapped yourself from your brother’s arms, stood up, and began to step toward the door.

Your speech was slurred and slow. “Let’s dig the graves. I’ll do his.”

“We ain’t burying that piece of shit next to her.”

The words came out of your mouth, but you felt like it wasn’t you speaking. “I killed him, I’m buryin’ him, Shane.”

“Y/N. Y/N, we should oughta piss on his corpse and drag it out to the main road for them to rip apart.”

Trembling, you leaned against the wall and stood there in silence. “I-I don’t want that,” you finally stammered.

Your brother had started to cry again, and had his face buried in his lap while he tugged at his hair. “It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s okay,” he kept repeating in a whisper. “It’s okay, it’ll be okay, we’ll be fine.”

You stayed where you were, uncertain of what you were feeling and uncertain if you had the energy to move. If you had to put a word to it, it was as if you’d short-circuited.

“She’d never forgotten to lock it all the way before,” you heard yourself say. “She, she’d always locked it and made sure it made the snappin’ noise after we left, especially after what happened down the way.”

“Cockroaches always find a way in,” he growled to himself. Then he’d wiped his eyes and stood back up. “This is prolly the same guy who did our neighbors in last week. Y/N, are you alright?”

“I don’t know.”

“What you did you saved my life. Your own too and who knows who else’s, if this is the same guy. ”

“I know.”

“I’m so sorry you had to—” he cut off and looked over at you, expression hard but somehow soft at the same time. “It was in defense, you know that. You were saving somebody else and savin’ yourself, and this ashole either ki—” Again, he’d cut off, unable to say it at first.

Slowly, he managed to get it out. “He killed the dog, and either killed our mother, or would’ve, if, if it was that she hadn’t already died, I don’t know.” He was trying to work it out. It simply didn’t make sense. “It must be that she was sick already, that’s...that’s the only thing that makes sense as to why she turned!”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. Opened them, looked at you. “You were not in the wrong, Y/N. Do you understand? You didn’t do nothing wrong, you saved our lives.”

You stared into space and breathed slowly through your nose. Not that you could avoid thinking about it, but you tried to avoid talking about what you yourself had just had to do. “Thank you for bein’ the one to put her down.”

Putting down family members who’d turned was the fucking worst. You were grateful that he’d been the one to put the bullet in your mother’s head. After you’d put a bullet in that man’s.

Your stomach knotted. “Mama didn’t even seem sick yet. We was, w-we was barely gone three and a half hours. So if you get killed when you’re sick, you still turn?” You leaned your head against the wall and stared up at the ceiling. “When did she even catch it? And how? Unless she...”

You were starting to realize it. Your pulse sped up, your tears welled.

“She m-must’ve...I don’t, um...” He was starting to realize it, too. What that may have meant for the two of you.

“If she somehow caught it, we probably have it, Shane.” You covered your mouth and stared into space. “We prolly gave it to her in the first place.”

His voice sounded hoarse and low. “We don’t got symptoms.”

“We may not have contracted it. We been—we’ve been very lucky so far. Or we j-just ain’t feeling it yet, I don’t know enough about virology.”

If it was even a virus. Virus was assumed but one knew, not even the CDC officially, according to the last news reports. The major stations were gone, but there was one local station still up and running five-ish days ago, so you’d last heard.

The grid was down in most places, anyway. The emergency broadcast station was what was keeping most people from being in the dark, if they had crank or battery-powered radios.

“She had to have...maybe she—screw it, maybe she got it from when she went out with her broken ankle and all a couple days back. Probably helpin’ out the Jacksons down the road, or maybe she gave more food or some shit to another—” He spit out the last words with so much anger. “To another drifter, and they got her sick!”

“I didn’t think it was spreading no more. That’s been over and done with for what, two weeks?” Those who caught it had already died and turned. “Unless it...might it could’ve mutated already?”

“I thought it weren’t spreading no more, too, so I don’t know, Y/N, I just don’t know.” He took a slow breath in. “So, it takes,” he paused again to run his fingers through his hair and close his eyes. “It takes up to 48 hours after exposure to show symptoms, and if you’re sick, you kick it within another forty-eight.”

“So we wait the forty-eight, see if we start to go downhill.” You nodded, still not fully understanding that you may be dead within two days, and you strained to get yourself off the wall and start moving again. Your throat grew tight as you said, “In the meanwhile, we need to bury them, clean up the mess.”

“The Grimes,” he whispered suddenly.

A flicker of desperation pushed through. Carl.

The Grimes were all you had left of life before, now that your mother was gone, too.

It started when the state had come and taken away your fosters that hadn’t caught sick at school and died. Your middle sister and her family had caught the sickness and turned, too. Your eldest sister and her partner had offed themselves, probably because they’d caught it, too, if their turned bodies reaching from their nooses as Shane had struggled to describe were any indication.

And now your mother and the dog were dead right along with them.

And you’d just killed somebody.

But if you and Shane were sick, you both would die, too. Lori and your Carl would be alone. And Rick—oh God, Rick, you’d realized—please no, no, no, no, if you and Shane were sick and died, what would happen to him? He was still in a coma. Lori couldn’t risk herself getting him out of the hospital, not when she was all that Carl had left!

No.

No!

You and Shane couldn’t be sick. Nobody had survived the fever yet!

At least, that’s what news stations and stories from other survivors had said so far. There’s always hope, but...

“I’ll go, um, I’ll go later, tell ’em through their back window,” he muttered. “Maybe they can try—no, they shouldn’t go to Atlanta on their own, not if we can avoid it. And we can’t risk infectin’ Rick, we—” He cut off and swore. “We need to wait until we know.”

“We’ll both go tell Lori and Carl,” you hushed. You wanted to see your first (and last) nephew one more time, just in case it really was the last time. “And it’s only two days, Shaney. What another two days?”

Your brain felt numb.

Earlier that day, you and Shane had gone and scoped out the hospital first, and on the way back scrounged around for last-minute supplies before you were all heading to the Atlanta safe zone.

Mama hadn’t wanted to go, said places with martial law were just as dangerous.

Your throat tightened again as you thought about your mother. To what happened when you and Shane had come home, saw the garage door busted.

Thoughts then drifted back to the last things that were said before you two left. Wait...

“Shane?”

He looked at you, still kneeling on the ground, hands on his hips, eyes bloodshot and teary.

“She was sayin’ how she hadn’t stepped outside in over 24 hours.”

His brows furrowed as he stood up and began to pace, eyes glued to the floor. “She said that before we left, when we was—” With a shake of his head, he did that thing where he smiled because he was angry at himself. “God damn us, the last thing we did was argue with her three hours before she fuckin’ died.”

That’s when you’d very suddenly and finally begun to cry.

Yeah. You and Shane had a stupid argument with her before leaving. The dispute had come from a good place, but try explaining that then, after you two came home to find the boarded up, secured-so-you-thought-house broken into, the dog dead, and your mother turned.

Your brother kissed your head and squeezed your arms a moment before resuming his pacing. “Then we just gotta wait the one day. There weren’t no other place she coulda caught it from, since she hadn’t left.” Then he crouched down and tugged at his hair again. “Okay. 24 hours. And if we start to get sick...”

You wiped your nose with one sleeve, wiped your eyes with the other. Buried your face in your hands. “Okay.” One day to see if you were goners.

“Y/N, if it’s only one of us,” He swallowed and grimaced. “No, even if it’s both, we’ll...w-we’ll do what Ma wanted, okay?”

Your mother waited. Helped manage the fever and symptoms, but waited until the person died naturally. If reanimation occurred, that’s when she acted, or would desire you to act if she was the sick one. Not before then.

She had hope that someone could survive it, develop immunity or somehow already have immunity.

“We’ll do what Mama wanted. Okay.”

Twenty-four hours.

For some reason, the main thought in your mind at that moment was how you wanted to look around to find the cat. He was probably hiding under your bed.

But instead, Shane ended up holding you tightly for several minutes until you stopped shaking. Kissed your head again. Then he pulled back and wiped his eyes. “Let’s get the shovels, Y/N.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

You ease out of your memory. Blink up at the skies and stare at the moon as some gray clouds make their way over it. And after you whisper I’m sorry as you tuck that memory away, you remind yourself that the action you’d needed to take was in defense of another and of yourself.

Part of it, yes, was in anger and maybe even revenge, but without you doing what you did, you and Shane wouldn’t be here. Lori and Carl may not be here. Who knows who else wouldn’t?

All this aside, too much thinking before bed is so stupid! And here you are mucking around in a very bad memory. That’s what you get for trying a cigarette, you suppose. And of all people, Daryl Dixon had to remind you that nicotine is a stimulant.

That scotch Dale mentioned he had would’ve been smarter. More ‘pragmatic.’

Idiot.

Whatever, it’s time to head back. Early day tomorrow.

Carefully, you undo your sling and make your way down the rocks, coughing from the stupid cigarette. You really do need your inhaler. Ugh, thank God the day is over.

It’s just that you don’t expect to find Daryl finishing up a cigarette against a tree maybe ten yards away.

“Hi?”

“Hey.”

“Glad I didn’t pee like I planned to,” you comment, mainly joking. “Why aren’t you back with the group? You didn’t have to wait for me.”

“Was havin’ me another smoke,” he grunts, standing up. “It took a while.”

“That’s twenty-five cents, bud.”

He just added the new rule that white lies cost a quarter, and he just told a white lie.

“I did have a smoke, though.”

“Hmph. Sneaky. Just mind yourself now, ’cause I will wrangle a quarter out of you.”

“You can try.”

The rest of the walk back is silent, and he keeps his comfortable distance as always.

When you’re back at the tents, you notice Shane poke his head out of your green camo tent, one earbud in.

You head into the RV to use the toilet, wash up, use your puffer to open your lungs, and grab one of the bottles of painkillers plus medical wrap for Shane’s ankle and the icy hot rub for your shoulder.

Once back in the tent, you’re close to crashing.

Shane waves off your attempt to massage his lower calf to help alleviate some of his ankle pain, and instead gives you a very firm shoulder rub.

You sigh when you at last stop feeling that dull ache in the front and back of your shoulder thanks to his work. “You win best big brother in the camp.”

“Do I get a prize in the mornin’?”

“You get to poo in an RV and drink powdered decaf, most like.”

A half-hearted chuckle escapes him, and he lets you know, “Rick and I are fixing to do some gun safety and shooting practice tomorrow before we set up the sweep, after I take Carol to check the highway again.” Under his breath, he mutters, “Poor woman. That shit ain’t fair.”

Wasn’t fair in the slightest. “Just let me wrap your ankle good before I head off, we’re leavin’ early.”

“The pharmacy run?”

“The creek. Daryl and me.”

He pauses. Bends his head. “It’ll do Carol good, at any rate. Keep a walkie on you, don’t be ashamed to put your safety first. Run if you gotta.”

You offer him a small smile as you scooch over to your sleeping bag and lay down, thoroughly tired and not caring about changing your clothes just yet. Might as well sleep in what you have on.

“And Y/N? I’m sorry that I brought him up earlier.”

“I forgive you. I know why you did.”

“You ain’t a bad person, please get that. You’re one of the good ones.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The soil by your home was rocky and full of roots, which always made keeping the garden difficult. Yet somehow all three graves were dug in what seemed to have taken no time at all.

The dog was buried with his favorite toy. Mama was buried next to him.

Shane and you wished you could have buried her in the cemetery next to Dad, but that wasn’t feasible. Instead, you two changed her into her favorite dress and boots, complete with her sun hat before laying her to rest.

Then Shane had gone out front and down the long gravel driveway until he was off the property, by the road. He’d dug the man’s grave for you out there while you kept watch for the any sick ones or drifters.

He’d gotten it into his head that it was on him that you had to take a life, citing how that man had gotten the jump on him, so it was on him to dig the grave and not you.

You two would need to take the trip to Rick and Lori’s soon, after the man was in the ground.

But maybe you’d both clean up the mess in the house first.

Besides, you still hadn’t found the cat.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Next thing, you are waking up to soft noises outside the tent. One was what sounded like the RV door and the creaking when somebody went down the steps. The rest of the noises are...yeah, that sounds like Glenn. He okay?

You could use a break from the uneasy, disjointed dreams anyway, plus you’re thirsty, so you grab your water bottle, music player, and unzip the tent flap.

He’s seated by the fire with his head in his hands. You sit beside him.

“What were your nightmares about?” you quietly ask.

“The bloated geek with the gills.”

“Want me to check for bites or scratches again?”

His head shakes. “I already did like 4 times. Had just about everybody check for me, too.”

“Dale’s got scotch hidin’ somewhere,” you hint, (mostly) joking.

No reply comes, you and he simply stare into the fire and listen to the crickets.

“Why did you get up and out of bed? You didn’t have to, I’m cool.”

“The coolest, I know.”

He manages a small chuckle and thanks you for getting up to check on him.

“You’re my friend, buttface. You’d do the same,” you remind him.

“Well, yeah. But if you want to go back to sleep, I’m cool to head back in. You’re leaving first thing, aren’t you?”

“I’m good.”

Glenn glances over. Elbows you. Softly, he asks “What were your nightmares about?”

“The guy who, um...” He knew the basic gist of the story already, so you didn’t have to explain much at all. “Remember when we played I never?”

Your friend thinks for a moment, and has a look of recognition. He bows his head. Then, he nudges you by way of offering comfort. “You did what you had to, dude. Plus, I’m not actually cool to head back to sleep yet, no way.”

As you finally return his nudge, he picks up a stick and pokes it in the fire. “I just can’t forget how Amy actually enjoyed the grape-flavored ones from those juice barrels we played it with.”

“Ain’t it wild we give that sugar water to children?” You grab a stick, too.

A minor, short-lived stick war ensues, lightsaber sound effects performed very quietly so as not to awaken anybody.

In short order, you both are back to absently poking your sticks into the embers. Glenn stares and sighs. “You thinking what I’m thinking, Y/N?”

“Marshmallows.”

“Oh my God, yeah,” he snorted, appearing much less on-edge than when you’d first joined him.

You two end up listening to music to relax. Ramble On is one of his favorites, so that was replayed twice before you both begin to nod off.

“Dude, can I borrow this?” he mumbles about the mp3.

“Knock yourself up, I’m back asleep already.”

Why is he giggling? “Knock myself up.”

Ohhh, got it. “I’ma go sleep, buttface,” you groan, a smile on as you stumble back to your tent.

Ow, you bump your stitches on the way down to your sleeping bag. At least your shoulder feels better compared to it, right?

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

You knew that face. Or at least, you thought you may have.

“He looks kinda like Mr. McLennon.” Fuck. “He ain’t one of the sons, is he?”

Shane was resting against his shovel and staring at the the man’s corpse. He peered at the face, but his expression revealed nothing. He seemed to frown, shaking his head slightly.

“Couldn’t say,” your brother responded quietly. “Might could be, but I ain’t sure.”

“‘Randy.’”

“What?”

“Mama had been talking to Mrs. M on speakerphone a couple months ago. I think I overheard about one of her boys movin’ back to the area, heard what sounded like ‘Randy.’ Is one of them named Randall?”

Shane had coughed in disbelief. Stared long and hard at the body as his eyes grew moist and his jaw tightened. “I only knew the middle brother, but we weren’t too close, um...” He then shook his head and fluffed his hair. “Who he was don’t matter. And Walt and Melly McLennon were good people, too damned upright for one of theirs to, to shoot Ma’s dog, shoot her, then almost kill me.”

Then he rapidly looked back and forth from you to the man’s body. He fluffed at his hair, squeezed his eyes shut, then hissed, “And three guesses what this piece of trash would’ve done to you if—”

And just like that, he’d snapped and almost bashed the man’s skull with his shovel. You’d stopped him.

You hadn’t wanted to stop him. In that loud, angry, raging part of your mind, you’d thought that ‘Randy,’ if it even was him, ‘deserved’ it. Yet, you still found yourself stopping your brother.

“Shaney. Shaney, Mama wouldn’t have wanted that, she was too good.”

Your brother, panting, furious, heartbroken, everything-at-once, finished digging and ended up throwing his shovel as he let out a sob.

You started to drag the body. Shane helped you carry him the rest of the way.

And you don’t recall when, but you two ended up back at the house, laying down on the ground in the backyard by your mother’s grave and staring at the clouds. You’d never felt so fortunate to have a fence and live away from town as you did then. The soft cooing of the chickens (the ones which hadn’t been stolen the other week) combined with the light sound of the breeze. It was calming.

“Thank you,” Shane murmured.

Your bottom lip had immediately wobbled. With effort, you managed an ill-thought joke, “I guess it’s cool y-you ain’t dead.”

“You saved my life,” he’d whispered to you yet again. And he spoke very, very gently when you started to break down. “Honey, shh. I know it feels awful.” He hadn’t called you ‘honey’ since you’d hit puberty. “I’m sorry it came to that, for what you had to do.”

“Just tell me how long until the worst of it stops?” Knees bent up, your throat grew tight and tears began to stream down your cheeks. “I think I’m gonna be sick, I-I keep replaying the look on his face and, and the s-sound of his voice. Fuck, it’s only been an hour and I’m drownin’ here!”

“It’ll get easier. It’s the first few days you need to get through, take it one hour at a time. I’m...” he trailed off. “I still think about the guy I killed. But I did what needed doing. Others are alive because of that hard, difficult choice I made.”

He then slowly drilled in: “And right now, you and I are alive and you ain’t been raped—no, you know what men like that do, Y/N. If he didn’t kill you outright after he did me in, that’s statistically what would’ve gone down. He probably would’ve done the same to our mother,” his breath caught and he held down another sob, “Had she not gotten a bullet in him first, too. But it didn’t end that way, because of the hard, difficult choice you just had to make.”

“But that’s the—it-it didn’t feel like a choice, and when it was over, it—fuck—it felt easy!” Your breathing got faster and you curled onto your side. It wasn't long before you were crawling to the flower bed and heaving up lunch.

Your brother rubbed your back while you got sick and didn't stop even after you were done and angrily cried out, "Why was killing someone easy? Why didn't I feel nothing?"

“Honey, that was the adrenaline. That’s all that was. Hey, no, shh, you ain’t a bad person, it was adrenaline, it’s just a necessary response to that kind of thing. Think of it like a switch that flips. Shh, breathe, slow your breaths. When it comes down to it, it ain’t that killing is easy. Killing ain’t easy. Never can be. But savin’ somebody’s life can, and that was the difference.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

A particularly loud bird wakes you up.

Shit, man. You haven’t had dreams like this since the day after the quarry camp got overrun. Good Moses, your pulse is going haywire and your ears are ringing.

You sit up and rest your elbows on your knees for a few minutes as you let your head hang down while your heartbeat and breathing goes back to normal.

A croaking sound comes out of your brother. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

He sits up with you, eyes squinting as he tries to shake off the sleep. “What were your nightmares about?”

“Randy.”

His arm goes around you. “Y/N, We don’t know if it really was him,” he whispers. “What we do know is that your actions weren’t bad. Repeat that as often as you gotta.”

“What I gotta do is pee and hopefully go number two before it’s time to head out.”

“Well, the sun’s gonna start risin’ soon, anyway. Let’s you and me carpe this diem.”

Before you two do anything, you both dry-swallow a dose of painkillers. And yes, it was a horrible idea, they taste vile!

Next up, Shane, started on his morning exercises and you decide that, on second thought, you might as well wear the egg-covered clothes one final time. You were heading out with Daryl, and he out of everybody here won’t mind you wearing 36-hour dirty clothes.

Plus, you’ll have bug spray and icy hot and deodorant on.

Still drowsy, you walk (stumble) your way to the fancy new Hyundai to grab food. Ooh, there’s a slim packet of honey-roasted peanuts, sounds good.

If you found Sophia, she would—sorry, When you find Sophia, she will— need food, too, so you take a few more things to pack in your bookbag. You also pack up your bloodied messenger bag with you to scrub in the creek.

“Be smart out there, weirdo,” your brother tells as he gives you a lazy, half-asleep wave while heating up powdered decaf (hey, you called it) in a tin mug by the fire. “Don’t die, don’t get bit. Love you.”

After quietly heading inside the Greene’s home, you kiss Carl on the forehead and let Lori and Rick know that you were going “Hunting with Daryl.” That was enough that they understood it was part of the search, and finally, you go back outside and make for Daryl’s tent. He set his space up away from the others.

