#love those boys more than life itself TO be honest with u

[3416]

was rereading some articles pre-playoffs of 21-22 and just................ . just. "it's possible neither could achieve their current heights without the other, but that's not a real worry when they do have each other... this transcendent level they've shown this year is a testament to how much the duo elevates each other."

[chocmuffinsscones]

BKDK endgame theory

Another highly self-indulgent theory on how bkdk's gonna be endgame canonically

Disclaimer: Since I don't wanna jinx it or feel embarrassed for being so brazen about this mere silly thought of mine, I'll just keep this private until if things similar to what I've predicted became true. Otherwise, this will only be for my eyes alone. - edited 6 Nov 2023

Fuck all of that guess I'm just gonna put it out there and let y'all have fun as I embarrass myself. Just think it's all for lolz if none of these happen, at least I have fun writing to indulge my fantasy - edited 8 Nov 2023

So, what I think is that since hori's gonna keep giving us surprises and +u up his own game, my guess is that to clearly and subtly lock the pair without making it feel forced is to make bkdk make a promise to each other that hinted a lifelong warrant. Refer this to what toga said in her arc

It's not exactly a love confession, but what'll you feel if someone promise to dedicate their whole life in making you feel happiness, loved? I think that's love disguise in a glass case

So, how's this gonna parallel to our favourite dorks who're both so emotionally constipated and verbally poor at confessing?

Me thinks that, apparently when the boys were pushed to the extremes -- to the moment when there's literally no time affordable to think of anything else besides the most important thing they hold in their life, that the moment their body has to move on their own by instincts -- we'll finally get to see, bright as day, where their true feelings lay.

As far as we've seen, it has been clearly revealed (except for those who're illiterate or in a dilemma of spiralling denial) that on katsuki's side, Izuku's the one constantly haunting his head for the rest of his 10+ years. He'd jump into battle with him, rush in front of him to avert the blow, fight in pain to stay relevant in izuku's battle -- to the point of fighting to his death to protect his seniors and to yet remain as izuku's image of victory... all these, to atone his mistakes in mistreating Izuku.

Throughout his character growth, Katsuki had been to the extremes. What are the most extreme situations if not death itself?

After that, however, we see katsuki came back with his heart fully open (pun definitely not intended!), feelings more outwardly shown, saying thanks sincerely without hiding behind his explosive demeanor, smiling straightforwardly at his favourite idol AM 🥺

Katsuki had met his breaking point, met death itself, and came back a new man. A man who wanted to change before everything was too late. As soon as he woke up, he didn't waste time hesitating to allow further regrets, showing gratitude and humility whole-heartedly in any instant he should've done like any decent human being would.

Except, there's still one thing he hadn't yet achieve to reach a complete circle for his narrative.

Pre-war, Katsuki's biggest dread, the constant looming threat choking around his neck, was being unable to be honest and sincere to Izuku.

"But wait! He'd already stated his apology, he has no regrets left!"

Well, if you have that complain, you're not understanding katsuki well enough. Katsuki is a man of action more than his words. It's quite a common habit for Asians too to put more thoughts into action rather than just spewing beautiful words. And Katsuki, through and through, was an all-in-or-nothing kind of guy. He would never stop at just apologising. If his prior intention for reconciliation was to make himself feel better, then the integrity behind his actions and words was nullified, since that would undoubtedly negate the whole building up of his character's motivation. Moreover, it would become a huge flaw in horikoshi's writing as that would depict him in a "fake hero" spotlight as well as contradict the character's self incentive to be the bestest hero there is. I wouldn't bet hori would decide to ruin his writing like this. In fact, this is such a huge plot point for katsuki's character development that such a small blunder at this point would greatly affect the whole endgame story dynamic to his readers. Not that he'd care if he really did chose that path... I mean 🤷🏻‍♀️😬

Anyway, personality-wise, I'd say Katsuki would be the first person to hate that particular kind of people if he sees one. He'd definitely be disgusted of himself if he were one. That's why I wouldn't bet hori will make that blunder, because hori had been writing him as an incessantly growing character, relentlessly pushing his limits to be the best and always showed his results through visible actions.

So then, back to the point, what were left to do if he had already apologised? What more does he need to do then to further compensate?

:) As I've mentioned earlier, nothing beats the offer of a lifelong compensation, of devoting one's own time and energy willingly to the other as long as they need, or provide care and attention whenever they deserve.

"Wait. What does that even sound like tho? Doesn't that seem like a huge burden to bear??"

For Katsuki however, it's as per usual: all in or nothing!

A promise that hinted lifelong devotion though... That truly sounds like a heavy dedication to carry for the rest of one's life. Doesn't that kind of vow ring any bells? That's the only conclusion I could come to unfortunately. Because Katsuki is a perfectionist, he'll never aim at only atoning his mistakes for a "measly" 10-20 years.

But then, at what kind of situation he would promise a life-binding oath like that out of the ordinary?? Knowing our boys, there's no way they would open their ironclad mouths to say something as romantic as that out of the blue, right??

So here comes my prediction❗❗

📢 warning: take everything below with a grain of salt because at this point it's just me wildin' haha

Evidently, it's been awhile we're constantly warned about Izuku's lack-of-oxygen crisis. He was still fighting sAFO alone while Katsuki came back to focus on AFO himself.

There's a few ways things could go south from there. Afo could very well be dealt by Katsuki now with extra buffs(his new cluster moves), but Izuku was still in an unknown critical state. So while Katsuki busied himself distracting afo, Izuku could somehow got sucked into sAFO's vestige space in a moment's hesitation (or something happened that sucked him into vestige space). We might finally get our vestige space fight between Izuku and tenko & OFA vs AFO, or we could get a heartwarming talk no jutsu (as well as some sprinkle of action fights) between Izuku and Tenko. And all of these played out without the involvement of Katsuki -- as he's stuck in the physical world and is still dealing a rampaging afo. The dudebros would be happy about this. Finally they had a chance to laugh at us at being clowns for wanting katsuki's involvement in the vestige fight. But remember, hori is a troll through and through. He could troll us, he could troll the dudebros too. It's our temporary loss for not getting Katsuki fight beside izuku in afo vestige space, but we'll have something better later!

Because while all of those happen in the vestige space, apparently Tomura and Izuku's body will be out of it, falling to the ground and seemingly lifeless, out of consciousness to the eye of the people in the physical world.

I can imagine Katsuki having no time to spare while dealing with Afo as this happen. He's got to finish AFO first to get back to Izuku. And I promise you it'll not take too long for him to do that, 'cause it'll be a combo attack from IN and OUT as Izuku counter both Afo and tenko in the vestige space -- but it'll feel a bit longer in Izuku's pov as timeflow seems to be slightly different in there.

Anyhow, as Katsuki was done with afo, what do you think he'll react then when he reached a passed out Izuku? When he arrived to the scene of Izuku and Tenko on the ground, Izuku probably temporarily *not breathing* and motionless. *not breathing due to the setback of gearshift

Katsuki will be shocked and traumatized. After spilling his heart out to win AFO with/for izuku, how could he stand to win the battle if Izuku wasn't there to claim victory alongside him? He would hold Izuku's hand and kept calling out to him (maybe angrily or threatening but the words are sweet and all of it are very contrasting?👀), calling for his soul to come back. Surely he would start crying and confess all his regrets even more too. *reminder: these are only possible because all his walls were finally broken down after his revival, he's a changed man in and out.*

Then, even better! When the medic units and probably some other heroes arrived to the scene, Katsuki suddenly realised he could give Izuku cpr! He'll do it himself and think it'll work since he learnt it from emergency treating lessons, and he didn't want Izuku to leave his side but also didn't want to do nothing to help Izuku recover.

See? Plus Ultra. Katsuki giving Izuku cpr y'all. Bkdk won. All these too in front of some witnesses and recording cameras. :)

And, yeah, cuz hori is a troll, katsuki's kiss of life actually wasn't the *sole* reason Izuku came to (all for the ambiguity too, ya know ;) and besides, hori likes trolling Katsuki too, not allowing him to get what he wants)-- it was all Izuku's well-deserved victory on defeating afo and saving tenko from the vestige space that allowed him to return to his own body after the vestige world close up. In fact, Izuku didn't actually need it, he was merely away from his body to fight in the vestige space for a bit; if he won, he would eventually come back and wake up by himself, the problem of hypoxia naturally dissolved along with it.

In another words, the "kiss" was just a bonus. It's a heartfelt gift from hori-sensei to his bkdk/grateful manga readers. Because in the end of the day, it's the promise between Izuku and Katsuki that wrapped the deal of bkdk being endgame canonically. For Hori, it's a win-win situation; he could have fun building suspense over his readers, as well as finally letting his favourite boys earn their long overdue peace to be together. Also, completing both protagonist and deuteragonist narrative foil as save to win, win to save. AND not making the whole scene romantically charged, as the reason behind their actions aren't out of sexual desire nor sexual attraction, since tHis Is sTilL JusT a shOuNen mAnGa afterall. Just "bros" devoting their life to each other and occasionally hold hands to get comfortable of each other's touch because they're practicing their next combo move. 😀

[lycanlovebites]

[part two//continued]

when your parents passed the priest took you into the church to take care of you, a foundling. The priest was old even by then and he feared his time would come for him eventually and the town needed someone to take his place sooner rather than later. So he began preparing you. Teaching you discipline, how to break yourself to fit into a mold of expectations, how to worship, how to destroy beautiful things of yours, how to become holy, how to hide yourself from everyone, even yourself. He taught you what it meant to be priest in this town, what it meant for the portal that appeared in the heart of the church, beating in and out of existence like a heartbeat of soemthing bigger than you. Demons came through and it was his duty and all of the priests before him to kill them before they could leave the church. You are all that stands against forces of corruption in this town and for many, many more beyond. you didn’t want to know, did you Father? You were a young boy, only fourteen when the priest forced you to read the texts on how to destroy demons. He showed you exactly where to strike, the words to say, the weapons to use to kill. He made you learn how to kill, and you were just a boy. You were just a boy. When he died and left you as the priest of this church, you thought you would be free. But the people raised you up so high on a pedastal that you struggle to stay atop of, and now everyone sees you. Always watching, always judging. No. You never truly had a choice to become the man you are now, and for that I’m sorry. the demon. Valentine. Do you resent them? A demonic being of blood and born of fire and wings and talons. They travelled through the portal, wandering out and into the sanctuary that fateful night when you were unaware. You were kneeling at the altar that night, confessing to the empty church, to god, the angel, to anyone who would listen. Neither of you saw them then, how lucky. do you wish you saw them arrive, Father? Do you wish you were there to stop them before it was too late? Do you wish you did not love them so, as they love you? Do you wish you had it in you then to be the man you were supposed to be, to kill? Do you believe that had they not arrived that night, had they not left you notes and gifts, temptations borne out of love for you, of food and wine and flowers and books, had you not fallen for them and they in love with you, you would be holy? Do you believe they tainted your spirit? It’s a cruel thought I know. But I see you’ve entertained it when your mind is dark and heavy. Answer this, Father: do you think you would do it all over again for this? Accepted the gifts and talked with the demon, befriended them, grew close and held each other like you did all those many many nights, even if you sinned, even if you broke vows every day and night to be with them and your angel? Would you do it all again to have all of this? Your love and memories and this place you three share?

even if it means hiding from everyone else? Of fearing for your dear Valentine’s life and perhaps your own as well?

wow. Wow. Uh yeah. I got possessed by the need to write about him and I ended up turning my response to your tags into like a story of itself woopsie :P I had lots of fun writing this! Also about your other tags: I will definitely tag u in stuff in the future of things involving the catholicsonas 👍 also no hard feeling abt misgendering Valentine! They won’t magically curse you for it I promise. it’s an honest mistake so no worries :]

here’s a bit of a story I was working on involving Father Gabriel and Valentine! (Sol is also there too but he’s not really mentioned oops. He’s off doing something else I guess)

its a discarded first draft that I still like a lot even though it doesn’t work in this particular scene because it gives really good insight into Gabriel’s inner thoughts and also his Catholic guilt. It’s also UNEDITED in any way so sorry if there’s typos and the dialogue and stuff is oddly placed! (btw will anyone believe me if I said that this was the first draft for a smut fic I was writing yes or no?? I scrapped this draft because it was far too serious and angsty for the situation I wanted. Valentine is ready to fuck nasty and have a nice time and treat their boyfriend meanwhile Gabriel is struggling with Catholic guilt and paranoia. The vibe was off for him and I felt bad trying to get him into a sex scene when that man should be having a therapy session instead. Like its ok king take ur time, you and Valentine can try later when you feel better)

story below the cut! (It’s a bit long)

Father Gabriel closed the front door behind him. “I can’t believe that happened,” he said more to himself than to the cheeky demon who caused the scene, who was hanging their sparkly red blazer on the coat rack next to him. “What if people saw? No, how many people saw that? How many people saw me?” He said aloud with horror. 

“Relax darling.” Valentine put a hand on his shoulder. “Believe me, no one saw my little display except you. Otherwise some old biddies would have me roasting at a stake by now.” They gave him a little grin at that last part. He was sure they found the idea of being tied up by little old ladies quite funny judging from their expression.  It was meant to be reassuring but the idea of other church members burning his partner at the stake wasn’t exactly pleasant. 

“That’s my point. It’s not safe for you to risk being found out by the church! If they find out you’re not human they’ll… they’ll do unspeakable things to you. I can’t risk you getting hurt, Valentine. Burning you at the stake would be the least of your worries if the wrong people get their claws on you.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “It’s not only your safety too. I also have a reputation to uphold, as horrible as it is sometimes. I’m a priest. I’m not supposed to get flustered over someone at communion. The people see me as a symbol of devotion and modesty, and I fear what might happen if they see me as anything other than that. I’m supposed to be committed to God alone, not blushing over my handsome friend from out of town.” He was so worried. Valentine seemed so confident to show off but he feared what would happen if they reveal too much. Gabriel knew what happened to demons in churches they weren’t welcomed in. He’d seen it happen with his own eyes, was forced to read the books on how to do it himself, and he knew that powerful people with hatred in their hearts for even an inkling of difference would never stop until they get what they want. 

“Darling, look at me.” Valentine stood in front of him and gently took his hand in theirs. “It’s going to be alright. I promise you that no one saw my little display to you, and as far as I saw no one seemed to say anything about your blush today. I mean, if you ask me, it was quite warm in church today, and you were quite lively in today’s sermon.  I wouldn’t see anything unusual about how the priest was a bit more red than usual after that rousing sermon he gave. And I feel most people know how warm it can be in your cassock with all those layers.” They assured him. Gabriel wasn’t fully convinced, but their words did help. He stared down at his hand and watched Valentine gently stroke the back of his hand with a thumb. Such a small gesture, yet it still sent a shiver through his body at the touch. They didn’t want him to worry, he knew that. It was just hard sometimes to let these things go. He was always under scrutiny, always being perceived and his actions always judged by someone. If not by  God then by the townspeople who looked up to him. At least that’s what he felt. Maybe it wasn’t true. Maybe there wasn’t actually anyone who cared about these things besides him. He was just so worried all of the time lately. Maybe since he was a child. First about being good, following all the rules and being a faithful servant to the church. Then he worried about being sinful. Always ashamed of the way his heart beat against his chest when he saw Brother Marcus in the vestry, of the way he laid awake so many nights consumed with thoughts of him and Marcus doing terrible, lustful things. Now he was worried for Valentine and their safety. Of them being found out and torn away from the safety of his protection and killed. Soleil had to disguise themself as well, but for Valentine their disguise was a matter of life or death. Sol would be worshiped and adored if the townspeople knew what they were. But Valentine would be hunted down and killed before Gabriel’s feet if they were ever found out. 

Gabriel  was also worried about his reputation as a perfect chaste little servant of god. Someone pure, someone who was completely devoted to their god and had no room in their heart for any sinful thoughts of other people. The people saw him as one of them. No, better than them. They put him on a pedestal. They listened to his words and came to him for guidance, and he overheard how they spoke of him. With reverence, a deep respect. As if he was truly holy. But Gabriel knew he wasn’t. He was impure, tainted, guilty. His god did not answer his prayers and he knew he was dishonest to the townspeople when he pretended to be that man everyone saw him as.

He yearned for respite from the terror and guilt that plagued him for most of his life. He just wanted to let them all go. 

He let out a sigh, trying to let go of his worries with it. “You’re probably right. No one came up to me about anything today after the service so I suppose no one saw anything unusual.” He focused his attention on his hand being gently held in Valentine’s. He took another deep breath and forced the worries out of him along with it. In.  It will be okay. Out. No one saw what happened today. In. We’re safe. 

[@justaderivative hope you don’t mind me tagging you in this! This has a good bit of lore/info abt Gabriel in it so instead of making an info post about him (I mean I still probably will but yknow) this is some good info for him and his less fun and whimsical stuff ]

[salty-basement-shroom]

Ghost Pal

◇reader x ghost friend◇

It had been ten years since you last stepped foot into your old school. School was a time you didn't look back to too fondly, to be honest but nevertheless did you accept the invite for the reunion.

When you had graduated you had sworn to never come back, especially not to some shitty reunion party organized by the woman who had been the girl borderline bullying you in the past.

Sure she was nice enough now, even greeting you with a hug, but she never apologized. She and her white picket fence life, with a job that required more empathy than she had, and her two children, and her husband who worked at the car shop down the road could suck your ass for all you cared.

So why did you accept?

Simple, because it has been ten years and curiousity gnawed at you. How are all these assholes doing now? You simply had to know. Well, that was one reason. Another reason was also the cause for you sneaking around the dark halls of the closed school.

The meet up itself was in the cafeteria (it must have been a funny gag idea by the former popular kids) and you were instructed to spend the rest of the late afternoon to evening there and in the courtyard. Did you listen? Hell no, you were a grown adult who hated school more than anything, why the hell should you listen to them now?

No, you were searching for someone. An old friend.

The hallways were admittedly really eery. You kept the lights out and only used what little light fell through the occasional window and your phone flash light. You didn't want to be caught by the janitor, that would be really goddamn embarrassing.

Your friend always liked to hang around the biology lab when you were in high school and that is where you usually found them back in the day. Chances were they weren't there anymore but a little voice in your head whispered to you

"Go on." Yes, that was definitely them. They used to mess with you so much back in school, playing little pranks by calling you in the middle of class or while you were on the toilet. They loved to embarrass you it seemed, although they would say otherwise.

You thanked your crazy intuition and memory for bringing you straight to the old lab. And you thanked whatever god was watching you for granting you the luck of finding it unlocked.

Inside was the usual room, unsurprisingly not much had changed in those 10 years, even the cheap posters of local flora and fauna were the same. It brought a smile to your face as you slowly walked through the room and traced the wooden desks.

"Boo."

"M o t h e r f u c k e r -"

You painfully rammed your back into the desk behind you as you jumped violently from the voice appearing beside you suddenly.

"Oh, what a greeting, I'm hurt!" The bodyless voice pouted, now on the exact opposite side of you.

"Shush, who greets people with 'boo'?!" You sassed back and searched the room for your old pal.

And there they were. Sitting on one of the cabinets with all the microscopes sat the figure of what looked like a boy with tight black curls and dark glowing skin. The hazel eyes looking at you shone with mischieve.

"Well, good to know one of us didn't change." You sighed but couldn't help the breathy laugh escaping your lips. This was your friend.

They don't have a name and the way they look really are only cosmetic to them. They are a spirit.

"I can make myself a bit older so you don't feel left out." They winked and laughed afterwards, jumping from the cabinet. Their grin turned wicked as they suddenly appeared beside you.

You huffed "Did you just call me old?"

"No, because you are literally an infant to me. Train another 1000 years and we may talk." They replied and began sauntering around you as if you weren’t of any real interest to them.

"Okay, so now you call me a child?"

"Bingo."

"Oh look at the old dusty ghost using the language of the youth~ Where did you learn that?" You asked teasingly and their face snapped towards you.

"You are aware I reside in a school."

"It was a rethorical question, moron."

"You-!"

"Anyways." You cut them off before they could go on a tangent about how I was disrespecting higher forces or some bullshit, "What have you been up to, Frog?"

"Ugh, that name is so stupid."

"I know, and that is why I love using it."

You basically called them frog because you had discovered them for the first time in your freshmen year while you were cutting up a frog and they were way too interested in it. You had cut your hand from the shock upon spotting them floating above the desks.

"Well, I have been... here." They waved their arm around the room with fake grandeur and looked back at you, "Not much to it, really. I don't know what you expect to hear."

You hummed in thought "No, more so if you have made new friends?" You questioned and sat down on one of the tables. Frog leaned back and stared at the ceiling,

"Nah, none pique my interest quite like you did."

"Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

"The highest I can give." They lamented and grinned right after, "So what about you? Other than you looking old now, what changed?"

So you caught up with them, telling them off your job, your studies, what you were up to now. You also told them about your family. It was really nice.

Frog kept their dark eyes glued to you in so much interest that it honestly baffled you. They never were that invested in your life, only serving more as a companion to battle your loneliness and you helping them with being less bored.

"You definitely changed too." You stated with a small grin after finishing a story about a stupid colleague of yours. Frog perked up with a frown and suddenly decided to walk on the ceiling.

"I doubt that a spirit of MY age and wisdom would change in a mere ten years." Their face stopped roughly before mine and they looked down at me with a grin.

"Oh, yeah sure, the wisdom of leaving up toilet seats so kids fall straight in when they sit down, please grand me more of it." You rolled your eyes and ignored their souring expression, "No, but seriously. You are much more... interested. In my life, you know?"

"You think so? I am just being polite~"

"Ah, but that didn't change. You are still a shitty liar."

They suddenly appeared right before you and your noses nearly touched. Their gaze turned threatening but you weren't scared, "You really think you are that special?"

"Yes, I do." Was your nonchalant answer and they drew their head back with a huff "You are insufferable."

"No you."

"Not this shit again!" They growled at you and you couldn't help but laugh, one Frog joined with a soft chuckle. Your dynamic changed, yes. But it was good to know that Frog was still more or less the same.

"I missed your dumbass." They admitted and you smiled at them with adoration you hadn't shown until now.

"I missed you too."

A comfortable silence settled and Frog and you stared at one another. It felt meaningful and in this moment you wished you had Frog with you at your workplace to keep you company. It was dreadfull being a corporate tool so a ghost friend messing with your asshole boss would be amazing.

But also just because... they were your best friend once upon a time. As much as school had been horror, at the end of the day you had Frog by your side. Your mystical little secret pal.

Their eyes softened at you and you only remembered now that Frog could read minds. Lovely. They raised a hand to softly stroke your cheek.

".... you wanna prank your old classmates?"

"God, yes."

♤♤♤♤

Nothing much to say, I introduce Frog, a spirit that may or may not be a higher being trapped in a high school.

Just to clear up, Frog is not a dead kid. They are a spirit, not a ghost (I called them ghost in the story once cause I imagine a human friend of theirs probably wouldn't know their true identity and would simply either assume or not care for the difference)

[sugrbugz]

𝙰𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 ~ 𝙺𝚞𝚛𝚘𝚘 𝚃𝚎𝚝𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚘𝚞 ♥︎

a business man kuroo x femboy!male reader concept!

TYSM FOR 100 FOLLOWERS <3

ok females calm down i know everyone’s horny for kuroo, which is why i’ll be posting a female version of this too! i’m just a male who is indeed horny for kuroo soooo….i see u men

CW: heavy degradation..like HEAVY, oral, anal, pet play, bdsm, a little bit of somno (literally just touches your ass while ur sleeping that’s it), face fucking, dycraphilia, lotsa swearing hehe, hate fucking essentially.

was it his fault? not entirely. kuroo had been at the end of his rope before he even walked in the front door. having to deal with corporate executives who thought they were actually useful all day was a chore in itself.

kuroo loved his job, loved his company, loved the money even, but most importantly he loved you. he loved everything about you. he loved how you’d come running down the large staircase when he came home, ready to receive a plethora of hugs and kisses from you. you were the only part of today he was looking forward to.

so when he came home to an empty house, not one with the sounds of your music or your feet rushing down the hall to greet him. he was honestly disappointed. “baby?” he called out loud enough, looking around the main floor a bit before going upstairs. now the sight before him made his heart squeeze, you curled up in the blankets of the bed with your head buried into his pillow? he wanted to cry.

that’s when he noticed it, your clothes. kuroo is as bisexual as it gets, he’s quite literally the poster child. however, in your mlm relationship it was very apparent the type of boys he was into, femboys. with a slight gulp he pulled the blanket back just a bit, careful not to wake you. the large pink night shirt that cling to your body with the literal pair of panties nearly made him pass out.

