#screaming and crying and begging for the fandom to be nice to her for a change PLEASE

[blapis-blazuli]

Thought it was way past time to make a somewhat-updated version of this other post I made. Can you tell I'm desperate for more bi polyamorous Otto content?

[thisfanisgonesorry]

please make a part2 to ironhead where he actually ties up a vibrator to her…….pretty please….

thank you for the req cutie pie!! i have another hobie fic coming out in a few days and then probs going to a diff fandom until i get possessed again (aka ill get halfway through my carlos drabble and then ill end up coming up w/ another hobie fic)

tags: overstim YEAHH, touch denial, bondage, shibari but less than before, dom/sub, i mean v heavy dom/sub. cums in pants.

my beta reader thinks i lace these fics with crack

pt 1 >> IRONHEAD listening to let me hear you scream - ozzy osbourne

✰ “Y’re doing great, love.” He purred me through my orgasm. 

I kept my eyes harshly closed, wrists tied above my head and legs tied together with a magic wand held nicely in place by firm ropes. I writhed helplessly against the restraints, the sensitivity getting worse with each moment.

“Calm down, baby.” He whispered, pressing his large hand on my stomach to push me against the mattress in hopes to ease the movement.

“Hobie, please.” I cried.

“Tell me that wit’ y’r eyes open.”

I opened my eyes lazily, trying desperately to look up at him. He was knelt next to me with wide legs, hovering over me. All I could focus on was his aching cock, stuck in the confines of his tight jeans. He was so hard that a wet patch was forming through the fabric, yet he was in complete control.

I let out a pathetic whine at the sight, knowing there was nothing more appealing to my lust-addled mind than to touch him and get him off.

“Love.. Are you cryin’?” He cooed softly.

“It’s too much.” I pleaded with him.

“Y’re only 5 in.”

A choked cry clawed its way from my throat at his words. The stickiness on my body was driving me crazy, covered in sweat, spiderwebs and cum; the view to him was nothing short of immaculate but he simply sat there like the world’s most self controlled man.

“Let me touch you.” I whined. “Please, Hobie.”

“No.”

“Please! You’re so hard, ‘s cryin’ for me, wants me so bad.” I sobbed. “Gonna twitch under my fingers.. Twitch on my tongue, gonna—”

“You’re riling yourself up.”

“Hobes, ‘m gonna cum, please, please, please.” I helplessly begged.

He took in a sharp inhale, steadying his breathing as he watched carefully, running his hand up and down my thigh. “Go on, love. Make it real pretty. Let m’hear you.” He spoke, attempting to speak clearly to show just how restrained he was.

I let out an incoherent mess of cries and begs, cumming all over the wand and squirming against the restraints again. His other hand began to brush my sweaty hair out of my face, watching the way his torture made me unwind.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell.” He gritted his teeth, trying to contain a groan.

“Mhmphf— Hobie.” I whimpered, the orgasm dying down and the burning overstimulation returning.

I used all the strength in my body to stop squirming enough to push myself onto my side, pressing my face into his strong thigh, the position was uncomfortable due to my wrists being tied to the headboard but it was the price to pay to feel him against my skin.

“Darlin’..” He laughed nervously.

“I need it.” I moaned, looking up at him through hazed, cock-drunk eyes. I nuzzled my face pathetically against his jeans. “Need you, need you so, so, so bad.” I rambled.

“You have me.” He answered, his voice shaking slightly.

A loud moan, followed by a loud ‘ah, fuck’ filled the air. I brought my knees to my chest as comfortably as I could with my legs tied together. Small whines, gasps and pants filled the air as I desperately tried to get closer to the handsome man watching every move I made.

“Y’re so desperate, ain’t ya?” He teased lightly, keeping his hands to himself, knowing otherwise he would probably break his iron will.

“Please.” I sobbed, 6 orgasms in and completely ruined beyond belief.

The squirming, thrashing, writhing, tugging, awkward angle and general length of the entire evening meant all 3 of us were worn down. The third, loud as day, snapped. Hobie perked up when he heard the sound of the webbing breaking, freeing my wrists from its hold. He was kind of impressed briefly; my hands quickly wrapped around his waist in a hug, pulling him closer to me.

“I should punish y’for that.” He spoke softly, stroking my sweaty hair once again. Though the fact I simply pulled him into a hug instead of going for his hardness was what convinced him otherwise.

I shook my head to say ‘nuh-uh’ as I pressed open mouth kisses on his jeans. “Close again.” I warned. “So close. I can’t—”

“Y’can do it, love.” He spoke sweetly, his hand gripping the back of my thigh to keep me in place as his other left my face to harshly grip the bed sheets. He leaned back slightly for a better view and that’s when he wrecked himself.

My hips jerked and spasmed, simultaneously grinding into and away from the vibrator. My breathing was racing and the sounds eliciting from my body only raised more and more in volume.

“Right there..” I pleaded.

“Let me hear you scream.” He groaned.

There was not much else I could do but abide by his request, though in the mindless state (despite the fact it was quite intentional), I reached to palm him through his jeans, crying his name out in several moans. 

I could feel him switch under me as the sounds left my throat and hung heavy in the air. His hips jerked to the movement before he grabbed my hand harshly.

“Don’t..” He whispered, halting the movements though the pressure of it pressed against his dick was still enough.

“Please.. Need you.” I tried to whisper back, though it definitely didn’t come out like that. I continued pressing open mouth kisses on his jeans and trying to move my hand from under his. 

He furrowed his eyebrows, breathing heavily and trying to gauge what the correct thing to do was as my hips continued to stutter against the wand, he kept a keen eye on me, his grip letting up just enough that I could stroke him at the speed he chose, limiting the movements.

“Y’re filthy.” He groaned, watching me lick a stripe up the fabric. His hips jerked at the sight and his composure was falling slowly.

He found himself giving in to my touches as I squirmed at my own pleasure. “Fuck, so much.” I breathed, mouthing his pants. “Ain’t 7 enough?”

“But y’re making m’feel s’good.” He panted.

“Can’t stop cumming.” I whined, feeling it get closer again as I desperately palmed at his cock; silently waiting for the permission to pull it out of his pants, the fact he was even letting me do this much was kind of a miracle.

HIs hips kept moving against my hand as he praised me quietly, watching me squirm into him, taking the punishment like a champ. He let out small moans and groans as he watched me palm him, nuzzling into him, pressing small kisses onto him, doing whatever I could in my goddamn right to worship him.

“Ngh— Fuck, ‘m cummin’ again—” I moaned, the downtime between each one was getting shorter and shorter and there’d either peak when I reached a moment of constant orgasm, or I believe I’d simply go numb and feel nothing but overstimulation and be a whining, crying mess, unable to orgasm any more.

His breathing hitched in his throat, he watched me writhe with that stupid lopsided grin, his jaw slack in awe as he desperately tried to fill his lungs with air. He felt that warm feeling in his stomach, noticing the telltale signs. “Shit, wait, y/n—”

His eyes closed, his jaw fell open and he gasped for air, small groans leaving his throat and his hips stuttering in place. His large hand forced me to stroke him through it, as he quickly accepted his fate.

“Fuck.” He hissed. “Let’s get y’fixed up, pretty baby.” He spoke quickly, pushing me off him, trying to be gentle despite his speed. He turned off the vibrator and let me relax, my tense body finally slump down into comatose limpness.

“Did you..?” I panted mindlessly.

“Shut up.” He mumbled, grabbing his pocket knife and slicing the webbing again, careful enough to not damage the wand, but quick enough to lay me down.

“Mhm, need’a washcloth.” I sighed, finally given a moment to sit back and catch my breath, finally able to relax after the considerate torture he put me through. “Feels gross.. All sweaty 'nd sticky.”

“I can see that.” He responded. 

I laid on my back, watching him through heavy eyes, he scrambled to discard the webbing that was tight on my legs and waist, collecting the loose web still stuck to the headboard, to put the wand away and then to get the damp cloth I needed to clean up.

He tried to stifle a laugh when he saw the wet patch on the bed. He knew, in this moment, he wasn’t one to laugh, but he found the view slightly impressive. He ran the damp cloth over anywhere that looked particularly gross, starting with my face for obvious reasons.

 “Anythin’ else y’need, love?”

“Dunno.” I hummed, he sat over me, removing his t-shirt and helping me put it on my body. It was worn, but it smelt like him. “You gonna let me see the mess you made?” I commented as he held my body upright.

“I.. No.” He spoke. “Y’look tired, darlin’.” 

“You embarrassed?” I asked softly.

“No..” He shook his head again, “A little. Just.. Fuckin’.. Gotta wash these now.”

I sighed, rolling onto my stomach and taking the pile of pillows in my arms, knowing that Hobie would come take his place underneath me soon enough, he just has to rid himself from his excitement.

He ran his hand smoothly down my spine, feeling the muscles relax under his fingertips.

“Go to sleep, darl’, ‘m gonna be a minute.”

“Wash ‘em tomorrow, I want you now.”

He took a sharp inhale, before finally giving in. “If I can’t get the stains out, you’re on clean up duty.” He threatened, though it was clear to tell it wasn’t genuine. He quickly slid into clean pj shorts before snaking his way into bed and pulling me away from the wetpatch and onto his chest.

“Hobes, missing somethin’.” I mumbled the reminder, being taken by sleep as I felt the warmth of his arms wrap around me.

“Mhm? What’s that?” 

“Where’s my ‘y’did so good’?”