You gather your thoughts on the walk over to Daryl’s tent, tossing up a prayer and then whispering out loud another uncertain I’m sorry.

And when you get close enough, your foggy thoughts clear away as you see that he’s eating directly out of a can. With his fingers.

Is that tuna fish?

“G’morning, Daryl.”

“Hey. Um, mornin’.”

You are only teasing a little as you spritz bug spray on his calves when you comment, “Nothing like breakfast tuna, friend. Ready to head out?”

“Yeah, lemme just—” and he tips his head back to scrape the remaining morsels into his mouth. He then tosses the can into his tent and licks his fingers (why you wished he’d lick them again, you’ll ignore. Well, you ignore it until you’re replaying in your head Daryl licking his fingers off. What can you say, his hands are nice and strong).

“Okay, all set.” He shoulders his crossbow, ties his knife on. Gestures with his head toward the tree line. “Let’s get our girl back.”

[watchyourbluesturngolden]

howard stern

I'M BACK BESTIES!!!!! i'm not totally back to my normal writing, but I finally got through a whole piece! anyways I really liked this and i hope you do too :)

warnings: howard stern being a bitch, talk of weight & body image

word count: 2.1k

"Hello Harry, how are you doing today?"

"I'm well, thank you," Harry answered with a smile. He was on the Howard Stern Show, his first interview since Stevie had been born. He hadn't really wanted to; Howard was kind of a prick. Everyone knew this, but Jeff was convinced this was the right move. He said it would be good for Harry to get back into the swing of things, and no one else was available on short notice. In the end, Harry only agreed because you had pushed him to, reminding him it wouldn't be a very long interview and then he wouldn't have to interact with the abrasive man again for a long time.

"That's good to hear," Howard said. "How have you been these past couple months? Have you been getting anything done?"

"Not much that's music related, honestly," Harry laughed. "I've been busy with family things."

"Yeah, you've kind of been hiding away from the world for a while here, what's that about?"

"Well, as I'm sure you already know, my wonderful wife had a baby recently, so I've been pretty busy... just navigating the world of fatherhood." A smile crept onto his face at the mention of Stevie.

"That's a lot, isn't it? Babies are awful at that age," Howard chuckled.

"Uh- I wouldn't say awful," Harry's smile dropped a little and he sighed internally. He already knew how the rest of this interview would go: thinly veiled insults, questions that were way too personal, and having to pretend he didn't want to get up and walk out of the room. But he knew that wouldn't be a very good look for him, so he gritted his teeth and tried to think of happy things. Specifically, the fact that he would get to go home to his wife and baby in less than two hours. "She's a very sweet baby, we're completely in love with her."

"Yeah, sometimes they're cute, but mostly they just cry and wake you up in the night, don't they?" Howard asked smugly, as if he knew Harry's baby better than Harry did.

"Well, of course she wakes up in the night sometimes. She's hungry, can't blame her for wanting food, can I?" Harry asked, trying to speak lightly and with a smile, but he could feel his patience slipping. He was ready to go home and he was not in the mood to pretend to be happy when this man was clearly insulting his child.

"Sure, I just wish babies could be a bit less annoying when they want something."

Harry nodded, plastering a smile that hopefully looked real on his face.

"So, besides the annoying baby, how's the family? Everybody healthy over there?"

Harry nodded. "Everybody's happy and healthy. A little sleep deprived, of course, but we're managing well, i think. And by we, I mean Y/N. She's truly... just amazing. I have no idea how she does it- she's the one keeping everything together. There's no way I could do any of this without her."

"Yeah, she seems pretty great! I remember though, at first we were all a little uncertain about her. She's not exactly like the other women you have a history with, is she?"

"She's-" Harry started talking, but Howard cut him off.

"I just mean, we were used to seeing you with models and actresses and the like, so it was a bit of a shock to see you with one of us commoners, you know?"

Harry huffed a small laugh, still trying to sound polite. "When you love someone, that's all that matters."

"Right, of course, but don't you get bored sometimes? You stopped going out so much when you got with her, almost like she was keeping you captive or something," He laughed.

"Are you asking me if my wife forced me to stop hanging out with my friends?" Harry squinted at the man.

"No, of course not, but..." He leaned closer with a malicious gleam in his eye, like he was about to hear some big secret. "Did she?"

"No," Harry said firmly. "She did not."

"Okay, okay, if you say so," Howard put his hands up, but then he leaned in again and spoke in an exaggerated whisper. "Blink twice if you need help."

Harry played it off with a laugh, crossing his arms over his chest.

"He's good," Howard laughed loudly. "Anyways, let's move on. Since you two are supposedly so happy-" He paused again, as if he expected Harry to cut it and give some dramatic confession about how terrible his relationship was behind closed doors. Harry only raised his eyebrows, signaling him to continue talking. "Tell us about that. When did you two get married again?"

"Almost 2 years ago," Harry said with a smile. "Our anniversary is coming up, actually, it's in 3 weeks."

"Oh wow, you guys moved fast with the whole kid thing, huh?"

Harry nodded. "We both knew we wanted kids and were ready to have them, so... yeah."

"Yeah, no point wasting time, right? How was Y/N after having the baby- Stevie, right?"

"Yeah, her name is Stevie," Harry smiled. "She was good. Again, she's amazing for going through that. She's- i'm just so lucky to have her."

"Did she bounce back right away?"

"I'm sorry?" Harry's brow furrowed.

"You know, did she get her figure back fast? I know that's a big issue for some women," He laughed again.

"Are you-" All traces of Harry's smile were gone now.

"I just mean, I hope she's working to get rid of the baby weight," Howard said casually, as if his words weren't extremely rude. "Just to make sure she can fit into her old clothes!"

Harry cleared his throat. He knew he had to speak very carefully, since this was something you had been very self conscious about. "Well, the two of us are concerned with the new life she brought into the world, not some old clothes, but she looks as beautiful as ever. The amount of pressure women face to live up to certain standards is disgusting to me, and it's especially bad for new mothers. My wife just went through an incredible process, she grew an entire human being in 9 months, then went through labor and the delivery, and she's being told to worry about her figure? That's wrong."

"Right, right, of course," Howard smiled, but Harry could tell he was annoyed at how he couldn't be tricked into speaking badly about his wife.

"I'm really over the whole thing, honestly," Harry said. "And I'm not even the one going through it."

Howard laughed nervously, seeming to finally take the hint that Harry was uncomfortable and annoyed with the topic. "Let's talk about your latest movie, why don't we?"

Harry was closed off through the rest of the interview; anyone could see that. He laughed less, his arms stayed crossed, and his answers were short. He was professional, but it went no farther than that. There was no more playful joking or easy conversation, just Harry trying to get through the interview as fast as he could. When it finally came to a close after his final song, Harry couldn't pack up fast enough. He made sure to say a polite thanks and goodbye before he hurried out to his car.

He sighed deeply before picking up his phone to call you.

"Hi baby!" your happy voice came from the other end. That was good, he assumed that meant you hadn't listened to the interview yet.

"Hi love," he smiled, his mood already improving just from hearing your voice. "Did you listen to the interview?"

"I have been- I couldn't right at the beginning, Stevie was crying, but I caught the end. Why?"

"Why was she crying?" Harry ignored your question, instantly worrying about his baby.

"Sometimes babies cry for no reason, Harry. She's okay, I promise. Anyways, what's up with the interview?"

Harry sighed. "Just the normal for a Howard Stern interview- he asked some very personal and rude questions. Just prepare for that."

"What else is new?" You laughed. "Are you coming right home?"

"Yeah, unless you need anything?"

"Nope, I think I'm good. See you soon!"

"Love you, bye," Harry said, ending the call and starting the car to begin the drive home.

-----

"I'm home," Harry called, removing his coat as he walked in the door.

"We're in here," you responded, not moving from your spot on the couch where you were nursing Stevie.

Harry walked in, a small smile on his face as he looked at the two of you.

"Hi," He sighed, plopping down on the couch next to you.

"That bad, huh?" You asked, taking in his dejected tone.

He hummed in response, leaning his head on your shoulder. "Those interviews are... always something."

"Yeah, I only caught the end, but you sounded pretty upset. What did he say?"

"He just..." Harry shook his head. "I don't think you should listen to it."

You turned your head to look at him. "Why not?"

"He's just very rude and pushy, as always."

"Yeah, i figured, but I wanted to hear your songs," you argued with a small frown. "Did he say something really bad, or...?"

"He just makes some very impolite comments about you and our family."

"Oh," You nodded lightly. "I think I'll be okay, baby. I appreciate you trying to protect my feelings, but I'm used to it at this point, and I really couldn't care less about his opinion of me."

"Alright," he sighed. "If you're sure." He pulled out his phone, checking his email and going through some messages while you started the interview from the beginning. You could hear him grumbling under his breath and huffing every time Howard said something rude, but you ignored it, just laying a hand on his leg to calm him down.

By the time it was over, Harry was clearly not too happy. "I can't believe I went back on that show," he shook his head. "I'm never doing that again. I'm so sorry about what he said about you, I honestly should have just left-"

"It's okay," you cut him off with a smile. "Also, it was kind of hot to hear you get mad at him."

"Yeah?" He smiled back. "I thought I was very tame, actually. I wanted to say some other things, but I figured that wouldn't be a very good look for me."

"Right, but the way you attacked him but stayed professional... very hot," you laughed, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "I love you so much."

"I love you too," He smiled, turning his head to kiss your cheek in return. "Is she done? I really need to hold her after the day I've had," He sighed dramatically, throwing his head back.

"I'm sure," you laughed, handing Stevie over to him and pulling your shirt back into place. "She's all yours."

"Hi baby," he cooed, holding her close to his chest. "I missed you so much."

Stevie yawned in response, cuddling into him.

"Oh, you missed me too?" He grinned. "See that? She missed me."

"She did," You agreed. "She was looking around when she heard your voice on the interview, she wanted to know where you were."

"I'm sorry," he pouted down at her. "I'll never go away again, and I'll never let the bad man be mean to you again."

"I don't think she's too upset about it, Harry," you laughed. "She is only 3 months old. She didn't exactly understand anything that went on."

"Excuse me," he said, looking very offended. "She may only be 3 months old, but she's very smart."

"Right, she's a genius baby, how could I forget?"

"I don't know," Harry shook his head at Stevie. "How could she forget how smart you are, hmm?"

Stevie yawned again, stretching her arms above her head.

"She's ready to take a nap," you said.

"Can I just hold her? I know it's not a good habit, to let her be held to sleep, but I don't want to put her down yet," Harry said, looking up with such pleading eyes, you couldn't possibly say no. Not like you would have said no anyways, but he didn't need to know that.

"Of course you can," you stood up, kissing his forehead before you turned away. "I'm gonna do the dishes, then we can watch something if you want."

"No, let me do those," he immediately protested.

"Harry, it's okay, I haven't done anything around the house since she was born-"

"And I'm not about to let you start now," he cut you off. "Come back here, please? Let's start that new show we were looking at the other night."

"Fine, but later I'm going to help you with the dishes."

"Fine," he smiled, agreeing with your compromise, even though you both knew he would argue later. "Now come back here."

[liesoverthec]

OG 911 Character Details from Canon Pt 2

Hi y’all I’m back! I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who reblogged the last details post - I sort of just thought people would like it and it would die, so to see it travel and hopefully reach more writers was so great so thank you again!

Details under the cut since I went a little crazy 😅 and if this is your first time seeing this, the first part, and any future parts, can be found under this tag here!

Quick note before I get to the details - always, ALWAYS take details from dialogue or plot over details from the set or props if they contradict each other. The writers have the ultimate say over what happens on the show/for the characters, so whatever they say goes, even if it goes against something props has already laid down (eg, Chim’s birthday, sorry Libra crew. He’s an Aries or a Pisces). So keep that in mind for the future in case some of these details I have which are from props/set are changed in the future, or if you’ve noticed something yourself!

Also if you have questions, I am MORE than happy to answer them, although if you leave them in the tags on this post I’m probably gonna lose them, so if it’s something you’d genuinely like an answer to, drop it in my inbox! Besides my standard “ask” tags, I’m also tagging asks about canon details with this tag here. Every time I make a big post like this, I’m going to link all the asks I’ve gotten since the last post, but if you’re looking for more info in the mean time, that’s the other spot to look!

Buck has a grill on his patio.

Eddie doesn’t hang Christopher’s art on the fridge - instead it is either hung on the corkboard in Chris’ room to the left of the door, or Eddie puts it in an actual frame and hangs it using a hammer/nails in Christopher’s room. All the Diaz family has on their fridge is a bunch of bendy people magnets. (I absolutely ADORE him putting all this effort into treating Christopher’s art like it’s something you’d buy from a professional artist).

Info on everyone’s ages can be found here. (Little more discussion of Chim’s situation here).

Albert has a bachelor’s degree! I don’t know in what though, except that it’s some field for which is a Master’s is useful.

Athena was in a sorority in college, Delta Sigma Theta. Their website describes them as “ ...a sisterhood comprised primarily of Black, college-educated women ... [that] considers the issues impacting the Black community and boldly confronts the challenges of African Americans and, hence, all Americans ”, which I love for Athena, and feel is very in-character for her at that time in her life!

Chim is an aviators dude. When he wears sunglasses, they’re always aviators.

Athena also wears nothing but aviators.

Bobby wears square aviators.

Eddie, on the other hand, always wears Wayfarers.

Buck either doesn’t really like sunglasses or he constantly forgets he owns them, since we’ve only seen him wear them once in 60 eps, in a move I’m pretty sure was ONLY for dramatic effect.

Hen’s sunglasses change style over the seasons like her regular glasses do, but she tends to like browline sunglasses.

Info on Christopher’s school can be found here!

There are two colors of dispatch polo, and there doesn’t seem to be any rhythm or reason for who wears what. Maroon - Maddie and Linda. Blue - Josh and May. Jamal has actually worn both maroon and blue, so it doesn’t seem to be TOTALLY set in stone although I’ve never seen anyone else switch. Sue is too badass to wear a dispatch shirt.

Both Bobby and Eddie drive 4 door pickups. Bobby’s is navy. Eddie specifically has a black, 2020 GMC Denali 1500 pickup truck (in case you want to specifically look up what the inside of it looks like or what features it has 😂)

Info on the 118’s medical certifications can be found here.

Correction to Eddie’s living situation from last post: no next door neighbors, but instead UPSTAIRS neighbors. (Pointed out by Abigail in this ask). Also since someone else was wondering the notes of the last post - no, there is absolutely no discussion on the show of whether or not Eddie rents the apartment or owns it. But based on the fact that it’s 1) LA and 2) an apartment, my guess would be he rents it.

When Maddie isn’t feeling like herself, she tends to straighten her hair rather than curl it. It seems to be more when she’s uncertain about her place in her own and other people’s lives, rather than just when she’s simply worried - eg it’s straight in 2B, when she’s uncertain if she wants to continue working as a dispatcher/is unsure about her relationship with Chim.

For work, Chim, Eddie and Buck all use black duffel bags with a LAFD patch on the top. Hen uses several different cute bags, and Bobby seems to have a plain black duffel bag.

Watches - Bobby, Athena, Chim, Hen and Buck all wear their watch on their left wrist (but Athena ONLY wears hers for work, she takes it off at home.) Eddie wears his on his right wrist, and Maddie doesn’t wear one.

Chim (and Maddie by default) literally still have the exact same couch as in the pilot. (Which means that Chim has cuddled Tatiana on that couch, AND Albert has had sex on it. TIME TO GET A NEW ONE, BUCKLEY-HANS 😂)

The 118 has five different rigs - the engine (E118), the ladder truck (T118), two ambulances and the captain’s truck. 95% of the time, when the team is chilling in the cab of a rig and chatting (eg the ‘stuck under a live telephone pole’ scene in Jinx), they’re in the engine, not the truck. (Which I personally learned recently are NOT interchangeable terms!)

Athena and Michael got married when Athena was 37.

If you’d like to give Maddie a full name beyond “Maddie”, you should use Madeline. (I know, I know, in 4x04 she says Maddie is the name on her birth certificate, and that you should never use props details if they contradict script details, but I always thought that was a super weird exchange in 4x04 which could be explained by Maddie getting a nickname since she was born when Margaret and Phillip, you know, actually loved their kids and showed it, so of course Buck doesn’t get one, and in 4x04, Maddie was trying to avoid the entire issue of why she got one and Buck didn’t. But! Do what you want, and use Madeline as the full version of Maddie if you’d like, since that’s what’s on the BOLO in 2x13 😂)

Athena’s call sign is 727 L30, but she doesn’t have a specific squad car - the number changes throughout the series.

Chim really likes chewing gum, but he’s the only one out of the entire family!

The station has an Xbox One S, and it’s white.

In the real LAFD, there are stations 1 through 114. To avoid confusion while filming on the streets (I’m assuming), our fictional LAFD never uses the number of a real station. So if you want another station for a fic, and you want something that would be real in OUR universe, use the numbers 115 and above. They’ve gone as high as 221 in our universe.

Battalions - station 118 is in Battalion 7, which is also not a battalion in real Los Angeles. The 118 has interacted w/ Battalion 1, which is a real battalion, but other ‘non-real which makes them more likely for our universe’ battalions include numbers: 3, 8, 13, 16, 19 and above.

S1 Buck knew the term Jedi, but based on context, didn’t understand AT ALL the context provided by Star Wars, so there’s another edge of his pop culture limits for you.

Chim is the most tech-savvy out of everyone, hands down.

Athena has a VERY active Twitter account.

Abuela’s house number is 8902. I don’t have a street name for you unfortunately though. :/

Athena’s favorite flowers are white roses. None of the other women are really flower people.

Michael likes to wear purple.

When they’re at a call, Buck does pretty much all of the stuff with the hammer and the saw. Eddie does all the work needed with the drill.

Harry goes to Meadowbrook Elementary.

Buck lives on the fourth floor of his apartment building, across the hall from Apt. 416. The lovely @lovelessmotel found this listing for what is more or less the apartment. What happened was: the set crew rented this apartment for the one episode at the end of s2 when Buck moved in, and then over the summer before s3 built their own set of it, and changed some things - eg giving him an island, and moving the sink to a second counter against the far wall, you can see the changes here in this amazing gif set by the awesome Austen, but the listing should let you click around a little more upstairs and figure out dimensions better than what the show provides!

When Athena and Hen go out to eat together, it’s always fast food burgers and fries.

Waffles are Athena’s favorite food, and tiramisu is her favorite dessert.

Every takeout we’ve seen Buck eat has always been in a Chinese food takeout container, and we know he likes Thai food the best. EXCEPT! The one time we see him eat takeout with Eddie and Christopher, they have pizza. So take from that what you will......

Eddie has a cell phone and a landline.

Chim is a shameless multiple texter.

Chim and Bobby sleep closest to the door in their respective bedrooms (both right side of the bed if you are standing at the foot, facing the headboard), and Athena and Maddie sleep furthest away from the door (left side).

Some canon last names for other firefighters at the station in case you wanna add more people to a fic - Mitchell, Sanchez, Serrano (woman), Porter, Meyers (woman), Maxwell, Voyta

Hen and Karen really love decorating their house with dark/red wood.

Karen is Mommy and Hen is Mama.

Bobby has a brother, and a grandmother, and that’s literally ALL we know about his family outside of Marcy and the kids.

Evidence points to Eddie being the oldest child in his family.

Karen has multiple brothers (no sisters), but no idea how many - just that one of them is named Trey, and one of them lives in LA and has kids. They might be the same brother and they might not be.

Both Hen and Athena are only children.

Athena has been on the police force for 30 years.

Christopher and Denny are the same age (born in 2011), and Harry is two years older than them.

Michael lives in apartment 308.

The bank in this universe is CalAm.

Hen and Karen have a picture of Denny, May and Harry on their fireplace mantel.

Eddie having a black thumb + a lot of plants in his living room = him buying fake plants bc he likes the aesthetic ™ or someone (cough Carla cough) is taking care of them for him.