“even when you’re sleeping you aim to please me..” he mumbled running his fingers down your back before cupping your ass cheek with one hand. no movement from you yet. you two had talks about kinks before, it wasn’t uncharted territory and sure enough he remembered what he was doing right now was okay, you’d given him consent multiple times to do it but even then he still wanted fresh consent. maybe you fell asleep because you weren’t feeling good or were having a bad day and needed to sleep it off.

he lightly shook you, “hun..” he whispered leaning down to kiss your cheek softly. smiling when you whined softly. “you okay babe..? anything wrong?” he asked softly. you opened one eye, making him smile wide. “mhm…’m okay” you mumbled sitting up slightly, your shirt falling off your shoulder slightly. “that’s good..now…i have a favour to ask, kitten”

after the petname you knew what that favour was going to be. “anything for you.” you smiled softly, shifting your position so you were sitting on your knees in front of him. you knew what came next and so did he.

“sucha good boy” he praised softly, hands finding the collar around your throat. “you didn’t take it off since last night? that’s cute..maybe i’ll get you something similar that you can wear in public?” he hummed.

you knew better than to speak unless he was genuinely asking you a question but you still gave him a gently nod to show your interest.

“what a good pet…to be completely honest with you, i’ve had a terrible fucking day. you know how i get when i’m not having a good day don’t you angel?” he asked, a hint of cockiness to his tone.

“i’ll be back. by the time i am you know what i expect to see.” with that he kissed your forehead and left the room. you didn’t want to test him today, sometimes you’d be a brat but today was not that day.

you quickly stripped down, clothes folded neatly placed on the side table so they were accessible for aftercare. your hands found your lap, pressing your hands in between your legs to hide the inevitable boned that came with him using you like he wanted to. surely he wouldn’t know if you gave yourself a little attention right? it was just so hard to stop yourself..it would feel too good.

snaking one hand down you grab onto your own length, gently stroking it. you shiver a bit at the feeling, both your cold hand and the sexiness of know that if you’re caught kuroo would make your life a living hell for a couple of hours, was thrilling.

when you and kuroo started getting into bdsm he put rules in place, ones that you needed to follow in the bed and even in regular life. one of the big ones? always ask your master permission to play. it was almost like you could hear him saying it back in your head, the guilt was starting to set in but it was just too late. right as you went to stop your movements, the door opened again, leaving you and kuroo in a very long intense gaze.

“well..what do we have here love? is my good boy breaking the rules?” he simply walked over, tossing the lube among other things he brought to the side chair near the bed. “n-no i didn’t do anything!” you whined in protest.

kuroo slowly leaned down, hand gently cupping your face, “i don’t fucking believe you.” he whispered before bringing the hand on your cheek back a bit to give it a smack then quickly taking the stinging skin back in his hand. “one thing i hate more than a whore who doesn’t fucking listen is a liar.” he spits.

he could quite literally get off on the shocked expression on your face currently, “now let’s try this again. did you break a rule?” he asked, eyes literally begging you to try and lie again. “yes master..” you sighed in defeat, you knew the punishment would be bad.

“do you know what happens to naughty boys that don’t listen and lie? do you kitten?” he let go of your face now, walking over to some of the things he brought up to the room. “they get punished” you replied quickly, not wanting to give him any other reason to punish you harder. “they do…you’re so smart baby..” he came back over, shoving you flat down on your back before using a flogger over your pretty pink tip.

“if only you weren’t a needy dumb slut.” he laughed striking again. you were left there to just wiggle and take it, whines and gasps leaving your mouth like a gospel. “i just wanted to come home and have a good time with my pretty kitty..and of course your stupid cock had to ruin it.” he sighed, peering down at you slightly just to see if you were still okay but judging by your face you loved it.

“i can’t wait any fucking more. get on your hands and knees, and you better arch that fucking back” he grumbled leaning over to grab the lube. this is how you knew kuroo was stressed or upset. even if he was punishing you he always took his time giving you what you wanted but now it was straight to the point.

“god look at that beautiful ass..too bad it’s attached to a cumdump like you, it’s going to be fucking tortured today i promise you that much boy.” he hissed giving it a rough slap. you flinch forward from the sting, a loud whine leaving your mouth. that only makes him do it again, harder this time. so hard it’s already formed a raised little imprint of his hand.

with every smack you jolt forward causing your cock to rut against the blankets, there was just so many sensations at once that you couldn’t help it when you came untouched, load seeping out onto the bed.

you’re fucked.

“did you just fucking cum?” he laughs loudly, one more extremely hard slap coming down, basking in the way you scream and whine about being sensitive. “you’re fucking pathetic. is that all you need? the bare fucking minimum?” he cussed at you. “you better fucking apologize” he grunts out.

“i-i’m so sorry! ‘m sorry master i-i didn’t mean too! it just feels soo good!” you practically sobbed, babbling like an idiot about how much you love him and that you’ll do better. he loved breaking you like this but he knew it was also emotionally taxing. “what do i always tell you baby?” his voice was a bit softer now, wiping a stray tear that did slip from your eye.

“t-this is just for fun..you don’t mean anything you say” you sniffled looking up at him with those cute little eyes of yours. “that’s right. good boy” he praised, “colour??” he asked immediately after. “green” you smile giving him a little thumbs up.

with your confirmation kuroo quickly grabbed you by the small amount of hair you had, pressing your face against the tent in his pants. “good..then it’s only fair i get to cum too yeah?” he smirked, stroking your hair gently.

“yes sir you do..i promise i’ll do good for you!” you ramble quickly, tiny hands working on his dress pants buttons. he watched you with hooded lids, just admiring how quickly you were trying to please him. “maybe your punishment will end if you’re good enough, but remember kitty it won’t be easy” he smirked knowing exactly what he was going to do.

you didn’t reply, just gave him a tiny nod. if you had to work for it then you would. you pull his cock out of his pants, kitten licking at the top a few times before licking a long strip from his balls all the way back up to the tip. to say you had a oral fixation, especially when it came to kuroos cock, was an understatement.

“that’s it…g-good boy-fuck” he praised, hands roughly gripping at your hair. holding you in place when you tried to take most of his length into your mouth, what didn’t fit your hands fumbled with. however kuroo was determined to make it fit.

kuroo roughly pulled your head down onto him, basking in the sound of you choking and gagging on his cock, “awh what’s the matter? bit off more than you can chew??” he smirked fucking your face with aggression, hips snapping up flush against your cheeks.

the tears that rolled down your cheeks made him unbelievably horny that he couldn’t stop himself, grunts and moans leaving him mouth while he used yours as a person fuck toy. you knew he was close when his perfect rhythm faltered a little and his grip on you was even tighter. to show him just how bad you wanted it, your hands found his balls, rolling and playing with them.

“goddd~you want this l-load so bad huh? hm? nggh! fuckk! you want it? yeah? fucking taking it stupid slut.” he sounded so unbelievably hot you can’t even help the bit of precum now leaking from your sensitive tip. soon after his statements you felt a warm sensation flooding down your throat, almost choking and coughing slightly since there was so much.

kuroo was still letting out loud moans of exctasy, ending with a soft hum he pulled his cock out of your mouth. the second you were freed you let out a gasp for air and a little bit of a cough but kuroo didn’t care. he grabbed your chin, opening your mouth with his other hand to make sure not even a drop of his cum went to waste. “good kitty..you took my cock so well…maybe you do need a reward?” he hummed, laughing deeply when you nodded quickly.

“face down ass up pretty boy.” he stated, having no problem jerking his still sensitive cock back up into a full erection. you did exactly as he asked before feeling a cold piece of metal against your back, you knew it well. the lead that attached to your collar. after it was clicked into place there were a few kisses up your back before you heard his raspy breath in your ear, “if you cum again without my permission this ass is going to be so fucking bruised and sore you won’t be sitting for months.” he whispered softly before biting the tip of your ear.

your breath caught in your throat but you nodded quickly, “yes sir..i’ll be so good i just really need to feel you..” you whine out, having to force your hips not to rut against the bed. “it’s cute when you’re so unbelievably pathetic for me” he smirked before gently rubbing the tip of his cock against your hole. “you’re clenching around nothing..so pretty..”

you choked out a tiny sob from just how needy you were, he always did this. he liked to break you down before even touching you, you loved it. “a stupid whore” he laughed loudly before giving you another harsh smack. with that he lubed his cock up, groaning a bit from how it felt.

with that he pushed inside, moaning when he bottomed out. he had this plan where he was going to make you cockwarm him for a bit just to tease you but the second he thought about all the stupid shit he had to deal with today? his hips snapped up and aggressively into you making you scream out but he wasn’t listening.

he was stuck in his own head, mentally cussing out everyone he worked with as he fucked all his anger out into his pretty kitty. “a-ah! da-mm! daaddyy!” you whine out nearly snapping him back to reality fully. “what? can’t handle it? is it too much for you?” he spat quickly, his pace not letting up. “everyone’s-nn-fuckin’ disappointing me today! i’m not taking it from you kitten.” he seethed, basking in the sound the bed made as it smacked off the wall.

“daddy! fuckk! ‘s soo goodd” he listened to the way you moaned out, his cock twitching so hard inside you that you could feel it. “yeah? you like it when i fuck your stupid boy pussy” he grinned knowing the way that made your heart skip a beat. “come on then, prove it. show me how much you love this fucking cock, stupid bitch” he smirked smacking your seriously irritated ass cheeks.

that sparked something inside of you, your hips throwing themselves back onto his cock. your moans so loud for him it sounded like screams. “p-please!” you managed to scream out between the loud babbling that left your mouth. “please what kitty?” he grunted, doing his best to focus on you and the squeezing your ass that was practically trying to milk him.

“plea-hhng! please c-cum daddy please!” you screamed, thank fuck he didn’t have neighbours. he smirked and shoved you down so your head was pressed again the mattress, holding your head there he let out a loud fucking moan before completely stilling. you could feel it shooting out in ropes, it felt so good that you came instantly and once again untouched.

“hmm that was cute~” he hummed almost immediately back to his normal self. “colour my love?” he asked gently rubbing your back, wondering if there was possibility to go again. “red” you murmur making him nod before slowly slipping out of you. “are you hurt? was it too much?” he pouted softly, gently rolling you onto your back to keep eye contact with you.

when you couldn’t reply he gently scooped you up and carried you into the bathroom, “it’s okay baby..kuroos got ya’”

[andypantsx3]

Hii can I request a deleted scene for "if I could keep cool" that tells chapter 2 from Shouto's POV? I would absolutely love to c what was going through Shouto's head when he figured out that Y/N was just a cleaning lady and what was the moment that made him want to ask her out when he saw her at his house afterwards! Thank u!!

I accidentally got carried away, so this bad boy is 1.9k!! My apologies lol. I hope you like it!!

It wasn’t every day that someone told Shouto Todoroki to go fuck himself. 

Particularly not quirkless civilians, and never those he’d rescued. 

There was usually a lot more breathless gratitude, some bowing and scraping, and—mystifyingly—a lot of phone numbers, handkerchiefs, and very unsubtle attempts to get a hand or two around his biceps. Shouto didn’t really know what his biceps had to do with it, but he’d seen the same thing happen to Midoriya and Kirishima as well—and Bakugou once, before he’d nearly gnawed the woman’s hands off—so he assumed it was just another social cue he’d never understand.

As little as he cared for social cues, however, he was certain that there was usually a lot more thank you and a little less go fuck yourself involved in the whole rescuing process.

But then, he’d also never told off a civilian for having been kidnapped before. 

A civilian who, he’d come to realize almost immediately afterward, hadn’t deserved it.

When he’d asked his mother her advice over the phone, she’d told him the best thing to do was to be honest and try to start fresh. “White flowers mean forgiveness—tulips new beginnings,” she’d advised him.

So Shouto had ducked into the nearest florist and brought back an apology in hopes that you would accept it. 

He might have known, however, that you’d manage to turn even a simple apology completely on its head.

The clatter of cleaning supplies in his kitchen on Thursday afternoon told Shouto you’d let yourself in for your usual shift. He followed the sound, only for it to halt at his approach, the kitchen seemingly empty as he drew nearer.

He stopped short, fighting down a surprised swell of amusement when he realized you’d ducked down, hiding yourself behind his counters as if anyone, especially a pro hero, might be fooled by that.

“I know you’re there,” he said, keeping his tone even.

He heard a muttered swear word, and then you were rising slowly to your feet, wearing a sheepish expression, and clutching a bottle of windex like a weapon.

You looked just as you had the day of your rescue, though obviously a little less harrowed by a kidnapping. You were dressed casually in jeans and a simple shirt, no indicator that you were an employee of a cleaning service—Shouto felt at least a little justified in his mistake from last week.

You were clearly a college student, the backpack dumped at his kitchen island was evidence of that much, overflowing with textbooks and notes as it was, and you looked just slightly disheveled, like you might have come straight from class.

It was part of some nebulous, unassuming appeal to you, now that he had occasion to notice. He’d remembered your features twisted up in disdain, but they were open in surprise now, your eyes wide, fixed on him. His own eyes were drawn to the scrunch of your nose, a little curl of embarrassment that he suddenly found himself unable to tear his gaze away from.

“I, uh, thought you weren’t supposed to be here,” you admitted to him with a visible cringe.

Shouto almost laughed. He didn’t know much about you, but it was clear to him now that you weren’t anything like a crazy fan. You looked like you’d rather be anywhere but here at the moment. In fact, you looked rather like you might bolt any second.

A strange feeling shifted in his chest, and Shouto cut right to the chase.

“I owe you an apology,” he said simply.

You startled so violently that you dropped the windex. “W-what?”

Shouto sighed, admitting, “My manager schedules the cleaning days. I didn’t realize that you were—that is to say, I thought you were a fan who had broken in and managed to get kidnapped while you were at it.”

You gaped, another confused little expression that Shouto found himself fixating on with an intensity that surprised him. The weird feeling in his chest shifted, burning a little hotter. 

He wondered absently what other expressions he could get you to make.

“Oh, I, um...nope. Not a fan,” you said, and the feeling grew more insistent. 

He paused over the phrasing—not a fan. 

It had never bothered him before, when someone was a bigger fan of a classmate than they were of him, or weren’t really a hero fan at all. Shouto honestly did not quite understand why hero work was so tied up in fandom in the first place, and only attended fan events because his manager’s temper was not a thing to be trifled with. 

He wanted to be a hero who put people at ease, but ease was the last thing he felt with people clamoring all over him. Fighting villains was infinitely more preferable.

So why did your admission that you weren’t a fan of his niggle at his brain, like a particularly insistent parasite?

Who were you a fan of, if not him? 

“...Well, glad that’s cleared up now. I’ll just, uh, go then,” you said, grabbing an armful of the cleaning supplies and shoving it back under the sink hastily.

Shouto had moved before he knew what he was doing, getting himself in between you and the door out to the hallway. 

“Wait,” he said, feeling uncomfortable. “I want to make up for what I said to you. You...didn’t deserve that, especially not right after you’d been kidnapped by a villain.”

He watched you eye the space between his hip and the counter, like you were considering making a break for it. As he watched your face, he felt some strange hope that you might try it, a certainty he would catch you. 

...Why did he want to catch you?

You waved a hand. “It’s fine. You saved me, we can call it even.”

Shouto’s mouth turned down minutely. He’d behaved badly, but surely you’d credit him better manners than that. “It’s my fault you were taken in the first place. I’d like to apologize properly.”

Your face did something weird, then, another distracting little curl of the nose. “You don’t actually have to go fuck yourself,” you blurted.

Shouto stared at you, caught off guard.

“Uh, I mean. You saved my life,” you babbled suddenly. “And yeah what you said to me was super rude, but what I said to you was also super rude. So, um, I’m sorry too. And I really would just like to call it even and forget about it because it’s super embarrassing for both of us and I could literally die thinking about it.”

You stopped suddenly, looking self-conscious like you’d realized you’d been rambling. Shouto almost wished you hadn’t.

“I hadn’t really planned on it,” he said quickly.

“Hadn’t planned on what?”

“Fucking myself,” he clarified. You choked on a shocked laugh, and he let a small smile tug at his mouth—there.

Finally.

Finally you looked a little more comfortable with him. 

Shouto tried hard not to look too pleased with himself.

“Oh, well that’s good, then," you said. Then you puffed up a little, adding, "That’s probably a job for your actual secret lover.”

Good lord. “Not you, too.”

You threw him a smile, and Shouto’s heartbeat tripped over itself. “But I have evidence. I saw that homemade soup in your fridge once with the love note attached.”

It took him a moment to focus on what you were saying, but Shouto recalled the soup in question. It had been quite good, even if Bakugou had spent almost a half an hour ranting about what a weak ass little bitch he was for catching a cold. It had almost been worth it, the soup was that delicious. “Ah yes. That secret lover.”

“Cute pet name, too,” you said.

Shouto let out a low laugh, recalling the note. “You fucking fuck, was it?”

You laughed too, tension easing from your shoulders. Shouto’s eyes hungrily traced even that small movement.

A dawning sense of what was happening finally settled over him as he pronounced, “As it happens, however, I did already plan more of an apology.”

You looked up at him, your brow furrowing. “You planned...more of an apology?”

He gestured to a tall vase of white tulips on the kitchen counter. Your eyes went a little rounder as you observed them. You looked like you weren’t sure if they were for you, as if there were another previously kidnapped cleaning girl lurking about, who might be in need of an apology.

What a fascinating thing you were.

“I’ve been told that they mean forgiveness and new beginnings. I had hoped that we might...start over,” Shouto explained. He couldn’t help but feel self-conscious.

“I didn’t bring you any flowers,” you blurted.

He covered up a surprised laugh with a cough, the feeling in his stomach burning hotter. “I hadn’t expected them.”

He watched you turn back thoughtfully to the bouquet, certain now.

Over the phone, his mother had also said white flowers carried connotations of honor and purity. Two notions, Shouto realized with a growing sense of curiosity, that may be entirely inapplicable to his feelings about you.

He didn’t know much about you, but he knew for certain that he’d like to know more. And as he watched you reach out to pluck at a petal, wearing a shy little smile, he thought that yes, honor and purity had very little to do with his intentions at the moment.

You thanked him for the flowers, and Shouto made it clear to you that he hadn’t meant what he’d said about you being unwelcome here. He wanted—no, desired your return now. 

“That’s good to hear, thank you,” you said. Then your smile went a little mischievous. “As you can see, though, it didn’t really deter me.”

Shouto let himself smirk. “If I hadn’t seen the cleaning supplies already on the counter, I would be concerned that you’d come back for revenge.”

“There’s still time,” you joked. “Maybe I was going to play the long game and fill all the bottles with Sprite.”

The mulish statement surprised him into another laugh. “I hope the flowers are enough of a deterrent.”

You looked over the flowers again, then smiled up at him. His eyes caught on your mouth.

“The bribe has been accepted. Your countertops are safe from me.” You paused, then added, “For now.”

The hot feeling was everywhere now, simmering just underneath Shouto’s skin. He left himself lean towards you, relishing in the way your breath caught in a tiny hitch. “Be warned that I will do whatever it takes to ensure the safety of my countertops.”

You complained that he hardly used them, but complied nevertheless. Then you bullied him out of the kitchen, that tiny little scrunch back on your nose.

Shouto let you have your way, making his way over to the couch and settling on it with a book he had absolutely no intention of reading. Instead, as he watched you clean, he considered things.

He had always been straightforward about his goals. Once he’d chosen heroism as his dream, he’d let nothing stand in his way, working diligently all through UA, shooting nonstop through the ranks before breaking into the top five this year, one of the youngest to have ever done it. 

He was deliberate about what he wanted. He worked hard for what he wanted.

And as he wandered back towards the kitchen, questions ready in his mouth, he knew what else he wanted.

He wanted to know more about you.

He wanted to spend more time with you.

He wanted…

Well, he rather thought he wanted you.

I was going to edit this but every time I went to touch it, I made it worse. I hope you liked it anyway!

Garbage Fest masterlist & schedule.

[spaceorphan18]

have you ever read a detailed post about the glee cast’s singing voices? like all about their technique and stuff? reading your reaction to the ‘vocal coach reacts to glee’ video makes me want to know more!

Hmmmm, not really! Not from a professional vocalist POV, I don’t think.  (That I’m aware of.  This does remind me there was one vocal coach in fandom, and she hated Blaine, and I wasn’t too fond of her, or her analysis, so I won’t point you in that direction.) 

My background is in music, but not in vocal performance.  But I can give you a quick rundown of cast’s musical abilities if you like, though they won’t be huge on the technical side of it.  

ETA: I started this a while ago before I started doing the music retrospective - I’ll probably try to explore a little more as I do those.   If you guys want more conversation about one person in particular, let me know! 

But for now... 

*

Matthew Morrison: Is a classically trained musician with a very good voice.  It’s a shame Will was such a tool, because Matthew Morrison was very talented, had the ability to do a lot of great things with his voice.  People joke about his rapping -- but I think this stemmed from the issue that his background is in musical theater -- which teaches you a cleaner and more traditional way of singing -- opposed to a pop or rap style.  He doesn’t have the grit that rap often has, which makes it a little too much like a Kid’s Bop version of something.  When singing musical theater, though, he really shined. 

A number that showcases ability: Make ‘Um Laugh

A number that isn’t so great: Ice Ice Baby

*

Lea Michele: Lea does have a very good and solid voice.  She’s also been classically trained.  The one drawback is that it hinders her a bit on pop music, she lacks some of the grittiness often needed on a lot of the pop songs.  She also starts to lose some of her classic training as the show goes on (which I think is a shame) so that she can get some of the shine off her voice to make a transition to pop music.  

She has one vocal tick that drives me crazy, though -- she has a tendency to slide into her notes instead of hitting them dead on, which gets worse as the show goes on, and it makes her sound a little screech-y at times.  But for the most part -- she is really good. 

A number that showcases ability: Don’t Rain on My Parade

A number that isn’t so great: Ooops...I Did It Again

*

Amber Riley: The cool thing about Amber is that you get to hear her grow as a musician as the show goes on.  She had already started to get vocal lessons before the show started, but at the beginning, she was still a bit raw and unrefined in her technique.  But you can tell she did practice, and her voice is developed beautifully as the show goes on.  She was one of the best, well rounded vocalists on the show.  She had a good handle on pop and R&B music, but she could sing musical theater rather clearly, too.  She has great breath support - and can belt numbers out while still retaining the quality.  Can’t say enough good thing about Amber’s voice. 

A number that showcases ability: Someday We’ll Be Together

A number that isn’t so great: Sweet Transvestite (It’s not bad - but it’s my least favorite Mercedes solo.) 

*

Cory Monteith: Cory wasn’t a vocalist.  And, to be completely honest, I thought it was some kind of joke when they introduced him as some kind of hidden musical gem when Will hears him singing the showers.  He did really well with classic rock that’s allows not only for a weaker voice - but is often not as technically hard.  And I have to wonder if Cory got lessons, because he did get a lot better as the show went on, and I think his season 4 work is great! 

I will say that sometimes they pushed his voice a little too far.  A lot of times songs were either too high for his range and he often sounded like he was straining.  (The most notable of which is A House is Not a Home - which is far too high for him.)  That said - I think he did reasonably well along side Lea - mostly because often sang pop duets.  

A number that showcases ability: I’ve Gotta Be Me

A number that isn’t so great: Can’t Fight This Feeling Anymore

*

Chris Colfer: Chris is such an interesting study due to the uniqueness of his voice.  He’s got a huge range both in terms of genre and literal range of voice.  He can sing quite a few octaves.  He’s got a great, clear sound, too, which is why he’s great with theater numbers.  Interestingly, Chris’s voice did drop over the years, and while I know people love his higher range, he has a gorgeous lower range that wasn’t used as often (and is often my favorite.) 

The one (nitpicky) issue was that Chris’s voice ended up getting pigeon-holed.  I know singing Diva-Broadway songs was his schtick - but it would have been nice to hear him sing a bigger variety of songs.  He wasn’t the strongest on non-ballad pop music, but they also didn’t give him that very often.  

There’s also the fascinating unusualness in that, Chris could really sing duets very well with people -- but in group numbers, his voice sticks out like a sore thumb, and he was often left out of some of the more general songs because of it.  His voice just doesn’t texture very well - which is why I get why they did what they did.  

A number that showcases ability: Being Alive

A number that isn’t so great: I’ll Remember

*

Kevin McHale: I feel like people are often surprised when they sit down and think about it, but Kevin has a great voice.  He has a solid range, and he’s able to do pop music very well (I believe it helps that he was in a professional boy band for years.)  Not sure if people noticed - but he’s often the lead on group numbers that don’t need to be related to specific story or character points.  Which is a bummer for Artie’s story - but if you’re a fan of Kevin’s voice, you get a lot to choose from.  

Kevin was also able to handle a lot of the musical demands that I think some of the other males weren’t? He’s a much better singer than Cory - and could handle leading a full number.  His voice isn’t as unique as Chris’s and can texture really well.  In addition he was fairly versatile.  He might have been the best rapper the show had, lol. 

A number that showcases ability: For Once In My Life

A number that isn’t so great: Addicted to Love (personal taste choice - I just don’t like the song.) 

*

Jenna Ushkowitz: Jenna is another one who is classically trained.  She has a strong, solid voice, which was unfortunately not showcased all that well on the show, and because of that, I’m not sure how she does on a wide variety of music.  I do think she sounds a little generic - but not helping is lack of being featured.  