“Y’did so good.” He huffed in amusement, placing a soft lingering kiss on my neck. “Y’took that real well, jus’ took everythin’ I gave ya’, ‘nd y’looked so pretty doin’ it, too. Wasn’t too much, was it?”

I shook my head weakly. “Was good.” I sighed, nuzzling into his neck and letting myself give into the exhaustion.

“I love ya’, darlin’.” He said finally, continuing his whispers of praise.

[violetsastrocytes]

unhinged regulus (my fave)

hey hello i thought i'd quickly talk about regulus in my lotss fic... i feel like people are gonna have problems with him—so here's some musings/ramblings etc!

so i really enjoy the idea of exploring human nature, and to me this means a flawed character. in lotss regulus is not a good person. there's good in him, sure, but on the whole he's morally corrupt and has a detrimental fuck-it-we-ball attitude. he relishes in destruction and indulges in his volatility. like he persuaded sirius to literally bind them together with a potentially fatal and 100% illegal spell at ten fucking years old, because he was like whelp. i'm gonna miss you when you go to highschool. and he's manipulative as shit, because sirius was like oh yeah, horcruxes, solid plan, and then does it.

regulus joins the army, yes to protect sirius, yes so sirius doesn't have to, but he would've joined anyway. he LOVES the power it gives him. he finds murdering fun. genuinely fun. he likes to tease his victims, he likes to draw their death out, he thinks it's hilarious when they cry and beg. and sure, okay, these are unambiuously bad people, veela traffickers etc, reg doesn't feel this way when he's on the battlefield and it's basically soldiers just like him. but still, it does take a certain character to not only carry out, but relish in murder.

i took a lot of inspiration for his and General Riddle's relationship from Silko and Jinx (from Arcane). i thought that dynamic was the best ever, like here are two hurt, damaged, chaotic and morally deranged people. they enable each other, they care for each other (genuinely). i'm obsessed with Arcane so think about it way too much, but Silko's last words to Jinx "you're perfect" make me wanna scream. because to him she is. that's what a daughter is to a father—a true father. flawed and tainted and morally ugly, blood all over her hands—but she is still his daughter, he forgives her, he loves her. despite, because of, regardless.

anyway my whole point with this ramble—i feel like lots of marauders fics ive read ultimately try and either validate, justify or redeem a character's unjust actions or corrupt nature. that's totally valid obviously, but that's not what i've done in lotss. regulus never regrets his behaviour, even when it ends up costing him someone he really, really loves. even then he continues to do it, he continues to enjoy it. he never has any big revelation and goes fuck. i messed up.

and general riddle—we've seen him manipulate, coerce and trap nagini. so we're against him. but then we see him from regulus' pov—who admires and trusts him—and he seems like a nice guy. so then we're like okay, is he a dick or is he nice? but isn't everyone both sides of that coin?

i really tried to show that while, on the whole, he's an upstanding leader, fighting for good causes (and is non-discriminative: there's a vast and inclusive representation of genders and races in the death eater army, something which is notably absent from the ministry-affiliated order and bmaf) even then riddle's hungry for more power. he wants to experiment and test the limits of his magic. my whole moral of the story thing with lotss is that power corrupts. there is NO GOOD SIDE. i'll say it again: no one wins in war.

like that line in hotd, where alicent says wtf are we even fighting for anymore? and rhaenyra is like lol idk. i was reading about the vietnam war recently: america and australia sent all those men in, then realised they were being fucking decimated and were like, oh fuck, and pulled them out again. thousands dead. literally for fucking what. anyway, all that to say: i'm not trying to use a character (regulus) who is generally well-liked by the fandom in order to try and justify or advocate for violence. his behaviour is just me experimenting with another way trauma can play out, like don't forget the circumstances of his birth, or the fact that he had to watch sirius being abused. sirius' magic was tested by orion to the point where he almost died multiple times. it effected sirius one way, it effected regulus another.

anyway! it's a story loves, not meant to be serious xo as i said before, take it all with a pinch of salt. and if you happen to watch arcane, tell me so we can try about it together!

[herwritingartcowboy]

Hey pookie sense u want ideas heres one!!!

submissive&breedable!ranpo who gets punished after reader catches them flirtong eith someone else for like candy or sumn idfk, and punishes him by tying him to the bed post and force his legs wide open so he has no choice but to take it, and reader could be GN with a strap/actual dick, whichever u prefer to write is fine, anywho while hes begging to cum while tears POUR down his face, reader lets him, BUT reader overstimulates him to the point that hes a braindead whore and cums at every little touch.

But if you dont write Ranpo smut u could mske a angsty one!!

Ranpo spends to much time eith this chcik who reader HATES, but ranpo doesnt care cause its his friend. Eventually reader walks in and finds them kissing in the kitchen or bedroom, and then reader kicks the chick out, AND HERES EHERE U GWT TO DECIDE!!

Option A: After the girl left, Reader starts to pack their bags and ranpo begs them not to leave, getting on his hands and knees infront of the door

1) reader forgives and forgets

2) reader still leaves LOL

option B: Reader tells ranpo to pack his shit and LEAVE LMFAOOOOO sorry anywho Ranpo is like whining that he doesn't wanna go and he wasn't actually kissing her or sumn

1) reader still forces ranpo to leave, in which, he does, but of course after some (alot) of crying

2) reader tels rsnpo to gtfo, but he doesn't listen and clings to reader all day long while saying "im sorry" ovrr snd over sgain

Or u could do both 😜

A/n: Thank You For these request. Here is the smut I will put the angst later.

Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogd

Character(s): Ranpo

Warning(s): Smut, Bonged, Sub Male, Dom Reader, Overstimulation,

Readers Gender: Gn

All Ranpo wanted was your attention. You have been out doing nothing but cases leaving poor him bored all day. So he did what he had to do and that was get up and comfortable with Poe, little to comfortable for your taste.

It was during another one of parties everyone threw and seeing enough of the flirting you took your boyfriends hand as you excused the both of you.

You two got home as without a second you were shoving your tongue down his throat as you both made your way to the bedroom.

"Strip", was all you said and that made him half naked sitting at the edge of the bed rubbing his thighs together. "You think that rubbing your thigs together would make me forget what you did", you said lifting Ranpos chin up making him look into your eyes. "Now lay down nice and comfortable", with that ranpo laid down smirking to himself not knowing on what is to come.

Ranpos hands are tied to the bed post with his legs over your shoulders as you thrust slowly into his whole. Tears came from his eyes as he feels sexualy frustrated. "What's with the tears baby", you whispered smirking down at the trembling body of Ranpo. "P-please move faster" "After what you did, Nah". You brought your hand down rubbing the head of Ranpos cock making he scream out as this wasn't enough for him. "P-please-I missed you" "Is that why you thought flirting would be a good option" "I-won't do it again-promise" "Promise" "Promise".

You leaned down pressing a kiss to his lip, "Well i'll give you what you want. I'm going to fill you up with me cum, so filled up to where you can even bare my children".

Your thrusting became faster making Ranpo moan out your name. You only got faster as you really did want to leave Ranpo filled with something else that is sweet. You knew Ranpo was close as he squealed out letting you know he is close and with a few more thrust he came but that only made you go faster and now Ranpo was crying from feeling to much.

"B-baby-please it hurts" "Dont worry-fuck- i'mma cum so hope your ready". With that your thrusting was making Ranpo more weak as he can only slur out his words. Once you felt you were about to cum again you leaned down kissing your boyfriend as you cum filled up Ranpo.

You both are left panting sweaty body together as you held your sweetheart. "Ranpo I promise i will take a week off just for the both of us, are you okay with that", it took Ranpo a few minutes before he smiled at you "All I want is for you to be with me" "And I will".

Bonus-

A knock came from your door as you opened it to see Atsushi. "Hey WereTiger, What's up?" "Well there were left over sweets so I thought you and mostly Ranpo would like some" "Well thank you young man i'll see you next week" "Next week?". Before anything you closed the door walking back to your shared seeing Ranpo rub at his eyes. "Who was that?" "Atsushi but don't worry he just brought sweets to share" "Well that's amazing, hurry I want them already".

[randum-famdoms]

Hello! I'm reading one of your fic's on ao3 and was wondering when it's gonna be updated? I ABSOLUTELY LOVE the fic and wanna know how long until we get a new chapter! Love your writing! And I was so happy to see that you gave Mishima such a cool persona! I love the fic so much! I've been ranting to my friends about it nonstop (even though neither of them have ever played the game) but they both sit there and listen nonetheless! (I may even try and convince them to read it! It's a pretty interesting take on the whole game! And the part where Akira is worried that Mishima will have a problem with him being gay and Mishima just like "If I had a problem with it I would've said something back in kamoshida's palace" was amazing! I love everything about it and I can't explain in words just why I love it so much! It's just amazing! If I was better at art I would LOVE to make some fanart of it!!! Again I can't explain just how much I love it! I hope you're doing well and aren't sick!

(How was the dog sitting by the way? Hope it went well!)

Ahshdjdkjfndbdkjdl thank you??????

I just. *scream*

The idea that people can love a silly little thing I write for fun this much is kinda unreal to me. Idk how to respond???? Thanks????

I mean, I’ve reacted like this to fics I have read before but having it turned into myself is trippy. Like this is some weirdly dream or some shit. Idk man. Shit’s wild.