The COVID timeline in OG’s universe is fucked up compared to the real world’s, so it shouldn’t be used as a way to measure time! They just throw it in wherever it makes sense for the story they want to tell (eg the vaccines in s4 ep 8), since s3 was both done before COVID hit but also airing while it was happening. It makes absolutely no sense for May to graduate in March nor for Chris to be going to what is specifically labeled summer camp, and the vaccine plotline was INCREDIBLY early, even for real life, so don’t use anything from that as a measure of time. I’ve found except in specific examples, eg the two tsunami episodes, it’s very safe to say every episode covers a week - fall holidays on the show line up with their real life counterparts, indicating about the same amount of time is passing for us and them.

On that note - Jee-Yun was born in late January, early February 2021. (Conceived in Pinned, which was end of March/beginning of April, meaning Maddie was around a month along at May’s graduation in May ➡ 42 weeks + 3 days from then = late Jan/early Feb. Which unfortunately means we most likely won’t see her birthday celebrated on screen. If we assume she was conceived on the date Pinned aired, aka the very sexy hotel scene, then January 21st or 22nd would be Jee’s birthday, depending on if she was born after midnight or not.

Buck has had at least one other Jeep between the one Maddie gave him, and the one he has now, which means that when he needs a new car, he is purposefully choosing Jeeps.

I hope this was all as interesting/enjoyable to you as it was to me! And just to repeat - I love answering questions so pls let me know if you have any at all ❤

🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝

Tagging: @buckbuckley

[fridayfirefly]

Cowboy Like Me

Read Cowboy Like Me on AO3

Masterlist

Written for Maribat March Day 5 - Last Time

Now I know, I'm never gonna love again

Marinette was a terrible sentimentalist. After such a bad breakup it might have been cathartic to tear up the pictures of them, but Marinette just couldn't do it. No, she could bring herself to destroy the evidence of her six-year relationship. Marinette kept all the pictures, all the movie tickets, all the handwritten notes and put them in a shoebox at the top of her closet, somewhere that she couldn't reach without the help of a stepstool. Maybe the pads of her fingers could brush against the smooth cardboard if she stood on her tiptoes. But Marinette could never open it again. Inside that shoebox were the memories of being in love, kept safe, locked away, just out of reach.

As Marinette boarded the plane, she looked back on everything that had gone wrong. Though the cause of all the destruction in her life was uncertain, Marinette could pinpoint the effects exactly. There were a few things Marinette knew for certain: Marinette would never fall in love again, the city Marinette once loved now only held bad memories, and once the plane took off, Marinette would say goodbye to Paris for the last time.

Never wanted love, just a fancy car

The socialite scene of Gotham was dreadfully boring in the winter, Marinette learned. The weather was so brutal that anyone who could afford a second house in Key West or Malibu left as soon as the first snow-fall hit. Marinette stayed inside her penthouse apartment for weeks, designing her wardrobe for the next few months. It had been so long since she had been able to design for herself, without input from anyone else. It was freeing, to work with the colors, the patterns, the styles that she wanted. Marinette had forgotten what freedom felt like. For so long, she had worked for the whims of others, crafting to someone else's design.

Marinette made her first friend two weeks after the move. Silver St. Cloud was Marinette's neighbor in the apartment to the left. Silver was a model and influencer, and a self-proclaimed expert on all of the rich single men in Gotham. Upon their first meeting, Silver offered to show Marinette around Gotham and introduce her to the socialite scene. Marinette, hesitant but hopeful, accepted.

"Bruce Wayne is the best that Gotham has to offer," said Silver as they leave Starbucks, lattes in hand. "But there are plenty of men who are worth your attention - women too, if that's what you prefer."

"Bruce Wayne is the best?"

Silver nodded. "The Waynes have owned this city for as long as Gotham has been on a map. I wouldn't set your sights on him completely, though. Bruce Wayne doesn't date anyone, not even a former member of Kitty Section."

Kitty Section was known around the world, the biggest band to come out of France in the last decade. Their songs topped charts. Their albums won awards. Their well-crafted image of reclusive, mysterious artists led to a media sensation over the members of Kitty Section. Everyone wanted to know them - Luka Couffaine and Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the lead vocalists whose relationship enchanted their fans. Rose Lavillant, the backing vocalist and keyboardist, and Juleka Couffaine, the bass guitarist, who were unashamed of their love for each other. Ivan Bruel, the mysterious drummer who had the name Mylène carved into his drumsticks. They were famous. They were at the top of their game. They were unstoppable.

Marinette ruined it all when she left the band. Her split had been big news, exposing a dark side of Kitty Section that their fans were never supposed to see. But after their breakup, Marinette quickly realized that she never loved music. She loved Luka, and once that love faded away, she loved nothing.

"I guess I'll find someone else," said Marinette, but it was a lie. There was Luka Couffaine, and after that, there was no one else. She might be able to love fancy dresses and expensive cars, but Marinette would never love a person again, not the way she loved Luka. When it came to love (deep, true love, not just the infatuations of childhood) Luka was her first time, Luka was her only time, and Luka would be her last time.

Perched in the dark, telling all the rich folks anything they wanna hear

Marinette quickly learned the art of charming everyone she met, either through her impressive resume (founding member of Kitty Section) or through her newfound ability to flirt. It turns out, once you turn off your feelings it becomes very easy to pretend that you can still love.

Marinette and Silver became thick as thieves. The girls became a popular pair, charming every birthday brunch and charity dinner. For Silver, it was all about networking. As she explained to Marinette, "I'm trying to create a brand. I'm trying to turn my own name into something that can be sold, and for that, I need connections.

For Marinette, it was something to do. As long as she used her money wisely, Marinette had enough saved to comfortably live out the rest of her days. The real problem came in finding something to pass the time. Marinette rarely felt joy in living her life, the way she used to back when she was a child, the bright-eyed girl who aspired to be a designer. Now, everything from charming a billionaire to designing a new dress felt like a chore.

"Come meet Bruce Wayne," urged Silver as she grabbed Marinette's hand. "He just got back from Nepal. It's his first time in Gotham in six months. He skipped his own New Year's Gala to go soul-searching in the Himalayas. It's my job tonight to convince him to stay in town for longer than a week."

There was a determination to Silver's voice. From everything she had heard about Bruce Wayne, Marinette doubted that Silver could make him change his ways. However, that wouldn't stop Marinette from helping her new-found friend.

Silver's whole body-language changed, shifting from a determined march to a delicate float as she made her way over to a dark-haired man in a well-fitted tux. "Hello, Bruce. It's so nice to see you again."

"Silver." Bruce acknowledged her, sounding bored. "Who's your friend?"

"This is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She was the lead singer of Kitty Section before the band split up a few months ago."

"Kitty Section... I might have heard of them before. The band was... French?"

Marinette nodded. "Yes. All the members were born and raised in Paris. Have you heard of any of our music?

"I'm certain now that I have. It was very... commercial."

Marinette ought to have slapped him across the face right then and there. Not only was commercial not a compliment, but it also wasn't even true. It was the biggest criticism of Kitty Section, their reticence to work with popular music trends. Despite her overwhelming desire to assault the most wealthy and influential man in the ballroom, Marinette instead steeled her face and gave Bruce a pleasant smile. "Thank you. So what do you do for a living, Mister Wayne."

"I travel."

Marinette resisted the urge to roll her eyes. He spoke two words to her. The conversation was anything but interesting. "How interesting. Have you ever been to Paris?"

"I'm not a tourist, Miss Dupain-Cheng. I travel to much more interesting places."

Marinette officially gave up on the conversation. She would let Silver (who looked to be itching to have her turn to talk to Bruce) try and fix the train-wreck of a conversation that Bruce created. "You sound like a man with a lot of stories to tell. I hope you can tell me them over lunch someday."

"Perhaps."

Marinette gave Bruce her politest smile. "I have to excuse myself. Silver, why don't you tell Bruce about your new sponsorship from Lululemon."

Silver lit up. "Oh, you have to hear about this email I got last week. It was amazing, it's so good for my brand..."

Marinette walked away, letting her distaste towards Bruce leave her. Secretly, a little part of her hoped that Bruce would leave Gotham, as he was well-known for doing. Though Silver was her friend, Marinette didn't think she could pretend to like Bruce.

"He's intolerable, isn't he?" joked a voice from beside Marinette.

Marinette turned to face the stranger, a beautiful woman, taller than Marinette by quite a few inches, with dark hair, dark eyes, and tanned skin. She wore a dress of royal blue silk, so elegant it reminded Marinette of the sort of thing she always dreamed of making. "Who?"

"Bruce Wayne. Who else would it be?"

Marinette let out a quiet laugh. "He is quite unpleasant. I take it you know him."

"I accompanied him on some of his travels. Bruce is a good friend of mine, but these parties tend to bring out the worst in him. He hates this city and he especially hates the wealthy of this city." The woman grabbed a glass of wine off of a server's tray and handed it to Marinette, who gratefully took it.

"Then I doubt Silver will have any luck convincing him to stay." Marinette tried to keep the satisfaction out of her tone, but the woman laughed anyways, an indication that it didn't work.

"You're quite funny..." The woman paused for an introduction.

"Marinette Dupain-Cheng. And you are?"

"Diana-"

The sound of shattering glass interrupted Diana's introduction. The crowd started to get frantic, and Marinette was pushed one way while Diana was pushed the other. The glass of wine was knocked out of Marinette's hand, staining the fabric of her dress. Marinette struggled to stay on her feet, desperate to not twist an ankle in her four-inch heels.

"Listen up!" shouted an oddly-dressed man. "You're all going to listen to me, and no one will get hurt."

Marinette had a very odd feeling that this would be a moment she remembered for the rest of her life.

Never thought I'd meet you here. It could be love

"They're calling him a supervillain. Apparently, his name is The Riddler," reported Marinette, looking up from her phone, where she was reading about the events of the night before.

Silver glanced up from her seat on the sofa across the room where she was painting her nails a delicate shade of pink. "It's about time Gotham got its own supervillain. Metropolis has had Superman and all the villains that follow him around for years."

Marinette snorted out a laugh. "You think that a supervillain is a good thing?"

"Sure. It means that Gotham will be getting a superhero of its own soon." Silver brightened up. "Plus, the hostage situation from last night meant that I got to spend a whole two hours with Bruce."

Marinette groaned. "I can't believe that you two are going on a date. Bruce Wayne is one of the most insufferable men I've ever met."

"It's not a date. Bruce specified it as just dinner between friends. You should come too, Marinette. I'm sure that once you spend some time with Bruce you'll warm up to him."

Marinette gave Silver a skeptical look. "You want me to come with you on your date with Bruce?"

"Again, it's not a date. Bruce said that he would be bringing one of his friends along as well."

Marinette finally understood Silver's intentions. "You want me to come with you so that I can partner up with Bruce's friend, and you can get some alone time with Bruce."

"Well it doesn't sound very nice when you put it that way," huffed Silver.

Marinette giggled. "I love devious plans. We'll just have to make it look natural."

It took a little time to get all the details, but Marinette and Silver got their plan in order. Silver would arrive first and meet Bruce and his friend. Marinette would arrive later, strike up a one-on-one conversation with Bruce's friend, and spend the night engaging Bruce's friend in conversation so that Silver could flirt with Bruce. Marinette's only concern about the evening was that Bruce's friend would be just as unbearable to talk to as Bruce himself.

The restaurant that Bruce picked out was very fancy, but Marinette didn't mind. It allowed her to wear her new dress, a pale blue and silver creation meant to mimic the shimmering quality of ice. Marinette thought it might be a little too experimental for the old-fashioned Gotham society, but Silver approved of it, and Marinette trusted her friend.

As soon as Marinette walked through the doors her eyes caught sight of Silver's white-blonde hair. Then she noticed Bruce sitting beside her friend, his eyes trained on Silver with an odd intensity. Finally, Marinette noticed Bruce's friend. She was shocked to see that it was Diana, the very woman that Marinette had met at yesterday's gala, the very woman whose introduction was interrupted by the untimely arrival of the Riddler. For a second, Marinette was shocked into stillness. The chaos of the night before had overshadowed her meeting with Diana to the extent that Marinette had forgotten how very charmed she had been by Diana. Now, it seemed Marinette had the perfect opportunity to get to know the charismatic woman from the night before.

"Marinette," the surprise in Diana's tone told Marinette that she was just as blind-sighted by their meeting.

"Hello, Diana. Fancy meeting you here," said Marinette with a smile.

Bruce raised one eyebrow. "I didn't know you two knew each other."

"We met last night," explained Diana. "I wanted to let her knew that you aren't usually so insufferable."

Bruce looked affronted. "I wasn't insufferable."

"You lied about having listened to Kitty Section," piped up Marinette. "There are a lot of valid criticisms of Kitty Section. However, our music being too commercial is not one of them."

Bruce had the decency to look guilty. "I apologize, then. I'll make sure to take the time to give your music a real listen."

For Silver's sake, Marinette was willing to forgive him. "Maybe next time you can give me some real criticism."

Bruce nodded graciously. "I'll do that."

Diana took that moment to bring back up their introduction the night before. "So Marinette, I don't believe we got the chance to finish our introductions last night. I'm Diana Prince, newly a curator at Gotham's Art and History Museum."

"I'm Marinette Dupain-Cheng, former member of Kitty Section, currently taking a soul-searching sabbatical."

"Soul-searching for what?" asked Diana.

"I suppose I'm trying to figure out what I'm going to do with the rest of my life. When I was younger I was so passionate about fashion. I made my own clothes, entered my creations into design contests, spent years creating a portfolio. I'm trying to rediscover that passion."

"Maybe you could show me your designs some time," offered Diana.

"I would like that," agreed Marinette.

"Actually," chimed in Silver, "Marinette made the dress she's wearing right now."

"Really? I would have assumed that it was professionally made. It's a gorgeous dress," praised Diana.

Marinette blushed, a warm fluttery feeling stirring deep within her. The rest of the night passed in a blur, with Marinette hanging on Diana's every word. It was easy to talk to Diana. She was so naturally charming that Marinette couldn't help but enjoy herself. As the evening winded down, Marinette felt only regret that they would have to part so soon.

As Marinette stood outside the restaurant, waiting for a taxi, she felt Diana's hand settle on her shoulder. It had been a while since Marinette had felt such an intimate touch. "I had a nice time talking to you tonight." The feel of Diana's fingers gently trailing down Marinette's arms was almost more than Marinette, touch-starved and hungry for more, could bear.

Marinette smiled. "I did too. I hope to see more of you."

"I'm sure you will." Marinette took comfort in the certainty in Diana's voice.

And in the back of her mind, Marinette began to rethink her policy of never falling in love again. Something about Diana made Marinette think that Luka wouldn't be her last time after all.

And the skeletons in both our closets plotted hard to fuck this up

Marinette could not believe he did this. After everything they had been through together, Marinette's one final request to Luka was that he not release a song about their breakup. But there it was, top of the charts, the lead single of Luka's new solo album, Different Cities. And if it wasn't bad enough that Luka broke the only promise she asked him to keep, included in the song was a snippet of the last voicemail she sent to him. She left it for him weeks after they broke up, as an explanation to him, to let him know she was leaving Gotham.

In the last few seconds of the song, Marinette's voice is hesitant as she speaks. "I know that you wanted me to stay so that we could work things out, but I don't think that our relationship is fixable. So I guess I'm calling to tell you that I give up. I'm leaving Paris next Friday. I've already bought the plane ticket. You can't change my mind. Goodbye, Luka."

It was the rawest emotion Marinette had shown since the breakup, and Luka exploited it for his own gain.

Marinette spent the day joylessly deleting emails from various news outlets begging her to tell her side of the story. As if she would give Luka the satisfaction of giving free publicity. Everyone loved drama, so Marinette was going to make her reaction - or lack of reaction, in this case - as boring as possible.

Every time her phone rang, Marinette ignored it. The voicemails started to stack up, and eventually, Marinette found herself going through them one-by-one. One from Alya, letting Marinette know that she was there for her when she wanted to talk. One from Adrien, more joking in tone, trying to cheer Marinette up. One from Ivan, directly threatening to punch Luka in the face if Marinette wanted it (and that was the only voicemail that actually brought her spirits up). One from Juleka, an apology.

In the voicemail, Juleka's voice was rough, like she had been crying. "I'm so sorry, Marinette. I begged Luka not to release it, but he wouldn't listen to me. He said- he- he said-" Juleka broke off into a sob, and Marinette couldn't help but sniffle along with her. "I can hardly recognize him anymore. Rose and I aren't on speaking terms with him now. He's no longer my brother."

Marinette wished that she could pick up the phone and tell Juleka that it was okay to forgive Luka, but Marinette couldn't. The wound was still fresh, still bleeding out.

One step forward, one steps back. Two days after Marinette considered the idea of loving again, and she was right back where she started - in too much pain to even consider friendship, let alone love.

Speak of the devil, Marinette's phone rang, Diana's name lighting up on the screen. Part of her wanted to throw her phone across the room and curl up under her blankets. The other parts of her answered the call. "Hello?" spoke Marinette, wiping away the moisture at the corner of her eyes.

"Marinette, are you okay?" Diana's voice was soft. It was the most comforting thing Marinette had ever heard.

"Not really. I can't decide if I want to punch Luka in the face or if it would hurt too much to ever see him again."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Marinette sighed. "I met Luka when I was fourteen. He was my classmate Juleka's older brother. Luka had his own band, so all the girls in our class thought that Luka was so cool, but he mostly ignored us. Then one day his backing vocalist got bronchitis and he needed someone to fill in. I was a soloist for the school chorus, so I volunteered. Luka was hesitant to let me join his band until he heard me sing. He told me I had the voice of an angel. Two days later he kissed me, and I fell in love with him so hard and so fast I didn't have a chance to consider if he was really the one."

Marinette took a deep breath, then continued, "It was a whirlwind after that. We started dating. We started a new band and named it Kitty Section. We started writing songs together. The weird part was, he never asked how I felt about any of it. He never asked me if I wanted to date him, he never asked if I wanted to join the band, he always assumed that I wanted what he wanted."

"And what did you want?" asked Diana.

"Back then, I thought I wanted a future with Luka. Now, I guess I just want to feel passion again. I've felt so empty since I left him."

"You might feel better with some company. Do you want me to come over to your place?"

Marinette looked around at her empty apartment, at the way the shadows filled the room, at the way seemed to lurk in every corner. "Sure."

"You could show me some of those designs you were telling me about the other day," suggested Diana.

Marinette glanced over at her sketchbook, which had laid empty for months. "That sounds good."

As she hung up the phone, Marinette realized that talking to Diana had made her feel a bit better. The knife wound that Luka had left in her heart had begun to close up at the edges. Marinette took a deep breath and picked up her sketchbook. If she wanted to rediscover her passion, she needed to work for it.

Now you hang from my lips, like the Gardens of Babylon

Marinette let out an appreciative noise as Diana re-entered the room, modeling one of Marinette's creations. "Give me a little spin."

Diana turned herself around, letting the red fabric swirl around her legs. Something about the way that the dress looked on Diana made it so much prettier in Marinette's eyes. Suddenly the fabric wasn't just red, it was carmine. The dress wasn't just being worn, it was being modeled. It didn't just move, it flowed. "It's a gorgeous dress," complimented Diana as she looked over her shoulder at the mirror behind her to admire it.

"It is nice, isn't it." Marinette had been so caught up in her head she had forgotten to truly admire her creation. Suddenly an idea occurred to her. "You should keep it. One of Bruce's charity galas is coming up in a few weeks. You could wear it there."

"I couldn't," protested Diana.

Marinette shook her head. "It looks best on you. I could never pull off such a vibrant shade of red." There was a second part to the sentence that was left unspoken. If Marinette made the dress knowing that it wouldn't look good on her, she must have made it for another reason. She must have made it with Diana in mind.

Diana smiled, seeming to have caught those unspoken words. "Well if I'm going to wear the dress, you'll have to put up with me gushing about how talented you are all night long."

Marinette flushed. "It's no big deal. It's just a dress."

"It's not just a dress. It's your passion." There was truth in Diana's words that Marinette couldn't deny. It was so much more than a dress. It was the passion for design that Diana had helped her rediscover. It was the newfound friendship with Diana that chased away the loneliness and despair that had taken over her life. It was the glimmer of hope for a future with Diana.

Takes one to know one, you're a cowboy like me

Diana looked beyond gorgeous in that carmine dress. Marinette could keep her eyes off of her as they mingled around the ballroom. Marinette's dress was nice, made with the same passion that Marinette had in her younger years, but it paled in comparison to Diana. However, Diana made up for this disparity by gleefully explaining that Marinette was the creator of the dress every time it was complimented. By the end of the night, Marinette had spent so much time blushing over compliments that she worried her face would become permanently flushed.