A number that showcases ability: I Don’t Know How To Love Him

A number that isn’t so great: Gangum Style (She does fine - but the fact that they made her do it in the first place...) 

*

Dianna Agron: The interesting thing about Dianna is that she has a really nice low female voice.  The fact that they never gave her any punk or harder rock was really a shame, because I think she would have done really well with that.  The funny thing is that, more so in the beginning, they show tried to make her sing songs that fit her character - but weren’t necessarily great for her voice.  I feel like it wasn’t until late season 2 did they start really using her voice for the better.  

A number that showcases ability: Never Can Say Goodbye

A number that isn’t so great: It’s A Man’s, Man’s, Man’s World

*

Mark Salling: Mark had a really solid voice - that often lent itself well to folk and acoustic really well.  He was good with softer pop and classic rock, and the show showcased that pretty well.  I think, in general, Mark was a much better vocalist than actor, and the show often picked good music for him to sing - which helped with his character.  I don’t have a whole lot to say, only that I think he was underrated as a vocalist, but I get it - with all the other baggage that comes with talking about Mark. 

A number that showcases ability: No Surrender 

A number that isn’t so great: Fight For Your Right (to Party) (I don’t think it’s bad - I just hate this song.) 

*

Naya Rivera: Naya is a little tricky.  I think she has a good, smoky sound to her voice that makes her excellent at things like pop and R and B.  (Shame she didn’t have a good jazz number to do on the show - she would have been great at that.)  I think she was really versatile, though, and handled her Broadway numbers really well.  I do think she was somewhat pinched and nasal at times - and while I do think this was a stylistic choice, to me it’s not my favorite type of vocal sound.  But I do think she was really good at the numbers she was given, and was one of the most talented female vocalists on the show. 

A number that showcases ability: Back to Black

A number that isn’t so great: Alfie (I think I may dislike the song more than her singing on it.) 

*

Heather Morris: Heather wasn’t a singer, and I do think it showed at times.  She often had to have her voice autotuned more than anyone else on the show.  That said - she did do Britney Spears really well, and I think she deserves credit for that.  

A number that showcases ability: I’m a Slave 4 U

A number that isn’t so great: Dinosaur

*

Chord Overstreet: Chord’s background is in country - and that shows a bit through his singing - he’s got a bit of twang in his voice, but it’s not necessarily a bad thing.  He’s a fun singer.  I don’t think the show knew exactly what to do with him (voice or character) but there’s a lightness to his singing that makes him easily adaptable to pretty much anything you throw at him. 

A number that showcases ability: Red Solo Cup (You think I’m joking - but I think this is the most fun Chord has singing a song.) 

A number that isn’t so great: Girls on Film (I think just by default of me liking everything else better.) 

*

Darren Criss: Ah, Darren, where to even start.  The thing about Darren is that he may not be the strongest singer, his voice is a little wobbly at times, and his range is somewhat limited, but his showmanship is just completely beyond nearly everyone else.  Darren has the unique ability to draw you in with his singing and hold you captive.  There are technically better singers on the show - but Darren just has this amazing ability to really sell a performance.  And I do love his voice, even if there are some limitations to it.  I really could gush about Darren’s performance abilities, but I’ll refrain... 

A number that showcases ability: Teenage Dream (Both Versions) 

A number that isn’t so great: Piano Man (Which isn’t bad - I just think the show had done it better, and it’s a rare time that felt like Darren was kind of phoning it in.) 

*

A quick run down of others, but first a quick aside - as they started adding people in, vocal ability starts being a factor.  I think a lot of the newer characters could sing better than they could act, which was both helpful and a hinderance.  I think we began to get more solid musical numbers as the show went on, but sometimes acting wasn’t always top notch - and across the board, old and new, hitting a combo of acting and singing ability didn’t always happen.  

Harry Shum Jr.: Not really a singer - but the show often played to his strengths, and his few songs played off the fact that he wasn’t a great singer to great aplomb.  

Jane Lynch: Can hold a tune, even if her voice isn’t the best - is really great at musical comedy. 

Jayma Mays: She has more singing ability than the show allowed to showcase, however, she’s another one whose voice was really unique, and doesn’t texture very well.  

Damien McGinty: Is actually a very good singer.  However, he’s very generic, too - which makes him a little on the bland side. 

Sam Larsen: I think he was fine - I don’t think he sang enough on the show for me to make much of an impression one way or the other. 

Alex Newel: Fucking Fantastic! Alex might be one of the strongest vocalists on the show - has great range, energy, and vocal control.  

Melissa Benoist: Her voice tends to lean on the pop-ier side, but it’s a solid voice, and her work on the show was pretty good.  

Jacob Artist: Has a strong voice, and could sing genres that weren’t often featured on the show (like hip-hop and R&B).  

Blake Jenner: His voice is fine, but like Damien McGinty, it’s generic and a little bland. 

Becca Tobin: She has a very quirky voice that brings in a different and unique sound.  They didn’t use her much, though, so it’s hard to comment. 

Noah Guthrie: An amazing singer, has a really unique sound, but is able to do blend in well with others.  

Samantha Ware: Another amazing singer.  She’s in full control and can do really great things with it. 

Billy Lewis Jr: Has a good, solid voice.  Not as strong as Guthrie, or some of the other guys, but he’s a lot of fun to watch. 

Laura Dreyfuss: Like Becca Tobin - has a uniqueness to her vocal quality that makes it stand out a little, but she’s still a solid singer. 

Marshall Williams: His vocal ability is okay.  It’s better than his acting ability.  I’m slightly confused how this dude got cast, tbh.  

[fucktheroyals]

You know after reading and reading and reading peoples theories and the meta from before the spn finale aired and the meta writers reactions to the finale I think I have a theory of my own. We don't have any answers tho, so this is pure speculation. If you wanna add something to support or discredit any of this that's cool but there's too many things floating around. Know I dont have proof for this conclusion at all. A lot of what I say is just guesses based on previous facts.

This all came together in my head when I realized how much this finale REEKS of the original producers and who the show was originally for. It REEKS of Robert Singer. Like if the execs started saying they didn't want it, Robert Singer was the one pushing that the story was about the brothers. That kinda thing.

Then, I was thinking of the problems in this episode and it struck me these are all of Supernatural biggest issues and to be honest all of it feels completely deliberate.

Take the sexism for example, Supernatural in it's later seasons largely out grew this, we have Jody, Rowena, Donna, Charlie, Mary, Claire (and even a wayward sisters pilot with MORE women/girls) all making regular appearances. They're mainly good characters and mostly aren't there to hurt our boys. Rowena, of course, is the one outlier being very about herself but it's clear she still cares for them, I mean its part of her development. But they're all real, with character flaws just like everyone else. (And we have Death too and she was POC 😭 THANK GOD)

Now look at the earlier half of Spn, we have Ellen and Jo, who's appearances were far in between. There's Bela in season 3, recurring for quite a bit (5 eps), but she is a character that is only there for herself, definitely not found family (unlike Ellen & Jo), and she's got more episodes in season 3 than Ellen and Jo in season 2 who aren't seen again til season 5. The "fans" send in hate mail after hate mail to try to get these characters off, and eventually they are. Then there's Ruby who's character stayed for a whole two seasons and was a largely recurring character. Why does she get to say so long? She's a plot device. She's supposed to be there to betray Sam. She has to stay (plus Jared obviously likes her). But she's not just a character the writers like writing about. Same with Lilith. Obviously not as recurring but still a plot device. Did they get hate mail tho? You can bet on it. Why? because tHeY'rE gOnNa PuSh ThE bOyS (Dean and Sam) aPaRt ThE sHoW iS aBoUt ThE bOyS oNlY. Without even thinking about the hate mail, just notice how large the difference is from how women are seen in the earlier seasons to the later seasons. Misha got tons of hate mail too for being a character that could split up the boys (probably only being allowed to say because he a man, thanks sexist producers and execs).

Only after Castiel was killed off and then Castiel fans successfully (thank you guys) got him back on the show did the hate mail largely simmer, which means female character's were allowed to stay! Which has lead us to a show with a good amount of female characters. But can you imagine having to kill characters off time and time again because people keep complaining that the show is "only about the boys." Fun times really.

So now we get to this final and we see sexism. But it wasn't just the plain old regular sexism you find in the earlier days of spn. Because now, there ARE women to talk about, talk to. But this episode was DESOLATE women wise, unless they were used for plot (which is also sexist!). Small scenes, they're barely there. Women gets her tongue cut out. Random women from s1 gets killed. Sam doesn't SPEAK of Eileen. Nothing. No mention of any female characters from the boys mouths unless they were from/in this episode itself. That's WIERD. I know we've all said it. But that goes beyond forgetting about characters. I mean its SAM'S GIRLFRIEND for Christ's sake. There is NO REASON they couldn't have said Eileen's name. Notice how Sam's wife is just... faceless. This is literally an age old sexist trope. Like... one of the things about bringing Mary back to life for s12+ is that it takes this trope... of basically a generic mother, and gives her life and feelings, whether you like them or not, they're real feelings. They said Mary isn't just a mom she's a person. Mary's existence in the later half of spn is to fix this kind of female tropes that fall upon her character, to not let these her stay a 2 dimensional character. They said we should know she's more than just the mom who tried to save her kid. Do that is the exact opposite of Sam getting a nameless, faceless wife. The sexism of the old spn wasn't just brought back, it was completely amplified. It wasn't just accidental or some exec "fixing" the story it was DELIBRATE. Whoever wrote that, didn't do ALL OF THAT by accident. Because an exec or a producer who doesn't see the flaws in old supernatural isn't going to write it that deliberately.

Let's bring it back to s10 when Charlie was killed (singer was mainly to blame). Dead in the bathtub, age old classic of burying ur gays. If you were here you know people never let Supernatural live that down. THEY KNOW what bury ur gays means. Hell, Robbie Thompson left because of Charlie's death and you think the writers don't know what it means? I mean both Bobo Berens (especially) and Steve Yockey's careers are centered around LGBT+ storytelling and you think they don't know? They know. They know.

And Dean wasn't just apart of the bury your gays trope, it is so far BEYOND that. Dean being killed on a rusty nail/screw, the tongues ripped out, things that seemed to be meant for other people. Jensen's acting in the last two episodes was giving us "DEAN RECIPROCATES" but no one ever actually saying it. I think it's clear that Dean was killed for being Bi. They didn't address it for a reason, they just silenced him. His narrative was supposed to be about letting him be HIM for the first time, to say what his feelings are instead of having them miscommunicated, and instead of doing that, they just silenced him. And the more we look at this scene the more horrific it gets. The more it's a complete slap in the face and it's supposed to be. Some guy who knows nothing about the LGBT can't write a scene this horrific.

Some guy who knows nothing about Dean couldn't write a scene that deconstructs all of Dean's character development and gives Dean his worst nightmare. I MEAN DEAN WANTED TO LIVE HIS LIFE! THEY DIDNT HIDE THAT JOB APPLICATION (or whatever job related thing that was) IN THERE FOR SHITS AND GIGGLES THEY WANT YOU TO KNOW THIS IS THE ABSOLUTE WORST SITUATION. Dean isn't Barney from HIMYM. If you watched HIMYM then you'll know Barney went from being a stereotypical ladies man and treating women terribly to being in love with a women and treating her right and working hard for it. The last episode of HIMYM (why its so bad) Barney's character development is thrown out and he's back to being a stereotypical ladies man. You don't need to know Barney's character very much to do that.

To kill Dean during a hunt his father never finished, to not have anyone at his funeral, to have Dean die young like his life didn't matter. Those are Dean's worst fears and you'd only truly know that if you watched the gin episode in s3, where they are basically laid out for you. You HAVE to know Dean's character to tear him apart like this.

This episode took all the core elements of the show and did a complete 180° the name of the episode itself is "Carry on" and Dean and Sam very much did not carry on. Sam grieving his entire life so that he good get to heaven and see Dean again. Dean being ready to live his life, despite the enormous pitfalls and learning to love himself only to be killed. "Family don't end with blood." Um.... it did in that episode either literally with Dean's death or you know BECAUSE NONE OF THEIR FOUND FAMILY WAS THERE. Not Jack, Not Cas, Not Eileen, Not Donna, Not Charlie, Not Jody, Not Claire... on and on we go. No one was there, nobody was even mentioned. Dean's funeral, no one even called that we know of. It was just Sam and Dean. Sam and Dean. And Bobby. Don't forget Bobby. But yeah Sam and Dean.

That's what the show is about right, the brothers.

Except it's not anymore. It hasn't been for years.

Cas not being there was deafening but it brought us to a major point. Becky. Becky's telling us about the terrible ending.

And many of us are wondering why would they literally tell us this is the worst ending and then... make it the ending.

Now before we move on, it very apparent many of you think Dabb doesn't ship Deancas. And Dabb doesn't care about the characters.

Say what you will about any plot holes in his writing, the point he is VERY GOOD at writing the characters, and giving us good ones.

Why do we know Dabb ships Deancas? (ill say when its cowrote, other wise its not) cowrote ep 8.02 - purgatory "I prayed to you, Cas, every night" "Cas, Buddy, I need you." "I have a price on my head, and I've been trying to stay one step ahead of them, to – to keep them away from you." 8.08 Hunteri Heroici - Cas helps them hunt! 😊❤ Dean & Cas have a serious convo about why Cas doesn't want to see/go to heaven. 8.22 Dean's mad at Cas. Sam's explanation of why Dean should be easy on Cas: "It's Cas." Dean then points out how he'd knife anybody else if they did what Cas did. 9.10 - Cas comforts Dean when Dean can't take seeing Sam (Gadreel) being tortured anymore. Also tons of Cas. 9.20 (bloodlines) - Canonical couple parallel "I was there, where were you" 9.22 The angels make Cas choose between them and killing Dean and he "gave up an entire army for one guy" 10.09 Claire's reintroduction. Cas heavy ep. DeanCas date. 10.22 THE PRISONER - u know the ep where Dean beats the shit out of Cas but loves him enough to not kill him.

We COULD keep going but I think I've made my point. If Robert Singer is the guy that is like "the show is about Sam and Dean only" Andrew Dabb is the DeanCas shipper. And you could even say a Cas stan.

Notice! How in s13 for SEVEN episodes we have a story that revolves around Dean's grief about losing Cas. Notice! How often the stories in all these seasons have a focus on their relationship. THAT is Andrew Dabb. If it weren't for him doing that, we wouldn't be able to easily say after Dean's lack of a response to Cas' confession, that Dean reciprocates.

To me, when I was (binge) watching s12 for the first time, I thought damn this is really got a lot of DeanCas. So I went to look at who was in charge, who was writing. I saw Andrew Dabb, associated him with Deancas episodes, saw all the new writers, Bobo, and then I saw that Yockey is known for same sex stories and it clicked. Dabb assembled a team to give us Destiel. THAT WAS IN SEASON 12!!!!!!!!

The amount of people saying he's homophobic flabbergast me. Open your eyes! That isn't what's going on.

Imagine making a show and trying to right all the wrongs of Supernatural. Imagine trying to write the greatest love story ever told and you have the entire season planned out for it to end off beautifully, it may possibly be your greatest achievement when it's done and then boom. someone comes in and tells you you aren't allowed to make Dean bi or make destiel endgame, after he was most probably already given the go ahead.

Sure. You could imply he's bi or into cas still in a way. Still make nice-ish ending. just give everyone what the kinda want.

Or you could scrap the last season, nothing close to a canonical bisexual Dean Winchester or Deancas endgame in site. People can be done with it be happy with the show, continue to live their lives in ignorance as to how close they were to Canon destiel.

OR you can lead everyone to the very closest you can get them to what you were aiming for and then show everyone the ugly truth and reality. Light it all on fire. Burn the show to the ground in your wake. Try your darnedest to making these people's (the people saying no) pockets suffer. Show us, the audience, what happened. Show us what this show really is.

I've seen people talk about the ending being changed during covid but I dont think that happened. I think what happened was Dabb already had this season planned out before it even started. Obviously the details were wobbly but it was all lead up to this ending. Destiel endgame, Canon Bisexual Dean, whatever it was. They were ready to write the greatest love story ever told and then someone shut it down.

Imagine the pain that must have caused them to be told no when they already said yes. They must have been so excited to give this to us.

I think someone (some producers) told him what this show is "really" about. The brothers. Can you imagine, after being told no, some kinda bullshit like this is said to you: "Why aren't you bringing it back to the brothers, Andrew? that's what the shows about. What with all this homosexual stuff, you know the audience won't like that. Not really." Imagine the original producers pushing this kind of view on you. "You know when we started it was Sam and Dean. It should end with Sam and Dean." That kinda sounds like someone huh? huh.

So why give us a nice acceptable finale, when you can take every problem Supernatural's had either up front or behind the scenes and create a finale so incredibly bad that people don't want to watch it anymore.

Someone made a good point about how Sam was originally supposed to be the main focus (this isn't to put any hate on Sam or Jared). Dean and Sam are the main characters but Sam was supposed to be the focus and for Dean to have become the focus, must have annoyed the producers because... well here we are. They wouldn't listen to Jensen. The producers liked this ending. Jensen's opinion didn't matter to them.

In some ways, if this is really what happened, it can be seen as childish from Dabb. To hurt all of us like that. Yes, he's hurting the producers, the execs, the cw. But to hurt us? Yeah it stings.

But in other ways, if this is really what happened, this is Dabb showing us the muck and gunk under the shiny surface. The hate for Misha. The hidden hate for Jensen. The underlying sexism. The underlying homophobia. The people REALLY in charge don't care about us, they just want our money. He needed to open our eyes and free us, at least free the people that he was writing for. The people he sees that care about this show.

This is the ending the powers that be wanted and its a big fuck you for a reason. I dont think this is Dabb spitting in our faces for loving this show, I think this is him trying to get revenge for us.

But from here, you can see it how u want it. If this is really what happened, I'm not in charge of your emotions, if you wanna be mad be mad if you wanna be grateful be grateful. And you don't have to believe me either I said this is speculation.

Also, as for all of the rumors like there being shots to the confession scene that we didn't see, which Jensen himself implied, I think that might have been a last ditch effort to canonized DeanCas but obviously it was cut. Like the name change was pretty clear. As for Misha possibly having shot some stuff for 20 I dont know what to tell you. If it's true I dont know where the blame would lie.

I do think however, that if all this was the case, the writers were prepared to become villians here. I mean they told us the writers were villians with Chuck right? So. Who knows what went down so they could give us such a vile ending. It could've been the producers or the writers, who truly knows. I do think tho that people we "trust" did some pretty shitty things to push the narrative in certain directions so now one would see this as the actual ending that was coming.

So again do with my SPECULATION what you will. This was in no way meant to put Dabb on a pedestal or anything. Just meant to give a bit of perspective.

(Also Jensen didn't unfollow Dabb recently he was already unfollowed for years)

[wizkiddx]

Blurb req- Tom and the reader on a private jet hungover? just pure fluff?

fluffy requests are well and truly open ( bcos I adored writing this ahah) and let me know what u think , I am deff not a writer so any feedback or tips would be v appreciated :))

summary: tomhollandxactress!reader - a wrap party followed by an early morning flight and a grumpy Harry, what could possibly go wrong?

warning: mentions of alcohol and sickness

|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

The remorse. The regret. It only made the pounding in your head even worse. Why those two 1.5 litre bottle of Bacardi had been brought out was beyond you. Why the you six of you had then decided to empty said bottle was even more of a mystery. It wasn’t like any of you had needed it, you’d all been more than ‘merry’ prior to the cheap rum and coke. 

Hence the state of you, Tom and Harry as well as your manager Davey and Tom’s team of Rachel and Andrew. All having made very little effort with your appearance - joggers and hoodies all round, with you and Rachel also sporting sunglasses because you were simply smarter than the boys. Thankfully, this wasn’t a big trip that fans knew about, this was you and Tom moving location under cover  - the studios didnt want anybody to know that either of you made a feature in this film, so everything was under the cover of darkness. Which to be honest you were not complaining about. However, you were complaining about the fact the flight had been scheduled to leave at 7 am the night after your wrap party though.

The two of you had just wrapped your most recent and most ambitious movie to date - hence the massive celebrations last night for just surviving and getting it done. It had been the most intense 3 months of your life, there had been times you’d cry for hours on end, times you just wanted to quit fully knowing you’d never be hired again for leaving a multimillion dollar company in the lurch.But you all, somehow, had survived. So celebrations were in order of course but perhaps not as far as you all managed last night?

Your whole convey appeared to have travelled to the airfield in absolute silence, no one particularly fancied hearing anyone else’s voice- which to be honest seemed quite fair. You’d ridden in a car with Tom and Harry, with you resting your head on Tom’s broad shoulder - which had obviously made Harry gag, rolling his eyes. Bless Harry, really he was the only reason you and Tom had got together, after getting sick of the mutual pining he’d been forced to live with during the previous 2 projects you’d worked on together. But now, having had to put up with the two of you being so ridiculously loved up for the past 3 months - understandably a bit of distance from you and his brother was overdue. 

One of the flight attendants busied themselves loading your luggage, whilst the pilot asked you and Tom for a photo. Of course, you weren’t going to say no however you did have to cringe at how rough you both looked. His teenage daughter certainly would be less excited to see that her Dad hadn’t met Tom Holland and Y/n Y/l/n. Instead he’d met the zombified, undead and rougher frauds. Still you smiled as much as you could, wincing when you removed the glasses and the early morning sun pierced your restricted pupils. God it wasn’t your day. 

The guy didn’t seem to mind though, excitedly hurrying off onto the plane to settle in the rest of you - leaving just you and Tom outside on the tarmac. 

“Poor guy, we look like shit.” You murmured while taking a step closer to lean slightly into his side. 

“Speak for yourself love.’Tom snickered into the top of your head, after pulling you completely into his chest. This wasn’t normally allowed, your relationship still wasn’t public and both of you intended on keeping it private for as long as possible. But you were in an otherwise empty field in the middle of nowhere (somewhere in Georgia) before 8 am. It was actually quite nice to feel your boyfriends arms round you in the outside world, especially when you felt this shit. After a few moments you pulled away, arching back at Tom’s pouty face as you motioned it was time to get on the plane. 

“’S too late you know.” Your brows furrowed at his half formed sentence, facial expression only demanding him to explain more. “They all have already taken the good seats… Harry basically sprinted on so he can hog the bed thing.” In response it was your turn to pout, groaning as you fell back into his chest again. Yes, this was a complete first world issue, a private jet paid completely by your bosses was not something a lot would moan about. Truly you were grateful for everything you had in life, but with the worst hangover of your life when the opportunity of lying down for 6 hours instead of being stuck in a chair had manifested itself… well of course you felt robbed by your almost brother Harry. 

Chuckling at your reaction, he gave you an extra squeeze before leading the both of you up the stairs to the cabin. Sure enough Harry had completely and totally claimed the longer couch at the far end of the plane, lying on his stomach with his face hidden in the crook of his elbow. Rolling your eyes at the predictable situation, you didn’t miss Davey laughing at your sorry state - nmaking you throw daggers at him in your eyes. 

Davey was your second father, the relationship between the two of you far transcended any professional working one. Which is why the two of you acting like this was very much a norm and not rude at all. He had also got the next best seat in the corner with the most leg room which he clearly loved to show off. 

Unsurprisingly then you and Tom ended up squashed into the corner with your legs crumpled up together in the small space floor space. The brunette opposite you didn’t seem to mind so much but that was because he had an adaptational advantage. He could sleep anywhere and everywhere , whenever he wanted. On set if he was tired? Just take a ten minute power nap on the floor. Bored of a long car journey? Just conk out against the window. It absolutely infuriated you, as no matter how hard and how exhausted you were - it was rare you could get any further than a light doze. Even before the two go you got together, having a best mate that could skip all the boring bits and was immune to jet lag… you can see how that makes you want to punch him square in the face.

After a short safety talk from the pilot and flight attendant, the plane whirred into life and you were up in the air. Although in your current state, it would be reasonable to assume the beauty of flying had somewhat rubbed off - you were certain it never would. No matter how many flights you took across country ,and in fact continents, for work; you’d never get sick of watching the view below you. It was perfect and breathtaking and took your mind off the pounding in the back of your head for the first 20 minutes.

Until the need for sleep took over as either you need to be unconcious or you were going to vomit - which you really didn’t want to do at 40,000 feet in a tin box. Trying to rearrange your limbs to get comfier you accidentally knocked Tom’s leg rather forcefully, causing him to jump half out his seat, heavy eyes blinking quickly as he tried to get his baring as to what was attacking him - quickly answered by your guilty look. 

“You okay love?” His voice was slurred, sounding almost sleep drunk - but perhaps was just actually still a little drunk. You’d only headed to bead last night at 4 am and had to be up at 6 - which isnt very long for your poor kidneys to try and process the stupid amount of alcohol you’d both  happily been chugging the night before.

“Feel shitty and cant sleep.” You weren’t in the mood to white lie - honestly some sympathy from your beautiful boyfriend seemed like a dream at the moment. Tom’s idea was better though.