Every time someone tells me how happy they are about the way I’m treating mishima in my fic I am further convinced that everyone who says he’s a bad character is a fucking coward and if more people would just make Mishima positive content then the fandom would be better off. He does not get enough love and appreciation and I will gladly take on the mantle of Mishima Ambassador. He is my blorbo, my boi, and I love him dearly. He deserves better, both in game and in the fandom, so I just did it myself.

Also, I ain’t about to beg you for fanart because you reading my fic is more than enough already and then you sent me this ask and Ann bear gave me a heart attack from joy, but trust me if you think you’re a bad artist I’ve seen worse. Much, much worse. I took an art class in a very sports heavy highschool and 90% of the kids in there were teenage boys who thought it would be an easy A. The first assignment was to draw a realistic hand. You’d think that they were AI with how bad some of them looked. So yeah, any hypothetical art you make is beautiful to me, especially because I’m fairly sure that if anyone made fanart of my fic I’d cry tears of joy <3

I tried really hard to update every week and I failed miserably, so I’ve made the decision to cut back to every other week. I’m like 85% sure that I’ll get the next chapter up this Sunday. I started my summer classes today and one of them (my English class) is cramming a 14 week course into 4 weeks, but I’ve always been pretty good at English/reading/writing so I’m hoping that that won’t ruin my update schedule AGAIN. I swear I can’t go two weeks without something fucking up my writing/editing time. We’ll see how it goes. I am not sick don’t worry, Just like, super fuckin tired cause my sleep schedule is fucked. I’m pretty good otherwise tho!

Dogsitting went well! I actually finished up with that yesterday. The little demon I was taking care of had absolutely no braincells, and was very annoying, and she kept pooping in my bathroom no matter how often I tried to take her outside to shit, but at least she’s small so it was easy to clean up and she was a good size to cuddle. Overall it was a 5/10 experience that was turned into a 9/10 because of the couple hundred dollar paycheck I got for it. The family I was doing it for is uncomfortably rich lol. Pretty sure some of it is blood money because the dad is an ex-cop turned middle school teacher (neither of which make good money) and the mom is a Russian immigrant stay-at-home mom and they somehow own a huge house in a really nice neighborhood and can afford a two week trip to the Caribbean on that income. I ain’t gonna complain tho.

I’m excited to get chapter 11 written and posted, I think it’s gonna be really fun! Lots of good plot and character development is gonna be happening :) the fic is really picking up now that we’ve finally gotten over all the exposition hurdles. Only took 60k words lol (I swear I thought that it would take half as long as it did to get to this point in the fic, at this rate the things gonna end up 800k words long and I’ll be dead before it’s finished)

[aliquistis]

kotor drabble

Just a little snippet that hit me while playing Kotor 2. I have basically no energy to write during the summer so it's nice when I get grabbed by inspiration.

Fandom: Knights of the Old Republic 2: The Sith Lords

Pairing: Atton/Exile (Exile is Kade Vesper)

cw: very brief and vague references to blood/violence

Words: 601

"Well." She stepped closer, standing next to where he sat in the pilot's seat. She looked out at the great wide nothing of space in front of them. It'd be a long trip to Nar Shadaa. "I'm going to bed."

She turned towards him and smiled. He pretended not to notice. Then she laid her hand gently on his shoulder and he couldn't pretend that away, so he glanced at her sidelong.

The smile. Bright as morning on Alderaan. Bright as the fires she'd left on Malachor V.

"Try to get some sleep, Rand. In a bed. Sleeping in this chair is going to mess up your back."

He didn't respond, and the hand dropped away. Some distant, stupid part of his mind wondered what he might have said to keep her there. He banished it, locked it away behind a fresh round of pazaak, tossed in a little wave of annoyance to further bury it.

She glanced at the expanse before them. "And don't stare at the stars too long. You know I've heard of spacers going nuts 'cause of that."

Atton scoffed. "Between you, the old witch, and boy wonder back there philosophizing about morality and destiny and all that other garbage, I'll consider myself lucky if it's the stars that get me."

She laughed. He busied his hands with the controls. Busied his mind with cards.

"Goodnight, Rand."

He heard her turn. He didn't look up.

"Night, Kade."

He fought it. He really did. His shoulder seemed to burn where she'd touched him. He sat and stewed for long seconds before the impulse broke him and he turned to watch her walk away. Down the hall now, robe brushing silently against the well-worn grating of the ship, just past the communications room. Almost immediately, he snapped his eyes back, rolling them like the traitors they were. He raked a hand over his face, pressure hard and palm gloved, relishing the discomfort it brought. Like a splash of cold water, it dragged him back to his senses.

"Get it together, Rand," he muttered. His eyes trailed downwards, following the movement of his fingers as they fell from his face.

How many times had he looked down at his hands and seen them busy at work? Pressing into skin or digging into flesh? Coated in blood or covered in black? How many times had he looked down and not seen them, cloaked by a stealth field mere moments before he struck a vital nerve on his next target. His next victim.

They'd always been steady. No matter the horrors he inflicted, the cruelties he'd seen, they'd always stayed steady. Begging, crying, screaming: nothing could shake him. Neither threats nor seductions would waver his resolve.

But when she smiled at him-

He clenched his fingers into a fist.

"Get it together."

He wouldn't let hope, of all things, be what broke him. Not after two wars and a body pile that could wall off the cockpit door. He lowered his hands back to the controls. Work. He needed to work. He needed to plot a course.

His eyes drifted up as his hands moved, meeting his own reflection against the backdrop of the stars beyond. A wan mirror of himself; the poor surface made his cheeks look sunken, his skin paler, the bags under his eyes deeper. A face he should recognize.

"Rand," he repeated, meeting his own eyes.

The dashboard's keypad was warm under his touch. Warm like blood that pooled between the webbing of his fingers, fragile like a pulse that fluttered in panic against his palm.

"Atton Rand."

[the-king-andthe-lionheart]

One thing this fandom doesn’t seem to understand is that Arya is often contrite and apologizes for her behavior.  We may not have seen her apologize after the Trident incident, but really, I think Sansa should be the one apologizing for that even though Arya did get physical with her.  But considering the context (Arya being out in the woods alone, without shelter or substantial food to eat, with minimal sleep for 3 days, and having to chase her wolf away, all after dealing with the trauma of almost being killed by Joffrey) I don’t really blame her for snapping.  Sansa never should have lied in the first place.  If anything she should have gone up to Arya later on and explained why she had to lie and apologize to Arya.  But instead she double downed and decided to place all the blame on Arya and Mycah, instead of the Cersei and Joffrey and Robert.

However, during their second altercation, we see Sansa being a nasty piece of work:

Arya screwed up her face in a scowl. "Jaime Lannister murdered Jory and Heward and Wyl, and the Hound murdered Mycah. Somebody should have beheaded them."

"It's not the same," Sansa said. "The Hound is Joffrey's sworn shield. Your butcher's boy attacked the prince."

"Liar," Arya said. Her hand clenched the blood orange so hard that red juice oozed between her fingers.

"Go ahead, call me all the names you want," Sansa said airily. "You won't dare when I'm married to Joffrey. You'll have to bow to me and call me Your Grace." She shrieked as Arya flung the orange across the table. It caught her in the middle of the forehead with a wet squish and plopped down into her lap.

"You have juice on your face, Your Grace," Arya said.

It was running down her nose and stinging her eyes. Sansa wiped it away with a napkin. When she saw what the fruit in her lap had done to her beautiful ivory silk dress, she shrieked again. "You're horrible," she screamed at her sister. "They should have killed you instead of Lady!"

So not only is Sansa lying about Mycah and victim blaming him in a very classist way, and trying to gaslight Arya, she also low-key threatens Arya by implying that once Sansa is queen consort she’ll make Arya’s life a living hell.  Then when Arya reacts (and yeah, this isn’t good, but it’s understandable and actually pretty normal sibling behavior unlike Sansa’s behavior towards Arya, Sansa declares that Arya should have been the one to die instead of Lady.  Very nice.

And then this is followed up with:

Sansa stalked away with her head up. She was to be a queen, and queens did not cry. At least not where people could see. When she reached her bedchamber, she barred the door and took off her dress. The blood orange had left a blotchy red stain on the silk. "I hate her!" she screamed. She balled up the dress and flung it into the cold hearth, on top of the ashes of last night's fire. When she saw that the stain had bled through onto her underskirt, she began to sob despite herself. She ripped off the rest of her clothes wildly, threw herself into bed, and cried herself back to sleep.

Then this is followed up with Ned coming into Sansa’s chambers with Arya, where Arya apologizes for her behavior and seems completely authentic in her apology. 

"Arya started it," Sansa said quickly, anxious to have the first word. "She called me a liar and threw an orange at me and spoiled my dress, the ivory silk, the one Queen Cersei gave me when I was betrothed to Prince Joffrey. She hates that I'm going to marry the prince. She tries to spoil everything, Father, she can't stand for anything to be beautiful or nice or splendid."

"Enough, Sansa." Lord Eddard's voice was sharp with impatience.

Arya raised her eyes. "I'm sorry, Father. I was wrong and I beg my sweet sister's forgiveness."

Sansa was so startled that for a moment she was speechless. Finally she found her voice. "What about my dress?"

"Maybe … I could wash it," Arya said doubtfully.

"Washing won't do any good," Sansa said. "Not if you scrubbed all day and all night. The silk is ruined."

"Then I'll … make you a new one," Arya said.