The gala was a complete success for everyone involved. The charity, which happened to benefit Gotham Child Protective Services, raised twice their goal amount. Marinette got to spend time with Diana. Even Silver had spent the night looking very pleased with herself, her hand resting on Bruce's forearm as they walked through the ballroom together.

As the night winded down, Marinette and Diana found themselves walking out of Wayne Manor towards Diana's car. Diana had offered to drive Marinette there and back, and Marinette had eagerly accepted. Marinette hated driving in Gotham, as Gotham was known for its aggressive drivers and high rates of automobile accidents.

Marinette sat down in the passenger seat with a sigh, kicking off her heels. "Tonight was nice."

"It was nice," Diana agreed. "We'll have to attend galas together more often."

"You just want an excuse to get your hands on another one of my dresses," teased Marinette.

Diana laughed. "I wouldn't say no to another dress. But really, Bruce's rich friends are much more bearable when I have someone to make fun of them afterward with."

Marinette shuddered. "And to think I thought that Bruce was bad. His friends are intolerable. I never want to talk about golf again in my life."

The two women chatted as they drove through the dark streets of Gotham, back to Marinette's apartment.

"Thanks for driving me home," said Marinette as the car pulled up in front of her apartment building.

"It was no problem." Diana hesitated, before continuing. "I was wondering if you would like to go out to dinner with me tomorrow night."

"Dinner sounds good," Marinette replied, strapping her shoes back on.

"I'm asking for this to be a date." Diana finished.

Marinette looked up at her, surprised. Her friendship with Diana had been so easy that Marinette had forgotten that it could be anything else. She had half a mind to decline, to stay in the familiar, but that little bit of hope in her heart urged Marinette to take a leap of faith and accept. "I would like that. What time will you pick me up?"

Diana smiled, her whole face lighting up. "How does six sound?"

Marinette smiled back, her heart feeling lighter than it had in years. "Sounds great. I'll see you tomorrow."

And as Marinette got ready for bed, she realized that all of the sadness that lingered in her heart since the breakup had gone away. All that was left for her to feel was hope for the future.

@maribatmarch-2k21

[simpingw0lfi3]

rise and fall

happy birthday @yuikishirohana !!! here’s a smol gojo fic >.< hope u enjoy it hehe

Within the abandoned building, you could feel that the brittle concrete was going to give way anytime soon. But you did not move. Nestled in a single corner of a room barely lit by a single ray of sunlight seeping through the cracks, echoes of the relentless croaking and shrills of despair rung in your ear. Everything in your body told you to run, to book it and just hope that they wouldn’t catch you. Yet there you sat, quivering within the expanse of your own fears, paralysed. 

“So you can see them.” Like a tangible ray of hope, the moonlight illuminated the locks of his alabaster-coloured hair as it gently swayed in the breeze that you hadn’t noticed amidst your agitation. The man stood in the middle of it all, nose held up high despite the disturbing creatures crowding around him. You didn’t know why, but there was this sudden relief that washed through you as your gaze lingered on his figure, something bubbling within telling you that if you stripped your gaze away from him for just a moment, you’d return to your pathetic shrivelling self, overwhelmed by your solitude and uneasiness. “Unsightly, aren’t they?”

“So you can see them too.” The words slipped out of your mouth, barely a mere whisper. Your words were no louder than the repetitive throaty screams of those unknown creatures, and yet, you knew he brought his attention to your mutterings from the slight grin that lifted up the corners of his thin lips. 

“Of course~ I’m the most powerful sorcerer after all.”

“Sorcerer…?” Mumbling under your breath, you observed how he leisurely raised his hand up in the air. He did not cower. He did not seem to mind his surroundings. He was... absurd, to say the least. He called himself the most powerful sorcerer and walked into this battlefield of sorts that caused you great discomfort whilst wearing a blindfold… to call him ‘unique’ was an understatement. Questions ran through your mind. Why was he so confident? Was he like you, able to see these creatures that had been denied by everyone else you encountered? Who was he exactly? Despite the emergence of your erratic curiosity caused by this man, he looked like the calm in the tempest you were trapped in. 

All it took was an effortless swipe of his hand. In a blink of an eye, the once-persistent abnormalities had vanished, leaving you stuck in the small corner lost for words. They’re gone… they’re gone. Chanting, a futile attempt of processing what had just occurred. The sight of a hand entered your vision, and you looked up to see the very man that saved you.

“I’m Gojo. And you?”

“...Y/n.”

“Hmm, that’s some nice cursed energy you’ve got there.” Even though he had a blindfold on, you could feel his stare lingering onto you. Observing. Judging. Cocking your head to the side in confusion, you clasped your hands in his as he pulled you up. “I’m sure there’s a lot of things you don’t quite understand yet, but I’ll guide the way.”

Gojo Satoru. There was this aura he exuded that brimmed with confidence and certainty. The man was the complete opposite of you - you were uncertain, not exactly the most outgoing… quiet and reserved. 

All this time, you had been alone - lost parents, people who called you a freak for acknowledging the presence of curses, and a trail of curses would follow you everywhere you go causing you to run away at any destination unbeknownst to you. 

But with his hand outstretched to you, beckoning you to follow him, finally. Finally you met people like you. And you had to thank the sorcerer for that, for bringing this newfound paradise to you.  A journey filled with new knowledge of a new world.

“Hm…” Walking back to the dorms after a mission, Megumi’s hum of confusion put you to a halt. 

“What’s wrong? Did we miss something?”

“No, no. It’s not like that… it’s just, Gojo-sensei has been supervising our missions a lot more ever since you joined us.”

“Oh, that’s true.” Itadori piped in, nodding as he raised his eyebrows in agreement. “I wonder why....” Itadori looked up into the night sky for answers, and you were thankful for the night sky that had encompassed all of you into darkness; blood rushed to your cheeks in embarrassment, thinking that Gojo had been keeping his eye on you.

You were just sitting on your bed, reading a book, when you heard a knock on your door. “Who is it?” Sliding the door open, you were greeted by those incandescent eyes of his languidly gazing on your figure. “G-Gojo-sensei!”

“It’s just us, skip the formalities.” He grinned at your flustered state while he walked over to your chair and sat down, crossing his legs in an overly casual fashion. “So, how are you fitting in?”

“Everything’s been going well, thanks to you.” 

“I’m not doing anything~” Raising his hands in surrender, a slight chuckle escaped his lips. “It’s all your talent.”

Jujutsu, curses, energy… despite it all being a completely new discovery to you, it flowed through you naturally. And that, your cursed energy, uncovered something that changed your life forever.

“W-what? Me? Zenin…?”

“Seems like the clan wants to claim you after all.” Gojo’s voice echoed in the classroom, a hint of irritation in his tone of voice. Behind those sunglasses, you couldn’t see how he knitted his brows in frustration. “Damn those elites.” 

“Do I not have a say in this…?”

“With a clan as powerful as them, no.” He sighed heavily, leaning against the door and looking outside. If someone like Gojo couldn’t come up with a solution then there was no choice but for you to accept it. “Your cursed energy flow is exceptional, sure, but why would they want you after all these years? They even went through the trouble of abandoning you as a child. It just doesn’t make sense.” 

Silence. The two of you pondered, not knowing what direction this was taking. 

“Are you okay with this?” His tone took a softer approach, his sudden concern shocking you. 

“It’s not like I have a choice, right?” A smile of pity formed on your lips as you stood up from your seat, making your way out of the classroom. 

“Y/n, if you ever need help, feel free to contact me. I know that clan, and they aren’t exactly the most forgiving.”

“I know. Thanks.” 

Everything had changed. Gojo would stop overseeing your missions with the other first years, and there were days you could hear him bring a woman into the dorms. Every voice, a different girl. Every laugh, a different girl. It became common practice for him, and eventually the other first years had gotten used to it. 

Distraction? Maybe that’s it… but he’s not acting like himself. Some of the first years had said. 

I knew he was a playboy, huh? Right, Y/n? Kugisaki chuckled while the two of you went out shopping.

Was everything he ever said to you a lie? Were you just another one of his playthings? As you sat alone on your bed, the thought of how you actually believed that your relationship with him was something special… it made you laugh. 

I pity you, Y/n. 

Not a day would pass without the Zenin clan harassing you. As if separating you and Gojo was not enough. They wouldn’t stop, relentlessly forcing clan traditions on you, missions, training... it was hard to keep up, especially as a female jujutsu sorcerer. And before you knew, it rumours about you started spreading like wildfire in the clan. 

If they were going to be so unwelcome, why’d they claim you in the first place? It almost seemed as if the moment you found reason in life, the moment you found joy, it only proved to exist to aid in your eventual suffering.

Itadori, Megumi, Nobara... Gojo... they saw less of you, the clan stripping you of your own qualities and locking you up within their mindset.

“Y/n.”

“W-what- Mhm-!” For once you could see his wavering eyes filled with emotion. Rather than the typical undulating calmness they held, there was this sense of desperation. Gojo’s stare bore into you, never once leaving. As if he could lose you, right then and there, should his gaze linger at something else.

“I don’t care what the Zenin clan says. Superiority? Yeah right, they’re just afraid.” The white-haired man scoffed as his arms snaked around your waist, pulling you closer making your head bump into his chest. “I… I don’t want to lose you.”

There was a slight tremble in his voice, and with your head pressed up against his chest you could hear the vigorous beat of his heart. His body quivered ever so slightly against yours. “Gojo…” He was the most powerful sorcerer in the world, and you knew he would always flirt with other girls in hopes to tame those desires of his. That he couldn’t ever possibly be yours. But here he was, shaking and holding back tears at the thought of never seeing you again. 

He became weak at the thought of you. 

“Hah… I can tell what you’re thinking. Me, of all people, acting like this…” The way he held you even tighter against him so that you were unable to see his face confirmed your suspicions. 

“Why me…? You’ve never been so determined with love before…” It was true - he seemed to have women chasing after him, left and right, and there were many occasions where he welcomed those women in his embrace. 

But now here he was, his warmth encompassing you as he muttered his hidden affections for you. Not that you didn’t hate it, of course - rather, knowing how he became so despondent filled you with this mellowness of sorts.

“I... I’m not so sure myself either. You were out of my grasp before I knew it, and the days that passed when you weren’t by my side had gone completely dull.” There was no longer his typical air of confidence behind his words. They were quiet. Reserved. “You’re a part of my life now, Y/n. And when you became unreachable, I guess I fell even harder.”

Gojo chuckled. Then there was another long silence that filled the room. So quiet, so still... you could only feel the rise and fall of his chest and how his hands were only clamping tighter and tighter on your waist.

“Fuck the rules, Y/n. Because I want you.”

[ofmona]

um ok so mona and selena just always butting heads, but always admiring eo. but mostly butting heads. i think frenemies are secsi!!!! mona actually makes selena want to GET A TATTOO because she looks so hot with them bye SELENA IS LIKE ?????? WISH I WAS SECSI LIKE U, MONA.

i honestly love tht we're making them frenemies because truthfully they should get on..... they have so much in common, run in similar circles, they're both these teeny weeny little powerhouse women, and yet.... mona has put two and two together and got eleven...... i think mona's very protective of the men in her life because she's never had a solid male role model. with ian, when one of her cheerleaders messaged the chat like 'omg coach baby daddy having drink w army medic gal :O' even though it was totally innocent, mona flipped out, mostly because with ian refusing to sign the divorce papers, she feels she can't really move on with her life or date other people because technically she's still married. then there's striker, who to all intents and purposes, is just mona's best friend, but there's definitely a mutual attraction there and a chemistry that's been complicated by their recent sexcapades. so now, feeling vulnerable in an uncertain position between friend and lover, mona's also seeing selena as a threat to that relationship simply because striker trusts her enough to let her patch him up. there's also an element of jealously, that she wasn't the one he came to after his injuries, despite the fact that her sewing skills are pretty shoddy. mostly, i think the tension between them is just the competitive nature that the patriarchy often imposes on women with similar traits and values. huns, u shd just be friends.....

[heeytwelve]

"That’s practically my type”

I remember someone really smart in internet was debating that Draco Malfoy has 100% chance to be Harry Potter’s boyfriend, cause he is, in fact his type. And if we look at Harry’s girlfriends, we kinda see the pattern (quidditch, outspoken, bravery, and have I mention quidditch? ).

But anyway, this post not about those, this post about how Chosen One of Carry On universe has his type too and why Agatha wasn’t just mistake of adolescence and how he changes his views on Baz when he become actively infatuated with him.

“I’ve wanted her since the first time I saw her—walking across the Great Lawn, her long pale hair rippling in the wind. I remember seeing her and thinking that** I’d never seen anything so beautiful.** And that if you were that beautiful, that graceful, nothing could ever really touch you. It would be like being a lion or a unicorn. Nobody could really touch you, because you wouldn’t even be on the same plane as everyone else. Even sitting next to Agatha makes you feel sort of untouchable. Exalted. It’s like sitting in the sun. So imagine how it feels to date her—like you’re carrying that light around with you all the time.

Let’s elaborate. He doesn’t fall in love with her - because of her academic success or because her parents rich or because she’s kind and caring. The type of attraction that works for Simon is so called - aesthetic attraction, attraction to beauty. 

And before you blame him for being shallow, I say, having strong preference for beauty is quite common among the artistic people, who grew up in desperate poverty, in small provinces, poor houses where beauty is rarity (for instance, famous ballet dancer Rudolph Nureyev was obsessed with beauty and collected a huge amount of beautiful things, because his poor childhood traumatised him). And, contrary to popular belief, Simon might have artistic tendencies, he sees beauty even dark creatures (goblins, *cough-cough* vampires), movements, colours and music.

Beauty for Simon is not a static thing to watch and enjoy the view, it’s not something he just want to own, it’s a force. Beauty protects him, it makes him untouchable, like nothing from of his previous (poor and mundane) life can touch him anymore, because he carrying the light, darkness will never reach him again. Agatha is not only his future, but also his shield. But - maybe it’s the same thing? Having future all sorted kinda shielding you from whatever you bump into.

He always mention her appearance whenever he talks about her - her clothes, her skin (”sparkles like she’s fairy”), her hair (multiple comparison with sun, light and halo). And when he decides to ignore the fact, that she quite possible betrayed him, it’s not only because he fear uncertain future but:

“She’s beautiful. And I want her. I want everything to be fine.”

Beauty as an attraction, beauty as a shield. Beauty is stability.

Now, before we talk about what all of this has to do with Baz, let’s bring up this quote:

“Like when I used to dream about becoming a footballer someday—or that my parents, my real parents, were going to come back for me.… My dad would be a footballer. And my mum would be some posh model type. ...

But we always missed you, Simon,” they’d say. “We’ve been looking for you.” And then they’d take me away to live in their mansion.”

I know, you probably roll your eyes now, like it’s stereotypical thing for poor kid in care to dream of, but isn’t that interesting, that Simon practically give us description of his future boyfriend and girlfriend as his dream parents? Now, don’t get me wrong, there is now perversion here, it’s just people he dreams to be with. People who potentially get him out of this awful reality and of course he will imagine them as the best people he can imagine - hence attraction to exactly those people. Now, we already know, that Agatha is beautiful as a model and she’s posh -Simon dwells how she good with regattas, polo matches, galas and he’s not posh enough for it. And right there, in next sentence, he mentions the only person who’s fit this interior - Baz. And let’s not forget about this:

“Baz walked into our room, much taller than me—and posher than everyone.”

There’s two interesting thing you notice when you will read Simon’s view for Baz. Simon never hesitates to use bold colours to describe how good Baz is. He never even doubts it, and Simon is not in submissive mode by any means. It’s just with Agatha - he sees the beauty and he admires it. But because Baz is evil, a threat (and potentially because he convinced that he’s heterosexual) AND Simon can’t just go in “I want him” mode, like he did with Agatha.  There’s a big quote above about how Simon met Agatha and here’s one about how Simon met Baz:

“and Baz was walking towards me. Looking so cool. Like he was coming my way because he wanted to, not because there was a mystical magnet in his gut.”

Though, it is looks, Simon talks about, I want to emphasise, that while Simon is not in active infatuation phase with Baz, he still unleashes his other attraction type, attraction to power/strength. Here and in quote below he indicates one of Baz biggest powers - ability to look unfazed and perfect no matter what. Power of composure.

“but he looked fine to me—not a hair out of place. Typical.”

Back to father being footballer. One might wonder, why violinist and person so into academic success went to be the lead player in sports team? All popular movies tell us that you either this (nerd) or that (jock), and Baz suddenly both. Because he’s perfect. And because he has his personality and vampire personality. One might also wonder, had Baz overheard Simon’s obsession about being footballer/football in general before deciding to enrol to the team and collect all trophies... Anyway. Baz as footballer:

“He’s the same on the field as he is everywhere else. Strong. Graceful. Fucking ruthless.”

If you ask me, this is where Simon shows a bit his infatuation. Yes, attraction to strength, even ruthlessness (Simon is a fighter, he does appreciate good fighter too). But graceful - is about beauty. You see, I think, maybe because Simon carries traditional values he kinda does that thing: women’s modus operandi is beauty, men’s - strength, ruthlessness. Same with his parents - mum is model, father is fighter footballer. That’s ok.  BUT when he starts to consider (even at the back of his mind) Baz as a romantic partner (it’s all starts when he sees that Baz is not a monster, that he’s a boy), he starts to notice his beauty more, than strength.

“He floats out over the moat and lands on the other side. It’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Infamous jeans scene, where Simon talking about Baz’ clothes (like he did w/Agatha) and literally checking out his arse:

“they do look like really expensive jeans. Dark. And snug from his waist to his ankles without looking tight.”

He starts to watch him aesthetically:

“I put my hand on his chest. I don’t have to step any closer to reach him. ... Baz swallows and licks his grey-pink lower lip. .. “he throws one of his pillows into my face. (It smells like him.)

“I’m watching him read—I swear he sucks on his fangs when he’s thinking.

The culmination of this development comes with “vampire club scene”:

““Every one of them must be so jealous of him. He’s everything they are, plus magic. Plus he looks the part, like he was born to be some sort of dark king.”

“Those vampires were in awe of you,” I say. “They wanted to put a crown on your head.

He has the skills AND he is royally beautiful. And Simon projecting his feelings to those night club vampires. The longer they in relationships, the more Simon dwelling on Baz beauty, just to show you this development, I’ll quote WS for a moment:

“I’ll be damned if he doesn’t look half glamourous. Like a boy Marilyn Monroe.… My brain gets kind of stuck on “boy Marilyn Monroe” for a while.”

...

“Baz casts his eyes down and smiles—girlishly, I would have said, but on him it’s not girlish. It’s, I don’t know, vulnerable.”

To elaborate, Marilyn Monroe is depiction of feminine beauty in popular culture and description of Baz as a bit feminine is something that would never happen in the beginning of “Carry On” setting. Of course, Baz opened up more to Simon (and this is important), but also Simon willing to see, no, he actually quite hungrily looking for this beauty. He is attracted to this kind of beauty AND I think, might be cause of his somewhat traditional views, he automatically looking for this in Baz, when he considering him as a partner. 

BUT. Again as in WS - Baz being powerful and strong AND that being attractive (and arousing) to Simon is not going anywhere.  So Simon’s type qualities - strength and beauty. (Not smartness and kindness, sorry Penny) though he does appreciate it.  And lastly, let’s go back to Agatha. We talked about her beauty, but she’s also an athlete. A competitive one. 

“I smile again and jump up off the bed, grabbing a pair of jeans and a purple sweatshirt that says WATFORD LACROSSE. (Agatha plays.)”

This sweatshirt Simon will proudly wear even in WS (Baz haven’t confiscated them yet :D ) - and if you think about it, it’s the way to show admiration too. And don’t forget the horse sports, she’s even more into sports than Baz (Baz would spend his summer practicing languages and violin - I believe his main passion, and football is just to unwind and fuck w/Simon, while Agatha would harvest prizes or skills in competitions). OK, no, he does play tennis :D So yes - as absolutely legit Simon’s type - Agatha do has these two qualities. They both do. Though not exactly in same proportions. Agatha radiates beauty, feminine beauty, you don’t have to watch closely to see it, it punches you in a face. But Baz is more powerful, as with Agatha, you don’t have to search for his power, it’s just there. And maybe this shift in quality proportions is what Simon needs at the end. But he certainly needs both. And let me finish this lenthy dwelling off with Baz quote, where he accidentally compares himself tells us this qualities proportions in Agatha:

“Wellbelove isn’t very powerful, but she’s gorgeous.”