“C’mere then.” His arms outstretched, you immediately jumped into his lap - the two of you shifting about to get comfortable till you were sat side on to him, your bum and back leaning against the arm rest of the chair with your legs going over his thighs and pressing against the wall of the plane. Pulling you closer to his chest, Tom took a deep breath as he pressed his chin against the crown of your head; your face now nested into his chest. 

Nothing needed to be said as the two of you melted into each others bodies, the slow and deepening breathing enough to prove to each other you were both incredibly contented in that moment. More than that you felt safe- you’d admitted to Tom some weeks ago that you had never ever slept better than when he was beside you. Yeh it was cringey but sometimes that’s allowed right? 

… well not to Harry. Because as the plane was about to begin it’s descent, the pilot had tasked Harry (who had slept off the worst of the hangover and had spent the last 30 minutes of the flight scoffing at how adorable the two of you looked fast asleep together) - even after Rach had scalded him and had taken a photo of the two of you on her phone. 

Causing Harry to ,ever subtly, wake the two of you up by throwing his half empty water bottle over your heads. 

Safe to say, Harry very nearly didn’t leave that jet alive.

[lifewithdavefarts]

DaveFarts - Episode 1 “FartsApp” [Episode List] Since he’s a gassy nerd, Dave teases his friend Tim via WhatsApp by sending him a series of short videos of him farting.

FartsApp

Being gay with a fart fetish is really hard sometimes.

For me at least.

While the world is definitely getting more open-minded about homosexuality, I can’t really force it to accept this weird fetish (to be honest, all fetishes are kinda treated like taboos, regardless of the sexuality involved). I had to settle for YouTube videos or websites devoted to this whole fart-sniffing thing; not that I’m complaining: it was good to discover that so many people actually had this fetish.

Cue Dave. Well, sort of, actually. He doesn’t have a fart fetish and he’s not even gay. Dave has been my best friend since forever. Unlike me, however, he’s straight and is currently dating some (lucky) girl.

Around my age, he’s like a brother to me, and we’re actually well-known because of how much time we always spend with each other.

Dave is a great guy, a great friend, very open-minded and, dare to say it, actually quite hot.

Not surprisingly, being the brother I never had, he’s the first friend I came out to, the only one who knows about my homosexuality. Actually, it’s not like I told him… he found out on his own, in the worst possible way (for me).

During one of our nerdy game-nights, being “that one gassy friend”, Dave started to rip -as usual- tons of farts, fueled by some junk food, until he ripped one directly in my face (and boy it was amazing…). Everything went downhill from there… kinda. For some reason or another… he just accepted all at once not only my homosexuality, but also the fact that I found face-farting… hot. He just laughed about it and honestly gave me some encouraging words about my peculiar situation, proving that he’s indeed the best friend ever. Oh… and he also literally farted for me after that, in my face, letting me sniff and enjoy his amazing rips; he can also fart on command apparently: got a taste of his talent that same night.

That one, surreal night.

I still can’t believe it happened.

Felt like a confused dream. Like one of those nights where you drink too much so you don’t clearly remember what happened. But it was all true.

Dave, my best friend, was perfectly fine with me, my fetish, and all this weird stuff.

Yes: I know how lucky I am.

It’s been 4 months since he found out.

And, believe it or not, I’m getting face-farted so often that I’m almost forgetting how beautiful it feels.

Seriously: Dave simply accepted it like I’m living in someone’s crazy fetish dream and, when we’re alone, he just casually farts in my face (without me asking for it). Not always, but very often.

Surprisingly enough, despite the fact that my nose spends a lot of time brushing against his denim-covered butt, our friendship didn’t change at all though: we still hang out with the rest of our friends and generally spend a lot of time together.

Sometimes I’m so in disbelief about how easy-going he’s been with me, that I randomly ask him “You sure you’re OK with… this?” (I say, gesturing all of me), but he just smiles or rolls his eyes annoyed, tired of hearing the same question over and over again. What can I say? He’s perfectly comfortable with his own sexuality I guess, so he doesn’t have any problem with my fetish.

Sometimes though -sorry I say this- I kinda wish he did…

No, I’m definitely not complaining. That’s the best possible scenario for me, but sometimes he can get a bit too… inopportune. Dave is not really a prankster, but he loves teasing his friends, just for fun, including me.

I was in the middle of an important exam once, one of these pop-quiz thingies that make zero sense, and I felt my phone vibrate. I checked my FB private messages and all I saw was this YouTube link sent by Dave. Since I’m a fool apparently, I clicked on it, and one of those popular YouTube fart videos popped up and played, one with really loud farts. The first fart actually echoed in the room and other students glared at me: never felt so embarrassed (not including the night Dave found out about my fetish).

“Dude! Stop sending me this stuff!” I texted him. “I’m in the middle of an exam here!”

I scolded him for this, but the truth is that I couldn’t ask for a friend more open-minded than him.

The fact that he teases him with fart videos like he teases our heterosexual friends with those “shock” porn pics made me feel more… accepted.

But still… I was in the middle of an important exam so he had to stop.

And he obviously didn’t.

He sent me like 10 other links, just to annoy the sh%t out of me.

I mocked him by texting something like “Those videos are quite hard to find. Guess you’re gay too then!” but he would reply with “I had a great teacher!” and send me one of my awkward photos from Facebook.

Other times, since our friendship didn’t change a bit, he even made random references to my homosexuality or even my fart fetish when messaging me to make plans for the night (especially during the weekend). This mostly happens on WhatsApp:

Dave: “Dude, you have to come with us. Stop being a whiny little bi*ch and get up from that couch!”

Tim: “Sorry, man. I don’t think I’ll be joining you tonight…”

Dave: “You know what? If you don’t come with us… you’re gay!”

Dave: “Sorry, I mean… if you don’t come with us, you’re a fuc*ing heterosexual!

Dave: "U ride pussy, don’t you? Fuc*ing straight people!”

He was obviously being sarcastic, but I just loved how he adapted his… uhm… “humor” to my situation.

One time, however, things got a bit… hotter for me…

Dave: “Dude, come over. We have a lot to study…”

Tim: “Sorry, really can’t today. Aren’t you with Dana right now anyway?”

Dave: “I need somebody to focus with, not focus on. You know me and Dana always end up in bed after like 20 minutes.”

Dave: “It’s awesome but this stuff ain’t gonna study itself…”

Yep. Dave and his girlfriend Dana apparently had a very active sex life.

Glad he was getting laid. And Dana was pretty cool to be honest.

Tim: “Dave, sorry. Maybe tomorrow, k?”

Dave: “Dude! Come on! I’m farting like crazy today!”

Did… did he just try to “bribe” me using his farting abilities?

Dave: “Seriously. I just ripped one that was like 10 seconds long. What a waste of farts!”

Tim: “Dave… are you crazy?”

Took a couple of minutes to reply to that one, and then I got two messages at once.

Dave: “Oh yessss, Tim, crazy for youuuuuu!” he wrote, with a heart emoticon at the end (again, he’s a sassy bi*ch as usual).

I then saw that WhatsApp was loading a video sent by him, an actual video, not a link.

It was Dave, a smirk drawn on his face while staring at the camera. He was wearing a simple black shirt. The view soon moved and I saw his slightly sagging-butt in jeans sitting on a wooden chair, and then heard this big fart echoing in his living room (he was alone), rumbling loudly and hard on the wooden surface. He even turned the camera to his face while he was forcing the “classic”-sounding fart out, making funny facial expressions; indeed, the fart lasted almost 10 seconds, and I obviously loved that: biggest farts I’ve ever heard from him in awhile! It was like watching those funny fartvines on… well… Vine, but having my best friend as the funny/hot farter this time.

Dave: “Hope that convinced you…” he then texted.

I was kinda… “offended” by that last message.

I mean, yeah, I seriously wanted to be there, but I always love spending time with Dave, farts or not (that’s why we’ve been friends since… forever).

Tim: “Are you seriously using farts to buy my friendship? It’s not like I don’t want to study with you. I just can’t today!”

Was that too harsh? Should I have added a smiley face at the end?

Only thing I was sure of, is that I never thought that a sentence like that would even make sense someday.

And I was still bewildered by how Dave was so comfortable with the fact that I loved farts.

Tim: “You don’t need farts to convince me, Dave. More like… you’re making me suffer!” I joked, finally breaking the ice myself with a reference to my embarrassing fetish, proving that I indeed wanted to be there with him, enjoying those farts.

Another couple of minutes passed.

Was he making another…?

Dave: “I know you’re suffering, Tim. Don’t worry. That’s why I’m sending you this.”

Oh boy, another video. Should I play it? Was he aware that I was getting a boner from all of this?

I literally pitched a tent in my pants.

There… it’s Dave again, this time sitting on the couch. The video started with his face winking at the camera with a sly smile; the camera then moved between his legs and slowly panned towards his butt in loose jeans (he probably put his legs on the small table in front of his couch, to make his butt more visible). Now I had a rather unique (and hot -for me) view of both his butt (and part of his crotch) in jeans and his face. He grinned wildly and the fart began, ripped right in front of the phone. The sound and the views were perfect; Dave moved the camera towards his butt as the fart kept going strong, sounding like a deep trumpet; I could see the detailed blue fabric of his jeans as the funny sounds continued. What a lucky phone!

It lasted around 8 seconds and it was simply the hotness.

The video ended with Dave laughing at the camera and all went pitch black.

Tim: “You’re insane, Dave!” I joked again, enjoying how crazy he was about this. And for me I guess.

But I had to tell him.

Tim: “Dave, you do know that all of this gave me a… well…”

But as I was halfheartedly writing the second part of the message, Dave wrote more stuff.

Dave: “Then go beat your meat! I can’t do everything for you, Tim.”

Dave: “And please don’t act like this is some kind of big deal…

Dave: "Wow, Tim got a boner! How impressive!”

Dave: “Let’s all bow to Tim, the mighty guy whose penis can turn bigger!”

Dave: “Behold, the Great Tim! The guy who once had a boner and had to tell everyone!”

Further proof that Dave was being the best friend ever.

He was clearly being sarcastic; he was joking. That was his way of telling me “Nah bro, it’s all good”. And I was kinda surprised that he was so… chill about this stuff. I literally had a boner because of him and he just… didn’t care. As I said, he’s very open minded and perfectly comfortable with his own sexuality, so he didn’t have the irrational fear of “turning gay” when doing this stuff with and for me. I also appreciated that he trusted me with those funny, but otherwise embarrassing videos.

After one or two minutes, I’ve received one big audio file and I just knew what I was going to get when I clicked the triangular-shaped button to play them.

I heard Dave singing my name like he was some kind of serial killer trying to find me.

Dave: “Tim… come here…”

I then heard a series of muffled noises, as if the camera was being put under something, and it was clear what: I in fact then heard the loud, audio-glitching sound of one big fart that lasted around four seconds.

Dave: “He’s waiting for you…” he sung again in that creepy tone of voice.

Another fart, just as big as the first one.

He was on fire that day!

Now I was both laughing like an idiot and having the biggest boner.

Tim: “Dude, you’re on fire! But… to be honest, that was kinda gay…” I chuckled.

Dave: “Says the guy who gets a boner when he hears a fart. You fuc*ing hypocrite.”

He then sent yet another audio file, with him singing that meme-song “I’m gay, gay, gay, I love long big c*cks”, but slightly changing the lyrics. He even put a karaoke version of it on his computer while recording the audio file.

Dave: “You are gay, gay gay, you love long big farts. ‘cuz you’re supah-super gay, and you love big…”

Fittingly enough, a huge fart from my best friend took over the last part of the song. Loud as usual, sounding like a deep chainsaw. I could just imagine how beautiful that was. But the best part was probably the fact that he was definitely farting for me. I know, not your usual “hot sexy” scenario… more like a “sweet” one, in a very twisted way of course.

I wasn’t obviously offended by that “gay song”, since I knew that Dave was just being silly as usual and his mocking words were definitely not mean-spirited.

Tim: “Aren’t you supposed to be studying right now?” I asked.

Dave: “I don’t know, aren’t you supposed to be here right now?”

Tim: “Dude, seriously. Thank you! But I’m serious… I really can’t today.”

Dave: “Alright… alright… cya tonight faggot…” he wrote, with a heart-shaped emoticon at the end.

I just rolled my eyes and chuckled a bit, then drove my attention to my own books.

This was going to be a long afternoon. But after only one minute of silence, my phone vibrated wildly: it was Dave and he was calling me. Very unusual in that moment.

“Uhm… Dave? Hello?” I picked up.

I was greeted by a series of “Dude, sorry!” and I was really confused.

“Dave… what?”

It was just Dave being adorkable I guess.

“Dude, sorry about that 'faggot'… that was bit too much, sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

I laughed in disbelief. “Bro, it’s OK. I’m not offended. I know you didn’t want to insult me or anything…”

“No, Tim. That one word is not a joke and I shouldn’t have used it, sorry.”

I was just… wow. Dave went from “dominant friendly farter” to “adorable/awkward confused puppy” in mere seconds. Further proof that I was the luckiest guy alive (fetish or not): Dave cared so much for me that he even apologized for the “f-word”, which admittedly is a very bad word for a guy like me. But this time it was coming from Dave, my best friend, a guy who cares so much about me that he would even “censor” his language just to avoid unfortunate implications.

Ironically enough, the roles were switched, and he was the one saying a rapid-fire series of “sorry!” this time.

“Dave, quit with the apologizing. You’re the best.” I chuckled. “We’re bros, that’s what we do: we insult each other!”

“Alright… you sure? Not going to use that word ever again though.”

“Dave… it’s OK. You’re the best.”

“OK… OK. See you tonight. Take care.”

And he hang up.

He just wanted to make sure that he didn’t accidentally offend me by calling me a “fag”.

I would have been, if it wasn’t coming from Dave.

But then again, he also said that he was going to kick in the face whoever dared to insult me.

And he said that before he found out the truth about me: he’s always been quite protective.

“Oh come on!” I shouted, almost annoyed, merely five minutes later, when I heard the phone vibrate one more time.

It was Dave. Again.

He sent another video.

I tried to scoff at it but I was obviously loving all of this instead.

He was lying on the couch, the camera focusing on his butt in jeans. I could see both his face and butt, at the same time. It was like he filmed the video imagining my POV when he farted in my face, and I absolutely enjoyed that.

“Alright, Tim… Sorry for calling you a faggot.” he spoke in a “comically” serious voice. He truly was “sorry”, but it was clear that he was trying not to laugh. “I’m really, really sorry, believe me.”

Keeping a straight face, he ripped an incredibly loud, deep fart at the camera. He didn’t bat an eye, blink or smile. He eventually lost it towards the end of that 6-seconds long blast. He chuckled a bit and then turned “serious” again.

“That was a sad fart… we’re both sorry.”

He then closed his eyes and made a funny face, signing in relief as he ripped another long fart, the lucky camera slowly panning towards the seams and textures of the blue denim covering his powerful sagging butt. It lasted almost 10 seconds: truly a fart master. And those weren’t even on command!

“Oh my…” I whispered, staring in awe at the amazing video.

“This one was on the house…” he chuckled, right before turning the phone to his butt one last time and ripping a short series of toots, grinning wildly, clearly forcing those smaller farts out just for me. And that was it.

My boner was definitely wet now as bits of that well-known white substance poured from the tip of of my “standing” dick, slightly dampening my boxers and pants. It was like a volcano going to explode. A volcano that, just like me, couldn’t take it anymore. I rushed to the bathroom and furiously beat my meat, almost strangling my rock-hard penis with a firm grip. I didn’t last much: I literally peed sperm, thinking of Dave’s farts. The best part is that I didn’t need to imagine anything: it was all real. I laughed in relief just as I felt my penis deflating like a balloon, after it vomited its white substance. It felt good, not “masturbation good”, like “life is good”. And it was.

My best friend, Dave, was this fantastic guy who, in his own, twisted way, was taking care of me, accepting me, making me comfortable with my fart fetish. A gassy, open-minded, mildly disgusting “bro” who only wanted to preserve our friendship.

And I couldn’t be happier.

End of Episode 1

[jtrbluv]

we’re not really strangers | pjm

summary: We’re Not Really Strangers is a purpose-driven card game and movement all about empowering meaningful connections. Three carefully crafted levels of questions and wildcards that allow you to deepen your existing relationships and create new ones. Ready?

or alternatively,

your furtive infatuation with your lifelong best friend proves to be hard to suppress when there’s (1) alcohol involved and (2) a card game that forces you to reveal more about yourself than you could ever wish for. in short, no, you are not ready.

[friends to lovers!au]

pairing: jimin x reader

genre: fluff, crack, slight angst

word count: 8.7k

warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, two emotionally constipated best friend, PG-15

A/N: hi, i’ve been really excited about this fic for a while, and i’m genuinely so happy that i finally finished it! the card game is in fact real and i got inspired for this fic after i had played the game with a couple of friends myself. AHEM! @koushiningg​ ! we both cried and i do highly recommend to play it! but anyways, i hope you enjoy this fic because i had a lot of fun writing it! sending love always... jumi out!

EDIT: @bangtans-peaceful-piegon​ i’d also like to thank the lovely pidge for beta reading this 4 me as well! PIDGE I FUCKIN LOB U!!! 

PLAYLIST ; SEQUEL

♤ ♤ ♤

Not once in your life did you ever imagine a simple card game to become the bane of your existence. 

Yet Park Jimin was able to prove you wrong. 

Let’s play ‘We’re Not Really Strangers’ he said. It’ll be fun, he said.

You stare down at the card in front of you—everything else in your periphery was blurry in vision and you can audibly pinpoint the erratic beating of your heart. 

The card was practically taunting you, laughing in your face. It was as if there was a sentient being in the room who was aware of your own subconscious and the not so latent feelings you had for the boy sitting in front of you. 

Same said being loved to constantly place you in a state of trepidation concerning your current situation—your blood pressure skyrocketing—nearly feeling the muscular pink thing inside of you thrusting itself against your ribcage. 

The white card with crimson red writing made sure to leave an impact, making you feel the most ridiculed you’ve felt all night which says a lot—leaving your mind in a complete frenzy although you refused to let it be known. 

And so you sat there. Fiddling the card in between your fingers, feigning nonchalance. You were very much on the brink of cracking your facade—your sanity practically crumbling as the minutes ticked by. You didn’t think you’d last this long to be honest. Yet an hour and a half proved to be way too straining on your body, especially your heart. 

He simply sat there with his hands folded on the table—void of emotion, whistling a familiar top 50s tune you couldn’t quite put your finger on. You considered shifting your focuses on trying to comprehend the tune—hoping it would ease the concerning state of apprehension you were in. 

But then you remember that you aren’t that pathetic. Even though you both had probably been sitting in complete silence for about two minutes now. Up to the point where you could probably hear the crickets chirping outside his apartment, except the only sound that was filling your ears was your own conscience telling you how idiotic you were being. 

Your face may be gradually morphing the same shade of crimson as the writing inscribed onto the card itself, and you may have a whole line of sweat encompassing your hairline. But it’s just a stupid little card game. You could say any stupid little answer and the stupid not-so-little boy wouldn’t care. He wouldn’t care. So you shouldn’t care. 

When did you become so pathetic after all?

-one hour and a half ago-

“Why can’t we just play Mario Kart or Uno? This sounds like there’s too much thinking involved,” you whine, leaning against the side of his couch. 

“One, we always play that. And two, I always lose,” he grumbles, plopping down onto the floor.

Jimin rests his back on the frame of the couch as he sits in the small gap made by the large piece of furniture and the coffee table that resided in front of it. You decide to sit on the floor as well, around an arm’s length away from your friend. He places the red box down onto the table—opening the cap and revealing the contents with a mischievous glint in his irises. 

Within the box was a deck of cards, separated into three piles with two pencils on either side. Knowing Jimin, you assumed this game had an ulterior motive you were unaware of, and by the title of the game, you could already tell that you weren’t going to like it very much. 

“How do you even play this?” You ask, causing him to look up in return.

He bites his lip, taking a couple seconds to ponder on your question, “I don’t know it’s my first-time playing too,” he shrugs. “I was watching Jin and Namjoon playing it a couple of weeks ago and for some reason, Jungkook started crying.”

“He is a sap,” you hum in agreement, thinking in retrospect of Jungkook crying from various situations such as Iron Man dying or that one time Jin farted on his pillow and he got pink eye for a whole week. 

“The biggest,” he concurs, “Hm, there’s no instructions in here.” He mutters while shuffling through the cards. 

“Why don’t you just search it up?” You suggest, sliding the box to yourself as he nods and fishes his phone out of his pocket. 

While holding the box in the palm of your hand, you scan the contents—turning it around in your palm until your eyes narrow in on the words printed at the bottom. 

“Oh, it says something here.”

His head perks up. “Hm? What is it?”

You clear your throat at the sight of the long explanation. “We’re Not Really Strangers is a purpose-driven card game and movement all about empowering meaningful connections. Three carefully crafted levels of questions and wildcards that allow you to deepen your existing relationships and create new ones.” You internally grimace at the words. The game hasn’t even started and you already had a bad feeling about it all. “Ready?” You say through clenched teeth, purposely keeping your head hung low. 

Jimin’s lips quirk up into a cheerful grin, unaware of the piercing stare you were giving him. “Okay, I think I got it,” he declares, eyes zeroed in on his phone once more, ”There’s three levels—perception, connection, and reflection. Each level we pass, the deeper and more thought-provoking the questions get. Helping us make a deeper connection and get to know each other better yadda yadda yadda.”

You nod in understanding, sliding the box of cards back towards him—forcing the grimace that kept threatening to plaster itself onto your face into a small, smug smile. 

“The first thing we have to do,” he begins, taking out two pencils and two small pieces of paper, “is write messages to each other. We won’t be able to open these until after we leave.” He explains, sliding a pencil and paper towards you.

“Wow, very cryptic,” you tut, biting down on your bottom lip before more distasteful remarks decided to leave your lips. He doesn’t catch your reaction or your comment though because he’s already got his pencil in his hand, scribbling vigorously onto the tiny piece of paper. Knowing him it could very well be nonsensical insults and doodles, or a whole essay about your friendship and what you mean to him. Most likely ludicrous and full of thought, either way, just like him. 

Without much thought, you lazily jot onto the paper.

know that i love u, u fucker <3 

-y/n

The sound of your pencil falling against the table causes him to look up at you, eyes knit together in confusion. 

“You’re done already?”

You chuckle, “I mean, I wasn’t going to write an essay. You already know how I feel about you. But it seems like you’re writing one though.”

His eyes narrow in on you—giving you an indiscernible look before letting out a small ‘hmph’ and lowering his focus back down to his pencil and paper. You dismiss his enigmatic behavior—deciding to mindlessly scroll on your phone while waiting for him to finish his MLA formatted essay.

Two minutes pass and you hear the sound of his pencil being placed onto the table. “Done.”

“You added citations too right?”

He scoffs, “No, but i’ll gladly add some if you’d like.” 

You roll your eyes for what seems like the umpteenth time in the last five minutes, “Just start the goddamn game.”

He takes the first stack of cards and shuffles them between his hands. “In all three levels, there are wild cards or basically dares we have to complete. And for each level, we get two ‘dig deeper’ cards. Pretty self-explanatory. So this is the perception level. It’s basically designed for first encounters and strangers, and we’re gonna be asking each other questions about ourselves.”

Your eyes widen at the whole confidentiality of it all. “Are we going through all of those cards?” You blurt out, staring at what seemed to be like 50 cards in his hands. 

“Oh no,” he quickly refutes, “It would take hours. We’ll just do like 12 cards each.”

“Alright,” you huff, letting out a small breath of relief. 

“Yay! Okay I’ll go first,” he beams, his toothy smile evident as he places the deck in between the two of you while grabbing a card from the top, “What do you think my name is?”

You snort at the conspicuousness of the question, “Jamal.”

He immediately guffaws at your response, throwing his head back in addition. “Hey, I don’t mind that.”

“Are all of the questions like this?” You say in between hushed laughter. 

“Nah,” he shakes his head as you pick up another card from the deck, “now you ask me.”

“Alright, what’s the first thing you noticed about me?” You ask, slightly taken aback by the sudden earnestness of the question, causing you to become genuinely curious about what his answer was going to be.

He hums, taking a second to think it through. “I think your smile and your laugh. It’s always been really contagious since the day I met you.” He admits, almost matter-of-factly as if it was something you should’ve known by now, yet you did not. 

Your heart nearly disintegrates into a puddle of goop right then and there, but you manage to conceal your reaction, “Aw, you actually like me.” You tease. 

He scoffs with a playful grin on his lips. “Don’t flatter yourself. You still cackle like a damn hyena.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, “At least I don’t laugh at every single of Jin’s lame ass jokes.”

He gasps, jaw slack open due to your all too accurate truthbomb, “I did not ask to be attacked in my own residence.”

“Well, what are you gonna do about it then.”

He snorts. “Holy shit, do you remember when I banged my head on the corner of his coffee table.” 

“How could I forget? I had the picture of the bump on your head as my lockscreen for like a month.” You reminisce, resisting the urge to pull up the picture from your phone.