Sansa threw back her head in disdain. "You? You couldn't sew a dress fit to clean the pigsties." (Sansa III AGOT)

The fact that Arya actually tries to come up with a way of making things better by offering to clean the ruined dress herself, or make her a new one despite her lack of sewing skills, just tells me even more that the apology was real.  She’s trying to show how sorry she is.  But what does she get from Sansa?  Disdain and more insults.  Sansa never once in this chapter or following chapters ever questions her behavior here, never takes responsibility for her own actions, and thinks her actions here are all right.  Sansa even repeats her thoughts about how Arya always ruins things for her because Arya isn’t some perfect carbon copy of herself.  I mean the fact is, that Arya just showing her face ruins her “beautiful and nice and splendid” fantasies, because Sansa disdains Arya that much.  It’s one of the reasons why she wishes Arya was a bastard.  Here is the evidence that Sansa still doesn’t think she did anything wrong and tries to put all the blame on Arya:

"I didn't do anything wrong," Sansa pleaded with him. "I don't want to go back." She loved King's Landing; the pagaentry of the court, the high lords and ladies in their velvets and silks and gemstones, the great city with all its people. The tournament had been the most magical time of her whole life, and there was so much she had not seen yet, harvest feasts and masked balls and mummer shows. She could not bear the thought of losing it all. "Send Arya away, she started it, Father, I swear it. I'll be good, you'll see, just let me stay and I promise to be as fine and noble and courteous as the queen."

And then when Arya tries to comfort Sansa, we get Sansa behaving even more horribly:

"It won't be so bad, Sansa," Arya said. "We're going to sail on a galley. It will be an adventure, and then we'll be with Bran and Robb again, and Old Nan and Hodor and the rest." She touched her on the arm.

"Hodor!" Sansa yelled. "You ought to marry Hodor, you're just like him, stupid and hairy and ugly!" She wrenched away from her sister's hand, stormed into her bedchamber, and barred the door behind her.

Sansa never once apologizes to Arya.  And like I said before, Sansa never thinks her behavior is ever wrong, and she never takes responsibility for her actions.  Sansa is a fucking bully, and there was no evidence in the books before the Trident incident that Arya ever retaliated against Sansa or Jeyne, especially in a physical manner.  In fact, what we do see is Arya running away from them in Arya I AGOT when she just suspected that they were judging her and teasing her behind her back.  

Arya has nothing to apologize for, she already apologized.  And after this chapter Arya and Sansa never had another confrontation because Sansa ratted her father out to Cersei, so what the hell do these people think Arya has to apologize for?  Oh, I know, because they blame Arya for Lady’s death and think Arya got out of the Trident incident scott free, even though Arya also lost her own direwolf and had to deal with the grief and trauma of her friend Mycah’s death.  The death of a human being.  Not to mention, she was almost killed as well.  But then again these people also think that the bullying was mutual even though it wasn’t.  I blame the fucking show for this one making Arya the aggressor in their relationship instead of it being Sansa, even though there is zero evidence in the books that she was ever the aggressor.  Anyone who says that they both need to apologize or that they were equally to blame for their relationship isn’t an actual Arya fan.  You can like both Sansa and Arya and acknowledge canon and their actual canon relationship.

"I love the Stark sisters equally!!!Both of them need to apologize to each other for their past behavior"

These kind of opinions are gonna be my villain origin story

[malleux]

idk if my request went through cuz my internet went weird just now-- but anyways, could I perhaps get a soft corpse x reader in which they're all playing among us and Rae or Sean invites (y/n), who none of them have every heard of, and she's just very shy but has an adorable childlike voice, and is an incredible imposter? Like she's just super convincing just like corpse, and can tug at the heartstrings with her voice? thank you!

spell. | corpse husband

part two ; part three

-> Pairing: Corpse Husband x Fem!Reader

-> Fandom: uhh youtubers? idk

-> Genre: Fluff, Crack

-> Warnings: Cursing

-> A/N: hi it’s a long overdue corpse fic :) it’s not the absolute best and for that i’m super sorry i’ve just got to get in the groove of writing for him!

corpse husband taglist is closed!

You were never one to enjoy the spotlight. Instead, you were often found in the background of things, just observing the extroverts who managed to get themselves in the middle of everything.

You had a nerve to admire them- their ability to just get out there and show their true selves, despite so many people watching their every move. Just the thought of it made you shudder. Yet you couldn’t help but also be rather envious of them.

Them, in question, being Sean McLoughlin.

You weren’t quite sure how you became associated with Jacksepticeye himself, choosing to focus on the present and future with your friend rather than dwelling on your past. He was just Sean, your internet friend. And also Jacksepticeye- a famous youtuber with millions of followers.

Sean was who you aspired to be in life. Outgoing, happy, out there, everything positive in life that Sean had, you wanted.

He’d confided in you often about how nervous he’d get before streams or videos, fearing that he’d say the wrong thing or upset his fans, but he still put on a brave face and went out into the chaos. That’s what you admired. His ability to conquer those anxieties.

You wished you could do that. You were simply too nervous.

Which is why when Sean facetimed you one night- morning, actually, seeing as it was 3am in California, where you were- asking you to join a game of Among Us for one of his videos, you adamantly refused.

“Why? Please, Y/N, we need one more person.” Sean begged, “It’ll be me, you, Felix, Ethan, Corpse, Julien, PJ, and Dave. Not everyone’s playing today, it’s a smaller crowd.”

“But it’s still a lot.” You groaned, “I don’t even know them. I just know you.”

“They’re nice! You literally watch their videos.” He argued back.

“That’s the point, Sean! They’re famous, I’d just be some random chick in the game that everyone asks where the fuck she came from.”

“No, you’ll be the girl that everyone adores. Now get on, we’re playing in ten.”

You sighed as the phone hung up and turned on your computer. A Discord invite was waiting for you- Sean must have invited you for you to talk to everyone as you played. You accepted with shaky fingers and put your headphones on, pulling up Among Us and typing in the game code.

“Hello everyone- wait, who’s pink?”

“She’s a good friend of mine,” Sean explained to Felix, “Say hi Y/N. We’re streaming live right now.”

“Hello,” You couldn’t help the meek tone in your voice, smiling shyly as if you were actually on camera. “Wait, you’re streaming? Sean, I thought you said it was a recording for a video.”

“I, well. It’s a video all right.”

The group laughed, but you stayed silent, fixating your attention on a lower voice that chimed in at the end.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m Corpse.”

“The King of Imposters.” PJ joked, making Corpse laugh.

You giggled a bit, “Hi…”

Felix gasped. “Corpse, her voice is like, the total opposite from yours. Her’s is so cute.”

Corpse laughed as well. “Agreed. I like it.”

As the game loaded, your heart practically dropped.

Imposter.

As if your nerves weren’t bad enough as they were. But, on the bright side, you were with Sean as the other imposter. At least it was someone you knew.

You both split up, you heading towards Electrical. Corpse and Felix were close behind you, Felix following you into the room while Corpse left. You pretended to do your task for a minute before moving to your left a minute and killing Felix.

You rushed out of the room and then headed to Navigations, making sure to avoid anybody who could have seen you leave Electrical. A few moments later, a body was reported.

“Where was it?” Sean asked Julien, the reporter.

“Electrical.”

“I saw Y/N go in there with him at the beginning of the game.” Corpse joined in, “I saw them as I was going to the Reactor.”

“I was in Electrical with him,” You admitted, still acting a bit shy. What could you say, deep voices and new people made you nervous. “But after that I left and went to do my task in Navigation. Felix was still alive and there when I left.”

“Did you pass anyone sus on the way there?” Sean asked.

“No, if they came in after I did it must’ve either been from the other way or after I was already in Electrical.” You started picking at your nail polish- a habit of yours when things got a little overwhelming.

“So you’re saying that it could’ve been from the direction Corpse was in?” You could hear the smirk in Sean’s voice.

“Whoa, whoa, hold up. Why are you so quick to throw me under the bus? I’m just a crewmate.” Corpse questioned, “You’re pretty sus if you ask me.”

Sean scoffed, “I’m just inferring that the culprit came from your direction. Never in my words did I say it was you. Sounds like you’re getting a little too defensive for someone who’s ‘just a crew mate’.”

“Uh, guys,” You quietly spoke up. You didn’t expect anyone to hear you, but Corpse and Sean immediately quieted down at your voice. “I hate to interrupt, but we’ve got to vote. I don’t want us to argue…”

Sean laughed. “Oh little Y/N, you’re too sweet. I’m skipping this round.”

As you voted to skip as well, your stomach clenched when you heard Corpse quietly repeat “Little Y/N”.

꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂꧁꧂

“It’s Y/N, I’m fucking telling you! Y/N!” Julien was practically screaming at this point. You tried to stay calm, focusing on keeping your voice steady.

The group had been calling you cute and adorable practically all night, so you were seriously about to put that to use.

“I was in Medbay with Corpse, isn’t that right, Corpse?” Your tone was sweet and slightly flirty- hopefully he’d get the hint.

Corpse hesitated for a millisecond- long enough for your breath to catch, but short enough for nobody else to notice. “Yeah, she was with me.”

“She was with you after she vented there!” Julien cried, “I can’t believe this- she killed Ethan and vented away right as I went into the room! You all are fucking nuts if you don’t believe me.”

“I don’t even know how to vent…” You murmured innocently, but in reality you were smirking. Julien was definitely telling the truth, and you were internally beating yourself up for letting yourself be so reckless after a kill, but nobody was seemingly buying his story.

There was only you, Corpse, Julien, Dave, and PJ left. Sean was voted off after fucking up his alibi, leaving you alone with the rest of the group.