There is interesting awareness between these two, but I will have a mercy and talk about it later.

[trashytoastboi]

Headcanons for Ace and Nami having a fem s/o who tends to be very talkative and is often quick to reach out to new people, which is the way they've always known her. Something happens and s/o admits that the reason why was that there was a time when she was far quieter and reserved around people to the point of being ignored and practically fading into the background a lot of the time, and that it's something she doesn't want to through it again. Apologies if this doesn't make sense and thanks.

Hello there! So the only thing I was bit uncertain of with the request, if this was for a poly relationship or mono, so I wrote the headcanons separately and if it was poly, you can just let me know and I’ll do another post ^.^ hope you enjoy ~

Askbox : Currently open

(Female Pronouns)

Portgas D. Ace

🔥Ace watched on as he saw {Name} smiling cheerfully as the group erupted into laughter at some joke she had told, he had always admired the way she had with people. People seemed to gravitate towards her and she was so outgoing, always wondering about people’s stories and talking to them. He found it amazing.

🔥He can still recall, wandering around looking for a place to eat and eventually making his way to some partially hidden tavern, ordering something to eat and drink. A stranger coming up to him and starting some random conversation, how instantly he was hooked on the conversation and even more so the person behind the words; his curiosity for this strange women overwhelmed him and he had to know more. Ace and {Name} ended up talking until the sun came up.

🔥He notices the group of people leaving as {Name} sees them off with a smile, waving goodbye to her new found friends, however, there was a glimpse of sadness in her expression. Something he couldn’t miss.

🔥Walking over to her with his heart warming smile, grabbing her hand softly “Why the sad face {Name}?” He asks her tenderly.

🔥 “Just was reminded of something unpleasant” {Name} says, taking a deep breath “You know, I sometimes get reminded of a time when I never spoke to anyone, I was quiet and too afraid to speak in case of saying something wrong, pushing people away, or just taking the chance away from someone else. Often times because of that, no one knew me anyway. I became obsolete and I simply became an ornament in a room, I was background noise in the greater scheme of things. I used to liken it to existing like a ghost in a sense, nobody really knew I was there, I always felt lonely and forgotten…so I decided one day to stop being afraid of my own words, just so somebody could know me”

🔥Ace seemed so shocked and hurt by her story, his arms instantly wrapped themselves around {Name} pulling her into a tight hug, in a different sense, she understand perfectly…the kind of painful isolation he had felt in his life. A pain he never wanted anyone else to know, her least of all. “{Name}…I promise…I promise I will never let that happen! Never again! You’ll never be forgotten or feel like that again. I’ll always be here for you! I’ll never ever think of you that way!” Ace seemed to overwhelm {Name} with his proclamations, a huge smile spreading across her lips. “I know” she replies happily, putting Ace’s worries to rest.

Nami

🍊Another situation arose, Nami needed information and {Name} knew how to get it, much quicker than stealing secrets. {Name} walked into the heart of a crowd, easily attracting people and talking to them. With her eloquent and charismatic nature she easily gathered the information just from some general conversation.

🍊Nami smiled remembering how they had met. Nami stood outside the market yelling at a merchant who absolutely refused to bring down the price of a shirt that Nami wanted; until {Name} stepped in, calming both parties down and somehow convincing the merchant to give a massive price drop. (Though initially Nami wanted {Name} around as a ‘shopping buddy’ by chance it happened to developed into something more)

🍊“You know {Name} I was thinking back to then we first met. Back then and even now, I really admire you. The way you deal with people” Nami says with a smile

🍊{Name} smiles at Nami’s compliment and chuckles softly. “You know it’s funny, I wasn’t always like this. In fact it was quite the opposite” Nami was taken aback by this unexpected statement from {Name}

🍊“At one point, people used to assume I was a mute. I never spoke, and though I claimed I had no desire to, that wasn’t entirely true. I wanted to talk, I always wanted to speak to all the people I encountered. But fear and uncertainty always kept that back, I was terrible at expressing myself and people thought I was being rude or ignoring them. Which painted a pretty bad impression of myself, which I grew accustomed to; but more than anything I felt stifled and isolated. Ironically I had felt more pained by the words I never said than the ones I did. My presence was shoddy at best because of that and people often forgot I was there, not that I could really blame them. I sometimes felt unreal to my surroundings”

🍊Nami stared on, her eyes reading the expression on {Name’s} face as she continued to talk about her experience, feeling slightly sad and in a slight state of disbelief, never could she think that {Name} was once like that. “You know {Name}, everyone eventually grows closer to the kind of person they want to be, especially for a certain dream. I’m glad I met you, and meeting you helped me grow a little more into the person I want to be. That’s what you did, the difference is I have you to help me grow, but you did that on your own…it’s really admirable” Nami says, her hand holding onto {Name’s.}

🍊“Thank you Nami” {Name} says, a smile on her face.

[woogurl]

i’ve been meaning to make this post a while ago, but i was uncertain if now was the right time to do it, it’s something that’s extremely controversial, but yes...

i decided to make a post regarding what i think woosan’s sexuality is, now i figured it was bad to just assume their sexuality but people assume all or at least most of the male/female kpop idols are straight anyway by default. which i don’t think is bad or illogical, seeing as most people are straight statistically. 

not gonna lie, ateez is one of those groups that give me mad gay vibes tho. however, i won’t be analyzing the others as i don’t really watch much of their individual behavior or content, i think you should only make these when you’ve watched enough of their behavior. 

as you know, i’m a woosan enthusiast, and a woo stan, but i’m not gonna just analyze their relationship, which i think is sufficient proof enough, but i’ve compiled everything that has led me to the conclusion that san is either bi(with male preference) or gay, and woo is bi.

lastly, i want to say just because someone is homophobic or really opposed to skinship with the same sex does not mean they’re automatically straight. sometimes it’s a coping mechanism, and just because they’re feminine, comfortable with their masculinity, support LGBT+, or okay with skinship with the same sex doesn’t mean their gay. 

sometimes there really are NO signs. 

just look at all of the idols people assumed were gay. momo/heechul, baekhyun/taeyeon, hani, kai(though mostly considered him to be bi). anyhow, my point is you just never know. lol 

now, i’ll stop my rambling and get started. first let’s start with 

S A N

now, i’ll be honest, i’ve always thought san was gay because how reserved he was and how shy and sweet he was around the members during their predebut days. i just felt like he was maybe shy because he hadn’t come to terms with he sexuality. i mean when i look at san during predebut, he literally was like a baby, and his mannerisms was so small and reserved. even his body was so tiny and fragile. however, this was because san was naturally skinny and it had always been a complex for him. in which he said he had a tough time gaining weight.

what we know about san’s former lifestyle is that he was a church boy, a farmer, a wannabe gamer and a freaking black belt in taekwondo and his dad was an owner of a taekwondo studio, he was one of the most popular kids, he had a pretty good relationship with his parents or at least now he does and his grandparents took good care of him when his parents didn’t. 

but san still had low self-esteem. why? i really don’t know, but i would hazard a guess that it was because of his sexuality(this is just an assumption guys, not a fact). now remember san was part of the church, and he joined because a friend asked him too. they probably asked him because they figured he liked to sing and dance. although i think san was shy and self-conscious, i don’t that he was self-conscious about his abilities as you could see he did go to the church to sing and dance in front of a bunch of people. i think he had low-self esteem because of who he may have realized that he was.

here are some examples of what i mean.

there’s something that san continuously repeats and that is to learn to love himself, know his worth, and just simply love who he is. and i think that’s one of the reasons that san didn’t like church is because it went against who he was and is. if you watch videos of him in the church he really looks like he doesn’t want to be there. he looks so uncomfortable. he doesn’t just look like “ah, this is boring there’s nothing to do” but he looks more like he’s displaced. like he’s NOT supposed to be there. we learn later that san isn’t religious instead.

don’t you find it interesting that he made a direct correlation to his belief in god to his belief in himself. it was like he was saying, even though i don’t believe in god i believe in who i am. like i trust that who i am is correct. 

another part of this video that i find interesting is the moment that they talk about how much they value each other(woo and san).

S: You’re cool and

S: I honestly

S: Now I can sincerely

S: To the people around me or my relatives

S: I can proudly say that my friend is Wooyoung!

S: You're that kind of friend

S: To that point where I'm not embarrassed

S: Or rather say you're my friend that's worth showing off!

S: I think this is more than enough!

a lot of people in the comments of this video said that they felt like this was a confession and i agree. i remember feeling odd at how san worded this, the first time his sexuality didn’t even cross my mind. i was just like oh, he’s probably embarrassed because woo’s so loud and shit. lol. but now it doesn’t make much since to me. the vibes here are very serious, and we all know that even though woo can be loud and noisy many atiny’s forget that he is also extremely mature. especially when he needs to be. not only that but san has said woo is very respecful to his elders, so i don’t think he would of been embarrassed by woo’s on camera behavior. i noticed before san said this he hesitated a bit, like should i say this or how should i word this. it was super sweet.

now, let’s talk about san describing his ideal type. in which he says the outside doesn’t matter and that he wants someone who is kind-hearted and warm. he wants someone who’s good to him.

there are a lot of moments translated where he used feminine pronouns, but others have clarified and said he did not mention any pronouns. 

let’s also talk about that conversation he had with wooyoung where they talked about what kind of guys they liked. where woo was like, “i like cool guys” and san was like, “i like both cool and sweet guys” then there’s silence because they probably realize that it’s considered “weird”. then san says, “i’ll be quiet”. i honestly felt bad like ;c. he probably felt the need to stop talking about it because he realized that people would prob think that it was gay.

he also sang troye sivan my youth, but i honestly don’t think that it’s too relevant seeing as many kpop idols appreciate troye sivan. but it’s worth noting i suppose.

lastly, body language there’s just a lot of moments that can’t be explained. now i completely understand that korea is tote fine with males being close with one another but there are just some moments, that i believe, i don’t care how comfy you are with the same sex is questionable. lmfao. 

mind you seconds before this san was just minding his own business but his expression completely changed when he saw woo seduc---i mean dancing in front of him. idc what anyone says, a straight man would never eye fuck another man like this. lmfao. there’s lust in those eyes and you can’t tell me there isn’t. san was literally checking him out.

san being completely comfortable with having his no-no on woo’s ass, these are both very intimate parts of the body. honestly, the simple fact that san likes spooning woo from behind all the time is suspect to me. lol. especially with the expressions he gives at times. 

san’s reaction when woo gets too close to his face, he doesn’t flinch. he’s also clearly looking at woo’s lips. there’s also another moment like this where san becomes so flustered that he has to look away for a second. lmfao.

when i think two of the other members(i don’t remember who) had to do a couple dance. what they did was completely tame, but woosan over here took it up several notches and started dancing like they were at a gay bar. no one told them to do it, they just did. 

next i want to point out how comfortable they are with the shipping. i already mentioned this in my woosan relationship post but they’re comfortable with the shipping, then i figured it was because they were comfortable with the relationship that they had. but now, i think they don’t mind it because they’re proud of who they are. it’s not just them being comfortable with woosan, but with their sexuality as well. so they’re like telling us we’re woosan but we’re also okay with our sexuality kind of thing. 

lastly, i want to point out body language again for san, and this is honestly the ONLY reason why i believe he is somewhat bi and not completely gay. the way he interacts with fans. i know you’re all gonna say well, that’s his job. but, he seems to want to impress his fans or look good for them. san’s confidence has changed quite a bit and as yeosang once said, san’s kind of like a tough guy now, as mingi said he’s changed the most since debut. i think the reason satan--i mean san has become so powerful, and a sexy demon on stage is because he’s confident in who he is now and it really shows. i think san wanted to break those stereotypes of who he was and show people that he wasn’t weak or shy, but manly and sexy and the best in bed. but on stage he loves showing off his muscles and how flexible his hips are and even on vlive. most of the fans are women and i think to myself why would he do this if he was completely gay? 

i just don’t think a completely gay man would not want to appeal to women all that much. then again it could possibly be because he enjoys getting those compliments and that’s what fuels his self esteem. it could be the compliments from the women and not the women themselves. i’m not completely sure, but the reason why he does this does matter. he likes receiving compliments not just from the fans but from anyone really. so i don’t know if the reason he shows off his manliness to fans is because he wants to appeal to women OR if he just wants to appeal to his self esteem. which is possible. you guys let me know what you think.

next

W O O Y O U N G

there really isn’t as much content for me to work with when it comes to woo because he refuses to post, but i’m so confident that this boy is bi that it’s not even funny. there’s not much predebut info, there’s not much info about his ideal type. 

sighs 

yo girl will work with what she’s got. now, woo has only playfully mentioned his ideal type. in which he usually automatically answers yunho. do i actually believe that? no. lmfao. i think woo was smart enough to have yunho as his default answer for this question really. instead of actually being attracted to yunho i think woo just admires yunho because he always answers yunho for a member he would switch bodies with as well. he always says yunho because he’s tall, fun, funny, handsome and has a nice figure. 

but as you’ve all probably noticed he doesn’t really seem physically attracted to yunho, but you know(HAHA) who he is definitely physically attracted to? 

seonghwa, without a doubt, i’m saying this with my whole fucking chest, okay? i have no doubt in my mind that woo is or at least was physically attracted to seonghwa. 

that full post i made with woo trying to kiss seonghwa for the 100th time is all the evidence you need, but i’ll keep y’all entertained. i want you all to understand that seonghwa has said that woo kisses him so much off camera that he’s used to it, the fact that the members gasped so hard that they almost caught flies was mehmehable. 

now you all will probably say that woo just loves kisses and that’s fine but he seems to want to kiss on the mouth too and that’s pretty gay. lol. 

he literally looked at seonghwa’s mouth before he dived in for a kiss. cheek kisses and mouth kisses are two whole different vibes. not to mention he tried to kiss him again during this vlive and san. woo has literally tried kissing all of the members okay? lmfao. he’s just way too comfortable with it in my opinion. 

woo has been hungry for seonghwa, and he knows it, we can also talk about how he has said twice that seonghwa has a pretty ass. which he isn’t wrong about. lmfao. we could also talk about that moment where woo literally looked down seonghwa’s shirt.

anyway, while i do think woo was physically attracted to him, i’m pretty sure he has some kind of intimate relationship with san now. i don’t wanna add those moments because it would just me repeated what i wrote for woosan relationship analyzes, woo has also shown a lot of interest in women during their america tour and he’s repeatedly gone to the same fancam of some women. it’s important to mention woo is naturally a flirt but he seems to flirt with the members as well, according to yeosang who said this during their christmas vlive. jongho has also said he wanted woo’s ability to flirt. so my best guess is that he probably flirted with the members in the past. 

there’s also the clip of him telling a fanboy to go after the guy that he likes, and he was also surprised to hear that he had fanboys, and he seemed interested to know this information other than that i don’t have much evidence, but i think woo’s body language off camera with the members is plenty evidence really. lol. there’s just not many straight men i know who would be inclined to cling to another male as much as woo does. 

anyway, i’m tired this was my woosan sexuality post. remember these aren’t facts just observations and opinions. ;)

[tae-cup]

Answer: Love Myself | The Pact (4) FINALE

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Summary: It was simple. If you weren’t married by 26, you’d get married to each other. Well, it was supposed to be simple.

Warnings: N/A

Genre: ANGST, Fluff???, Non-Idol!Au, Business!Au-ish

Word Count: 2.4k Words

A/N: Thank you for sticking around to read this series. The support was absolutely amazing and I hope you enjoy this last part! Stay safe everyone and remember to love yourself. 

Other:

Series Masterlist

Normal Masterlist

         A meaningless exchange of words. That’s all this was. Jennie was sitting across from you at the park, Taehyung next to her. His arm was wrapped protectively around her shoulder. You resisted the urge to graze your shoulder with your hand; if only to mimic the contact. 

“So I said to her, ‘Miss, you have a little something right here.’” He pointed to his cheek. “But-”

       Jennie cut in, finishing the story she’d heard a million times before. “-But then she stared incredulously at him and pointed to his hair, which was also covered in the dye.” She chuckled as Taehyung looked shocked. 

“You remembered that story?!” He cried. 

“Of course I did, silly.” The girl poked his cheek. You smiled at them, they looked like they got along better now. Maybe this was how it always was before you came around. 

“I wish you would have told me that before I repeated myself a thousand times.” He grumbled, playing with her hair in his fingers. 

       You were happy for them. Truly happy. Taehyung glanced at you, something in his eyes wavering. His gaze flicked between the two of you, but only one was sitting under his arm, beside him. Jennie and you had found a way to get along somehow in the past few days and you could tell Taehyung was happy you were friends now. 

“Ah, I remember those color wars.” You added, trying to find some way to contribute to the banter. Instead, it did the opposite. The two were obviously pulled away from their little world and you cursed yourself for interrupting. The relationship between you and the two of them would have been normal if it wasn’t for that pact. 

“Right, because you always lost.” Taehyung teased, a small smile on his face. Even Jennie shot you a smile. It felt more sympathetic, maybe pitying, than genuine. It made your face heat up. Desperate for love and attention, yes, but you weren’t one for going after something you couldn’t have. 

“Yah! That’s a bit harsh.” You cried. Taehyung laughed loudly, hand rubbing Jennie’s arm. “I think I won color wars at least once.” You pouted. 

“At my school, the same grade always won the dye round because the student council favored them.” Jennie rolled her eyes. “We never got as much dye as them.”

“Or maybe you were just bad at conserving the dye.” Taehyung chided, booping her nose. Her features twisted to a frown, eyes looking up at him. 

“How dare you accuse me of such an atrocity! I blame the system!” Jennie declared. The two giggle. You’re happy for them. You’re happy for Taehyung. No matter how much you long for his touch, or anyone’s touch in fact. This outing was overshadowed by the bitterness approaching around the corner. Tomorrow. Tomorrow The Pact’s anniversary would take place and you were sure he had dropped it by now. You and Jennie had come to a conclusion, but it was clear Taehyung had not. 

         Taehyung watched you carefully out of the corner of his eyes. You looked much more confident than when you first met. You had grown into a beautiful and charming woman. He wanted to want you, but his heart beat with another. Still, he was a man of his word. He would propose to you. That’s what you wanted, right? If you had asked him if he wanted to marry you a week ago, he would have said yes. But things had been getting better between Jennie and him. He was torn. 

         He was noticing things about Jennie that he’d been blind to before. Her smile, how she waited for him when he got home from work, the way she caressed his cheek. How painful it must have been to see him slipping away. Two years. He looked over to the woman beside him. He had been with her for two years, that must mean something. Maybe it took you blatantly rejecting him for him to get his head out of his ass. He chuckled at the thought, to the confusion of the two women in his company. They were blissfully unaware of his inner struggle. 

         Is this the right decision? You found yourself thinking. You could still get lost in his gaze, you could still long for his fingertips against your skin, but it was different. Your heart didn’t flutter seeing him. You found yourself becoming truly happy for him, pushing away jealousy and resentment. You could forgive him for those words 10 years ago. A smart girl like you shouldn’t have agreed to such a foolish thing. Now you found yourself smiling at the words. They felt like a distant dream. You watched the two snuggle close and you couldn’t help thinking that they fit each other perfectly, like puzzle pieces. Why would you even dream of ripping them apart?

       The day had come. Taehyung had invited you out and you stood at the curb outside your apartment, waiting. Your heart was beating, but not out of nerves. No, you were actually feeling ill. You didn’t want to go through with this. When you had asked him where you were going, he had winked and said ‘it’s a surprise’. 

        You froze as he pulled up to the curb. It was just him, his car, and a nice suit. You gulped, glancing down at your attire. With a deep breath, you knew what you needed to do. You smiled and walked to his car. He jumped out and rushed to the other side, opening the door for you. The warmth of his hand on your back made you shiver as he helped you in. 

“Y/N, I’m so glad you could make it.” He rambled as he drove. 