“Yeah, and that same month I bought and rotated between the same 10 hats.”

“Hey! It genuinely didn’t look as bad as you thought.”

He whips his head towards you, giving you a piercing glare that made you want to redact your statement immediately. 

He grins from ear to ear, the little shit, amused at the reaction he was able to garner from you. 

“Aha!” He suddenly guffaws, shooting out of the floor and prancing towards his fridge. He then takes out three bottles of lychee-flavored soju and makes his way back towards the table. 

Jimin being the borderline alcoholic he is, it doesn’t come as a surprise to you. Not even after he takes another trip back to the fridge to grab yet another three bottles of soju, mango-flavored to be exact. He has probably one of the stupidest grins etched onto his face as he held onto the bottles—meanwhile you were more concerned about the possibility of having to clean up a bunch of broken glass and wasted soju. Then again, it wouldn’t be the first time. 

“And do you plan on drinking all of this by yourself?” you say, gesturing towards the bottles.

“I know my liver is strong, but I don’t buy this shit just to enjoy alone,” he retorts. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees you shake your head as you click your tongue, “Playing this while tipsy just sounds ten times better don’t you think?.”

You shrug—although you had a strong hunch for what he was insinuating, “I mean I guess.”

He starts to pour soju into his shot glass, stopping just before it hits the brim. He slides the glass to you and you take it into your hand, eyeing the sparkling fluid and thinking about the way the contents would do its little all-too-familiar dance on your tongue. 

“Well, you know what they say,” he says, pouring a glass for himself, “drunk words are sober thoughts,” he finishes while dragging out the last word—downing the first shot in one quick swig. You follow his lead soon thereafter, refusing to let your mind linger on what he had just said and the viable likelihood of you spewing out the words that could just make or break your longstanding friendship and lead to a lifetime of regret. 

Obviously, everything’s going fine and dandy for you.

-

The next 20 minutes consisted of a plethora of superficial questions that would vary from:

“What's your favorite song lyric you can think of off the top of your head?”

Your head shoots up as if the lightbulb in your head just flashed on. “Easy. Shawty’s like a melody in my head that i cant keep out got me singing like-“

He lunges over to clap a hand over your mouth before you could sing the next line. ��Na na na na no Y/N. Please stop.”

Or something along the lines of:

“What character do you think I'd play in a movie?” He asks with a smug smile. 

“You’d be the second male lead that everyone secretly wants to end up with the main character because you act all sweet and kind and and genuinely cares about her but instead she chooses the other guy because something about him draws her in and it was her ‘gut instinct’ or some shit like that.”

“So I would get second male lead syndrome?” He reiterates. 

“Yes.” 

He sets his shot glass back down with a glower, clearly taken aback. “That is the biggest insult I’ve ever gotten in my entire life.”

You also couldn’t forget about:

“Oh, this one says to create a secret handshake.”

“No.” You deadpan.

“And why not?”

“Your pinky‘s the size of a vienna sausa—“ 

He smacks you square in the cheek with a pillow before you could finish your sentence. You don’t even fight back because your mind was so slow to process what he had just done. The fact that you only slept for 5 hours last night didn’t help whatsoever. Your evident lack of energy causes him to jab his finger into your side, causing a loud shriek—your fight or flight response starts kicking in as you grab the back of his neck and slam his face against the fabric of the couch cushion. 

-

Soju was never able to make the two of you full on drunk—buzzed of course, but not enough for complete incoherency. And so you both down a bottle each before finishing the first round. 

“I’m surprised we didn’t get any wild cards that round,” he says while resting his head on the couch.

You purse your lips, “You spoke too soon.” 

His eyes flash open as he cranes his neck in an attempt to see the card. “Wait actually?”

You can feel your insides churn as you read the words in front of you, and you were sure that it wasn’t the alcohol talking. “Write down the three most important things to you in a relationship for 30 seconds and then compare.”

Jimin reaches over to grab two pieces of paper and pencils while unlocking his phone to find the timer app, “Okay, I’ll put a timer on for 30 seconds starting… now.”

And so the internal monologue in your head begins. 

Three most important things… only three? That’s not anywhere near enough to suffice. Wait, what would the first one even be… oh yeah, trust. Trust is very much important yes, yes, yes. What else? Um, communication? Yes of course, that’s essential. Okay, what would the last one be? 

You sneak a glance over at Jimin. His cheek is squished against the palm of his hand, making his cheek fat (an area in which he lacked in) more prominent and the pink, plush flesh of his lips appear even bigger than they already were. 

The ceiling light emitted a faint, ambient glow—the lights and shadows hitting all the slopes and curves of his face. You never understood how someone could be so effortlessly stunning. Even the mess atop his head that’s supposed to be his hair looks purposely tousled—the ebony strands sticking up in multiple directions was framing his temples and contrasted with the honey-like hues of his skin. 

Unlike the glow that radiated from the lights of the worn-down apartment and the radiance of whatever was beyond the glass of the window behind him, everything about him seemed to glow much brighter.

“Hello, earth to Y/N, your 30 seconds is up.” He interrupts pointedly, waving a hand in front of your face.

Blinking rapidly, you shake your head as well as all preceding thoughts that definitely weren’t consuming your mind a few seconds ago, “Sorry w-what?”

He laughs at your disoriented state, “Did you finish writing your three things?”

No, I wrote your name as number 3. “Yeah, I did. You can go first though.”

He nods with a small smile. “Oh, okay then let’s see. First, I put trust. I don’t know, I think everyone puts that to be honest. After that, I put communication. I feel like that’s just a given y’know. Another thing I feel like most people would say.”

You utter a timid “mhm” under your breath albeit zoning out and being unaware of what he was saying. Opportunely, you managed to scribble out his name with the mere seconds that had passed and now you were tapping the lead point of the pencil against the paper, littering the page with a bunch of grey, little dots—incognizant to the fact that he had his eyes focused on you the whole time. 

“I didn’t really know what to put last. Three things isn’t anywhere near enough in my opinion. But at the last second, I wrote down vulnerability,” he continues.

You look up upon hearing the last word. “Oh wow, that’s good. I didn’t even think about that.”

He chuckles unabashedly, clearly pleased with your reaction. “Right? I just figured. At first, I thought it would go in the same category as trust but then I thought about it more. Yeah, you can trust someone and someone can trust you, but to what extent does that all go to. Where does it start? And where does it even end? You need to be able to open up to the person I feel like. So I guess trust and vulnerability go hand in hand.”

Impressed with his words, you decide to chime in.  “Wouldn’t communication go along with it too?”

“Hm?”

You place your pencil down. “You would open up to each other by means of communication, becoming more vulnerable, and then overall gaining more trust in the end.”

His brows raise at your sudden revelation, “Wait, you’re so right, did you just wax poetic and full cycle all that?.”

You smile, “I mean I guess,” you respond humbly, “ it does make sense though, does it not?”

He hums in agreement while downing another shot, “It applies to us, right?”

You force out a chuckle, but it comes out a lot more faux-sounding than you would’ve liked. “Haha, yeah I guess it does, doesn’t it.” Once again, starting to dive deeper into the abyss of pitiful hope and unrequitedness. 

“Describe your perfect day.” He suddenly interjects.

You quirk a brow. “Didn’t I just go?”

“It’s okay, I’ll go for this one too.”

“Alright,” you say, foot tapping on the wooden floor as you look past him and out into the glass window of his living room, “well, I wouldn’t have school of course. And I think it would all depend on how I feel that day. If I was feeling particularly lazy, the day would probably consist of me binge-watching shows in bed while eating a shitton of carbs. And the other case would probably be galavanting around the city or going to an amusement park with friends.”

Jimin listens intently and smiles as you speak, causing you to avoid his stare before pigment threatened to rush to your cheeks, “Both of those scenarios sound really nice. I better be included too.”

You roll your eyes, turning away to hide the grin creeping up your cheeks, “We’ll see.”

He groans, standing up from his spot on the floor and falling onto his couch instead, “My asscheeks hurt.”

Your face contorts into a look of disgust, “And you want me to do what with that information?”

Scoffing lightly, he leans back into the cushions and tilts his head back, “It was a declaration, not a cry for help.”

“Yeah, and it’s the bony ass for me.”

His head perks up. “It’s having a flatter ass than their guy best friend for me.”

Gulping down the sad but unequivocal truth, “It’s kissing up to every teacher’s ass for me.”

His eyes narrow in pure chagrin, “It’s the crying on your teacher’s doorstep for them to round your grade for me.”

“It’s splitting your pants on orientation day for me.”

“Fuck you, people would pay to see this ass! It’s getting a concussion from falling down the main hall stairs for me.”

“For fuck’s sake, I told you that they waxed the floors that day!” You snap back.

“Okay, and who said it was a good idea to walk down three flights of stairs while trying to cram for a midterm? Yeah, exactly no one.” He says incisively, giving you an even bigger urge to push him off of the couch, yet you digress. 

“This could go on for hours.” You heave out.

“Is that the sound of someone giving up I’m hearing?”

“Is that the sound of a midget I’m hearing?”

“But I’m taller than you?!” He screeches petulantly, smacking your shoulder. You burst out into a fit of laughter—toppling onto the wooden floor with pure malice. 

Gasping for air, you attempt to stifle your laughter and regain your breath. “Wow, I’m on a roll today! I deserve another shot.”

He shakes his head, his anger quelling at the sight of your giddiness. “Remind me to not let you drink and play this game.”

You turn over from your side to lay on your back. “This will be the first and the last time I play this game with you.” You say almost immediately—the words involuntarily slipping from your mouth before you could stop it. 

He sinks in his spot on the couch, brows knitting at your comment. “Why?”

Sobriety crashes into you like a colossal wave —your irritation dissipates almost immediately. The exaggerated tone your voice begins to register through your head—as well as the fact that you sounded a lot more disapproving than you intended. 

Groaning at your hindered ability to think and process properly, you attempt to clear the air, “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. We just... practically know everything about each other I guess. What else is there to know?”

He hums. “You sure about that?”

What? “Wait what?”

“Nothing,” he chuckles awkwardly, “next question.”

The straightforwardness of the next question causes you to quirk a brow, “How are you, really?”

His eyes widen. “Well, that’s a deep one, isn’t it?”

You smile. “A little.” 

He sighs, a small grin lacing his features, “Hm, how am I,” he affirms, adjusting himself in his spot on the couch, “I feel content with where I am right now, I guess. Things can always be better, but at the same time they could be worse too.”

Your number one defense mechanism as of late has been to constantly tease and make jokes at the poor guy—essentially using him as your own mental punching bag. He went along with it out of the assumption that it was all caused by your stress from school while you knew the true origins of your behavior. 

You smile at his optimism, "Hey, that's always good to hear."

He chuckles, shifting his position on the couch so he could face you directly, "I don't know, maybe it's the new sense of freedom. Or all the amazing people I've gotten to meet and the opportunities that are offered here. Or the fact that I'm still going to the same school as my best friend after all this damn time."

"Chim, don't get sappy on me man." You warn him while pouting exaggeratedly— slumping onto the frame of the couch while he takes a strand of your hair in between his fingers. You bask in the moment, your eyes shutting close. 

"Hey, I'm just being honest! For some reason, it all makes up for the impending student debt and draining lectures and professors that have a superiority complex as fat as their paycheck."

"Too bad their paycheck still isn't as fat as your ass."

An audible gasp coming from the only other person in the room causes your eyes to flutter open.

"Aw," he coos, ruffling the hair atop of your head, "that’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me all night. Admit it, you love me."

Out of instinct, you opt to stick your tongue at him instead of replying with a witty comeback. You turn away from him before mumbling to yourself, "More than you'll ever know buddy."

"What was that?"

Shit. "Nothing. Next question!"

-

After twenty questions and a whopping 10 empty soju bottles later, you are quite literally about to implode.

Your eyes stare down at the card in front of you—everything that surrounds it is blurry in vision and you can audibly pinpoint the erratic beating of your heart.

The card was practically taunting you, laughing in your face. It was as if there was a sentient being in the universe who was aware of your own subconscious and the not so latent feelings you had for the boy sitting in front of you. Same said being loved to constantly place you in a state of trepidation concerning your current situation—your blood pressure skyrocketing—nearly feeling the muscular pink thing inside of you thrusting itself against your ribcage.

The imminent headache was starting to spread towards your temples and you practically felt like you could feel your brain shifting inside your head at this point. Although you felt groggy, you were certain that your heart was at a rate that is way faster than it should be. And sitting on your legs has caused them to lose all feeling from the tips of your toes all the way up to your kneecaps. One attempt at standing and you would come crashing to the floor in a heartbeat.

The white card with crimson red writing made sure to leave an impact, making you feel the most ridiculed you’ve felt all night which says a lot—leaving your mind in a complete frenzy although you refused to let it be known.

To say you were mad was an understatement. Out of all the times throughout the entirety of this hour and a half that you were playing this game, he decided that now would be the best time to use his 'dig deeper' card.

There it was.

Admit something.

"Okay fine, I was the one who stuck pink hair dye in your shampoo last semester."

"Y/N, did you really think I didn't know? C’mon I know there’s something else in there.”

You scowl, brows furrowing, “Why would I keep something from you?”

“Why are you getting so defensive over this?”

"What the hell is there for me to admit to you?" You snap back in exasperation, the harsh tone of your voice rendering the two of you speechless. 

He averts his gaze, closing his eyes while inhaling a deep sigh. "Ever since we started college, why have you been treating me so differently?"

Your eyes widen in disbelief, stumped. Yet you refuse to wither out of this. 

 "I– are you mad?"

"No. Of course not," he quickly digresses, softening his gaze, "I just noticed after all this time that you've only been acting differently towards me. Did I do something wrong?"

"No, you didn't do anything wrong Jimin. You never have."

His eyes narrow, giving you yet another indecipherable look, "I'm using my 'dig deeper' card." He deadpans.

And so you sat there. Fiddling the card in between your fingers, feigning nonchalance. You were very much on the brink of cracking your facade—your sanity practically crumbling as the minutes ticked by. You didn’t think you’d last this long, to be honest. Yet an hour and a half proved to be way too straining on you in a variety of different ways.

He simply sat there with his hands folded on the table—void of emotion, whistling a familiar top 50s tune you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

You considered shifting your focuses on trying to comprehend the tune—hoping it would ease the concerning state of apprehension you were in. But then you assured yourself that you haven't reached that level of patheticism yet.

Even though you both had probably been sitting in complete silence for about two minutes now —practically anyone else could detect was the crickets chirping outside his apartment, yet the only sound that was filling your eardrums was your own conscience telling you how idiotic you were being.

This was it. There was no point in trying to weasel yourself out of this situation. If you tried, your more than futile attempt could very well end up causing more problems than if you were to go with the latter.

So instead of constantly wracking your brain with witty banter and deceitful ways to gaslight your feelings for the man sitting in front of you, you come to terms with the fact that your time had run out. You internally commend yourself for putting up a good fight, as well as internally become accosted at how immature you were at handling the whole situation.

You sharply inhale through your nose, peering at the man sitting in front of you as his eyes meet your own, "Alright."

He offers you a small yet empathetic smile in return, giving you the tiniest sliver of reassurance. His hand pats the couch cushion next to him, motioning for you to sit down next to him.

You push yourself up from the floor, immediately propping a leg onto the couch to avoid your numb limbs to be the cause of your embarrassment.

You inhale slowly through your nose and out through your mouth. "This is going to sound really absurd. Like more than absurd. Possibly borderline hysterical." No Y/N, why would you say that?

He interjects, placing a hand on your forearm. "I'm beginning to think you're becoming borderline hysterical," he lets out a small chuckle, "slow down Y/N. One thought at a time."

Your jaw is still slack open due to your previous rambling. "I'm sorry, I just—I don't think I've ever felt this anxious… around you at least."

He bites his lip, eyes trailing away from yours as he tries to think of a way to aid you, "Will it help if I turn around?

"Maybe." You reply timidly, smiling to yourself as his back came into view.

“It’ll be pretty funny if we don’t remember this in the morning,” you start off with, “I shouldn’t be saying that either I’m sorry. Stupid alcohol.”

He snickers at your drunken state, it was adorable. “Pretend I’m not here Y/N. Like you’re talking to a wall.” He advises, back still turned. 

You nod although he can’t see you. “Okay. Well, hi Mr. Wall. I’ve been keeping a secret from my best friend for as long as I’ve known him and I don’t know what to do about it. I’ve suppressed it all this time in hopes that it would eventually fade away, and it almost did. No really, it actually almost did. But now it’s back again and all the same feelings came, but like freaking twofold. No, tenfold. No, like a hundred fucking fold.”

Jimin tries excruciatingly hard to stifle his laughter, cupping a hand to his mouth so he wouldn’t move and distract you.

“I’m literally in love with my freaking best friend when I know he doesn’t see me in that light nor will he ever. If he did, we wouldn’t be where we are right now because I am so shitty at hiding my feelings that I am more than certain that I’ve let the truth slip a couple of times.” You say all in one breath.

He slowly detaches his hand from his mouth, eyebrows raising in disbelief in the words you had just said. His body urges him to turn around. Yet you continue to think out loud. So he digresses. 

“Towards the end of high school, I think my feelings started to become more dormant because I had become more concerned over finishing high school and transitioning into college. I was content and I convinced myself that my feelings were fleeting for once.” You begin with, allowing whatever thoughts that you consumed your mind to spill all out for Mr. Wall to hear. 

You sigh, taking a pillow from his couch and squeezing onto it for dear life. “That was until we ended up getting into our top picks and going to the same school. I couldn’t believe it. My stupid head tried to convince me that life had always just paired the two of us up together for some reason. And that maybe, just maybe I had a chance. But whatever I guess. I don’t know.”

A notification causes your eyes to trail to your phone. Really, Professor La, this is not a good time to tell me to finish my research paper. You swipe at the notification, revealing your lock screen—a photo of you and Jimin at an amusement park back at your hometown, sporting matching university hoodies with bright smiles on your faces that were captured mid-laughter.

Setting your phone down, you lean into the couch—letting your head fall into the cushions as your eyelids slowly start to droop shut. “What also didn’t help is how college life just seems to suit him perfectly. He just always looks so happy now. Like yeah, he’s always been a social butterfly. Yet in addition to that he has top notch grades. He charms professors. For fuck’s sake the Dean treats him like a son. His passion, his laughter, his love, his happiness. It’s always been so infectious. But college just made the effect he has on people grow even stronger. I-,” you stammer, pausing breathlessly, “it just looks like he truly belongs here. Like college was just made for him.”

He sits there in a complete stupor—still trying to process all the words that he had just heard. His body is itching to turn around, take you into his arms, whisper soft nothings into your ear. Anythings. Everything. He never wanted you to feel anxious about his feelings for you ever again.  

“Mr. Wall, that was a lot, I’m sorry. But I’m really… really tired.” You utter quietly, a long yawn escaping your lips. You fall asleep. 

Ten seconds pass until Jimin sneaks a glance over his shoulder, scanning your body as he notices your shut eyes and timid grip on his pillow. 

“Y/N?”

You’re unresponsive. 

He grins at the sight. Getting up from his seat, he makes his way toward you—slowly prying the pillow from your grasp as you carefully slides his hands under your body and picks you up from the couch. 

Instinctively, you wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face into his shoulder as he carries you to his bedroom. You are very much still asleep, yet you always had the habit of needing something to hold onto while you were unconscious. 

Kicking the sheets aside, he makes room for you to lie down as he gently places you onto his bed. He quickly scurries to the other side, slipping into the covers himself as he lays down beside you. 

The sudden contact causes you to shift in your sleep—suddenly wrapping an arm around his torso. He lays there, completely stunned at your actions and begins to heavily debate whether he should give into his desires or not. 

The internal conflict lasts about two seconds before he turns to his side—placing his free hand on the small of your back and pulling you into his chest, leaving a small pocket of space in between your two bodies. 

Unknowingly, you close the gap almost immediately—nestling your head into the crook of his neck as your arm that was lazily slung over his torso starts to tighten its hold around his body. 

His arm slings over your unconscious form, his hands making his way to your back as he basks in the foreign feeling, being this close in proximity to you. It was different. Yet it almost felt like it was where he belonged. And he was scared because he didn’t want it to end. 

While gently placing his chin on the top of your head, he begins to stroke your hair as fatigue starts to wash over him as well. “Things will make sense soon Y/N, I swear.”

He retracts, craning his neck in an attempt to see your sleeping form. His attempt proves to be futile when an indecipherable groan leaves your lips—brows knitting slightly and lips curling downward from the sudden lack of warmth. 

His soft laughter fills the room as he obliges—carefully pressing a small kiss to your forehead before reverting back to his original position. 

“For now, just know that I love you too.”

-

The intolerable throbbing sensation in your temples caused you to stir in your sleep.

The only events you could recall from last night was being at Jimin’s apartment, playing that stupid card game, and downing the most soju you’ve ever had in one sitting.

It only occurs to you that you’re wrapped in someone’s arms when you open your eyes and the only thing in your periphery is a firm chest, steadily heaving each time they take a breath.

Your legs were messily entangled with theirs—arms slung around each other’s torsos as you felt a strange yet dense weight on the top of your head.

Carefully, you try to pry yourself from their grasp albeit your haphazard state of mind. You pull back ever so slightly, making sure not to wake them up in the process, discovering that the excess weight was actually their chin that had been resting on top of your head. Their fingers were still twined in your hair as you pulled back, making you freeze in your spot. Curious, you tilt your head, peering upwards and catching a glimpse of their face.

The boy is undoubtedly still asleep. Eyes shut and ample lips slightly parted. Your timid movement, to your luck, which hadn’t phased him in the slightest, as he was unperceptive and nearly immobile at this point. 

If it weren't for your abhorrent headache and the even more abhorrent symptoms that had rooted from your hangover, it would be an understatement to say that you would be freaking out right about now.  In reality,

You'd be in a complete state of manic.

Because of the fact that your body was paying for the despicable amount of alcohol you had decided to consume the night before, an influx of any intense emotion would cause your body to exacerbate itself even more. And the last thing you needed was to puke all over the poor guy after sleeping together for the first time.

While you were physically experiencing withdrawals, your mind felt slightly inebriated nonetheless. You weren't quite sure if it was from last night's affluence of liquor or the way everything's starting to come back to you. And the longer your eyes linger on the boy's face, the clearer everything starts to become. From the foolish banter to your childish outbursts leading up to your intoxicated yet conscientious confession.

You left your heart all out for him to witness last night, and now the only thing you could do is wait for a response.

Taking a deep sigh, you retreat back to his body—deciding not to ponder any longer on the matter and wait until you had felt physically capable of doing so. 

-

Steaming hot streams of water splash against his back. He stands under the shower head while massaging soap into his hair, replaying the events that had happened last night on loop. 

The words that left your mouth were engraved into his mind as they involuntarily kept replaying over and over again—particularly your inebriated confession, which kept garnering the same reaction of both hope and frustration within him. 

The solution should be simple. In reality it is, yet he still felt so internally scattered. 

“—he doesn’t see me in that light nor will he ever...”

That was the singular line that he just couldn’t wrap his head around. There was never a moment where he would hesitate to drop everything he was doing to be there for you and make sure you were okay. 

Yes, he knew that you two were best friends and that it was natural. But what best friend drives across town at 2am because you had the stomach flu and your parents were out of town. Keep in mind it was his mom’s birthday that day. 

What best friend ditches their prom date when yours had stood you up. Or coax the drama teacher into giving you the lead in the school play because he saw the ways your eyes glimmered when you saw the words ‘High School Musical’. And damn, weren’t you justthe greatest Gabriella he’s ever seen.

Little did you know that in reality, he always wanted you to be the Gabriella to his Troy, and not Chad. Yet you seemed to have believed the latter all along. 

But in the end, what the hell kind of best friend remains oblivious to the fact that for years, past exes have consistently broken up with him for the same reason.

“Your heart belongs to someone else.”

Or alternatively,

“I’m not the right person for you.”

Straight A’s don’t mean shit when no teacher has ever taught him how to realize that he was irrevocably in love with his best friend, and that she had always, almost candidly, felt the same way.

He shuts his eyes tightly, hands aggressively running through his soaked hair as he comes to a conclusion. 

Being strangers could never be an option. Being friends, or moreso, best friends was fine. But that’s it. It was just fine. It was normalcy. It has been for years.

And that just wasn’t going to cut it for him anymore.

-

Your arm traces along the fabric of the bedsheets, alerting you that there was a void of space and lack of warmth from the other side of the bed. Your eyes spring open to see that there was no one laying beside you. 

A long yawn escapes your lips as you stretch your limbs, body sprawling all over the bed before selfishly tugging the sheets all to yourself. 

Soft hissing from which you assume was coming from his shower was confirmed to be true when your eyes spot the closed bathroom door and the small beam of light that was emitting from it. 

A small, folded piece of paper that was taking up the space of where his head was resting was where your eyes shift to next. 

y/n <3

You knit your brows together, knowing that it was most likely put there strategically rather than a piece of trash that had slipped out of his pocket.