Corpse sighed. “You all heard the girl. She doesn’t even know how to vent.”

“Wh- she just fucking vented!” Julien exclaimed, “Corpse, man, she’s got you under some fucking magic spell if you can’t see all the evidence. Guys, back me up here.”

“She’s sus.” Dave admitted, “And Corpse defending her makes it even more sus.”

“The spell she tried on him obviously got the best of him. I say we vote Y/N.” PJ agreed.

“There’s no spell, guys, oh my God.” Corpse laughed, “I just don’t think it’s her. I’m skipping.”

“I can’t believe you guys don’t believe me!” You whined, deciding to go further with your emotional tactics, “I’m literally about to cry. It’s not me!”

And yet, despite your protests, Dave, PJ, and Julien all voted you out. Crewmates had won the game and you were giggling nearly like a maniac as everyone gushed about how you did as an Imposter.

A bit later, you had to say goodbye to your new friends and face the reality that their fans would definitely find who you were by tomorrow. Or like, in a few hours, because it was already 4am. Corpse was in California as well, wasn’t he? He should be getting some sleep too, you thought. But maybe sleep schedules were different for Youtubers. You didn’t know.

You pondered the thought for a moment before the notification sound for Discord alerted you of a new message on your phone.

Corpse:

Just letting you know, your voice definitely had me under a spell. I’d like to hear it more often

[buckysboobs]

BEG ME TO STOP || k.p.

Warnings: degradation, slapping, spit kink, spanking, choking, daddy kink, slight consent play, dom!kai, just 1.6k words of really rough and filthy smut. Also it's my first time writing smut and I got carried away so oops?

He's busy reading the grimoire while she sits and watches him and the way her LED lights cast a reddish hue all over the room. He looked dangerous, and she was feeling like playing with fire.

"Malachai." She calls out, heart thumping against her chest. He replies with a 'Hmm?' without taking his eyes off the book.

"Give me attention."

He looks up at her. She's on the bed laying upside down, eyes hopeful and locked on his crotch. For some reason they're always locked there. It is a very nice sight.

"No." And with that, he's back to reading.

She gets up and slowly walks over to the chair.  She snatches the book away from him and straddles his lap.

His hands push up to her waist to still her.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asks, gaze hard, an eyebrow raised. She throws the book over her shoulder and looks right into his eyes.

"Daddy, please give me attention." 

Once he realizes what she really wants, his features soften and his hand comes up to cup her cheek.

"Yeah?" he asks. She nods.

It was unpredictable, how he suddenly yanked her by the hair and darned a slap upon her cheek. She moaned, heat rising up her skin. 

"Always so thirsty for daddy's attention, aren't you? Such an attention seeking whore." 

She made the infamous puppy eyes at him, "I'm sorry daddy, just wanted your touch."

"Oh with that attitude i'm gonna give you a hell of a lot more than that." 

With that being said he holds her close and whooshes away to their bedroom. He throws her on the bed, his lips immediately pressing to her lips. She starts sucking on his tongue when his hand wraps around her throat, his fingers applying sight pressure as her mouth snaps open and a gasp escapes the back of her throat.

He spits into her mouth. 

She hums in content, swallowing and opening her mouth for more. He slaps her again. 

"Don't be a greedy bitch now, darling." He commands, lips attaching to her neck and sucking cherry shaded bruises into her skin.

"Daddy please…" she cries, small hands trying to pry open his shirt, "I want to feel you!"

"Of course you do." he smiles, and with a snap of his fingers his shirt is off. She presses her lips to his shoulders, open mouthedly sucking, loving the salty-sweet taste of his skin. His hot breath fans over the side of her neck and down her chest as he's licking wide stripes, fingers pushing into her hips.

"Off." he mumbles against her skin and with a heavy tug, he pulls down her panties. He shoves his fingers into her mouth and she rolls her tongue around them, sucking like there's no tomorrow. He pulls them back with a pop and she blushes red when his index finger rubs against her clit, furiously applying pressure. A heavy gasp escapes her throat when Kai starts kissing down her stomach, licking into her navel and down to her heat. She presses her thighs together, almost trapping his head between them when he pries them apart with his hand and moves back up to lick into her mouth.

"Daddy please…" she whines, pushing her heat back and forth on his fingers, trying to get some friction and he sniggers mockingly.

"Getting yourself off on my fingers… what a fucking slut." With that being said he abruptly reaches down and licks a wide stripe up her gaping cunt.

"Oh shit!" she cries out, earning herself a spank.

Kai's prickly beard rubs against her pussy and inner thighs as he eats her out like she's delicacy, tongue reaching in and out of her core and thumb rubbing harsh circles on her clit. Without warning, he pushes two fingers in and she gasps, hand yanking on the sheets to ground herself.

His experienced mouth sucks on her clit, fingers furiously thrusting in and out of her pussy, mind reveling in her cries and gasps of pleasure and mouth full of her sweet taste. His long and thick fingers scissor her open, thrusting hard against her insides, basically tearing her apart and he's not even started.

She pushes down on his fingers when Kai comes to level with her, whispering dirty things into her ear.

"Grind on 'em," he moans, his dick getting impossibly hard against his jeans at the mouth watering sight of her, skin red, hair spread out all over the sheets and eyes filled with tears. Her mouth looked puffy and a cry escaped her parted lips when he gave a particularly hard thrust with his fingers. 

She feels a heat pool in her belly and cries out, "Daddy i'm close!"

Kai pulls back and she whines in protest. 

"I was so close!" she says, breathing heavily as she watches Kai play with the buckle of his belt. 

"Make daddy feel good and he'll let you come."

That's an offer she can't refuse so it barely takes her a minute before she's on her knees, pulling down Kai's jeans and watching his hard cock bounce against his stomach. Kai's hand comes down to rest atop her head, slightly pulling at a few strands of hair as she takes the tip into her mouth, giving kitten licks to the head.

Kai slaps her across the face, his fingertips burning her skin. "Don't be a tease, bitch."

Tears roll down her cheek and she moans around his cock, taking all of it down, the gag reflex she had worked so hard on finally coming into use. Kai yanks at her hair roughly, thrusting into her mouth while her hands rest on his thighs. He shoves his cock harder into her warm mouth, letting out breathy moans at the sounds of which her heat begins to pool again and her hand reaches down to play with her clit.

Kai sees that and pulls out of her mouth, spitting onto her face and darns another slap onto her cheek. She cries out loud, her pussy pulsing wet and throbbing.

"Nasty little bitch," he snorts bitterly, shoving his cock down her throat again and yanking her head back by the hair, "I didn't allow you to touch yourself, did I?"

She moans and it sends vibrations around his cock, he's thrusting harder when she feels him twitch and his seed is spilling down her throat.

"Swallow it." he warns, even though he knows he doesn't have to tell her. She swallows it like it's delicacy and she's been starving forever, closing her eyes and humming in content. Kai pulls out and she opens her mouth to show him that she had, indeed, swallowed it all.

"That's my girl." he praises and she beams at the response. However, the soft moment is over when he grabs her and pushes her against the wall, tongue plunging into her mouth.

She grips his shoulders but he doesn't take it, instead he thrusts hard into her pussy. His hands find hers and their fingers intwine, Kai holding them beside her head as he thrusts roughly without warning. She cries out, but the pain subsides soon and she's dwelling in the pleasure that comes with his animalistic thrusts. Her body's bobbing up and down with every thrust and Kai is grunting right into her ear, his breath tickling her skin and hands holding her down. She's crying because it feels so good and it hurts so good, his thick cock ramming into her tight cunt and heat striking every inch of her skin, his pubic bone slapping against hers. He pulls out for a second and whooshes them away to the bed where he flips her onto her front and enters her from behind, ripping a scream from her lips. He's cheating with his vampirism too, his thrusts hard and deep when he changes the angle. He grabs her neck and pulls her back up against his chest, pounding into her mercilessly while she screams his name. 

His hand comes down to brush against her clit and she starts to cry even louder, "Fuck! Fuck i'm going to cum!"

"Go on, bitch, come for me" he whispers in her ears but his thrusts never stop, he fucks her through her orgasm, still pounding hard and furious when she begs him to stop.

"That's a good girl, beg." He fucks her hard and rough and she screams, tears rolling down her cheeks and pausing at her chin, her fluids slipping down her thighs. She could have used the safe word if she wanted to , but she truly didn't because the pain and the overstimulation felt so heavenly.

"I'm gonna fill you up." Kai snarls, fucking into her roughly and rubbing fast circles on her clit, lips attaching to her ear, "I'm gonna bury my seed in your tight little cunt, breed you like a bitch in heat."

"Oh god daddy oh shit— FUCK!" she cries as another orgasm washes over her and he thrusts even harder if possible, flipping her onto her back and throwing her legs over his shoulder, he fucks her into oblivion where she's completely at his mercy. 

It hurts so good. She feels his thrusts get slower and realizes he must be close to his own orgasm but this didn't stop him as a loud groan escaped his throat and he fucked her like an animal. 

With another thrust he's spilling into her, washing her pussy with his seed and leaving his cock buried tight into her as he collapses right on top of her, breathing heavily. Her hand comes up to play with his hair and he gives her cheek a soft kiss before pulling out, making her wince.

"I wanna cuddle, daddy." she mumbles, and he smiles at her, laying right beside her on the dirty sheets as he opens his arms and she falls right into them.