“Hah, well, I didn’t have much else to do.” Your eyes flickered over to him for a moment before looking back out at the streetlights that whizzed by. In truth, you had cleared your schedule for this day ages ago. However, you had expected the day to be joyous.

     Now, you had a pit of guilt in your gut. You have to go through with it. He seems so excited, Y/N. Then you remembered your words to Jennie. I won’t take him away from you. You swallowed thickly as you pulled up to your old school. Your mouth went dry. You knew what he was doing and you almost didn’t need him to lead you around the side and to the gardens. 

     Your school was always nicer than most. You recognized the faded classroom numbers and pristine halls. In the back was a small garden and in that small garden was a grove. In that grove was a stone bench and a cherry tree. He took your hand, swinging it as if you were a couple. 

“You recognize this place, right?” 

    You nodded slowly, gnawing at your bottom lip. Regret filled you to the brim. 

“This is the place where we-” You cut yourself off, not wanting to finish the sentence. He looked hesitantly at you before nodding. 

“Yeah…” He looked over at the bench. You could see it clear as day. Your 15 year old self sitting next to him, a laptop in hand. You’re laughing, he’s smiling. It’s happy. Then you’re brought to the present. You stood side by side, not a couple, but soon to be engaged. 

“It’s been a while.” You murmured. “Listen I-” You turned to him but he grasped both of your hands, making your heart stop. He still had that effect on you. You could almost lose yourself in this moment, pretend he was yours, that you could kiss those lips, hold these hands, without guilt. 

      He took a deep breath and you trail off, not wanting to interrupt him. Was he going to go through with this? His gaze seemed distant and his brow furrowed for a moment, as if having an internal war. Finally, he stepped back. 

“Y/N. I have loved you for 10 years. 10 years and I haven’t stopped. You and I are right for each other.” Despite his words, He looked so uncertain, unlike the dead gaze he gave you in the library. That night seemed like it was ages ago. You wanted to stop him, to tell him this was a mistake, but he continued. “Let’s make good on this pact, love.” 

      He reached into his suit pocket and opened the velvet ring box and bent on one knee. 

“Will you marry me?”

           You walked down the aisle, a pretty arrangement of flowers in your hands, Jennie had helped you pick them out and you had been surprised by her generosity. You looked beautiful, hair in an updo, arm linked with a man. You smiled at Taehyung and he gazed back at you. You were sure you could see him tear up, but you played it off as the lighting. You nodded reassuringly at him, then you looked up at the high arching ceiling. The wedding bells chimed. Friends and family surrounded you. But they weren’t your friends and family. You took a right. The man holding your arm wasn’t your father and your father wasn’t here to give you away. 

         You part ways with the groomsman and take your place across the way from Taehyung. He didn’t spare you a glance, instead looking eagerly from where you came from. Then you turn, taking a deep breath, to watch the bride walk down the aisle. All rise. You smiled genuinely at Jennie. She looked overjoyed, even her father didn’t seem that bothered. 

        Watching Taehyung be truly happy had been the most fulfilling thing you’d watched in a while. Your heart tugged painfully as the two exchanged their vows, but you still cried with joy when they kissed. Moving on had been hard, but we all grow up someday. Taehyung peered over the bride’s shoulder as the crowd cheered. He winked and then held Jennie’s hand, giving her a look of unadulterated love. 

One month ago

“No.” 

       He quirked his head to the side, confusion flashing across his face. He didn’t rise, as if staying on one knee could convince you more. You smiled softly and stepped forward, falling to your knees in front of him and taking his hands in yours. You gently caressed his hands and closed the box. 

“This is meant for someone else, Taehyung.”

“W-who?”

“You know who.” Your voice is gentle, aching to take him in your arms, to scream yes. One tear. Then another. You watched him slowly unravel in front of you.  

“Y/N, I’ve loved you so long. I just hoped you would love me the same way, but when we met, I knew, I knew you had changed. I have changed. And I missed her, Y/N. She was right in front of me. I was so caught up in you, Y/N.” 

      You nodded, your eyebrows furrowing. Your hands fell into your lap, feeling remorseful, but you also had the urge to make things right.

“I love you, but...but I love her more than just a friend. And I don’t want to lose her.” He confessed.

       Your heart broke, only focused on this man, Taehyung, your best friend, sobbing in front of you. You threw your arms around him, hugging him tightly, letting his tears stain your dress. You rubbed his back, then pulled away once his tears had subsided to sniffles. You looked him the eye, determination coloring your face. 

“Then go to her.”

Present

           You stood in front of the mirror. Your eyes ran over your bug bites scars, skin discoloration, body fat. With a smile, you found yourself rubbing over your features gladly. This was you. This was who you were, this body, this skin, this face. You no longer scrutinized yourself, instead finding yourself loving the person in front of you. She was confident, sure of herself, and...and she loved herself. You stared. Was this really you? 

          You had been waiting for so long, just praying for someone to complete you, to love the faults in yourself. You had been waiting for yourself. You were the missing piece. After all, how can you love someone else if you can’t love yourself?  

           A grin broke out onto your face and you were sure if anyone else was here you would seem like a maniac. You hugged your arms, complimenting your appearance. Those scars were yours. That discoloration showed you spent time outside, enjoying your life. The fat meant you ate well, that you were healthy. Acceptance felt nice. 

         You brushed your hands through your hair, trying to contain the frizz that came with humidity combined with wind. The wedding was certainly taking place on a hot night. You could feel yourself sweating as you stepped out of the bathroom. 

“Y/N!” Jennie shouted, immediately noticing you. She drew you into a hug. “I’m so grateful to you. You know, you came at just the right time.” The two of you weren’t worried about talking about what happened, now it was more of a joke. 

          You were basically inseparable now, becoming close friends with the couple. It was silly to think you ever had a feud as heated as it seemed. Taehyung had laughed and told you guys that he had always thought the feud was unnecessary. That had earned two wary stares from the both of you. ‘You can’t blame me! You had me worried there for a bit.’ Jennie had pouted, earning a kiss from Taehyung and a laugh from you. 

“Ah, it’s no problem, call it fate.” You winked. 

“I mean, I spent so much time thinking I was being a fool for loving him, knowing he must love someone else.” She rambled and her eyes fell ever so slightly. You brushed your fingers under her chin, making her look up from her downcast eyes on the floor. 

“A bride shouldn’t look so down on her wedding day. And you were never foolish for thinking that. A smart girl doesn’t do foolish things, love.” You smiled at her. 

       You watched her eyes brighten and she rushed off to talk to her other friends. Your eyes slid over to Taehyung, sitting alone at the wedding table. You missed his smile. You missed his eyes. But you knew that this was right. Your phone buzzed in your pocket. 

Movie night, next Saturday? - Taehyung

You chuckled, making eye contact with him.

Pay attention to your wife.

But She’s busy with her friends and I’m alone at the wedding table.

Yeah?

       You saw him scoff, almost heard it too. You had heard his voice so many times, it didn’t matter that the music was pounding in your ears.

So is it a deal?

      You rolled your eyes, suddenly reminded of when you first made the pact. Deal? Deal. A shaking of hands. Now you looked up at him, a small smile on your face. 

Deal

Curtain fall, end scene. 

Taglist: @tangledsparkles​  @rjsmochii @bonnyskies @imluckybitches​

A/N: Thank you for sticking around! Love yourself!!

[watchyourbluesturngolden]

I'm OBSESSED w/the Howard Stern fic and I was wondering if you could write another interview w/ Howard like matbe it's the first interview after you had gone pubblic... there's a line in your fic “I remember though, at first we were all a little uncertain about her. She’s not exactly like the other women you have a history with"...just like building on that and "I just mean, we were used to seeing you with models and actresses.."where yn is introvert,normal grl who helped H w/his mentalhealth

first of all thank you so much 🥺 it means a lot to me that you liked that other fic that much! i changed your request a little bit because i honestly couldn't picture harry opening up this much in an interview with howard stern slkfjdslkfj but i hope you like it!

tysm to @ssacalumsg0lden for beta reading for me :)))))

zane lowe

warnings: mentions of bad relationships

word count: 1.6k

"So what have you been up to, Harry?" Zane asked, leaning his arm against the picnic table.

"You know, the usual. Some music stuff," Harry said. "But I'm also trying to spend a lot of time with my family and friends. It's so hard to do that when you're on tour or working on a new album, it kind of takes over your life. So I like to try and make sure to do that whenever I'm able to."

"That's good, it helps to stay grounded."

Harry nodded. "It's very easy, I think, to get swept away from your normal life. So I try to surround myself with the people I love as much as possible, for the sake of my sanity," he laughed.

"That's good, it's important to do that," Zane nodded. "Do you notice a positive change in your mood now that you do that?"

"I do, very much," Harry nodded, a light blush tinting his cheeks as he smiled. "I've... There's a few new people I've gotten very close with, and it's made me so much happier."

Harry was, of course, talking about you. His girlfriend of one year. The woman who had changed his life.

Harry knew his relationship with you was different than ones he'd had before. Before, relationships weren't relaxing. They weren't something that made him feel safe, or a space for him to unwind after a long day. They were just something else he had to expend energy on. He was always performing, always trying to make his girlfriend happy, even if that meant sacrificing his own sleep, or comfort, or happiness.

But with you, it was different. For once, he didn't have to be anyone except himself. He didn't have to force himself to stay at afterparties for hours and hours, drinking too much and talking to people he didn't really know. He didn't have to come home after a long day, only to get cleaned up and get ready to go out for a fancy dinner. He didn't have to fake anything, not with you. He could just... be. For the first time in his life, he felt like he could completely be himself, no changes needed.

He had never really been with an introvert before; his previous relationships were always go go go. The next party, the next after party, the next after after party. It was exhausting, if he was being honest. Of course he appreciated the opportunity to celebrate with his friends and meet new people, but sometimes he was just tired. He was tired of being Harry Styles, the pop star who parties constantly. Sometimes he just wanted to come home and decompress, talk to his girlfriend about his day, and ask about hers. He was tired of being on all the time.

Which is why he loved his relationship with you so much. With you, everything seemed easy. Since you were decidedly an introvert, the majority of your evenings with him were spent watching movies in either one of your living rooms. On the nights you did go out (usually suggested by Harry, because you would honestly be fine to stay in every night) you didn't go to extravagant gatherings or five star restaurants. You preferred to explore smaller local shops and cafes, or old book stores, or antique stores, or walk around in a park, or go for a picnic. Places where you and Harry could just be together, without the pressure of others around you.

Harry was happier than he'd ever been. He didn't realize exactly how tiring it was to go out every night until he stopped doing it.

At first though, you were a little concerned about his sudden change of habits. You worried he would begin to resent you for keeping him in every night, since you really weren't interested in going out. After you had been dating for about 2 months, you decided to ask him about it.

"Harry, if you want to go out and... get drinks with your friends, or just meet up with them, you can," you said encouragingly. "I don't want you to feel like you can't do anything just because I don't like going out, I promise I'm not going to be upset if you want to do stuff like that." You were a little shy speaking about this, because it had been an issue before. It's really hard to sustain a relationship when one half wants to go out and have fun every night, and the other just wants to stay in and watch Netflix.

His eyes widened a little and he shook his head. "That's not- I mean if you're sick of having me here..." his voice took on a teasing tone.

"Yeah, because the way I cuddle you constantly really makes it seem like I want you to leave," you rolled your eyes. "But I'm serious, I don't want you to feel like I'm keeping you from doing stuff."

"You don't," he said quickly. "I feel like in other relationships I’ve had, I had to be on all the time. I was ready to go out whenever, we would shut down every party, we were just running around constantly, and I... was so over it," he dropped his head against your shoulder, laughing. "I would so much rather stay in. I mean, I still like going out sometimes, but I really don't have any desire to be like that anymore. I felt like shit all the time because I was always hungover and sleep deprived. Also... I kind of felt like the only reason people wanted to be with me wasn't because they liked me, they just liked the idea of me. They liked the friends and connections I had, they liked the parties I could take them to. I felt... kind of used, I guess. I never felt like I could just be myself, because that's not why they wanted to be with me."

You frowned, bringing your hand up to run your fingers through his hair. "I'm so sorry, you didn't deserve that. I don't want you to feel like that anymore, okay? I want you to feel safe enough with me that you can just be yourself. And I really hope you know the reason I want to be with you. I want to be with you for you, not parties or connections or anything else."

You heard a quiet sniffle, and although his head was in your neck, you could tell he was crying.

"Baby, don't cry," you cooed soothingly, continuing to play with the little hairs at the back of his neck.

"I just... I love you," he said quietly. "And I know it's soon, but I do. I've never been more sure of anything. You don't have to say it back-"

"I love you too," you cut him off quietly. "Very, very much."

-----

Harry smiled as he thought back on that conversation. "Yeah. Definitely a positive change in my mood.

"I'm very glad to hear that," Zane said. "The right person can really change everything."

"They can," Harry agreed. "And that shows, in my music as well as my personal life. When I was writing Fine Line, I was having some of the lowest points of my life. Some of the highest too, but that just goes to show that I had no stability. I was just constantly up and down, thrown from super high highs to very low lows. I just felt... bad, a lot. But now I'm in a much better place, I think, and I think you can really hear that on this new record."

"Well, I'm very excited to hear it!" Zane smiled. "I think we all are."

"Thank you," Harry blushed. "There's a few songs on there that I'm very excited to share. Some very personal ones, so that's a little nerve wracking, but overall," he laughed lightly. "Overall I think they're some of my favorites that I've ever written."

"And are these songs about a certain person?"

"They are," Harry smiled. "She's the reason I'm in this better place. She's the reason I've been able to process so many of my emotions and put them into songs like this, so really she's the one you'll have to thank when the album comes out."

"She sounds wonderful," Zane smiled, looking out over the waves crashing on the shore.

"She is," Harry nodded, following the other man's gaze. "She's really... she's everything."

-----

"Harry, that was amazing," you grinned, launching yourself into his arms. The interview had concluded about an hour ago, and Harry just arrived home with takeout from the Chinese place you both loved.

"Thank you," he smiled, setting the bags down before he hugged you back. "Missed you, though."

"Missed you too." You leaned up to kiss him, but pulled away before it could go too far. "But I'm hungry. Let's eat?"

"Sure," he laughed, picking up the bags to bring them to the table. "Uh- I'm sorry if I said anything too personal, I didn't mean to take it so far. I was just thinking about how much I love you-"

"It's okay," you cut in. "I loved it, I promise it's okay."

"That's good," he leaned over to kiss your cheek. "I honestly had to hold myself back a lot, once i start talking about you it's hard to stop."

Your cheeks burned from the compliments, and you moved to return the tender gesture. "You're so sweet," you smiled. "But I'm, like, starving, so can we talk about this later?"

"Sure we can," Harry laughed. "Anything for you. You're everything."

[gaycrouton]

You're wonderful. I love the viagra fic and I want more please🍆🍆🍆

Aaaaaaannnnnnddddd THE FINAL PART IS HERE! Thank you so much for your support! And another thanks to @admiralty-xfd for being my love!

Side note, not to toot my own horn, but this is spicy

Clinical Detatchment II

She’d been doing good, in fact too good, at shutting her mind off to ignore any sounds coming from the other room. She tried to read her case files, get some work done, she even meditated. Aside from a few gasps, she was pretty confident she was doing a good job. Which is why the knocking startled her so badly.

Scully glanced at her watch, amazed by Mulder’s stamina, when she realized the lifetime that had passed had only been six minutes. Walking to the door, instead of relief, she was met with the biggest kicked puppy dog look she’d ever seen from him - pouty lip, glossy eyes, and all.

“Scully, I can’t focus because I’m anxious and I’m scared and I can’t get out of my head, but I don’t want to go to the doctor,” he rambled in a single breath. 

Sighing, she opened the door for him to come in and he waddled in holding the towel to his still prominent bulge. 

“What if you tried watching TV, just charge the Pay-Per-View to your card?” she asked.

“No TV,” he replied, his intonation implying he’d considered that option as well.

She was already mid-scoff when she looked around the room and realized that he was right. Of course they’d be in the one motel in America without a television. 

“What do I do?” he asked in one of the most desperate tones she’d ever heard. She couldn’t blame him, if the situation were reversed, she’d be in a panic by now.

“First, I want you to take a deep breath. You need to calm down,” she commanded, taking a deep breath to lead by example and repeating the motion to get him to mimic her.

“I would have tasted it if it were too high of a dose right?” he asked.

“Not necessarily,” she replied honestly. His brows furrowed and he took a step back, pacing lightly out of stress.

“I’m sorry, I know this is awkward and please don’t think less of me. I just really don’t want to lose my dick,” he confessed, looking at her apologetically.

“Mulder, you’re not going to lose your dick,” she replied. “How does it look now? Did being jostled aggravate it?”

“Is that what you call it, Scully? Being jostled?” he teased before looking down, taking the towel away from himself just a millimeter to try and peek. 

“Mulder, there’s no need to be shy right now,” she reminded him.

He looked at her with chagrin before acknowledging that. Wordlessly, he pulled the towel away and the motion caused his penis to bob once against his stomach before resuming its normal stance at attention. 

She took a step closer and grabbed it lightly, moving it gently to look at it fully. “Fuck, Scully,” he gasped in surprise and something that sounded much more relief than displeasure.

“Sorry,” she mumbled as she bit back a gasp. When she’d brushed it with her palm she undoubtedly felt him twitch in her hand. “It still looks normal,” she assessed before taking a step back. 

As she did this, she noticed the way his eyes had been locked on her face hungrily, something she’d been too distracted to notice before. His eyes were dilated and his jaw was clenched, a sight that might appear like anger to others - but looked like unadulterated lust to her. 

Scully swallowed and, aside from his gaze flickering to the hollow of her throat, he came back to himself and looked away, covering himself once more. “Why don’t you call one of your 1-900 numbers?” she asked.

“First of all, you shouldn’t know about those. Second of all, I cancelled my accounts a few months back,” he replied.

“Why?”

He shrugged non-committedly and murmured “I didn’t feel like I needed them anymore.”  If she was gauging correctly, he looked shy at this admittance. She knew for a fact he wasn’t with anyone, so the timing just felt oddly coincidental to when they started hanging out after work more often. Part of her wanted to think it was directly related to their increased time together, but the rational side told her it was more likely that he just didn’t have as much time for it.

“You know, some say when the prostate is stimulated just right that orgasm is almost involuntary-”

“No judgement, but I don’t think the first time I want something in my ass is under these circumstances,” he deadpanned.

She wiped her face as if to rid herself of her stress and contemplated the situation. Really contemplated the situation. They’d been teetering on this line between being platonic and more for a while now. That back massage she’d given him a few weeks ago involved way more touching than necessary, him kissing her cheek was a given after a night hanging out and cheek had slowly been wandering into side of the mouth territory, and she’d dare to go so far as to say they’d even been cuddling without calling it cuddling during movie nights. 

All in all, their platonic relationship was a camel with two thousand straws on its back. This would be the one to break it.

She let out another long breath before looking him in the eye. “Mulder?”

He met her gaze and furrowed his brow, alarmed at her severity. “What?”

“I want you to know I’m only saying this because I trust you and if we want this can eternally remain a secret,” she started. He didn’t say anything, just looked at her with prying eyes, trying to decipher her meaning. Keeping her hands firmly planted at her sides, lest she give way to her nerves, she stated, “If you think there’s anything I could do to help, I’m willing.”

His mouth dropped open and his eyes widened, scanning her to make sure he was understanding her correctly. “Scully, I could never ask-”

“You aren’t asking, I’m offering,” she clarified.

He continued to stand there stunned, still holding the cloth against himself,  and she started to feel self-conscious. “You even mentioned earlier in your room that you were afraid you’d come in front of me. And earlier before at the restaurant you seemed to get flustered when I touched yo-”

“Yeah, Scully. I’m obviously attracted to you, but I don’t want you to do anything like that out of pity,” he explained. He paused for a minute before adding, “And I don’t want you to think I came in here under the assumption you’d help.”

She sighed and wished anything could be easy or simple. “I’d never think that, Mulder. And I’m not doing it out of pity. Again, I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t comfortable with the idea. You know me better than that.”

Her final words seemed to really strike something in him and a look of understanding started to cross his face. “But I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of you and your condition either. Just because I find you attractive doesn’t mean I would ever expolit-”

“Really?” he asked, astonished, his sincerity almost laughable with the straining erection pressing the thin fabric held in front of him.