It was addressed to you after all and so you grab it while making a futile attempt to rub the sleep out of your eyes. Your throbbing headache and churning insides had significantly died down. Regardless of your recovery time you internally make a promise to yourself to never get this wasted ever again. The chances of you sticking to it?  Highly debatable considering the current situation you’re in. 

Blinking rapidly, you finally are able to decipher whatever is written onto the paper. And it says:

hi y/n, i can already tell by the looks that you’re giving me that you already despise this game and im sorry. all i wanna say is that by the time you read this, i hope that we remain close as ever even though what i plan on saying tonight could obliterate all of that. i wanted to play this game bc i know we’re both hiding stuff from each other and it’s about time we get it out. at least for me. whatever happens, i love you. always will. 

- chim :)

EDIT: for fuck’s sake y/n i’m FUCKING IN LOVE WITH YOU TOO I WAS SUPPOSED TO CONFESS TO U FIRST LOSER NOT THE OTHER WAY AROUND T-T

-

“Finally awake?” You hear a familiar voice call out. He walks out of the bathroom, fully clothed (to your dismay) while drying his hair with a towel, eyes immediately softening as they connect with yours. 

You swallow down your nerves, “Yeah, I’ve been.”

He walks over to the edge of the bed, eyes shifting to the piece of paper in your hand before reverting his focus back to your face, “What are you reading there?” 

“I don’t know,” you huff, feigning ignorance, “why don’t you tell me.”

A soft chortle leaves his lips as he throws the towel to the side, smiling as wide as ever as he jumps onto the vacant spot on his bed right next to you.

Propping himself up, he sits against the headboard, letting out a content sigh before looking down at you once more. “Come here.” He says, reaching his arms out in hopes that you’d fill the idle gap.

And you do, shaking the sheets off of your body as you place yourself in his arms, freshly revelling in the comfort. You wrap your arms snugly around his waist, letting your head rest on his chest while he clutches onto you tightly. 

“I’m sorry for pushing the subject so hard onto you last night.” He starts off with, “I guess I just never fathomed the fact that you could return the feeling, and I was too stubborn to even admit it to you in the first place.” He expresses while stroking your back,  “I didn’t mean to confront you so harshly, it’s unlike me, and I’m really sorry about it Y/N.”

“Do you think I’m mad about that Jimin?” You inquire, just barely above a whisper.

He pulls back slightly, peering down at you, “Are you?”

“Of course not. I should be the one apologizing anyways for being even more stubborn and resorting to such childish ways.” You disclose whilst mentally beating yourself up.

“Hey, there’s no use in beating ourselves up over it. Look where we are now.” 

“Where exactly are we Jimin?” You inquire timidly, head still resting on his chest. 

His fingers brush over the base of your chin, gently tilting your head up until your eyes found his. 

“Y/N, it’s honestly hard for me to formulate the words but all I know is that I think I’m in love with you. And I think I have been for a long time, no scratch that, I have been for a long time,” he says all in one breath, making you smile at how high-strung he was acting. 

The grin remains plastered onto your face, “I’m not drunk still right because did I just hear you say that you’ve been in love with me?”

“Y/N…” he whines, jutting out his bottom lip as he drags out the last syllable of your name.

You can’t help but laugh. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Go on please.” 

He bites his lip, “I honestly had a whole speech prepared in the shower but I forgot all of it.”

“It’s alright, I barely remember half the stuff I spewed out last night,” you chortle.

He chuckles, “Well, if you were wondering, you’re cute as fuck when you’re piss drunk.”

The compliment makes your breath hitch in your throat—your heart starting to pick up speed dangerously quick.

A few seconds pass, allowing you to slightly gain back some of your composure, “Why did you um– I mean– when do you think you fell in love with me?” You stutter. 

“I was actually trying to figure that out too,” he starts, “in the shower. Well, this is going to sound dumb,” he admits, sharply exhaling out of his nose, “But do you remember when we went on a field trip to that amusement park in 8th grade? Around halloween time.”

“I think so… but what about it?”

He nods. “I still remember that night so vividly for some reason,” he pauses, collecting his thoughts, “There were haunted houses all over the park. And they were all different themes. And I think the first one we went into together was—”

“The clown one.” You deadpan. 

“Yeah!” He beams, laughing at the way you shudder after your words, “Anyways, you were walking behind me with your hands on my shoulders, but you had a razor grip and I thought my arms were going to fall off, so I made you walk next to me instead. We had our arms interlocked and you were gripping onto me so closely and you had your head buried in my shoulder the whole time.” He explains, the smile never ceasing to leave his lips.

You don’t take his eyes off of him—smiling sweetly as he explains the retrospective moment that you never knew had held so much significance to him.

“All of a sudden, you grabbed my hand, and honestly, I think that was the scariest part of the whole experience,” he admits, chuckling softly. 

“But then I intertwined fingers with you. And I liked it. Thinking about it now, I probably loved it. It felt almost borderline euphoric. Like as if I was riding a high, and when we detached hands, it felt like there was just something missing. And I guess I never really put the pieces together because it just became a normal thing after that. And when our skinship kept evolving from there, I just kept dismissing it over and over again. Like as if that feeling was a normal thing to happen between friends, because I genuinely thought it was. Yeah, I think that’s the moment I pretty much fell in love with you.” He finishes, giving you a close-mouthed smile while he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. 

Astounded was an understatement. You couldn’t believe that you both had been suppressing these feelings for so long. Yet somehow, this whole confession didn’t seem out of place or time, it was as if everything that had happened beforehand had led up to this very moment. 

“Wow, Jimin I– I don’t know what to say.” You reply.

He shakes his head. “You don’t have to say anything Y/N. I’m sorry for making you wait for so long, after all.”

You interject, “Please don’t say sorry, I think we were definitely both in the wrong here.”

He smiles, except this time his eyes crinkle up all the way, “Alright, but can you at least let me make it up to you?”

“I’m listening.” You jokingly reply.

“Let’s go on a date,” he declares brazenly, “but tonight, after we’ve recovered from our hangovers and what not.”

The corners of your lips upturn so high that your cheekbones sting, “Jimin, I’d love to–”

“Ah, wait! I’m not done.” He cuts you off, head inching forward, leaning in so close that you could feel his breath tickle your ear and the heat rushing up to your cheeks. 

“And at the very end of the night, I’ll make certain that you won’t be able to walk normally by tomorrow.” He whispers into your ear— voice low and full of lust.

Shivers run through your body as it feels like all the wind had just gotten knocked out of you. Yeah, this was definitely worth the wait.

-

-

-

MASTERLIST ; SEQUEL

[curiosity-killed]

hua cheng, the accidental person

okay this is for @bodhimcbodeface because i can’t shut up and make this concise enough for discord. spoilers ahead yeehaw

this is...not comprehensive. i’ve written 11 tgcf fics and am generally a bit fixated on Hua Cheng as a character so. there’s definitely things missing but i tried to hit the main points that i thought of while writing? also obviously this is just my interpretation! i do not expect anyone else to be like “ah yes curio the sage is so correct i have changed my thinking on this” like go live your life with your own versions of hua cheng! this is just the hill upon which i have firmly planted myself and from which i refuse to be budged. as u do.

anyway, LONG explanation of my very niche and very uh self-indulgent, not-necessarily-support-by-canon hua cheng apologism LMAO

tl;dr: (this is really Too Long i’m sorry) I think Hua Cheng reluctantly becomes a person during his 800 years of searching, starting from a point where he views Xie Lian not as a person but as an immutable god and focus of devotion and developing into a person who doesn’t really acknowledge that he’s a person because realizing that you want to live and do things for yourself is scary and overwhelming at times, and he ultimately falls in love with Xie Lian during the novel itself as he recognizes and is in wonder of the humanity of Xie Lian instead of his divinity or absolute judgment.

POINT 1: Hua Cheng doesn’t actually fall in love with Xie Lian till the ox cart

but curio! you say, “my beloved!” he calls him his beloved! and the land of tender!!

shhh. IMO Hua Cheng is more Wuming than Hua Cheng for those 800 years. By which I mean, for most of that time he’s, at his heart, a nameless soldier trying to find and serve his crown prince/general/god. He still views Xie Lian as this perfect and immaculate figure—a sculpture, a painting, a work of art that is untouchable and immutable. And he’s utterly and wholly devoted to that figure but devotion is not the same as love

So Hua Cheng is searching and trying to serve Dianxia all these years and then His Royal Highness finally ascends and is a god again and Hua Cheng shows up in all his glory to give this power and strength and wealth to serve him and—

and he’s met not by a powerful and reckless martial god or an unstoppable calamity but by a young man dressed in bridal robes who lets Hua Cheng lead him up a darkened mountain, who doesn’t lash out with spiritual energy or a sword but instead, only eventually, with the cursed bandage he was carrying back in the darkest part of his life.

and i think that throws hua cheng. like he’s had this image of his god all these years, this divine painting made over and over and over again—and he carries that belief and devotion with him, but there’s a crack in the sculpture and the stone is starting to flake off to reveal a human underneath it

so he puts on an approachable, malleable, unassuming skin and finds xie lian collecting scraps and being a lil awkward, a lil bumbling, generous and kind — and i think hua cheng, after 800 years of knowing everything, having everything — I think he looks at this discovery with wonder

Bc tbc this does not mean Hua Cheng views them as equals. For him it’s like, dianxia has even more to him, is even more than I knew. He’s seen Xie Lian as the flower crowned martial god in all his glory and as the white-clothed calamity in all his horror — and now here he is, wonderful, multitudinous, and human

Meanwhile I don’t think Hua Cheng even views himself as a person really, much less a human.

also i mean. the internet & allo ppl prove time and time again that you don’t need love for horniness so. land of tender’s right out as proof on that

POINT 2: The Live For Me thing

so obviously and undeniably, using one person as a reason for living is....not healthy. Not going to argue that. but my take on it personally is that, when Hua Cheng’s a kid who really, actively wants to die and sees no reason for living, Xie Lian gives him a reason to keep going. he doesn’t have to live for himself—that’s too much, that’s too big of an ask—but he’s been given a command and purpose by the one person who’s been kind to him/whom he respects. it’s a little like... “My life has no meaning but my cat needs me to feed him and clean his litterbox and so I need to keep getting up and taking care of him even if I don’t see a larger intrinsic purpose to my life.”

and i think like...it’s easy to forget that for all of books 2 & 4, Hua Cheng is young. He doesn’t live past 18—he’s still like...a kid. And that’s not to say that teenagers/young adults can’t make moral and rational decisions but I’m going to be honest, when I was that age I contemplated joining the Air Force because of tuition assistance and the snazzy uniform despite the fact that I was a vocal pacifist and repeatedly got into arguments with teachers about school rules and conservative politics. It’s not like. The Most Rational and Mature Age, lbr. 

so Wuming is absolutely capable of looking at what Xie Lian is doing and being like “hey maybe war crimes aren’t a great idea” but he is young and traumatized and the one person he believes in, the one person who gave him a reason to keep going, is deadset on this task which tbh I don’t think either of them (or...necessarily...the society in which they live) views as war crimes in the modern sense (which isn’t to say that we as readers should view it any more lightly bc i think the narrative directly and firmly contradicts that idea) but as revenge, as an eye-for-an-eye. so, bad, but character-wise, I think it’s more nuanced than we sometimes consider

anyway back to the fixation on xie lian. i stand by the assertion that in those 800 years, hua cheng wasn’t exclusively focused on xie lian. like was finding and serving him his top priority? oh god yes. undeniably. there is no other version of this story. BUT eight hundred years is like....a lot of time. and i think in that time he started doing things for himself, even if under the guise of serving xie lian. hua cheng is curious and adventurous—he clearly likes to learn even if he plays it off as nbd—and i think he starts to realize that about himself in those centuries even if he doesn’t allow himself to acknowledge or consider it. 

POINT 3: Mt. Tong’lu in General

“okay, sure but what about the thousands of sculptures and murals of xie lian, curio. what the fuck about them.”

Yeah. FINE. okay we will DEAL with this. dealing with this is the entire reason i wrote “(like i do) in the tall grass.” 

disclaimer: this is probably not supported by canon! i also. Do Not care. My Ghost King Now.

so I have two general avenues I take with this:

going back to the devotion > love — when Hua Cheng reaches MTL, he’s seen xie lian beaten and cast down. what do gods need to survive? worship! we see throughout how important divine statues/portraits/etc. are throughout canon. in this interpretation, the cave is a concentration of all that worship in an effort to support and serve xie lian and hua cheng doesn’t view himself like...as part of it. the sculptures could have been carved by any hand so long as they are xie lian and the worship and devotion that goes into their making can support and bolster him.

my personal favorite version: amNESIA IN THE CAVES —okay i don’t have the text pulled up rn but y’know how Guoshi says Hua Cheng was almost dispersed, in terrible condition, etc., when he reached Mt. Tong’lu. so if baby boy is in terrible condition, barely hanging on, etc., then my immediate favorite option is that he doesn’t, at that time, have even the...uh threadbare sense of self he did in life/as Wuming and is running on only a vague and urgent sense of Something driving him—something he has to do, someone he has to serve—and in that case, the paintings and sculptures are part of his trying to piece together and process his memories as he can grasp them and figuring out who he is/what his purpose is. Is this canonical? PROBABLY NOT. and yet here i am. firmly planted on this hill

Also w/ MTL I think a thing that’s often skated over is the mortals, creation of E’ming, and his ascension. Which is important from a meta lens of Hua Cheng and Xie Lian vs Jun Wu but that’s not the point of this rambling monstrosity and i’m trying not to get too distracted. ANYWAY I think this is one of those times when Hua Cheng does something that he would probably excuse as like “well His Highness would’ve wanted me to” or “His Highness wouldn’t have been willing to sacrifice the mortals” because Xie Lian is still largely his moral compass—but it also is a peek at the complexity Hua Cheng doesn’t acknowledge within himself.

uh i got distracted anyway and no longer know what point i was making here. Hua Cheng Ascension Important....maybe i will remember this at some other point...

POINT 4: Live For Me (Revisited)

I sort of got distracted writing that point but anyway coming back to it now: I maintain that although Hua Cheng’s primary pursuit is protecting and serving Xie Lian he also does develop/realize his Accidental Personhood throughout his 800 years. this includes a lot of things, as previously stated, that are under the guise of serving Xie Lian (I’d put learning the Banyue tongue, finding out about the Gilded Banquet, collecting swords, beating the 33 officials etc., in this category) and things that maybe could be but...are not really (e.g., his friendship alliance with He Xuan, Paradise Manor* in general, the Gambling Den, learning the Wuyong tongue, bullying Qi Rong*, bullying FengQing*, playing with gold foil palaces, etc.)

(*these are ones that like...could be said to be for Xie Lian and I think he might say are for Xie Lian but also have a personal element that is just for him. 

Like yes Paradise Manor is a lavish and well-stocked residence fit for a god or crown prince...but it’s also a luxurious and extravagant collection of all the things he couldn’t have in life. it’s like giving a kid a credit card with no limit and letting them run wild through uh. Fuck. A Fancy Department Store. 

And sure Qi Rong was awful and turned on Xie Lian in pretty damning ways, but I also genuinely think part of Hua Cheng’s grudge with him is from the childhood abuse and from just...hatred that Qi Rong is around and looks like Xie Lian and gets to be there when Hua Cheng can’t find Xie Lian (which is about  Xie Lian but for Hua Cheng). 

Similarly with FengQing, sure a lot of his hate is for them abandoning Xie Lian—but he doesn’t even know till Book 3 when they abandoned him, and consider how much more he hates Mu Qing, the guy he blames for kicking him out of the army, etc. Some of it is totally “in service” to Xie Lian but some of it is because Hua Cheng carries a grudge like a goddamn pro and finds catharsis in beating the shit out of immortals who bounce back and can’t stop tripping over themselves and onto his blade.)

[reinerispretty]

beneath the moon. (sokka x f!reader) pt14

hiii i hope u are having a wonderful day! this is our lovely reader’s tale of ba sing se episode :) + more!

pt1

pt13

pt15

(Y/N) swallowed uncomfortably. He gave her a smirk as she approached. “I see you’re not wearing the necklace,” He said.

“I gave it away,” She said quickly. He blinked at her, obviously surprised. “I found someone who needed it more than I did. Really, thank you for buying me the necklace. I can pay you back but I wasn’t lying when I said I didn’t need it.”

As much as she didn’t act like it, (Y/N) had grown up as a princess. Respect had always been given to her, automatically. And while things changed slightly when she had joined Team Avatar, the reputation of traveling with Aang had surpassed her. Most of the time, when they arrived at new places, they were greeted with welcoming smiles and treated with kindness. But things were different in Ba Sing Se. 

She had been treated like a child before, yes, but she had never felt so undermined and disrespected than when she was within the city’s walls. Their guide, Joo Dee, ignored all of her questions and requests about the city and acted like (Y/N) hadn’t said anything at all. (Y/N) didn’t like a lot of things, and not being taken seriously was one of them. She had left home to be in charge of her own life, after all, and being treated like a little kid when she had probably done more daring things than any of the Dai Lee combined infuriated her. 

And she could not spend one more second cooped up in the house with her friends. Of course, she loved them with all of her heart, but being around Sokka so often irked her incessantly. Every little thing he did, every comment he made, infuriated her. It wasn’t even because she was mad at him! She was mad at herself, for liking him so much, and her anger directed itself toward him. She knew she wasn’t being kind to Sokka, but (Y/N) had realized over the years that she would always be the complete opposite of her sister. If Yue was a gentle snow, (Y/N) was a thunderstorm. 

So she resolved to take the day to herself. As (Y/N) thought about it, she hadn’t really had a moment alone since leaving the Northern Water Tribe, and she was someone who strongly valued her alone time. She called over her shoulder to her friends that she was going out and then she went to the streets of Ba Sing Se. 

Their place was in the Inner Ring, where royalty and aristocrats of the city lived. The only way (Y/N) could describe her scenery was beautiful. Buildings towered over her, intricately and ornately decorate in wooden and gold embellishments. There were still peddlers in the streets, but all of their goods seemed expertly made and wonderfully handcrafted. She slowed her pace as she walked by them, marveling medals and dazzling jewels. 

“Would the beautiful Water Tribe lady like a necklace?” Asked one woman, offering (Y/N) a silver necklace with dangling teardrop sapphires. (Y/N) stared at her, surprised. 

“Oh, no thank you,” (Y/N) said, smiling at the woman. “It’s too nice for me.” As beautiful as it was, (Y/N) knew that it wouldn’t last long during her travels. She had already lost most of her painting supplies and sketches when they were in the desert. She didn’t want to risk losing anything else. 

“Are you sure? I can give you a discount!” The woman was very insistent, but (Y/N) shook her head. 

“I’ll buy it for her.” (Y/N) turned to the source of the voice. At her side stood a boy, probably about her age, with shaggy brown hair and brown eyes. He was lanky and tall, her head just barely coming to his chest. Despite herself, (Y/N’s) face heated up. 

“No, it’s really okay,” She insisted, but the boy was already handing the woman his money. He dropped the necklace into (Y/N’s) hands. 

“Sometimes, pretty girls deserve pretty things,” The boy told her. (Y/N’s) lips tightened into a thin line. 

“I don’t need it,” She said, taking him by the hand and dropping the necklace into it. It looked valuable. (Y/N) bet he could get more than what he paid for it. 

“Come on, you’re Water Tribe! It matches your whole outfit perfectly.” 

“I don’t really care if it matches my outfit,” (Y/N) said, scrunching her nose at him. “Thank you for the offer, but I really don’t need this necklace. I’d just lose it.” 

“Alright, how about you hold on to it for today, and I’ll meet you here later to see if you’ve lost it? If you haven’t, you get a necklace, and if you have, you buy me dinner. Deal?” He shoved the necklace back into her hands and disappeared into the crowd before (Y/N) could protest. She rushed after him, trying to keep up with his quick movements, but she couldn’t. She hadn’t meant to, but somehow she had gotten swept up in the crowds of Ba Sing Se and ended up in the Middle Ring, far from where she had begun her walk. 

Slightly annoyed at herself for not paying attention, she leaned up against a stone building and sat on the ground. She stared at the necklace in her hands. It was beautiful. It looked like something Yue would try to get (Y/N) to wear at one of her birthday banquets. She could almost hear her now: “Come on, (Y/N)! It’ll look so pretty with your eyes.” (Y/N) pocketed it, squeezing at the fabric of her dress until she could feel the outline of the stone. 

(Y/N) had almost decided to head back to her friends when a little boy ran up to her, his eyes wide in panic. His head was shaved and dirt was matted onto his face and clothes. “Are you a waterbender?” He demanded, gesturing to the blue of her dress. (Y/N) furrowed her brows, but nodded in response. “I need your help!” He grabbed her by the hand and tugged her to her feet. (Y/N) stumbled to keep up with his fast little legs. 

“Wait, who are you!” She asked as he brought her through alleyways and underneath make-shift bridges. The kid was leading her to the outskirts of the Middle Ring, where makeshift huts and houses were made from straw and mud. She frowned as they came to a stop. 

“My name’s Li,” The little boy said to her. “When the soldiers came back, they marched through our part of town and got mud and dirt all in our water. We can’t even drink it anymore!” To punctuate his statement, he opened a barrel to show her murky brown water. “You’ve got to help us.” 

(Y/N) didn’t hesitate to act. “I need another container to put the water in once it’s cleaned,” She said. He picked up a large tin pail and dropped it at her feet. 

“Will that work?” He asked. (Y/N) shrugged, rolling her sleeves up to her elbows. 

“I guess we’ll find out.” (Y/N) stretched out her fingers, lifting one arm over the other as she drew the water from the mud. She tried to imagine the dirt particles separating as she placed the water in the metal pail. When she had finished, she looked at the job she had done. The water was so clear that it showed the bottom of the pail clearly. (Y/N) smiled to herself. 

“Thank you Miss Water Tribe!” Li exclaimed. “Can you help my friends with their water too?” (Y/N) nodded. 

“Of course!” 

That was how (Y/N) had spent her day. She had cleaned the water of everyone who brought it to her and then she asked Li to take her to the nearby houses to see if anyone needed more help. Some of the people she saw were parents of young children or the elderly, people who couldn’t manage to carry their water to her. She cleaned their water as quickly as she could and then moved onto the next house. 

By the time she finished her work, (Y/N) was exhausted. She hadn’t realized just how much energy waterbending would take out of her, but she was happy to have helped. Li walked with her back to the wall of the Inner Ring. He knew a spot to get her back in without needing to involve any guards. 

“Thank you for today, Miss Water Tribe,” Li said as they walked. His hands were in the pockets of his tattered pants. (Y/N) shrugged. 

“Thank you for letting me help,” She said. “It’s rude that those Earth Kingdom soldiers ruined your water and didn’t do anything about it.” Li bit the inside of his cheek.

“Don’t tell anyone I told you this, but they’re kind of jerks to the people down here. They think they’re better than us because they live close to the Earth King.” He looked at her, his green eyes curious. “What are you doing in the Inner Ring?” 

“I’m staying with a friend,” She said. She wanted to be honest with him, to tell him about Aang, but a part of her liked that someone didn’t know who she was. That they treated her like a human being and an equal. 

“Oh,” Was all Li said. He stopped at the wall, pulling at the rusty metal grate. It gave way with barely a screech, giving (Y/N) access to go back inside. She crawled through, crouching so that she could see Li’s small frame. 

“I want to give you something,” She reached inside of her pocket and pulled out the necklace. It glimmered in the moonlight and Li’s eyes widened at the sight of it. She placed it in his small hands. “That should take care of you for a little while. I wouldn’t sell the whole thing at once, someone might get suspicious. Take the stones out whenever you need to buy something.” 

Li looked at the necklace and then back to her. He seemed stunned and a little suspicious that she had just pulled a probably very valuable necklace out of her pocket. (Y/N) smiled at him once more. 

“I won’t be here for long,” She said. “Hopefully that helps you for a lot longer than I have.” With that, she left, walking back onto the pristine streets of the Upper Ring of Ba Sing Se. She was exhausted, but the thought of a warm meal, a hot bath, and sleep kept her going. 

The boy she had met earlier that day was waiting for her where she had lost him. (Y/N) swallowed uncomfortably. He gave her a smirk as she approached. “I see you’re not wearing the necklace,” He said. 

“I gave it away,” She said quickly. He blinked at her, obviously surprised. “I found someone who needed it more than I did. Really, thank you for buying me the necklace. I can pay you back but I wasn’t lying when I said I didn’t need it.” 

The boy smiled. “I suppose you owe me dinner then.” (Y/N) shrugged, crossing her arms over her body. 

“You can walk me home. I’m sure my friends have made dinner already. And don’t try to kidnap me or anything because I’m a waterbender and I can slice you in half.” The boy laughed in surprise as they started walking. 

“A waterbender, huh? I met a waterbender a long time ago. Maybe you know her!” 

“There are two tribes of us, I honestly doubt it.” The boy hummed in acknowledgement. 

“Okay, so which tribe are you from?” (Y/N) glanced at the moon that was rising in the horizon. 