___________

@1-800-khaleesii

@rome5683

@genevivetaylor

@slut4kai

@fandom-strumpet <33

[thesiriusmoon]

Harry Potter ships I truly hate

Disclaimer: I’m not telling you who to ship and whatnot, I’m just expressing how awful these ships are to me and then explaining why.

1. Harry X Draco

Now this is coming from a former drarry stan who before, hadn’t read the books. I thought Draco ‘had no choice’ and ‘just wanted love’ until I opened my eyes and saw the character for who he really was. That is a spoiled blood supremacist who hates muggleborns, and is loved by both of his parents. Draco bullied Harry. Although Harry fought back, it was because he was the victim and had to defend himself. Harry never went out of his way to hurt Draco, but Draco did it constantly. Draco and Harry would never work because Harry hated Draco just as much as Draco did him. You could ship Harry with so many others that wouldn’t be toxic such as, Ginny, Cho, maybe Hermoine (but I prefer Romoine), maybe even Ron if you want to. (I don’t ship Harry and Cedric because the ages are too weird). It’s so obvious throughout the entire book that Harry didn’t have romantic feelings for Draco, he only ever thought he was doing bad things, seeing as he was a bad person. Harry found love in Ginny in like the fifth book? Which is when the crush started, and no one else was in the picture for him once he began dating Ginny. In conclusion, Ginny is the one he married and had children with, not Draco, because he hated him and wanted nothing to do with him as he was nothing but a bully who hated muggles and muggleborns. Seeing as Harry is a half blood, and his mother was muggleborn, why do you think Harry would turn around and be like “oh he’s just broken I’ll fix him.” And ignore everything Draco ever said about his family???? That’s such a toxic thing to think... because believe it or not, in a relationship you’re supposed to be with someone you like as a person. Just because you may find Draco attractive, that doesn’t make him a good person!! Harry would never choose Draco over anyone for that matter. If it were between Ginny or Draco to be saved, you better bet on Harry saving Ginny.

2. Hermoine X Draco

I genuinely hate this ship with my entire being. It disgusts me. This isn’t an enemies to lovers, this is literally bully X victim. Hermoine didn’t fight back, meaning Draco was the full oppressor and she was the oppressed. Draco is a blood supremacist who called Hermoine a mudblood constantly and hated her, and the feeling was mutual from Hermoine because why would anyone like their bully? Falling in love with your bully is a book trope, that doesn’t happen in real life. When Hermoine was being tortured in Malfoy Manor, Draco stood and watched because he didn’t care, meanwhile Ron, the boy Hermoine was attracted to and loved, was screaming and crying begging for him to take her place so she would be protected. That’s true love, something Hermoine and Draco will never have. I really will never understand why so many people love shipping victims with their oppressors... like do you get a sick kick out of it by babying the oppressor? Saying things like “oh he’s just unloved” or “he can change!” When none of that is true. Draco chose to be who he is, which is a blood supremacist and was loved by his family, and Hermoine chose not to ever engage with him because of his personality and attitude. Draco hated her, and everyone else like her because of their status, and overall, Hermoine just isn’t attracted to him. Hermoine is attracted to Ron and he’s the only person I can see dating Hermoine because everyone else would be a bit strange. Dramoine is unbelievably toxic, and all it does is romanticise abuse. “Oh Draco only bullied her for 7 years because he was afraid to love her.” Stfu. You’d never hurt someone you love. Draco bullied her because he thought he was ABOVE her, and she was nothing but dirt on his shoe.

3. Hermoine X Pansy

When it comes to fanon, I still don’t understand why it gets shipped because in order to do that, you have to change Pany’s entire personality to the point where it’s not even Pansy anymore. It’s just some nice girl with the same name. Because the real Pansy bullied Hermoine and made it known how much she didn’t like her. Not only that, but Pansy was head over heels for Draco. This isn’t an enemies to lovers, this is shipping the bully with the victim for some weird reason... because Hermoine didn’t fight back just like Hermoine X Draco. If they were both at each other’s throats I could see your enemies to lovers, but that’s just not what this is. If you ship them because you’re looking for a wlw ship, why not take a look at Ginny X Luna, Lavender X Parvati, or even Tonks X Fleur, rather than picking the toxic ship that would never ever work and would only hurt Hermoine. Ron Weasley exists for a reason. Again, shipping someone with their oppressor is a very weird thing to do. For example, Ron is a pureblood, but Ron wasn’t prejudice towards muggles or muggleborns, because he’s a decent and normal person. Pansy and Draco aren’t decent people, and they bullied people. Really there isn’t much else to say as all canon stuff about Pansy is about her bullying people, and encouraging people to capture Harry because SHE’S A BLOOD SUPREMACIST THAT’S ALL SHE IS. Hermoine is a strong and independent woman and would NEVER date someone prejudice like that, she has standards.

4. Lily X Snape

We have to stop with this “she can fix him” mentality, because women don’t exist to fix men. Either Snape was a good person, or a bad person. He should be able to choose that himself. Which he was actually, and he was very clearly a bad person. You can’t force someone to be attracted to another. Attraction forms on its own, and it’s something Lily never had for Snape, they were only friends. To say that Lily owed Snape something because he liked her... is so wrong and disgusting. If she doesn’t like him, she doesn’t like him and Snape should fucking move on instead of obsessing over her. But, Snape overall was a creep so you can’t say “oh he made a mistake” when that man knew EXACTLY what he was doing. Ripping Lily’s happy photograph of her with her husband and baby, and taking the letter she wrote for Sirius who Snape could pretend she did that for him. Literally disgusting. Even the friendship was toxic. When reading I realised that Snape played the victims card a lot when talking about the marauders as if he wasn’t doing WORSE thing to them. Lily knew that Snape wanted to join Voldemort, as seen in the books. ‘You and your previous little death eater friends — you see, you don’t even deny it. You don’t even deny that’s what you’re aiming to be! You can’t wait to join you-know-who, can you?” Then she says “I can’t pretend anymore, you’ve chosen your way, and I’ve chosen mine.” Lily PRETENDED that Snape wasn’t going to be a death eater because she didn’t want to believe that her own friend would hate her kind so much. Though once reality hit her she was gone and was never coming back. To ship someone who was oppressed with the oppressor is so weird and wrong, and I genuinely think you’re strange if you do that 😐. Snape already didn’t like Lily having other friends... so what does that tell you about what kind of relationship they would have? A manipulative one and an emotionally abusive one. James Potter was a pureblood, and not once did he ever bully someone for their blood status. He did things to Snape because Snape was a prejudice piece of shit and deserved it quite frankly. I would have done the exact same thing. Remember, the Potter’s were ‘blood traitors’ and Snape was a blood supremacist, of course the two aren’t going to like one another. But the difference is, Snape bullied innocent people (laughing at the fact Mary MacDonald was subdued to dark magic) and James fought back for those without voices. Getting revenge for people who couldn’t do it themselves. That’s the difference between a bully and a hero tbh. There’s no way Lily would ever date a death eater, she’s a strong woman who can make up her mind for herself rather than having people on the internet say things like “she was brainwashed!” And things like that. She became attracted and fell in love with a respectful man who would never cause her any type of emotional or physical harm.

In conclusion, I will judge you if you think shipping abusers/oppressors with their victims is ok in any way.

If you made it this far, feel free to comment or reblog with your own opinion. Just know that my opinion on these ships will never change because they’re all extremely toxic whether you like it or not. That’s just common sense. It’s canon that Draco, Pansy, and Snape were horrible people who liked to make fun of others. Fanon doesn’t mean a single thing in this because fanon isn’t real. If you have to change the entire personality of someone so they aren’t abusive... what does that tell you about their character? A lot of people do this because they like how a character looks, which is so tone deaf. If you think a victim should date their oppressor because of looks... I’m judging you heavily. If a character is wrote to be abusive, I don’t understand people do fan art of them with the people they hurt in a romantic way.

You might say I’m being over dramatic, but really it’s not that hard to understand that you shouldn’t romanticise abuse or say that oppressor X victim would make the perfect couple just because of their looks.

Would you ever ship Neville with Draco? No you wouldn’t. And it’s not for the reasons you would think. I bet if Neville was conveniently attractive (in the books, I love Matthew.) people would have shipped him with Draco despite Draco mercilessly bullying Neville for 7 years. A lot of people would have made excuses like “Draco was broken!” In order to be able to ship two attractive men together. (Which also plays into fetishisation of lgbt+ couples I think...) This fandom is rather toxic when it comes to this, and they’d rather ship a very abusive relationship with two conventionally attractive people rather than a loving one with two people that aren’t.