“W-what?” she asked, feeling like the room was a hundred degrees hotter than it had been earlier.

“You’re attracted to me?”

She rolled her eyes at how juvenile this all was. “Mulder, I think we both know we’re attracted to each other,” she declared honestly, unable to meet his eyes.

He was silent for a moment before chuckling lightly. “I never thought it would come out this way,” he stated quietly, almost to himself.

“Part of me isn’t surprised,” she admitted with a small smile. Conventionalities had yet to find a place in their partnership. 

“I know this,” he gestured to his erection, “-says differently, but I’m nervous. I feel like a teenager again,” he laughed.

She offered him a reassuring smile to let him know the feeling was mutual. “It’s just me,” she whispered shyly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Exactly,” he murmured. 

She took in a deep breath, feeling her heart continue to beat rapidly in her chest. The words were out there now, but that was only the beginning. “Do you think I could help you?” she asked, posing the question to him with a lilt.

It wasn’t meant to be seductive, but her question caused him to lick his lips and his eyes to roam to her chest before they shot respectfully to the wall art. “Can I be honest?��� he asked.

“I’d be offended if you weren’t,” she replied.

He chuckled as he raised a hand up to rub the back of his neck. “I’d always thought we’d take things slow.”

“We still can,” she told him in earnest, playing with the nail of her middle finger.

He cocked an eyebrow at her and stated uncertainty, “How?”

“Well…” she thought and looked around as if inspiration for how to get your partner off would manifest in the wallpaper. She was rewarded by an idea coming from a glance at the motel phone. “You talked to those women to get off before.”

“Yeah…?” he questioned, uncertain of her intent with that statement.

“What if…you talked to me?” she asked coquettishly.

It was a minute gesture, but she saw him squeeze himself through the hand towel. “So, we talk while I…?” He made a gesture to his crotch and she nodded. “It feels vulgar to jack off in front of you.”

Deciding honesty might help the situation, she admitted, “I wouldn’t be appalled if that’s what you think.” He cocked an eyebrow in surprise and she did the same in response. “But, what if for now, you sat on the bed and I sat in the chair by the adjoining door facing away from you?”

He nodded in understanding before meeting her eyes. “Are you sure?”

She nodded before walking over, grabbing the chair and dragging it to face the corner of the room, realistically only ending up three feet at most away from Mulder, but it gave the illusion of privacy. 

She sat down as she heard him get comfortable on the bed. They stilled for a moment in their positions, as if both really realizing what was going to happen. The only sounds in the room left were their pounding hearts and their shallow breaths. “I’ve never done this before,” she laughed nervously, breaking the silence.

“We don’t hav-”

“I want to,” she interrupted. “I promise.” She did too, despite her nerves, the thought of getting him off was one she’d entertained on countless lonely nights and the idea of finally fulfilling the fantasy was turning her on.

Deciding to begin, she asked. “So, what do you and the call girls usually talk about?”

“Um, sexual fantasies normally. Just like, verbally acting them out,” he admitted with hesitancy.

“Your fantasies specifically or one either of you just makes up?” 

“Mine. I’d tell her what I liked and she’d improv from there,” he explained.

Curiosity was burning in her as to if he was already touching himself. Was he waiting? Was he looking at her? “Tell me one.”

“You promise you won’t get mad?” he asked.

She wanted to send him a curious look at his choice of wording, but didn’t want to break his trust by looking. “Yes.”

“Um, usually, I’d ask her to pretend to be my coworker,” he mumbled.

“Oh,” she breathed. She’d never imagined his sexual habits as a conduit for relief of their own sexual tension, but the newfound knowledge stirred something deep inside. “What else would you tell her?”

“I’d describe you,” he admitted, the sound of his voice resonating slightly differently and she realized he was, indeed, facing her. “Your hair, your face, your body type.”

“Give me an example. What would you say to her,” she requested. She just wanted to hear him say it.

“She has short, auburn hair - enough to grab but not enough to get in the way; she’s beautiful, stunningly so, with intense blue eyes, plump red lips, and an aquiline nose; she’s very short-”

She let out a little huff of laughter and he paused to chuckle alongside her. “As I was saying, she’s very short, with a very lithe build - athletic but graceful.”

She was stunned at the delicacy and precision of his words, clearly all of the sentiments expressed were ones he was confident in and it gave her a boost of confidence. “What am I wearing?” Present tense. First person point of view.  He recognized that change as well and the tension in the room started to become more comfortable as they got into it.

“Your usual business clothes, much like the ones you’re wearing now.” She was about to ask another question when he added, “But underneath you’re wearing a matching black lace bra and panty set, and when I’m taking it off you tell me you wore it for me.”

A chill went down her spine as she remembered what she’d put on this morning. Had he seen somehow? The coincidence had her spooked, but thrilled at the same time. 

“Where are we?” she asked.

“The office,” he answered quickly, obviously already picturing it vividly in his mind. She wasn’t sure if he was making the next part up just to hear what she’d say or if this was really how it went. “That’s usually all I say before she takes over.”

There was a gruffness to his voice that told her he was undoubtedly touching himself, the gentle sounds of the bed moving underneath his shifting hips signifying the same. She closed her eyes and imagined herself in the basement, in the very same office they’d been in only a few days ago, where seven years of flirty comments, longing gazes, and sexual tension permeated the space.

“Okay, but let me know if I’m not doing it right,” she nodded, adjusting herself in her seat while trying to ignore the dull ache in her groin.

“I highly doubt that’s possible,” he murmured.

“But I just need to know one thing before starting,” she stipulated.

She heard the movements stop as he answered, “Of course, what is it?”

“In your fantasies, am I the instigator, or is it you?” she asked softly, biting her lips as she waited for an answer. He was silent for a moment and she could hear his mind whirring with the possibilities that came from both ideas. 

“You.”

She’d imagined both so many times that she would have been ready for either. The implication of his choice was obvious; her speaking as the instigator made it more for her rather than making it sound like she was just pandering to his desires. She hoped he knew that wasn’t what this was.

“Good choice,” she complimented before clearing her throat.

She’d truly never done anything like this before in her life. The only thing comparable was her journal that had seen glimpses of a really good fantasy or a recalled dream. That’s how she’d have to do this - just act like she was reading from her private diary.

“It’s Tuesday morning and you’ve been in a mood all morning,” she began. He chuckled and she immediately felt her cheeks redden. “I told you I hadn’t done this before.”

He stifled his laughter quickly to reassure, “No, no. I’m sorry. I just found it funny that even in a fantasy I’m brooding and morose.”

Comforted that it wasn’t her he was laughing at she smiled and defended herself, “May I continue, Mulhder.” She drew out his name in a more sensuous tone than she’d ever used in his presence before and she heard him agree readily.

“It’s Tuesday morning and I can tell something’s off. I’ve been looking across the desk at you since you came in and I can’t put my finger on what’s wrong and every time I ask, you just say you’re fine.”

As she mentally planned out her fantasy she blushed at the fact she was revealing quite a bit about her secret wants. Too late now. “It takes a few hours of prompting before you make a snide comment about me going out with another man.”

There was an abrupt halt then too, and he spoke up again, “Scully, don’t take this the wrong way, but I really don’t-”

She could hear him getting upset at the idea of her fantasy including another man and she smiled at the meta nature of it all, “Let me finish.”

The sounds started up softly again and she took it as a sign to continue. “When you mention it, I feel indignant. I’d spent the night touching myself to the thought of you and I woke up this morning double checking myself in the mirror and hoping you’d like what you’d see, and the fact you would think I could look at another man pisses me off.” The absolute honestly of the words leaving her mouth burned, her mouth felt like a loaded gun and her face felt like it was on fire. But the honesty was erotic.

Mulder thought so too. At these new words she heard a clear as day moan escape his lips, though it sounded like he tried to silence it. “I ask you what you’re talking about and it becomes clear someone said something stupid to you to get you riled up and it worked. I’m pissed you’d believe it so readily, but when I look at you I can see you’d rolled your sleeves up, your jaw is set, and you look absolutely jealous. Possessive even, and it turns me on instantly. I try to meet your eye with a leveled glance and try to ignore the fact that I can feel myself getting wet.”

He inhaled quickly and his breath comes out trembling. “I want to play with you a little bit, see how much you’re willing to admit you’re jealous, but I don’t think you will. I can see it in your eyes when you look at me now that you’re thinking of some nameless agent and imagining his hands on me. You’re thinking of him touching me, fucking me, making me come, and it pisses you off because you know it should be you. You know that no one could pleasure me better than you could.” Now it was her turn to take a deep, shuddering breath. She was staring at the corner of the wall intently, the depressed line where two surfaces meet, as she spoke. The comfort of not having to face him, yet hearing the effect her words had on him was painfully sexy.

“I ask what you mean and you confirm my suspicions. You overheard some guy make a comment about taking me out and you misconstrued it. But you’re not covering your feelings up at all. You don’t say it’s none of your business, you don’t say I can do whoever I want, you don’t say you don’t care, because you know that would all be a lie.”

She’d unabashedly squeezed her legs together to relieve some friction, but it wasn’t enough. She could hear the now rhythmic shifting of the bed, and with the hope he was too distracted to notice, without moving her arm too much she slid her hand in between her legs and up her skirt. Her knuckles brushed against her damp panties and she sucked in a breath and hoped Mulder didn’t hear it. She quickly tries to mask it as her starting another sentence and resumed her narration. “Even though I’m a little upset with you, I can’t stop focusing on how sexy you look. I stand up abruptly and I can tell you think I’m going to leave and you sit up in your seat. For a moment I think you’re going to try and stop me and the idea sends another wave of arousal rushing through me. But you stay in your seat and watch me like a hawk as I walk around the desk so that I’m right beside you, leaning back against the wood.”

She fingers the elastic on the side of her underwear before pulling it to the side and letting her index and ring finger press onto her swollen clit. Her body jolts once and her head rolls to the side. There’s a slickness to the sound of Mulder’s masturbation now and she knows it’s working. For both of them. “When I ask you if you seriously think I’m going out with someone else and you’re shocked. Before you’d been empathizing with the man, understanding what it’s like to want me and you were just jealous he acted on it. Now I’m making you empathize with me and you know me better than to think I’d be fraternizing with some other guy after how close we’d been getting recently.”

“Scully?” he prompted, his voice strained.

“Hmm?” she replied, not trusting her own.

“Are you touching yourself?”

She froze, her fingers just starting to press into herself as she realized she’d been caught. She was about to apologize before he requested. “Can I see you?”

His words weighed heavy in the room as she contemplated them, both of them eager to see what her next action would be. She took her fingers away, slightly surprised at the amount of wetness coating them as her underwear snapped back into place. She stood up and adjusted the chair so it was facing Mulder, and slightly closer to the bed too. She didn’t risk a look at him in fear of chickening out before she sat down. But as she slid into the chair she had to suppress a moan.

He wasn’t lying on the bed. He was sitting on the edge, his feet planted on the floor as he faced her.

He’d been watching her the entire time.

His cock was wet, thick, and swollen in his hand, which hadn’t stopped its rhythmic pumping. Encouraged by his brazenness, she slipped out of her blazer, leaving herself in her thin blouse, letting it fall to the ground next to her, and rose up slightly just to hitch her skirt over her hips. Then she reclined again, spread her legs, and resumed her prior actions.

She saw Mulder mouth the word ‘fuck’ as his hand sped up, and she had no doubt the look in her eye was anything other than lascivious. “W-where was I?” she asked.

“You were mentioning how close we’ve been getting lately,” he informed.

They locked eyes and smiled at the irony of that statement contrasted with their current situation. “Right. You start apologizing and I can tell you’re relieved, but you also feel bad for jumping to conclusions.” She swirls around her clit proficiently enough to make her gasp and jerk slightly against the chair and she saw Mulder’s eyes hungrily devour the motion. 

“Then what do you say?” he asked, adding a second hand below himself to cup his balls, fondling them with precision.

“I lean down close to you tell you I could never be with anyone else because all I think about is you and how much I want you, fuck,” she gasped as she started feeling the beggining twinges of an orgasm. She was reaching the point of inevitability and she couldn’t help but grind her hips against her hand. 

Scully let her head fall back as she stared at the ceiling, not saying anything as she began swirling her clit more fervently, chasing her climax. “Yeah, that’s it, Scully,” he praised, his voice husky and gruff.

Feeling guilty she was on the brink when this was intended to help Mulder, she forced her head back down to look at him, though her hand’s actions didn’t slow. Her voice was uneven and strained as she tried to talk through her arousal. “Hearing me say that was all you needed and you jump up from your seat and grab me, kissing me like your life depended on it. I’m overwhelmed with feeling your arms around me, the way your tongue feels against mine, and how your hands feel on my body.”

She’d spent the past ten minutes working them up, and with one more sentence, he made her come undone.

“God, I want you.”

Her jaw dropped open as waves of pleasure radiated through her entire body. She screamed his name as her fingers mercilessly worked her clit to draw out her orgasm. Her legs went from being rigid, to squeezing her hand between her thighs, to quivering in quick five second intervals. 

When the orgasm subsided, he was pumping furiously and looked absolutely drunk with pleasure. Even though she’d just come, every cell in her body was on fire and craving more. 

The pretense they were hiding behind, the divulgence of a mutual fantasy, was undeniably sexy, but in this moment it didn’t feel like enough. She’d spent years fantasizing about them over and over again, it would never get old, but she fantasized because she felt they were things that could only happen in a dream.

She didn’t want to fantasize when the reality dangled its potential right in front of her face.

“Mulder,” she whispered, his name tumbling wordlessly from her bitten lips.

“Hm?” he replied, slowing down just ever so slightly. 

“I know you wanted to take it slow, but haven’t we waited long enough?” she questioned, her chest rising and falling as she tried to stabilize her breath.

“Are you sure?” he replied, halting his motion and searching her eyes for the hesitation he’d never find. 

“In your fantasies, am I the instigator, or is it you?”

“You.”

Taking a deep breath, she steeled her resolve and stood up. She locked eyes with him and maintained eye contact as she sauntered over to him and hooked a leg over either side of his hips on the mattress, relieved when his hands came to her thighs to stabilize her before roaming the skin experimentally. The whole time he stared at her with so much reverence she felt like Aphrodite incarnated. 

Regardless of her boldness, the last ten minutes included, and despite the fact she could feel their arousals all but straining to touch the other, the absolute intimacy of this situation was not lost on her. This was really going to happen. She was nestled on Mulder’s lap, so close she could smell his aftershave from this morning and she could feel the warmth of his body head radiating onto her, and she started to feel her heart race with something other than arousal.

She raised her hands up, ignoring the way they were trembling, and cupped his cheeks, taking a moment to stroke her thumb against the skin textured by his five o’clock shadow. Her eyes roamed his face as she let her thumbs dip low enough to stroke his full bottom lip. He surprised her, eliciting a gasp, as he pressed a kiss to the wandering digits.

She looked up to meet his eyes and saw adoration reflected in their depths. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” she whispered, the words ripped from her lips without her giving thought to them.

A humbled smile broke out from beneath her thumbs as she felt one of his hands travel up her back to rest on the nape of her neck, his index finger instinctively tracing the scar he didn’t need to see to locate. Her breath hitched at the contact and, in the same breath, she lowered her hands to his shoulders and pressed her mouth against his. 

The timidity that may have been present under other circumstances was far removed as a result of the mutual masturbation session that had just taken place and the suffocating desire that was enshrouding them both. As soon as their lips touched their tongues followed suit and he pulled her tightly against him so that they were flush together.

Her hands started at his shoulders, but they quickly migrated south to roam the expanse of his back, enjoying the curves and contours of his muscles under her touch. Widening her legs, she sank down so that his erection nestled itself into the vee of her thighs, rubbing against the soaked fabric of her panties. He groaned against her lips and bucked upwards in a languid scooping motion that made her gasp.

He surprised her by hooking his arms under her legs and standing up, bringing her along with him. She let out a huff of aroused amusement at his eagerness before he turned around and laid her down in the middle of the bed, crawling on top of her as soon as she hit the mattress. He took a moment to rid himself of his shirt and she followed suit, unbuttoning her shirt as quickly as she could with her excitement hindering her precision. He saw what she was doing and started at the bottom hem edge of her shirt, unbuttoning simultaneously in the other direction until their hands met in the middle so she could arch her back and rid herself of the garment. She went one step further and lifted her hips so she could shimmy out of her skirt, tossing it off the bed before repositioning her legs against Mulder on either side.

He placed his hands greedily on her sides and ran them up and down her torso and all over her abdomen like he could commit it to memory by touching her enough. His eyes drank her in and she felt his hips roll against hers, pressing arousal to arousal sensuously. “Black lace,” he murmured with an appreciative grin as he used his hands to cup her breasts and tease her nipples through the thin fabric.

“Sometimes when I’m getting dressedI think about what you’d see if if were you undressing me. If you’d like what you saw. I didn’t know how right I was until earlier,” she admitted, arching her back and scooting so she could press herself more firmly against him and undulate her hips to match his movements.

He paused and a thoughtful look passed his face. “You thought of me when you put this on?” he asked.

She nodded, biting her bottom lip as she watched him. He smiled like this was the best news he’d ever received. He moved one hand to the valley of her breasts and teasingly toyed with the clasp. “As much as I love your taste in lingerie,” as he said this he unclipped the middle and it came apart, her breasts shifting out of the confines. Then moving his mouth over where the clasp had been, continued with, “- I want to see all of you.”

She helped him remove the bra, tossing it off the bed before his head descended and he latched his mouth directly onto her nipple, sucking, teasing, and nipping before diverting the attention to the other one. Each flick of his tongue sent a ripple of pleasure down her spine, goosebumps erupting over her skin as she clutched the bedsheets. When he switched his attention from breast to breast, he’d pepper little kisses all across her sternum and whisper half complete statements like “so beautiful” and “can’t believe.”

Through her haze of arousal she remembered what started this all and figured they shouldn’t wait anymore. “M-Mu-lder,” she whimpered, squeezing his hips with her thighs to get his attention.

“Hmm?” he hummed with a nipple still in his mouth, the wetness heightening the pleasure the vibrations caused.

“I want you, now,” she moaned, grabbing at his shoulders to pull him up.

He grunted enthusiastically and lifted himself off her. She missed the contact, but was quickly rewarded with the sight of him shimmying out of his boxers before crawling back on top of her. 

His face was looming over hers as their bodies pressed flush together and it was another moment that broke through the haze of lust. It was as if the moment dawned on them both and they couldn’t help but smile. She lifted a hand up and brushed his hair back as she beamed at him, trying not to ruin the heat of the moment by getting teary eyed. They didn’t have to communicate to know the gravity of this moment, that everything they’d ever done had been leading up to this moment. 

She leaned up and kissed him sweetly on the lips as she reached in between them to find his erection and guide it to her entrance. He hissed at the contact and watched her reaction as she angled her hips to allow his tip to sink in an inch or two.

Mulder’s inside me.

It wasn’t even all the way yet, but the simple fact it was happening excited and thrilled her. Mulder eased himself up into a position where he had more control without ever slipping out of her. “You’ll let me know if I hurt you, right?”

She raised her legs up and hooked them around his back so that he had easier access, wrapping her arms around his neck at the same time. “I know I won’t have to,” she whispered, placing a kiss to his lips before pressing her heel into his back in encouragement.

Slowly, he eased in inch by inch, giving her time to adjust to his size. Her body tensed occasionally at the intrusion and the slight pain from being stretched so much, and, just as she predicted, Mulder took her hitched breath or the tensing of her muscles as a sign to pause until she relaxed again. During the brief intermissions, he’d kiss her mouth or play with her nipples, anything to help ease the dull pain.

But when he was completely in and she was able to move her hips a bit in exploration, the dull pain began turning into pleasure. Pleasure that Mulder had undoubtedly been feeling excruciatingly well this whole time if the sweat on his brow and the look of rapture on his face were any indication.

“I’m good,” she breathed out huskily. “You can move.”

He settled into a better position where he still had control but where their pelvises could have more contact. He began at a slow, languid pace, analyzing her face for any sign of discomfort and using it as a gauge for if he could speed up.