“The Northern Water Tribe.” The boy whistled. 

“You’re a long way from home,” He said. “I heard rumors that the Fire Nation attacked them a few months ago. Were you there when that happened?” (Y/N) nodded, not trusting her voice enough to answer. That night hurt to talk about, still. “I’m sorry,” He said, his voice soft. “The Fire Nation attacked my village when I was little. They killed both my parents.” 

(Y/N) glanced at him. “I’m sorry for your loss.” 

“I’m sorry for yours, too.” She looked at him, surprised. “I’ve seen grief enough in the mirror to know what it looks like.” 

“The Fire Nation didn’t kill her directly, I suppose. They killed the Moon Spirit, which had saved my sister’s life when she was a baby. She gave her own life so the Moon Spirit could live on.” 

“I’ve heard about you,” He said as they reached the steps of her house. “You’re the Runaway Princess.” (Y/N) raised an eyebrow at him. 

“I hardly ran away. My parents knew where I was going.” 

“From what I’ve heard, there’s been some challengers to your father’s position as chief. Since he has no more heirs-” Before the boy could finish what he was saying, the front door flew open. Sokka rushed down the steps. 

“(Y/N)! Where have you been all day? I looked around the entire Inner Ring but I couldn’t find you anywhere.” 

“I told everyone I was going out earlier today,” She muttered, holding herself back from snapping. Sokka looked to the boy at her side, his gaze immediately turning harsh. 

“What are you doing with Jet?” Sokka’s voice was laced with venom, his tone harsher than (Y/N) had ever heard before. 

“He walked me home,” was the only explanation (Y/N) offered before she stared at Jet, her lips set in a frown and her expression serious. “Tell me what’s going on in the North.” 

“I’ve heard from a lot of refugees that a civil war is inevitable,” Jet said. “If the Fire Nation figures out that the North is weak, they’ll attack again.” 

(Y/N) had never imagined that she would feel such a twist of pain in her heart at his words. The place she had grown up despising and wanting nothing more to escape was on the brink of disaster. Because of her. 

“Sokka?” Katara asked, stepping out of the doorway of the house, with Toph and Aang trailing closely behind. Katara’s demeanor changed just as quickly as Sokka’s, but the only difference between the two siblings was that Katara was ready to fight. She took the water from the pouch at her hip to form a water whip. 

“Woah!” (Y/N) exclaimed, walking up the steps to stop Katara. Aang grabbed onto her arm. Katara’s waterbending didn’t waver for a second. 

“What do you want, Jet?” She demanded, her voice having the same edge of roughness that Sokka’s had. The two were more similar than (Y/N) had ever noticed. 

“I was walking your friend home,” He said. “I didn’t know she lived with you guys, honestly. She didn’t tell me.” The group of four looked at (Y/N), Sokka and Katara’s expressions riddled with anger. 

“I don’t even know who he is!” She gestured down at Jet. “We met earlier today, in the market.” 

“Is that who you spent your whole day with?” Sokka snapped. (Y/N) whirled on him, her eyes blazing with fury. 

“Not at all,” She said, her voice low and threatening. She didn’t know why his anger had been directed at her, but she wasn’t going to have it. “If you really must know, I spent my day in the Middle Ring, cleaning their water.” 

“I saw her walking home by herself, I just wanted to make sure she got back safe.” Jet looked at Katara earnestly, but the girl scoffed at him.

“How very gentlemanly of you,” She sneered. “I don’t remember you being this kind when you tried to drown a village full of people.” 

“What?” (Y/N) nearly shrieked. “What is going on here that you guys aren’t telling me?” 

“It was before we met you,” Aang said. “Jet tried to drown a village of innocent people just to kill the members of the Fire Nation that were there.” 

“Listen,” Jet said, lifting his hands up defensively. “I know I did some bad things in the past. But I’m a different guy now! I came to Ba Sing Se to start a new life. And now that I’ve found you guys, I have to tell you. I overhead some guys talking about moving an air bison. I’m assuming it’s yours?” 

“You know where Appa is?” Aang’s voice was so full of hope, of promise. Jet nodded. 

“I followed them around and they led me to a barn. I saw Appa inside.” 

“We have to go!” Aang leapt into the air, landing beside Jet. 

“What if it’s a trap?” Katara asked, narrowing her eyes at the tall, lanky boy. 

“That’s a chance I’m willing to take to get Appa back.” Aang stared at his friends. “I’m going, and you can either come with me or stay behind.” And although (Y/N) was exhausted, could feel it weighing down her limbs, she walked down the steps to stand beside Aang. He grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze in thanks. (Y/N) squeezed back. 

Toph walked down to stand beside them and soon a disgruntled Sokka and Katara were following along as Jet led them back into the Middle Ring. (Y/N) slowed her steps so that she could fall in stride with Katara. Her face was turned down into a frown. 

“What happened?” (Y/N) asked. Katara sighed. 

“On our way to the North, we ran into Jet and his group. We thought they were a steal from the rich, give to the poor type of people, until Jet was going to use blasting jelly to destroy the dam and flood a town entirely full of people. If Sokka hadn’t warned everyone, they would’ve all died.” 

“Sokka saved them?” (Y/N’s) eyes went to the boy who walked in front of her, exchanging casual conversation with Toph. His ponytail bounced with each step. 

Katara nodded. “I thought that Jet was a great guy when I first met him. But now, I just don’t trust him.” 

“He told me something, about my tribe.” (Y/N) inhaled a deep breath. “He said that he heard my father is being challenged for his position as chief since he doesn’t have anymore heirs. He said that there might be a civil war in the North soon, and if the Fire Nation finds out about it, they’ll attack again.” 

Katara placed her hand on (Y/N’s) shoulder, squeezing it tightly to provide some sort of comfort. (Y/N) wasn’t one for physical affection. “As soon as we get the Earth King on our side, we can fly back to the North Pole to make sure everything is okay. It’s all rumors; it might not even be true!” (Y/N) nodded and thanked Katara for her advice, but she had a feeling deep in her stomach that what Jet had told her was, in fact, true. 

---

This had been one of the longest days of (Y/N’s) life. They hadn’t found Appa, but had been told that he had been shipped off to Whaletail Island. Just as they were devising their plan to fly there, their group ran into two of Jet’s friends, who claimed that they hadn’t seen him in days. Jet denied this, but the inconsistencies in his story were suspicious enough that they locked themselves in the house Jet was squatting in until they could figure out what was happening. 

As much as (Y/N) wanted to participate in what was happening, she sat in a chair at the edge of the room, her eyes heavy and her stomach rumbling uncontrollably. She hadn’t eaten since she left that morning and after an entire day of waterbending, she felt ravenous. She leaned against the table, her chin in her palm, thinking of all the foods she would eat if they ever went back home. 

Sokka wandered over to her, taking a seat at the chair next to her. The rest of their group intensely discussed their options of what to do with Jet. “Checked out for the night?” (Y/N) tried to nod but her head felt so heavy that she wasn’t sure if it moved or not. 

“I didn’t eat lunch or dinner and I was waterbending all day today.” Sokka looked over his shoulder at the others and then stood, looping (Y/N’s) arm through his. “What are you doing?” She asked, her nose scrunching in distaste but she made no move to stop him. 

“I’m going to take you home and we’re gonna get some food in you and put you to bed. We can’t fight bad guys if you’re falling asleep.” He told the rest of the group their plans and then led (Y/N) out into the night. 

She wasn’t meaning to be leaning on Sokka so much, but she was too tired and too focused on how good he smelled and how nice it was to be this close to him. They walked in silence for the first few minutes before Sokka spoke. “I heard what Jet told you.” The sinking feeling returned to (Y/N’s) stomach. She had forgotten about what was going on back in her tribe for a few hours while she focused on not falling asleep, and she felt ashamed because of it. 

“It’s all my fault,” (Y/N) said with a sigh, but there was no emotion to her voice. It was like she had accepted her statement as such a plain truth. 

“It’s not,” Sokka insisted. “You couldn’t have known that this would happen. And you said your parents were supportive of your decision.” (Y/N) had hummed. She had said that, yes, and in a way she was right. Her father had given her a sack of so many coins that she was still far from having spent it all. She figured that had been his way of expressing that he approved of her leaving the tribe. 

“I know that I wanted to leave, but I still feel guilty. I feel like I owe it to them to be there.” 

“You deserve to be happy. You don’t owe anyone anything.” 

“I feel like I owe it to her, sometimes.” She looked up at the moon but Sokka remained silent at her side. “She was good, to everyone. She wasn’t moody and uncontrollable and the servants didn’t say bad things about her behind her back. Do you know what it’s like to live constantly comparing yourself to someone else?” Although it was a rhetorical question, Sokka answered. 

“Of course I do. I compare myself to people everyday. My dad, Katara, Aang, you.” 

“Me? Why me?” 

“Yeah, you’re moody and uncontrollable and kind of scary sometimes, but you’re passionate. You put all of yourself into the people around them and inspire them constantly with your strength.” He cleared his throat, looking away from her. “At least, that’s how I see it.” 

A smile taunted the edge of (Y/N’s) lips. “I don’t think you should compare yourself to me. You’re much braver and kindhearted than I’ll ever be.” 

“You’re both of those things, you just don’t let people see it all the time. I like to think that I was starting to, but...” He shrugged, giving her a bright smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. 

“I know I haven’t been very nice to you,” She said quietly. “And I’m sorry. Sometimes it feels like it’s smarter to keep you at a distance.” 

“Why?” They stopped. They had reached the steps of their house. Lanterns were lit by the door and moths fluttered in their light. 

(Y/N) opened her mouth to speak, but realized that the explanation that could possibly come out of it was a declaration of affection. She smiled up at Sokka. “I’m sorry for not being a good friend. I’ll do better, I promise.” She ran up the steps of the house, trying to put some distance between them. “Are you hungry? I might make some soup before bed.” She rushed inside, her heart pounding against her chest.

---

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[keanureevesisbae]

Protection Chapter 6

Summary: Mia and August are in the safehouse, but Mia has a plan, since she really doesn’t want to be here. 

August Walker x Mia Makaruku (ofc)

Wordcount: 5.4k

Warnings: Mentions of stabbing and guns.

Masterlist // Protection Masterlist // Previous Chapter

1 hour at the safe house

After the three hour drive, August and I arrive at this safe house. It’s the middle of the night and normally I’m in a deep and nice sleep, spooning Bobo and dreaming about some sort of male celebrity to ease my mind. That is not the case now, despite my brain being dog tired, but it’s also running over time.

The safe house is like every ordinary house, but maybe that is exactly what we need. We need to fit in with the rest of the world, not sticking out like sore thumbs.

Bobo is already acclimated to the place, curling himself up on the sofa, purring loudly as he is about to drift off to sleep.

Me on the other hand, can’t relax for shit. I’m pacing (no, not pacing, limping) through the living room, desperately hoping to remember something. It doesn’t matter what. Maybe something about my family, something that is a dead give away I’m not part of this weird family who had access to the safe. Maybe something about what happened between the crash and me sitting on the curb, holding my arm as I was waiting for help.

Or something that would get me out of this place.

August was my safe haven for the drive here, but I don’t know what to think of him. Do I believe him when he says he’ll protect me? Yes, especially what happened to me on the parking lot.

Do I trust him?

I have no idea…

Is he soft and kind to me?

Yes.

And is that everything I need for now?

I hate to admit it, but yes…

I let out a deep sigh. While I keep on wishing I need to be with someone who I feel safe with, it’s brutally obvious that… August is the only one who can both protect me and make me feel safe. I think about his strong arms wrapped around my body, my forehead resting against his chest and him allowing me to hold his hand. I know that’s not what he wants, or at least, what he would initiate, but he lets me. He lets me hold him, lean on him and cry on him.

And that sure means something right? He understands and gives in to my needs.

I turn on my foot, but since my brain is nearly frying itself, I forget this one hurts. I wince and sit on the floor, holding my ankle tightly. Tears trickle down my cheeks, without me actually crying.

I just want to go home, to my own psychical therapist who could help me out. I need normalcy back in my life.  

‘What are you doing?’

My head jerks up, to discover August standing near the kitchen, leaning against the wall. The softness I felt during the way here, it disappeared. Maybe because I wasn’t responding well to it, or because I was responding to it a bit too much. I have been a snotty and hopeless mess since early Monday morning, when I found out about the file.

‘I was pacing.’

He walks into the living room and stops in front of me. ‘You need to be careful.’

‘Well spotted. I can see the CIA training taught you well.’

August sighs. ‘I think you need a new gauge on it.’ He holds out his hand and with a groan I take it. He pulls me up, but when I’m standing, his arm glides underneath my knees and back, carrying me to the kitchen. He does it so effortlessly and without a thought. Maybe that softness is still there. Maybe he does care. He places me on the counter and takes off my shoe.

‘That hurts,’ I hisses.

‘I know,’ he says. He opens a few cabinets, but doesn’t see what he was looking for. ‘Wait here.’

He wanders out of the kitchen and comes back with my mug. The one with the flowers. The one I left at his place. He fills it with water and holds it in front of me, together with a strip of painkillers. ‘Did you bring this with you?’ I ask him, as I wrap my fingers around the mug.

He nods.

‘Why?’

‘Because it’s home and I figured you could need it.’ He ushers me to take the painkiller and I do what he asks me to do. I lean back, with my head against the cabinet doors. He grabs a dusty barstool and places my foot on his lap.

‘August,’ I whisper.

‘Yes?’

‘I don’t hate you.’

He looks up. ‘I know.’

‘I’m just scared.’

‘I know that too.’ He takes off my sock and bandage and checks my ankle, that is swelling and turning red. ‘I think I need to provide you with a brace. Or do you have one with you?’

I shake my head. ‘I left it at home, I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t apologize,’ he snaps and I tense up. Just because he isn’t apologizing, he all of the sudden has this personal vendetta against me doing it. ‘I’ll try and arrange something. For now a new bandage will do.’

While he prepares the new bandages, I carefully place my hand on his cheek as I lean forward. He lets it happen and maybe I’m totally hallucinating, but I think he is leaning against my hand. ‘You sure you’ll protect me?’

‘I will,’ he answers in a dead serious tone.

‘Even Bobo?’

August looks up and bites back a smile. ‘Especially Bobo.’

5 hours at the safe house

I’m back at the crime scene, but this time I’m not a young girl anymore. I’m the me of today. I walk around the car wreck, spotting the limb bodies of other me’s family. I notice a young girl sitting on the curb. Me on the curb. Clutching my arm and simply staring at the wreck, as someone without a recognizable face drags away the body of a teenage boy, while another man drags away the body of a man.

They look deceased, but as of right now, they could be unconscious.

A woman, who is just as unidentifiable as the other men, crouches down in front of me. ‘Vanaf nu, is jouw naam Mia,’ she tells me. From now on, your name is Mia.

The young girl—me—shakes her head. ‘Nee, dat ben ik niet.’ No, I’m not.

‘Jawel, luister goed. Als iemand er naar vraag, jij heet Mia. Mia Makaruku. M-A-K-A-R-U-K-U.’ Yes, listen carefully. If someone asks, you’re Mia. Mia Makaruku. M-A-K-A-R-U-K-U.’

With a jolt I’m wide awake. I look around me, expecting to find Bobo for some emotional support, but he is not here. I could use a hug, to be honest and Bobo is the one that I wished was right here to hug me. I slip on some warm socks and get out of my bed. No, the bed in the safe house. It’s not mine. It smells musty. My bed always smells like lavender.

‘Bobo,’ I whisper shout, ‘where are you?’

I see August’s door is opened ajar and I peek inside, only to see Bobo curled up on the windowsill, while August isn’t asleep. He looks up and flicks on his light. ‘What’s wrong?’

I want to make a stupid remark about Bobo sleeping here and how they are becoming close buddies and how it should make me jealous, but it can’t seem to leave my lips. I simply lean against the doorframe and fumble with my shirt.

‘Mia, what’s up?’

‘I had a memory,’ I whisper, but it’s loud enough for him to hear. I close the door and I walk over to his bed. I sit on the edge, staring at Bobo, who is still asleep and doesn’t really care I walked in. Looks like I’m traded in for. Nice to know that my lovely cat will trade me for someone with testosterone. ‘My name is not Mia Makaruku.’ I tell him what the memory is about. I don’t feel tears coming up, but to be fair, I have cried for hours on end.

August sits up straight next to be on the edge. ‘You know what your real name is?’

I shake my head. ‘That was all I wanted to tell you.’ I want to stand up again, but August grabs my wrist and forces me on his bed again. ‘What?’

‘I know it’s hard.’

‘How?’ I ask him. ‘Because this all happened to you when you were younger? Did you have a promising career, that was put on hold because someone swooped into your life and all of the sudden you realize you are not who you think you are?’

He doesn’t say anything, but I simply pull my wrist out of his grasp, grab Bobo and march back into my room.

1 day at the safe house

I came to the conclusion that in no way, I can stay here in this safe house.

August is keeping a close eye on me and I have to tell him what I’m going to do every single time I leave the room. Even when I just need to pee! This whole situation is suffocating me. I wished he would just be a bit more relaxed, less controlling and just back the fuck off.

Ever since I had my first memory, I have been thinking about it, nearly giving myself a painful headache. But I don’t remember anything.

When I was wandering through the house, I confiscated a letter opener, to use it as some sort of weapon. Who knows if I might need it one day. And that one day might come sooner than I think.

I’m sitting in the living room, as the blinds are closed, leaving us with the lights on, in the middle of the day. I can barely sit anymore, so I walk towards a wall and do a handstand against it. I hear some bones in my shoulders crack.

For a top athlete, going from intense training to nothing, it’s unhealthy. I read about those people who get heart attacks after they retire and get a heart attack within the first week of doing nothing, after a very intensive job for forty years.

While I’m not suspecting a heart attack anytime soon and I shouldn’t compare this situation to retirement, I’m keeping it in mind.

Is it your left arm that starts to hurt when you have a nearing heart attack?

‘What are you doing?’

I roll my eyes, but he doesn’t see that. ‘I would swear you’re blind,’ I say, as I get back on my feet. ‘I was bowling, you happy now?’

August doesn’t say anything. He simply walks over to the couch and sits on my spot. Man spreading is tame in comparison with what he is doing. I think it’s a good thing this man wears pants, because I could’ve looked right up his ass and do an internal examination, without trying.

That’s quite the picture, Mia… What are you doing to yourself?

I turn around and let out a gasp when the doorbell rings three times very short. August stands up and ushers me to come over. I don’t understand why, but he looks pissed and I better listen to him. I limp towards him and he pushes me behind him. When he opens the door, he simply takes the package after signing for it and closes the door. ‘What was that about?’

‘Better be safe than sorry.’ He opens the package without using scissors (which is weird, because I would’ve needed a scissor or a knife to open it, but to each their own) and hands me my new ankle brace.

‘Oh,’ I say, when I see he actually arranged a real good one. Maybe he cares in his weird way… ‘Thanks.’

He doesn’t say anything about it. ‘I’ll start lunch.’

3 days at the safe house

It has been two days since I found the letter opener and I don’t think he suspects a thing. The hours pass by without a mishap. I let him check my ankle twice a day, I try to get him to like Bobo (no success so far and that’s all on August) and we watch the stars every night, since that’s the only time he lets me out of the house.

Pretending I made peace with the situation, gave me enough opportunities to plan my escape. Even when he made me a hot water bottle the other night because I was shivering, even when he suggested to cut the onions, so I wouldn’t get teary eyed and that time when he carried me to bed.

Even when he makes me feel like no one else made me before, I cannot stay here. I have read the files, I have seen where he hides our passports, I know where he hides his guns. I can escape.

Especially now, since I don’t want him near me anymore.

The only way I can actually lock him up, is by luring him into the basement and that sounds painfully scary, I admit, but I have to try. I’d rather die trying, than give up and sit here like I’ve given up on life.

I have to leave him.

Everything is all set and done in my bedroom, ready for me to leave. If I can’t hide it in my room (the car keys, the file or the passports and of course his guns) I know exactly where to find it.

I’m standing in some tight black leggings and a cropped sweater in the basement, trying to find something on the top shelve I could desperately need and I can’t reach. Pasta sauce? That seems like something I could use.

I have made some food in these past couple of days and I have yet to make some pasta. It sounds like me to try something new.

Normally I wouldn’t wear something that accentuates my ass this much, but I have to distract him some way, so maybe this’ll do. I don’t know, I have never done this before. Sure, I’ve kissed, but never anything further than that. Being a professional athlete, you barely have time to date.

Or that’s just me, I don’t know. Other girls seemed to find time to date…

My heart is pounding painfully fast in my chest. You can say about August Walker whatever you want, but that man looks terrifyingly experienced. He seems like the type of man who can rip you apart and you’d beg him to do so again.

It’s now or never, Mia.

‘August!’ I yell.

It takes a second before he answers. ‘Yes?’

‘Can you help me out?’

Asking him for something, is the way to his heart.

I hear his descending footsteps and I turn around, to see him approaching me. ‘Can you reach the pasta sauce for me?’ I ask. ‘I wanted to make pasta tonight.’

August simply nods and stretches himself to grab the package from the top shelf. ‘Anything else?’

I bite my lip, before shaking my head.

‘There is something on your mind,’ he says. ‘What is it?’

This man reads me like a book. I hate it. ‘Nothing, it’s silly, really.’ That and I might chicken out right now. Maybe this isn’t such a fantastic well thought out plan, though I thought about it non stop for the past forty eight hours.

But, am I seeing this correctly? Is he smiling? ‘Tell me this then: why are you wearing this?’

Oh shit, he is too good. Fuck, I just blew my cover, simply because it’s too much. ‘What?’

August places his large hand in the dip of my waist, his fingers touching my bare skin. ‘You never wear this.’

I clear my throat. Now is not a good time for that heart attack you were thinking about a two days ago, I tell myself. ‘Oh, I…’

‘Come on,’ he whispers, ‘you can tell me.’

I swallow hard, all of the sudden not so sure about this anymore. I shouldn’t let him intimidate me, but it sure does. It might have to do with this authoritarian lining I hear in his deep voice.

‘Tell me,’ he says, ‘did you plan this?’

I finally find my voice again, yet it’s not a very secure one. ‘Maybe,’ I whisper shakily.

‘Why?’

‘It’s you, really,’ I say and that is not a total lie. I mean, I have seen him pretty up close these passed few days. And since I’m a functioning human being with a heart beat and certain—slightly nasty—dreams about him…  It seems reasonable to be planning this, right?

August nods, before lifting me on the empty table I wished in my initial plan he would place me. ‘If I start, Mia, I don’t think I can stop.’

‘I don’t want you to stop,’ I whimper, already completely at his mercy.

I curse myself.

He chuckles and bites his bottom lip, his eyes turning a few shades darker. He takes off his shirt, revealing his strong and broad chest, covered with chest hair that I only saw glimpses of.

Am I sure I can do this? Am I sure I can do what I plan to do?

‘What?’ I ask him.

‘You look like a deer caught in the headlights, Mia.’

‘Oh,’ I gasp, which is a dead giveaway that I am indeed a deer caught in the headlights.

His strong hands force my legs open. ‘It’s a good thing I sometimes find you adorable.’

Now I’m actually offended. ‘Why only sometimes?’

He smiles. ‘Maybe always.’

I shouldn’t do this, I think to myself. I feel sorry for him now, he looks so approachable and finally he shows me who he is deep down. The August Walker that I knew was in there, hidden by the walls he has built. The August Walker I saw glimpses of since the day I met him. Okay, maybe not since the day I met him, but since we went to that basketball game.

I place my hands on his broad chest and let my nails drag over his skin. August bridges the space between us and the second our lips touch and his tongue enters my mouth, I hook my feet together behind his hips.

The way this man kisses… I have never been kissed like this. Never have I ever been so overpowered, so dominated.

I’m getting too sucked into this moment, that for a second I forget my plan. He buries his face in my neck, his tongue running over the delicate skin. I bite my lip to keep my moans in, but somehow one escapes.

‘Such a needy little girl,’ he grunts in my nape, before going out of his way to leave his marks on me.

When he kisses my lips again, he seems distracted enough, I think to myself. My hand goes underneath the edge of the table, where I taped the letter opener…

But I can’t find it.

‘You were looking for this?’ he asks when he pulls back. His fingers twirl the letter opener around.

Oh fuck, I screwed up big time.

‘I admire you thought about this,’ he says, ‘but I’m not a total idiot.’ He lets the sharp tip drag over my cheek, causing me to pull back.

‘You knew?’

‘Of course I knew,’ he chuckles. ‘I’m a CIA agent, I notice everything you do. I’m trained to do such thing.’ He pulls back completely and I let out a groan. While he puts the letter opener in the back pocket of his pants, he grabs his shirt from the floor. ‘Shame, Mia, that I can read you like a book, but yet again… I appreciate the effort.’

He turns around with a cocky grin and I clench my jaw. What an asshole. I look around me and see a block of wood next to the table. I jump off the table, grab the wood and rush towards him. I am not giving up, because if I did so, I wouldn’t have become the soccer player I am today.