[myriadof-fandoms]

Please give us the essay 🥺

damn thank you for indulging me 👉👈 i'd love nothing more so:

let's start this of with probably my fav thing about stranger things: subtext. so much of this show, of these characters is subtext. especially when it comes to billy. there is not a lot actually explicitly stated in the show about his character. a lot that is treated as a fact is made up by the fandom by what really is more subtext of the scenes we see with him. particularly from season 2.

apropos season 2 billy. definitely not a great brother figure i think we can all agree. a reckless 17-year old with a lot of anger issues. i have a whole essay about the different possible characterisations of him too, someone stop me. his interactions with max? not great. absolutely not great. i personally think calling it abusive goes a bit far but that's just me. i also think there is a lot to be said for his actions maybe being screwed up ways of showing affection but that again is another essay in itself.

however as it is in season 2 we have: no kind words between max and billy, no real emotion unless it's anger or fear or frustration, max specifically talking with obvious disdain about him.

what do we have in season 3? none of the above.

i mean even s2 ends with billy looking at max in something that looks like contemplation, there's no disdain, and i would venture to say even affection in his look but obviously that's subjective. what isn't subjective is that despite max taking him out before, the season doesn't end violently between them. it ends just with them looking at each other.

now in s3? things are vastly different.

when max talks about billy in s3 it's in a way that just screams annoyed little sister. "wrong is kind of his default" said while smiling. to her friend. no reason to be pretending. and while they are in his room. listen my good dudes idk but that's not really what you'd do if you were being abused by someone.

especially bc in s2 max was clearly scared of billy and what he'd do. she was visibly scared when he held her arm in the car, she made lucas stay behind in the arcade, she turned the steering wheel, "he'll kill me, he'll kill us". if she'd been feeling that fear in s3 still she probably would not have gone as far as to enter his room. she was actively trying not to aggravate him before and in s3 it doesn't seem at all like she fears any consequences from him.

another important point: she is obviously upset by the idea of billy being flayed. she says so multiple times. she denies the chance of it. not particularly how you'd expect someone to react if they were feeling indifferent or hateful towards someone?

she also offers him up to be spied on by el in the first place. again why'd she do that if she were feeling as upset by him as she was in the previous season? also the only thing she warns eleven of is billy potentially being with a girl. like that's the worst she could imagine him doing.

max is also not particularly surprised by how nice billy acts when they find him with the holloways. when he is being perfectly polite, introduces her as his sister, and is nice to her. sure she looks a bit confused in the moment but ultimately summarises the evening to mean he's normal.

the sauna scene. honestly. the main point. she at first doesn't even want to do it. my baby is deep in denial. "i hope it's not you." and then she is visibly upset when they do put him in the sauna. before he's activated billy is begging her to believe him. and listen my dudes if he was feeling spiteful or disdainful towards her? he probably wouldn't be doing that. "please believe me max" he trusts her. when she asks him to explain further, he does. she wants to help him. there's enough affection between them that seeing him completely breaking down makes max cry.

moving onto my least favourite scene: his death. max' shock upon seeing him dying and begging for him to stay alive. mh. yeah idk. her guilt in s4 as well (i'm not gonna go into what else went on in s4 bc i'm not yet done with my rewatch) oh also just that she touches him without hesitance when he's on the floor. and sure he's clearly wounded but there is no hesitance on her side to get in his space at all. same as before when she was trying to get through to him when he was coming towards her, eleven and mike. she stands there and talks to him right until he is in her space and doesn't flinch away from him. yes abuse or hate are different and don't show for everyone the same way but also. this is very atypical behaviour, at multiple times just saying.

then there is the obvious grief. (granted i think grief itself doesn't necessarily mean that the person who's gone wasn't abusive or just shitty, simply bc it's not as black and white as people would like to make it out to be.) and then i mean obviously people grieve differently but also i personally think the fact that she is shown in his room does kind of point towards a better relationship too, it's a clear admittance at least to herself that she is missing him to a degree. she is seeking out his presence in a way? from what i know about grieving someone you didn't particularly want around the part of missing them is hard to accept. but again not my main point and also not a fact just yk my personal thoughts.

lastly i could also bring up my favourite thing ever: in s2 max knows how to drive the camaro and someone has to have taught her. it was billy and you can't change my mind. so even before s2 maybe there was a better relationship? .. there could be other clues for that too but yeah no i think i've made my point:

billy hargrove and max mayfield had an at least decent relationship by s3, thank you for your time. @ the duffers i'll meet you about this in a parking lot somewhere and i'll bring my k*ll nancy instead of steve presentation.

[chronic-claire-universe]

congratulations, baby! 🥳 i wish you all the best 💓

may I join your birthday event, please?

I'm really short (around 152 cm), I have long dark brown hair, brown eyes, wear glasses, my pronouns are she/hers, I'm a med student haha and my mbti is enfj. When I'm not studying or working, I love to read fantasy and romance books, and play video games as well >.<

my kinks are mostly praise, bondage, slightly degradation, body worship, I might be a monsterfucker since I'm a whore for sukuna lol

fandoms: jjk and haikyuu

I'll look foward what you gonna write! I'm sure it'll be wonderful, thank you 💓

Sofi, I'm finally here and let me tell you, it's really kind of you to write these nice words for me, I hope I won't disappoint your expectation 💜

Here your escort for my birthday party:

Warnings: Bondage, Praise Kink, Degradation, Minors DNI, 18+.

Jujutsu Kaisen: Satoru Gojo

My girl Sofi, you share the same mbti of the coolness made in person and this could be a strange match up, but there's a reason on why I chose him: you study medicine and as your colleague I know how much stress this can result in.

Gojo is a teaser, but his cerulean deep eyes knows when to stop his brat and spoiled behaviour and take care of you, the man is full of money and when free from his work he loves to spend days at the spa and going to patisserie with you.

Gojo developed a strange habitude staying with you, he loves spying you at traineeship because he loves how the white coat dress on you.

He loves seeing you so confident while discussing with the other students or the doctors, he's a full supporter of your career and he KNOWS that it's going to be a succesful one.

What do you do in exchange for him? I mention the white coat, (yeah you know about it), waiting at home bare body and just white coat on is a huge turn on for the cotton candy man.

Overstimulation and praise are a mantra for him, he loves whispering how good you're taking his cock and encourages you while tearing cause "Sato too big..mh".

When both of you are free or you're especially stressed from the exam session he takes his time, tying you up and playing with temperature, all while blinded. LINK

Haikyuu: Tetsuro Kuroo

Girl you scream coolness from every pore of your being this means that only hot clever guys go with you!

Kuroo is well, hot and this is canon, but inside he's still humble and kind, he enjoys and cherish his time with you even though you're studying.

He loves details such as your furrowed eyebrows, hair in a messy bun and glasses, your face is prone to the anatomy book and you can't see it, but he looks sincerely in love with you (just like in the photo).

Kuroo as like Gojo loves to see you in your white coat, he finds it really sexy, especially if you wear high heels and the glasses with a hairstyle.

He loves to strip you out of that clothes and stare at you all naked under him, making you blush.

He's a teaser, he loves hearing you beg to lick your clit before going crazy, he'll gladly do it cause your moans are everything for him.

He's not really one into praising you, instead in keeps on teasing you and degrading you.

"You begged for this cock and now you can't even take it without crying, what a useless slut", his words are mean but his body screams love, cause he will slow down while caressing your clit to help you cum, an unconventional lover is coming! LINK

Sofi this was it, I don't know if you wanted this type of nsfw but with these two I couldn't help but write! If you want to leave a gift of appreciation my Ko-Fi is opened, thanks for coming by 💜

[rax-writes]

Enchanted - Part II

Fandom:  The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina Pairing:  Caliban x Reader Warnings:  Violence, death + resurrection Notes:  Part I ♥ Here’s part two! Hope you all like it!

Your relationship with Caliban did not remain a secret for long. Your sister was the first to know.

As you jogged over to her at the carnival the following weekend, you said, “Sister, I have good news and bad news. The good news is that I know how the Plague Kings’ plan to overthrow you. They’ll be keeping an eye on you for any missteps, and once given probable cause, they will force you and Caliban to embark on a quest to retrieve the Unholy Regalia.”

She was visibly stunned, and understandably so. “That’s great! But how did you find all that out?”

“That would be the bad news.”

As if on cue, Caliban then materialized, and wrapped an arm around your waist – which was immediately noticed by Sabrina.

“What did you rope my sister into?” she snarled at Caliban, but you held up a hand to silence them both before the bickering began.

“Caliban came to me and stated that he wished to court me. I first tried to convince him to end the coup in exchange for courtship, but he explained that even if he wanted to, he is unable to stop the Kings. So, instead, the exchange became useful information for courtship.”

“Mhmm,” Sabrina mused disbelievingly, glaring at the man at your side. “And for how long does she have to date you?”

“The only requirement to fulfill our agreement is a single date, hence our presence at this mortal affair,” Caliban answered, then smiled warmly at you. “After that, the status of our courtship is up to my lady.”

“Oh. Well, that’s not so bad,” Sabrina muttered, then shrugged as she turned to you. “At least you can get this night over with and never have to see him again.”

“In all honesty… I am not entirely opposed to seeing him again,” you admitted hesitantly, and Sabrina’s jaw dropped slightly as her brows furrowed in agitation. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, Sister. For Satan’s sake, have you seen him? He’s more than a little easy on the eyes.”

Caliban chuckled, both at your compliment and your sister’s obvious annoyance. “Come, little dove. Let us explore this fanciful event.”

Though the evening had been a delight, and you enjoyed your time with your date, you couldn’t help but notice that Caliban seemed slightly on edge all night. After the sun had gone down, and you’d surveyed the majority of the carnival, Caliban requested to take you to dinner in a nice restaurant. You agreed, and he thoroughly surprised you by taking you to a quiet, romantic rooftop restaurant in Italy, having remembered you stating that Italian was your favorite food. It was the following morning before you realized that he’d been sensing the impending danger of Herod’s attack. Coincidentally, he had disappeared for a short while during dinner, and although he’d claimed to have gone to the restroom, you learned from Sabrina the following morning that he’d actually returned to Greendale to collect King Herod's crown.

Naturally, the two of you had bickered about him cheating your sister the next time you were together, but his soft lips and skilled hands had done wonders to dissipate your anger. Although you refused to admit it, you were positively hooked from thereon out.