In no time, he was snapping his hips back and forth with his thrusts - the entire bed rocking with the momentum. She’d never felt so full and satisfied in her entire life and for what felt like the first time - sex wasn’t partially performative. Not once did she make a sound just to let Mulder know she was having a good time. No - these moans and whimpers continually falling from her mouth felt like they were being ripped from her. Involuntary reactions to an overflow of overwhelming lust and satisfaction all caused by him.

Mulder’s face was a mask of complete and utter bliss. Not once did his eyes leave her body; they roamed from her face to the way her breasts bounced on her chest to her glistening arousal as he bucked against her. “You’re s-so beau-tiful, Scully,” he praised with struggling breath.

“So are you,” she replied with a quick exhale, smiling at him. Watching his muscles work under his skin as he moved was extremely erotic.

She felt the stirrings of a second orgasm building, but she knew it would be harder in this position. “Mulder, I wanna be on top,” she requested ineloquently.

He smiled at her and let out a full blown chuckle as she squealed at his quick movement. With amazing dexterity, he rolled to the side onto his back while keeping her latched to him with his hands on her hips. In a whirlwind of motion, she was on top of him, knees on either side of his hips, as he laid on his back.

The visual stimulation alone was almost enough to send her over the edge. His engorged and throbbing cock was still buried to the hilt inside of her while he looked up at her in awe. It was empowering and she’d never felt more attractive. 

She adjusted her knees into a better position before she began rocking, lifting herself up and down his shaft without letting him fall out. She threw her head back at the sensation and raised her hands to cup her breasts, playing with the weight and tweaking her nipples to heighten her pleasure. She gasped and jerked when she felt his hands rest on her hips, letting one hand dip lower so his thumb could circle her clit as she rode him.

“Fuck, please,” she gasped, picking up the speed and enjoying the lewd sounds of their sexes joining reverberating off the motel walls. 

Intermittently, she’d stop bouncing in favor of sinking down as much as she could and squirming on his lap, enjoying the way she could feel his whole cock inside her and how his tip pressed against her walls so deeply. Whenever she did this, he’d pick up where she left off and buck his hips upwards, making her bounce slightly on his crotch.

One of the times she did this, he started swirling her clit furiously and she knew she was done for. “Muldermuldermulderpleasedon’tstop,” she rambled as she felt her body climbing the peak of pleasure, excitement building at the prospect of jumping over the edge and falling into the depths of ecstasy. 

He could see it in her face and became relentless, swirling her swollen nub mercilessly as her ground her hips against his, keeping her firmly pressed against him by grabbing her hip with his free hand. “That’s it, Scully. I want to feel you come,” he growled.

Something about the way he said her name, mixed with the overwhelming sensations made her second orgasm roar through her. She all but collapsed on him, desperate for as much contact with him as possible as she shook and gyrated her body to prolong her climax. She could see stars and heard a ringing in her ears from the intensity, and she groaned in pleasure when she felt him start thrusting erratically. There was so much intensity that she felt his hips lifting off the bed before she felt him spill inside her as he cried her name into her hair.

She shakily chuckled as she fell against him, not wanting to break the contact yet, but too spent to have the energy to do anything other than lay on top of him. She rose and fell with his uneven breathing, and her eyes fluttered shut as his hand came up to stroke her back tenderly.

“That was-” he began.

“Better than any fantasyI’ve ever had,” she finished, lifting a hand to rest next to her face on his chest.

“You can say that again,” he laughed, kissing the top of her head.

She was so soothed by his warmth and his fingers making lazy patterns on her skin that she never wanted to move. She distantly felt his breath even out and his cock softening inside of her as she felt sleep start to-

Wait.

She rolled off of him so that she instead lay flush parallel to him, still in his arms, as she took a look down. “Mulder, your erection’s gone,” she exclaimed in relief.

He craned his head to look and relief that he wouldn’t have to go get an operation on his penis shone through his eyes. He turned his neck and placed a kiss to her lips, pulling back only to say, “I have a really good doctor.”

[maddie-grove]

My Top Ten Victorian (Ish) Romance Novels

Notes: Queen Victoria’s reign lasted from 1837 to 1901, but I learned in a literature class that sometimes the Victorian era is defined as lasting from 1832 (when the First Reform Act was passed) to 1901 (when Victoria died). When it comes to historical romance novels, I think the second definition works better; a romance set in 1831 usually comes at the tail end of a series or universe beginning in the 1810s/1820s and still has a Regency flavor, while a romance set 1832-1836 has a decidedly non-Regency feel. Incidentally, I’ve noticed that 1830s-set Harlequin Historicals are labeled “1830s,” rather than “Regency” or “Victorian.” No one knows what to do with the 1830s! Also, many of these novels are set in the USA. Three are specifically set in Chicago, which is kind of weird!

1. The Heiress Effect by Courtney Milan (2013) 

Exact Setting: 1860s England.

Premise: Politician Oliver Marshall has ambitions of enacting egalitarian laws, including the proposed Second Reform Bill, but his illegitimate birth and non-aristocratic upbringing make that an uphill battle. Then a marquess makes him a peculiar offer: in exchange for supporting the Second Reform Bill, he wants Oliver to publicly humiliate Jane Fairfield, an heiress who is despised by high society for her bad taste and oblivious rudeness. Oliver, too often the object of aristocratic bullying, has no desire to harm Jane, but he doesn’t feel that he can refuse the marquess outright. Then he realizes that Jane isn’t what she seems; instead, she’s a brave, clever, lonely woman who’s putting on an act so she can stay unmarried and continue protecting her younger sister. Also, he likes her and finds her wildly attractive, despite her nightmarish fashion sense.

Why I Like It: This is my favorite romance EVER. Jane is an all-time-great heroine: intelligent enough to engineer a complicated marriage-repellent scheme (and change it when circumstances require), strong enough to expose herself to ridicule out in the world (and come home to an uncle who thinks she’s inherently a bad person), and vulnerable enough to break your heart. Oliver, a bruised idealist who must reassess his go-along-to-get-along approach, is nearly as compelling. Their romance is full of top-notch banter and solidarity in the face of a world that wants them to be enemies. And there are almost too many excellent subplots to count: Jane’s sister’s secret romance with an Indian student at Cambridge, Oliver’s younger sister’s foray into activism, and Jane’s brittle frenemy-ship with the Johnson twins, to name a few.

Favorite Scene: The first time Jane drops her act in front of Oliver, or the defeat of the marquess.

2. A Hope Divided by Alyssa Cole (2017)

Exact Setting: North Carolina, USA, during the Civil War.

Premise: Marlie Lynch's life has always been complicated. The daughter of a free Afro-Caribbean root worker, she spent half her childhood with her mother before being sent to live with her white paternal relatives. Now she works for two different secret organizations: the Underground Railroad (with the help and approval of her white abolitionist sister) and the black-Unionist-run spying organization the Loyal League (with the knowledge of no one). When she’s not doing that, she’s pursuing her scientific interests while still honoring and using her late mother’s rootworking practices. Her situation becomes even more fraught when she agrees to harbor Ewan McCall, an escaped Union POW, in a secret chamber behind her bedroom wall. They bond over their shared intellectual interests, but is there any time for romance when Marlie’s home is being overrun by loathsome Confederates?

Why I Like It: Many historical romances have good love stories but don’t do much with the setting, while a few excel at portraying the past but fail at creating a compelling central relationship. Alyssa Cole’s Loyal League novels are the total package, and the Southern-Gothic-tinged A Hope Divided is the standout among them. Marlie and Ewan’s courtship is portrayed with tenderness, intelligence, and delicacy. Cole brings just as much sharpness and nuance to her portrayal of the time and place, representing groups of people who tend to disappear in popular discussions about the Civil War. I also really appreciate Ewan as a character. His mind works differently from most people’s (in that he would probably now be considered to be on the autism spectrum), and he worries that he’s a bad person because he doesn’t feel a lot of angst about some morally complicated decisions he made in the past. The narrative does a good job of showing that Ewan is no better or worse than anyone else for using tools other than empathy in his moral reasoning. Also, Marlie is a top-tier Gothic heroine.

Favorite Scene: Marlie reflects on the villain’s oh-so-convenient conception of Southern womanhood. I’m also a big fan of the entirety of the bedroom-wall courtship.

3. The Suffragette Scandal by Courtney Milan (2014)

Exact Setting: 1870s England.

Premise: After his hateful father and self-serving brother abandoned him to a grisly fate in war-torn Strasbourg, Edward Delacey narrowly survived, with his faith in himself and the world around him shattered. Now he’s back in England, and his younger brother stands to inherit the viscountcy that legally belongs to him. He’s not interested in the title; however, he does feel compelled to stop his brother from ruining the life of Frederica Marshall, a daring investigative reporter who writes about discrimination against women. As he lends his (jaded, reluctant) assistance, Frederica’s optimism begins to infect him...and that’s not the only reason he wants to stay around her.

Why I Like It: I love Frederica as Oliver’s little sister in The Heiress Effect, and she’s even better as the cocksure firebrand heroine of her own story. It’s rare that a heroine is allowed to be so successful in her chosen field at the beginning of a romance novel, but Milan accomplishes this while still giving Frederica enough vulnerabilities and flaws to make her interesting. Yet Edward, a wounded cynic who chooses to do good despite believing that he’s a garbage bag and the world is a shit-pile, is what really pushes the novel to all-time-great status. Their story is a wonderful illustration of the best things that love can do; his faith in the world is revived by her ideals, and her worst impulses are tempered by hearing about the lessons he’s learned in his darkest moments. Plus, they have some really funny banter. 

Favorite Scene: Edward explains why torture is ineffective and wrong. (I put years of hard work into getting my torture degree at torture college! Fuck off!)

4. After the Wedding by Courtney Milan (2018)

Exact Setting: 1860s England. 

Premise: After her father was accused of treason and committed suicide, Lady Camilla Worth was passed from home to increasingly shabby home, eventually fading into obscurity as Camilla Winters, a housemaid in a corrupt clergyman’s home. Adrian Hunter, the son of a black abolitionist activist and a white duke’s daughter, is visiting the clergyman in disguise to gather information when he and Camilla fall victim to a dastardly plot. Force to wed at literal gunpoint and thrown out of the house, they must work together to annul their marriage and get to the bottom of the clergyman’s sinister doings. 

Why I Like It: Camilla is the first bisexual heroine I ever encountered in romance, so I was already primed to love her, but it would’ve happened regardless of her orientation. Desperate for any kind of affection after losing her family in a particularly cruel way, her struggle to find love while trying to protect herself is extremely moving. Adrian also has an affecting arc, in which he learns how to let go of family members who don’t really care about him and acknowledge his grief for his brothers who died in the Civil War. Finally, the conspiracy plot is absolutely explosive.

Favorite Scene: Camilla deals with trauma through legal research. 

5. An Unconditional Freedom by Alyssa Cole (2019)

Exact Setting: USA (mainly Illinois and Mississippi) during the Civil War.

Premise: Daniel Cumberland once believed that freedom and justice would prevail for black people in America, but then he was kidnapped and enslaved for several months. Now free, he works for the Loyal League, fueled not by hope but by pure rage. Janeta Sanchez, a mixed-race Cuban-Floridian lady from a wealthy Confederate family, is also working for the Loyal League...as a double agent, because she believes that’s the only way to save her father. Paired with Daniel to gather intelligence about possible European aid, she begins to question her loyalties as she sees more of the world and gets to know the people her hypocritical white family has kept her away from. Daniel, meanwhile, begins to see a way of coping with his trauma and an uncertain future.

Why I Like It: Historical romance often shies away from the worst parts of history, or at least frames them as remaining firmly in the past. Alyssa Cole not only starkly portrays the horrors of American slavery, but also confronts head-on the terrifying realization that things do not inevitably improve over time. Yet Cole’s frankness doesn’t reduce the novel to a horror show; there is plenty of joy and kindness and hard-won hope between Daniel and Janeta. Deceived and guilted by her family into supporting an appalling cause that hurts her, Janeta is a complex heroine who develops wonderfully throughout the novel. Daniel is also one of the best-written heroes in romance. Finally, as in A Hope Divided, Cole sheds light on an aspect of the Civil War (the involvement of Europe) that doesn’t get a lot of attention in popular culture.

Favorite Scene: Janeta and Daniel talk alone for the first time.

6. Wild at Heart by Patricia Gaffney (1997)

Exact Setting: 1890s USA (Chicago, Illinois).

Premise: Lost as a child and raised by wolves in the wilds of Canada, the Lost Man has been discovered by “civilized” people and forced to “live” with a Chicago anthropologist for study. (Really, he’s being held captive.) Only Sydney Darrow, the anthropologist’s widowed daughter, has the sense/compassion to say, “Hey, maybe we should treat this man like a person and not keep him locked in a glorified cell where a disgruntled employee can taunt him.” She gently introduces the Lost Man back into human society, and the two find themselves getting along better and better. But can the Lost Man ever truly adjust to the human world? Or will he forever express his love by giving dead fish to people? Or is okay, sometimes, to express you love with dead fish?

Why I Like It: This is one of the most bizarre romances I’ve ever read. It sounds like a romance that someone made up for a sitcom. It sounds like a fever dream. It’s absolutely brilliant, too, because Gaffney commits. The Lost Man thinks of everything in animal terms; he accurately identifies Sydney’s aunt as the “dominant female” of the household, he has decided opinions about which animals are neat and which ones are pains in the ass, and he shows his love with a beautiful, freshly caught fish. There’s a real sense of loss in his arc; it’s necessary for him to transition into human society, but he’s also lost a beautiful, meaningful world. His romance with Sydney is also a great version of the Monster Boyfriend story; she’s the one who sees his humanity and recognizes many of his more “animal” traits as positive. The backdrop of the 1893 World’s Columbian Exposition is also charming.

Favorite Scene: Michael reflects on who’s hot (otters) and who’s not (wolverines) in the animal kingdom.

7. To Love and to Cherish by Patricia Gaffney (1995)

Exact Setting: 1850s England.

Premise: Jaded Anne Verlaine moves to the tiny village of Wyckerly after her wildly unhappy and unpleasant husband Geoffrey inherits a viscountcy. They’re greeted by Christian “Christy” Morrell, the local vicar and Geoffrey’s childhood best friend. Christy is dismayed to see the man Geoffrey has become, but he’s even more disconcerted by the attraction he feels for Anne...who returns his feelings.

Why I Like It: Although she stopped writing historical romance in the late nineties, Patricia Gaffney remains one of the most stylistically inventive and emotionally intense authors in the sub-genre. Anne, a warm and witty bohemian atheist, is a wonderfully unique heroine, while the sweet and scrupulous Christy is a similarly refreshing hero (and, really, an ideal clergyman, with high standards for himself and hardly a judgmental thought towards others). Despite the (delicious) angst involved in their relationship, they’re one of the most convincingly happy couples I’ve seen in romance; they don’t just grow close because of sexual chemistry or their shared complicated feelings about Geoffrey, but also because of their shared interests, oddly compatible senses of humor, and respect for each others’ differences. The village of Wyckerly is vividly portrayed, plus Gaffney makes great use of Anne’s writings and correspondence with Christy to shape the narrative.

Favorite Scene: Anne gets angry with Christy for being so good in the face of Geoffrey’s bullshit. 

8. Silk Is for Seduction by Loretta Chase (2011)

Exact Setting: Mid-1830s England and France.

Premise: After emigrating from Paris to London, Marcelline Noirot and her two younger sisters started a dress shop catering to newly rich and middle-class women. Thanks to Marcelline’s innovative designs and her sisters’ sales/accounting skills, they now stand a chance to be the favorite shop of the entire aristocracy...but first they need an early adopter. Help comes in the form of Lady Clara Fairfax, a beautiful but dowdily dressed girl who’s starting to have doubts about her perfect-on-paper betrothed, the Duke of Clevedon. As Marcelline devises a new wardrobe for Clara and spends more time with Clevedon, it becomes more and more clear that Clevedon is perfect...for Marcelline.

Why I Like It: I’m a simple woman; I like elaborate descriptions of over-the-top 1830s fashion. What’s more, I love Marcelline. She’s a fully realized character with interests, talents, and history that have nothing to do with Clevedon; she misses the sweet husband she lost to an epidemic, is anxious to build a future for her young daughter and her sisters, and spends a lot of the book demonstrating her talents in gorgeous detail. Just like the massive gigot sleeves on her dresses, she takes up space. Overall, the romance resembles a really good 1930s romantic comedy; Clevedon is a great straight man, the love triangle is elegantly resolved, and everything just feels beautiful. 

Favorite Scene: In one of the best sex scenes in romance, Marcelline tells Clevedon that she loves him, knows they don’t have a future, and wants him for one last night just the same.

9. The Hostage by Susan Wiggs (2000)

Exact Setting: 1870s USA (Chicago, Illinois and Isle Royale, Michigan)

Premise: Beautiful new-money heiress Deborah Sinclair has always done what’s expected of her. When her aristocratic betrothed shows his true colors, though, she works up the courage to tell her dad that she wants out. Unfortunately, Mr. Sinclair is not receptive...and the Great Chicago Fire of 1871 is literally happening around them...and this random dude just showed up to kidnap her in all the chaos! Before she knows it, she’s on a boat to remote Isle Royale with Tom Silver, a rugged frontiersman who lost many of his friends and his adopted son in a mining accident caused by Mr. Sinclair’s negligence. Because Mr. Sinclair was found not legally liable, Tom has resorted to holding Deborah for ransom. Although he has no desire to harm her, he’s prepared to hate the daughter of his greatest enemy; she’s also not too fond of him, given that he kidnapped her and all. As they wait for Mr. Sinclair’s reply on Isle Royale, however, they get to know each other better.

Why I Like It: I never thought I’d love a kidnapping romance that wasn’t Beauty and the Beast, but Susan Wiggs can sell me on pretty much anything. (It helps that Tom has excellent motives, yet isn’t validated by the narrative for choosing to kidnap Deborah.) This is one of the best adventure-romances that I’ve ever read; much of the first act is an incredibly tense, complicated chase sequence through the flaming inferno of Chicago, while the later chapters consist of their trying to survive together on Isle Royale in the depths of winter. The emotional  journeys of the characters are just as compelling as their physical ones. One of my favorite romance tropes is when one protagonist feels like they should hate the other one, but instead ends up going “wow, this person is obviously not doing okay...wait, am I worried? Should I help them? Actually, I kind of admire them now???” The Hostage has this trope in abundance.

Favorite Scene: The entire part where they’re trapped on Isle Royale together. So many survival details! So cathartic!

10. The Firebrand by Susan Wiggs (2001)

Exact Setting: 1870s USA (Chicago, Illinois)

Premise: Outspoken and awkward, Lucy Hathaway (Deborah Sinclair’s BFF) is a failure at being a lady, but she’s far too passionate about women’s suffrage and dress reform to care (much) about society’s scorn. On the night of the Great Chicago Fire, her world is upended in two ways: her family loses most of their money, and she catches a baby who got thrown out of a burning hotel window. Years later, she’s a kick-ass activist and single mom running a proto-feminist bookstore. Then she learns that her daughter’s father, banker Randall Higgins, is still alive. Once a proud, thoroughly conventional family man, Rand has been a practical recluse since the fire that scarred his face, ended his marriage, and (he thought) killed his daughter. He’s overjoyed to have his daughter back, but now he and Lucy must figure out a way to raise the child that they both love so much.

Why I Like It: I was worried when I began this novel, because Rand starts out as a smug, boring sexist who thinks that a woman’s place is in the home. I would probably hate the book if Rand didn’t end up completely changing his worldview, agreeing with Lucy’s parenting methods, and risking the wrath of his bank colleagues by joining Lucy at a protest. As it is, Rand’s character development is incredibly satisfying, particularly because it’s emotionally realistic. (Instead of being swayed entirely by romantic love or overwhelmed by Lucy’s vast superiority, he learns to see things from her perspective and recognizes that her actions make the world a better place.) Lucy, for her part, is probably one of my top ten heroines. She’s an active, thoroughly engaged progressive who listens to people more marginalized than her without making a big show of it; she’s a thoughtful mom who genuinely likes her weird kid; and she’s got massive insecurities and a stubborn streak that keep her from being too perfect. 

Favorite Scene: Rand sees Lucy’s ideals reflected in their daughter’s response to his kind-of-messed-up face.

Further Note: Is Victorianish my favorite type of historical romance? I think it is!