I was, I mean, because I’ve come to the realization those soccer playing times might be over.

August must’ve heard me (he is a CIA agent after all), but I’m mid swing already and the edge of the block hits him on his temple. I watch as the enormous man falls like a bag of potatoes and I stare at his limp body on the floor.

Did I just kill him?

Before I jump over him to go up the stairs, I quickly check his pulse in his neck. Okay, there is a heartbeat. I climb up the stairs and lock the door.

It’s game time.

I rush to my room, grab my coat and the carriage for Bobo. I figured I would bring him to a shelter, before I would get on the plane, because I’m not leaving my precious orange cat in a safe house with August Walker.

Within record time I have got my bag ready, the file and I grabbed the fake Indonesian passport I need. ‘Come on, Bobo,’ I try to coax him and the dumb ass actually goes into the cage.

‘Mia, don’t fucking do this,’ I hear August yell, as he is trying to force the door open.

Okay, it’s quite a relief to know he really wasn’t dead.

I grab the car keys and when I walk passed his room, my eyes fall on his weapon holster. The one last thing I need. I grab his gun and though I have zero idea on how to use it, I can just do what they do in movies.

Just pull the trigger, right?

I grab the carriage with Bobo, only to hear August breaking out from the basement. The door collapses in front of me and I see his eyes are dark, but not filled with lust like they were a few moments ago.

Filled with absolute rage.

‘Don’t even fucking think about it,’ he growls.

Before I even think, I grab the gun out of the bag and point it to him. My hands are shaking. ‘Let me go,’ I say.

‘Mia, I can’t let you go.’

‘I don’t want the CIA to help me,’ I tell him, as tears run over my cheeks. Way to make your point, Mia. ‘I just want my normal life back.’

‘You can’t and you know that.’

I do know that. ‘I want to find answers on my own,’ I continue, ‘and on my own, doesn’t involve you. I hate you, August Walker, I fucking hate you.’

I can see it in his eyes, that he tells himself that it’s not true and it’s not true. I don’t hate him, I just need to get out of here. He clenches his jaw. ‘Give me the gun, Mia.’

I shake my head. ‘No. Step aside or I’ll shoot.’

Even I’m not convinced…

August walks up to me and places his hand on the barrel, pulling the gun against his chest. ‘Do it then.’

My finger is on the trigger, but… I’m too weak to shoot him. I hand him the gun, before hiding my face into my hands. I lean with my back against the wall. This is so embarrassing. Why on earth did I think I could escape?

I hear August opening the door of the carriage, followed by the soft steps of Bobo.

‘Talk to me, Mia,’ he says, causing me to look up. When our eyes meet, he isn’t mad. He looks so disappointed. but I’m not sure if he’s disappointed in me or himself for letting this happen.

I take a deep breath. I don’t know what to say about this situation. ‘How is your head?’ I ask him, noticing some blood running over the side of his face.

‘It’s okay.’

I simply take his hand and drag him with me to the kitchen. He sits on a lower stool, so I can actually reach his face, without having to wear pointe shoes. I see a small cut on his temple, the source of the stream of blood and I grab the kit he used on me so many times. ‘I’m sorry,’ I say in a soft tone. ‘I don’t know what I was thinking.’

‘Don’t apologize.’

‘But I have to, August. I hurt you.’ I clean the wound, before grabbing the special bandages to pull wounds like this back together.

He sighs deeply. ‘You did what you thought was best. I can’t argue with that.’ His tone is low, raspy, but also soft.

He doesn’t sound angry at all, while I expect him to be. I mean, I kinda wanted to stab him.

‘It’s just that I… I just want to get out of here.’

August nods. ‘I know that and we will go. Eventually.’ When our eyes meet again, I see the hurt. Fuck, I hurt him so badly. Guilt washes over me and there are a million things I could say to him. But he doesn’t let me. ‘Don’t beat yourself up over this.’

He can indeed read me like a fucking book and I should hate that. But I’m actually quite relieved as of now.

‘I’m not beating myself up.’

‘You are.’

I push back some of his hairs, my fingertips running over his scalp. He melts against the touch and shuts his eyes, letting out a deep sigh.

‘I won’t escape anymore,’ I whisper.

‘I know.’

‘It’s… I don’t know what possessed me. I mean… I hit you in the head quite hard.’

He shakes his head. ‘Don’t you worry about it. Besides, I’m actually pretty relieved. I now know you can defend yourself properly.’

‘Properly?’ I can’t help but chuckle and I see a tiny smile form on his lips. ‘Don’t over exaggerate. August, I just… I feel so useless here. I don’t remember a lot of stuff. I just sit here and wait. I haven’t done that in a long time.’

He nods. ‘You are not useless.’

‘I need to do something with my time. It’s awful sitting here, with you breathing down my neck.’

He smiles. ‘How about I teach you some basic self defense tips?’

‘Please,’ I say. ‘Honestly, you could ask me to do some embroidery and I would take it.’

He places a hand on my back and actually forces me to sit on his thighs. My eyes enlarge, causing him to chuckle. ‘I meant what I said in there,’ he says. ‘Both the deer caught in the headlights part and the needy little girl part.’

Yeah, I just want to disappear and I wished that could be arranged. ‘Could we maybe not mention that. Like, ever again? I’d like to maintain some form of dignity.’

His lips graze over my cheeks. ‘Had I not found the letter opener,’ he whispers, ‘how far would you let me go?’

‘Not far. I was gonna stab you, August,’ I chuckle, but it’s a nervous one, since I can hardly focus as I sit on his thick thighs. ‘Why?’

‘Because something tells me… You’ve never done that before.’

That can’t be good. I feel like my self confidence just disappeared into thin air. ‘Was it that bad?’

‘No, no, no!’ he quickly says. ‘It’s just that your heart rate was out of the roof and… You seemed nervous.’

‘I kinda was. But mostly because I needed to stab you.’

‘Liar.’

‘I’m not a liar.’

‘You are,’ he says, before placing a kiss on my cheekbone. It’s so soft and tender, almost a full 180 of that kiss he gave me in the basement, a place I will never go back to again, because I’ll probably die of shame. ‘And that’s okay.’

I want to say something, but then I hear a loud meow and August growling. ‘Stupid cat, stop doing that!’

‘The attack thing on your leg?’ I ask him.

‘Yes, what a stupid idiot.’

‘Hey, don’t talk to him like that!’ I look over and see Bobo peeking around the corner of the kitchen island. ‘I can’t believe I genuinely thought I could take Bobo with me on my little adventure.’

August pulls me closer to him. ‘It shows your character, Mia.’

I meet his eyes again. ‘You’re not mad at me anymore?’

‘I haven’t been mad at you. I know you don’t want to stay here and that is a mutual feeling. I just have to know I can guarantee your safety.’

I nod. ‘When do you think we can leave?’

‘Next week somewhere?’

‘Is it allowed for me to get wasted or am I bringing the operation in danger if I do so?’

He smiles. ‘One drink, that’s the best I can do.’

I don’t want to do it, but I press my lips against his. A quick peck, nothing compared to the kiss earlier. But it’s all I can do right now. ‘Can we start now?’

5 days at the safe house

‘What’s that?’ I ask August, when he places a box on the table.

Ever since my little escape debacle (I let August swear never to mention it again and so far he lips were sealed), time doesn’t go by as slowly and August actually trusts me now. I don’t have justify myself for every step I take. He teaches me some self defense, but I’m a very slow learner and he tries to be patient, but really isn’t.

It’s nice being around August, especially when he tries to be nice to Bobo.

He is just a bit uneasy around the cat.

‘It’s for you,’ he says, not making eye contact.

‘It’s not even my birthday,’ I say.

August simply shrugs. ‘I can give you gifts, right?’

‘I mean, if you want, you won’t hear me complaining. I love gifts.’ I grab the box and pull it closer to me. It’s not really tightly closed, so I can easily open it. I peek inside, only to discover a…

A soccer ball?

‘Are you serious?’ I ask him. ‘Why?’

‘Because I know you miss soccer,’ he tells me. ‘I know I can’t bring back full stadiums, screaming fans and a better opponent, but this is the least I can do. Just remember: take good care of your foot.’

‘Of course, of course.’ A smile appears on my face and I take it out of the box, balancing the ball on my hand. Memories flash through my mind. My first soccer ball, the first goal I made in amateur soccer, after that professional soccer.

I walk around the table and I give him a kiss on his cheek. Ever since kissing one another after the basement event, we didn’t do that anymore. But now feels like an appropriate time to do so? Maybe not, but it’s happening now.

I can’t go back now.

‘Since I can’t use my foot, you want to throw it with me?’

‘Of course,’ he says. However, before we can start, I sense he wants to say something to me. I wait, but he shakes it off. ‘Never mind. Let me move the couch, so we have more room.’

10 days at the safe house

I am in a deep sleep, when I hear some rumbling sounds in the background. I open my eyes, but I figure out it’s one of August’s nightly escapades. He does that quite often in the middle of the night. Just wandering around, moving around some things and sometimes I even hear him exercising. I wonder if he ever sleeps.

Not me though, when it’s dark outside, I’m sleeping.

I turn around and try to drift off in a nice sleep again, hoping to go back to that lovely dream again, but then my door opens. I jolt awake, when August enters my room. ‘Easy now,’ August says. ‘You’re coming with me.’

‘What’s happening?’

‘I got your clothes, your stuff, everything. Even your creepy cat worked with me and got in his carriage.’ He hands me a thick sweater and helps me in it. My head is still a bit drowsy and my body barely works. August lifts me up and I place my head against his shoulder.

‘I can walk,’ I mumble.

‘I know, but you’re sleepy,’ he whispers. ‘Besides, I don’t mind.’

That shouldn’t make me smile as much as it does.

He carries me to the car and places me in the passengers seat. He starts the car and with an illegal speed he drives off. I look over my shoulder, to see Bobo in the carriage.

‘What’s happening, August?’ I ask him. ‘Why are we leaving?’

‘We might’ve been found,’ he says, his eyes not leaving the road.

I nod. I grab his hand from the steering wheel and I hold it in both of mine. ‘I trust you,’ I whisper. ‘I really do.’

[bellatrixxue]

Xue’s Supernatural Dare: Wendigo (S1 EP2)

Hello, everyone? How did everyone feel about the finale? Yes? Yes? Oh. Oh. Oh my. Oh, dear.

Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeell that half-assed homophobic chicken-shit fuckbucket’s not gonna stop me, since I strapped myself onto this roller coaster already and I promised I’m not getting out until the ride’s over, so here we go, wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Also, those who are in this roller coaster with me, ready? Tag list is: @fangirlxwritesx67​ @amazingiam00​ @kalliravenne​ @indecisive20something​ @2musiclover2​ @impossibletosleepthrough @there-must-be-a-lock​ @wingedcatninja​ @arvit​

Oh my gods this recap is so cheesy I actually can make a fondue out of it. 2000s, everybody!

A WHOLE MINUTE AND A HALF FOR THAT FONDUE

FUCKJUMPSCARETITLEFUCKYOU

So we’re starting the episode with the murder scene first, eh? Is that gonna be a trend?

Oh come on, Chads, you’re out in nature and you’re playing video games? Absorb the nature...before it absorbs you!

Waitwait. Holy shit is that...is that Cory Monteith? Oh, bless his soul...

If the wendigo eats his dick as he’s peeing I’m immediately giving Jensen Ackles $100. For no real reason, I just feel like giving him money for already carrying the show on his back.

I can’t tell if it did or not, so I’m not paying yet.

Aw, Sammy...

"I should have told you the truth.” *Vine voice* BUT YOU DIDN’T

FUCKYOUINTHEASSHOhnightmare. Nightmare. So did he visit her at her grave or not? I need answers.

A week? Goddamn. Poor thing. That man-eating tree’s fucking good at his job, man.

“There’s nothing there, it’s just...woods,” Sam, I don’t know if Jess’s death hit you hard or if you got into law school by eating some ancient dick and/or pussy instead of earning that high score fair and square, but the woods “in the middle of nowhere” (your words) are known to be one of the top places full of weird-ass creatures. Even kindergartners know that.

Ehehehehehehehehe he’s so smol next to his lil bro my lil shit

At least you’re coming up with decent covers this time. No Agent Mulder and Scully ruining things for you this time around.

“Bull” oop-

Oh Dean’s a smoooooooooth operator. Good going, buddy.

AND HE GOT A COPY OF THAT DOCUMENT TEAM DEAN TEAM DEAN

Oh that death really got to Sam. I hope he doesn’t turn out to be a trigger-happy psycho. Or eat the man-eating tree and become one himself.

Oh, Haley’s a cutie! Which one’s her brother? Cory? Discount Enrique Iglesias?

Do you have a card for EVERY profession, Dean? And how do I get them too?

That is a very pretty car. I bet they wasted half the budget on that thing.

Okay, sonny boy, little bro, Broseidon, calm down.

Ah, fuck, Haley and Broseidon is gonna go into the woods, that’s more heads to worry about.

How the fuck does Sam find information this fast? I’m impressed, I take five hours to get to one article for my research paper. Or maybe I’m just lazy. So he really earned his law school interview without having to eat dick and pussy, huh.

Every 23 years? What is this, Pennywise? Are we going to see the wendigo do his best Tim Curry do his best scary clown impression? Honk honk?

“Whatever that thing is, it can move.” And the sun rises on the East, Sammy. Why are you so smart and dumb at the same time? Is this his character trait? It might grow on me.

Ahhh, so Sam’s go-to move at interrogation is doing puppy dog eyes and sympathize with the person. He’d make a good lawyer, shame that man-eating tree.

Go Grandpa Exposition, go!

Go Grandpa Exposition, go, give us information and none at all!

OH GEEZ THAT SCAR. PENNYWISE WENDIGO IS VICIOUS.

Skinwalker, Back Dog...Ooh, those all sound cool! I hope we get to see them soon!

‘Corporeal’ doesn’t sound like a real word, but then again, English doesn’t sound like a real language. Sorry. Moving on.

Sam’s gonna eat the wendigo with that attitude, Jesus Christ.

AND HIS BROTHER, AT THIS RATE. If the real villain turns out to be inside Sam all along I’m gonna flip. Is that why women keep dying and burning on ceilings where he sleeps? Is he secretly Lucifer’s spawn or something?

“Oh sweetheart I don’t wear shorts”. They queer-coded him from the start and they tried to make you believe he was straight for fifteen seasons straight? And some people bought that?

Oh, crap, another crappy death treatment for Cory before he got into Glee...No, I wasn’t into Glee, I just watched a few episodes and I might hate Rachel Berry...And Lea Michele...ahem...

Dean is totally flirting with Roy shut upppppppp

OOP AND THERE ROY GOES OH THE SEXUAL TENSION IS HIGH IN THESE WOODS TODAY

“It’s probably the most honest I’ve been with a woman. Ever.” See. Bi. Bi bi bi.

So...why the coordinates, Daddy Negan? Is this a portal to Hell? A place where man-eating trees grow?

*carefully places death flag on Roy*

Ooooh the campsite is very...haunted house-y. You know what I’m saying?

That’s not Discount Enrique Iglesias, but Pennywise wendigo, yes? Those things can mimic human voices, right?

*Google searches*...There are so many versions of this tale I can’t even confirm or deny it. Dammit.

Maybe Pennywise wendigo just wants some snacks and a nice phone and GPS? Maybe he misses his family in uh, Canada or something?

Daddy Negan’s journal is  a e s t h e t i q u e .

I’m so sorry, but the way Sammy smirks as he speaks with those dark, dark voids for eyes? My boy’s a demon. He’s a demon, I’m telling you.

At least Haley has some sense to her. *puts another death flag on Roy*

*PUTS YET ANOTHER DEATH FLAG ON ROY*

True, that. What the heck is Daddy Negan up to with all of this?

“Saving people, hunting things, the family business!” Okay, the way Dean said it gave me chills.

I can actually empathize with Sam here...As whiny and bitchy as he is, he has his reasons to be this way. I guess if I were in his shoes, I’d be less of a Dean and more of a Sam, too. We deal with our losses quite similarly.

Ah, the brotherly bonding moments like these little talks make the show worth it. It’s so heartwarming.

Pennywise wendigo! I didn’t miss you, why’re you here to burst my happy bubble?

I’m starting to see a slight parallel between Haley and Broseidon and Dean and Sammy. Hmm.

Nice meeting you, Roy. Zoop you go.

Haley and Broseidon are taking this rather well, I’m glad they do.

Okay, actual exposition time, thank you.

Whoa, Broseidon speaks! Donner Party! Please don’t remind me of that! Those poor people!

Hibernation and food storage. Delightful, just delightful.

TORCHING? *CALLS RAMMSTEIN*

Somehow, not being able to see the wendigo is scarier to me than what I will probably see itself. Limited budget horror can actually work well.

Oh, dear, Roy literally did a death drop. Badum tissssssssss.

FUCK IT TOOK DEAN THE ONLY CHARACTER I CARE ABOUImean I love you too, Sam! Come on, let’s find him before it’s too late!

A trail of M&Ms! Yes, Broseidon! And Hansel and Gretel refercalled it. Sammy, you and I share the same wavelength?

SHITSHITTHEYTRIPPEDANDFELLINTHEFUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK

Thank the gods the Pennywise wendigo kept them right there. Chances.

DISCOUNT ENRIQUE IGLESIAS IS STILL ALIVE GEEZ BUT ALSO PHEW

Ah, Dean Winchester, I love you so much that I can’t even begin to describe it.

Also how convenient that the flare guns are there. Deus ex machina!

Haley would bode well as a hunter, look at her courage, her will. There are more hunters around than Daddy Negan and the brothers, right?

Yeah, seeing the actual wendigo makes me less scared of it now. It’s unnerving, but still.

TEAM DEAN YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHAW

Graphics are...alright, but it’s the thought that counts!

Running with the grizzly bear story. Smart Broseidon. Ben. Sorry, you deserve to be called by your real name. I think with practice they could become good hunters, along with their Discount Enrique Iglesias brother! Is there a fanfiction for that? Can I write it now?

...

I AM WILLING TO DIE TO PROTECT DEAN WINCHESTER I

Haley’s a lesbian, that’s why she kissed him on the cheek only. Headcanoned. Also I have a crush on her, she’s really pretty? Like? Heart eyes???

Ah, the siblings parallels again. Let’s hope neither of the two brothers end up in the bed like that.

“Man, I hate camping.” Really. Really really. Really.

“I’m driving”

...

SAM WINCHESTER I’M SORRY I EVER SPOKE ILL OF YOU I WILL PROTECT YOU WITH MY LIFE TOO I PROMISE YOU I WILL

It’s just a sassy bisexual brother and his little snide bisexual brother on the road to kill evil creatures and find their father and I love this show? Help? Help???

I really, really see the charm of Supernatural now! I’m fully invested in both brothers and their story, and I’m cheering them both on! Let’s get Daddy Negan back and get rid of that man-eating tree once and for all!

Six stars out of five!

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

This dare is introducing me to a whole new world, and I really, really am glad I took that jump a few days ago, man!

Thank you everyone for reading my ramblings, and I’ll see you in the day after with the next review! Thank you for sticking with me! Buh-bye!

- Xue

[naw-naw-honeyimgood]

ChengQing (lmao never realized that was their fucking ship name)

so pros of (Jiang Cheng/Wen Qing):

one of the few possible het ships available to mdzs fans like there are all of five named female characters and this is the only one not in an established het pairing. and like sure ive seen yanli w/ someone else a couple times but you CANT put her with JIANG CHENG and i cant say ive ever seen mianmian in a serious relationship in fics with anyone besides either her canon hubby or a chick (usually yanli, wen qing herself, or even sometimes both lmao).

it’s basically written itself in cql!! he has a very obv and clear crush on her, even gives her a comb and offers to help her! she seems interested but the way the storyline went it was simply not meant to be :’(

you get to pair off jiang cheng!! ngl once u finish mdzs its kinda sad for everyone not wangxian (in their generation/above) cuz theyre the only one that get a happy ending. Everyone else is forever alone / depressed / bitter or a combination thereof. so it’s nice to see jiang cheng getting a happy ending!

he... gets... kids...? like ngl as a childless person that is happy to stay that way thats not exactly a pro in my eyes but you might look at his relationship w/ jin ling and say “he’s a great father! he deserves to be a father!” which okay good news! wen qing can bear children!

Now. Cons. 

for one thing the fact that you have a lack of options doesnt exactly mean every possible het pairing can have good chemistry even if you change circumstances enough. there comes to a point where certain pairings can only be really viable if one or both of them are ooc.

lets be honest im willing to bet that AT LEAST 80% of the reason cql introduced this ship was because they were not allowed to make the wangxian pair explicitly Together (and i dont even mean anything specifically sexual), and they needed SOME SORT of romance to feature in the story. xuanli doesnt count because theyre an established background ship,  the jiang parents dont count as romance, we aint talkin about the villain relationships, and lbr, mianmian already had a lot more signif in cql than mdzs. so it makes sense that they took the arguably most important male chara besides wangxian and made him have a crush on the most important female character that wasnt his SISTER. 

what im trying to say is that cql pulled that pairing out of a hat. if you look at canon at ALL i highly doubt there would ever have been feelings, just as there never were. we dont quite know the age dif but we know that wen qing was the older sister and wen ning might have been a bit younger? than the boys? cannot quite remember but we dont know if she was only a year or two older or if it was like. mingjue and huaisang. we dont know! and i canNOT see jiang cheng going for an older chick. also their personalities would clash So Much. she has older sis vibes and not the gentle kind like yanli. she snaps at wen ning’s mumbling and stuff a good couple times- you think she’d tolerate jiang cheng’s emotional immaturity? hah. 

this also kinda segues into my main point of: as depressing as it is that jiang cheng is forever alone unless you pair him off... he would honestly put whoever you pair him off with through hell. he’s not nice. so many jiang cheng stans like to argue that he’s a traumatized kid that was raised to channel his emotions through anger (and raises bitterness under his skin like an ugly puppy) but inside he has a heart of gold, and they’re... not exactly wrong! i mean- literally every younger chara is traumatized in some way. but... that doesn’t really... excuse the shit he’s pulled? as much as jiang cheng stans like to forget: jin guangyao was RIGHT when he said that jiang cheng’s insecurities got wei ying killed. his CLOSEST ALLY. 

tying back to wen qing we have their actual CANON interactions (or lack thereof). wen qing didn’t exactly protect wei ying and jiang cheng out of the goodness of her heart when lotus pier fell: she was protecting wen ning (her BROTHER) from the repercussions of his own actions by saving wei ying (and Jiang Cheng ig idk he was just there bUT YOUNG MASTER WEI-)

not QUITE sure why she agreed to doing the golden core transfer (maybe scientific curiousity? i mean she had an unproven medical theory and here was a volunteer) but it def wasnt For Jiang Cheng.

and then the next time she saw him? do you guys remember the next time she saw him? it’ was when jiang cheng came up to the burial mounds to kill wen ning’s corpse and tell wei ying to turn over the wens. 

KEEP IN MIND that jiang cheng KNOWS wen ning and qing SAVED HIS FUCKING ASS after lotus pier (not How but he KNOWS THIS) and yet he still tells wei ying to hand them over.

he makes wei ying choose between what amounts to the cultivation world and his morals. 

that does not a good healthy relationship make. also again their personalities would clash like so bad. i love wen qing way more but you have to admit her personality is super similar to madame yu’s. and we already agreed that jiang cheng was traumatized as a kid. im not saying fengmian didnt have a hand in it but you gotta admit a good amount was madam yu and her insecurites and accusations she piled on her son. and you wanna pair him up romantically with someone who won’t take his shit and smile? will call him out? HAH.

im not saying this because i think jiang cheng should be with a softer personalitied (guy) like lan xichen or wen ning or huaisang because god knows those pairings have their own issues. im just saying that in canon-verse all i can ship whole-heartedly is jiang cheng / therapy, but since there is not therapy in canon-verse, or even if there WAS then there’s no way he’d admit to needing it, then yeah he can stay single for all his bitter life. better that than making jiang parent relationship 2.0 like fuck.

(this of course means that in modern aus where he DOES get therapy i am Open)

also real quick but jiang cheng was NOT a good parent to jin ling and i will not take constructive criticism like sure he was better than the jiang parents and the lan parents but that is SUCH a low fuckin bar and it’s a fact that in chapter 9 jin ling literally thinks “if I can’t slice off her head with this blow, I will die here- death it is then!!” (taken gratefully from the exiled rebels scanlation) and that is NOT a healthy-minded child.

the only healthy minded children is like. jingyi. and probably sizhui. although i am not here for the way the lan sect raise children but sometimes you have to take what you can get.

also i want you to look me in the eye and tell me that wen qing could and would do anything besides throw down with someone that so much as looked at her brother wrong

because jiang cheng apparently decided to lay the blame for jin zixuan’s death at wen ning’s feet (which is incredibly ironic considering he blames wei ying for yanli’s death??? like i feel like he could stand to use his brain cells a bit more??) and repeatedly tried to kill him.