You told yourself that you continued the dates and the trysts simply because it was merely an enjoyable pastime. But in truth, it was because you were slowly falling for the prince. Knowing it was a mistake due to his allegiance to Hell, and his position as the enemy of your sister, created a forbidden nature to the romance, and it only made you crave him more.

Little did you know, Caliban felt the same for you. Your smile set his soul aflame, and your laughter made his chest tighten with affection. The sight of your hair fanned across your pillow, mouth slightly agape in pleasure, was not one he would ever grow tired of. He had fallen well and truly in love with you.

This information was kept secret from one another, because both of you were scared to admit such a thing and risk scaring the other away.

It wasn’t long after your mutual realizations that he met your aunts and Ambrose. Although they were all pleased to have met the object of your affection, and they remained civil with him, it was evident that each member of your family distrusted him, and questioned his intentions with you.

Their distrust turned out to be short-lived.

Immediately following your coven’s Hare Moon celebration, one of the Pagans had developed a very intense dislike for you. All it took was for her to sense that you were a very powerful member of your kind – that is, until your powers faded – and she, being a harpy, notorious for their insatiable hunger and lust for torture, had decided that she would feast upon your witch flesh as her next meal.

It was that evening when she appeared. You had been relaxing on the front porch of the Spellman Mortuary, and at first, you thought she was merely a mortal woman – then her wings spread out from behind her as her glamour faded, bird-like legs sprouted from her torso, and her face became hideous, decayed and rotting. You had instinctively tried to run, but it was futile. After all, harpies were originally thought to be the personification of wind, so it was unsurprising that you were in her clutches before you even made it to the door.

The harpy’s sharp talons dug into your shoulders, and you screamed for help as she launched you into the yard. You fell flat on your back, which knocked the wind out of you, and she was on you again in the blink of an eye. As you felt the most impossibly intense, agonizing pain across your abdomen, you screamed again as you glanced down and realized she had torn you open. She began feasting on your flesh and organs, blood dripping from her claws as she ravaged you.

You were vaguely aware of a horrified scream from Sabrina somewhere behind you. She had just swung open the front door of the Spellman household to see the ghastly scene before her, Aunt Zelda, Aunt Hilda, and Ambrose right behind her. With a roar of pure rage, Ambrose charged at the harpy with his blade drawn, which drew her away from you. Sabrina and Hilda then kneeled beside you, the former with tears in her eyes and a terrified look on her face as she held your hand, and the latter clearly trying to hide her panic as she unsuccessfully attempted to heal you. But your injuries were far too extensive, and your loved ones’ magick was far too weak.

The unmistakable sound of a gunshot pierced through the night air, and you weakly turned your head to see Aunt Zelda holding a shotgun, Ambrose a few feet from your attacker, and the harpy lying dead on the ground. The two then ran over to you, both dropping to their knees at your side, their faces just as solemn and fearful as Sabrina and Aunt Hilda.

It was then, looking upon the panic-stricken faces of your family, that you knew you were going to die.

Darkness began to cloud your vision, and you vaguely heard your sister sobbing, and aunts and cousin begging you to stay conscious, giving you empty promises that they would find a way to fix this, and that everything would be alright. In the midst of all their hysterics, it seemed an idea donned on Sabrina.

“Caliban!” she screamed desperately into the night, her voice breaking from the force as she put behind it.

He appeared instantly, the usual vortex of flames escorting him onto the scene. He opened his mouth, no doubt to make a smug retort to Sabrina’s unceremonious summoning, before his eyes fell on you.

“No,” Caliban whispered in disbelief, still frozen on the spot. Blood poured from your abdomen, and the sight of you torn open and half-dead filled him with a sense of gripping terror and worry he had never before experienced. He ran over to you, skidding to a stop on his knees and gently cradling your head in his hands.

“Do something!” Sabrina begged, a sob raking her body. Caliban panicked for a split second, then a solution came to him. It was a last ditch effort kind of plan, but seeing as your eyes had already drifted shut, and your body was growing colder by the second, he knew that he must do something that would absolutely ensure your survival.

“With a desperate heart and no time to waste, I call upon all three Fates!”

In a cloud of smoke, three hooded figures appeared. Each had clouded eyes, long white hair, and greenish-gray, wrinkled skin.

“Fates, I beseech you to save this woman’s life,” Caliban pleaded.

“In exchange for our aid, you must give up the fate you have been pursuing so fiercely.” The Fates spoke in unison, their voices raspy and eerie. “You must cease your pursuit of the throne of Hell, and no longer seek to make Earth the tenth circle.”

“I shall. Here and now, I end my quest to become King of Hell, and remake the Earth as the tenth circle,” Caliban vowed. The lack of hesitation and conviction in his voice astounded each of the Spellman’s, although that was but a minor thought in the back of their minds at the moment. “Just save the woman I love, please.”

The Fates disappeared without another word in another cloud of smoke, at the same moment that a ragged, desperate gasp tore from your lips. The Spellman’s and Caliban all snapped their eyes back down to you. The fatal wound had been healed, and even your clothing was fixed. You sat bolt upright, as if you’d just been necromanced back to life – and, technically, you had. As you looked around at your loved ones, the realization that you were alive and safe sunk in, and you immediately began to cry.

“I saw Dad. I saw him,” you sobbed pitifully, and your family took you into their arms. You despised how weak you sounded, but seeing your father was something you were entirely unprepared for. Caliban rubbed his palm up and down your back, not wanting to interfere with your familial embrace. Still crying into Auntie Zee’s chest, you explained, “I died. I died and Dad was there waiting for me. He hugged me and told me that he was happy to see me, but it wasn’t my time yet.”

It was several minutes before you were able to compose yourself, although you supposed that was somewhat to be expected for someone who had just died then came back to life. After your aunts wiped your tears, you turned around to look at Caliban.

“I know you had something to do with this. We’re all powerless right now, so that is the only explanation,” you whispered. “What did you do?”

Caliban hesitated a moment, so Ambrose answered for him.

“He called upon the Fates. They demanded that he give up the fate he has been pursuing, in order to save you. So, he vowed to give up the throne of Hell, and said it was to save the woman he loves.”

You looked slowly from Ambrose back to Caliban. He appeared slightly perturbed that Ambrose revealed what he’d said in that moment of fear-fueled vulnerability, but didn’t bother to deny it.

“Caliban… is that true?”

“As I’ve told you before: anything for you,” Caliban answered, giving you a soft smile. You threw your arms around his neck, and he immediately wrapped his around your waist.

“I love you,” you murmured, your face buried in his neck. Caliban held you tightly and pressed a kiss to your temple.

“And I love you, little dove.”

[adhd-disaster-willie]

it’s not the waking, it’s the rising

I was gonna ask if you guys are ready to cry at nine in the morning but who am I kidding, this fandom is always crying

summary: Caleb put a cross on Alex’s suit; Alex comes to terms with this, among other things

warning: christianity, religious trauma

word count: 1,542

---

There was a song. When Alex was a kid, there was a song that his mother would sing to him every night before bed. Something soft that felt like home. She’d press a kiss to his forehead and pull the covers up to his chin and ask him if he’d said his prayers that night. He doesn’t remember the lyrics anymore, and he knows if he did, it wouldn’t feel like home ever again. 

It’s late at night and if he shuts his eyes, Alex can focus on Luke’s arm around his shoulder and Reggie’s thrown over his stomach, Julie’s dark curls pressing against his cheek. They’re all asleep, and the studio is eerily quiet; he can hear a draft coming in from the bottom of the door, and the ticking of an old clock that’s been on the wall since 1993. He remembers the day they got that clock. It was old and dusty even when they bought it from the corner of a thrift shop. Bobby claimed that they had to have some sort of way to tell the time when they were rehearsing, and Luke never replaced the batteries in his watch. Alex blinks slowly, inhaling the scent of the night, crisp and warm. His fingers are curled around the pin on the lapels of his suit jacket, trembling slightly. He traces the ridges in the cross with his nail and it feels heart achingly familiar, yet foreign at the same time. It doesn’t make any sense. 

He hadn’t noticed it at first, too busy with the worries of escaping the club and crossing over and then the joy of being free. But now it’s prodding at every nook and cranny in his mind, pulling at memories and things that are too compressed and faded to be called memories, but too real to be anything else.

Alex blinks roughly and suddenly he’s ten years old, sitting, cramped, at the end of the pew, with his little sister asleep against his shoulder.

“...that man shall not lay with man...” 

Alex doesn’t quite know what it means, but the way he says it feels like his voice is boring directly into Alex’s soul. He picks at the frayed edges of his shoelaces and exhales slowly. Murmurs of assent course throughout the church. His mother, his father, his sunday school teacher, Mr and Mrs. Daniels from across the street, everyone. He wants to ask his mother what the pastor means by this, but suddenly he blinks.

Alex is back in the studio, breath ragged like sandpaper. He digs his nails into his palm, stomach churning at the lack of sensation. If he were still alive, he’d open his hand to reveal purple crescents, but he’s not. He’s not alive and maybe that’s for the best, his parents are probably happier without him tainting their reputation. He closes his eyes, trying to erase the memories.

He’s 12. His room is cold and his cheeks are streaked with fresh tears. He cups his hands over his ears, begging the noise to go away. It’s all so, so much. It’s trying to kill him, he’s sure of it. It’s punishment. He bites at his lip until it bleeds, tells himself he deserves it.

It’s the devil, that’s what his mom would say. ‘Satan has wormed his way into your mind.’ But that’s the problem isn’t it? It feels real, it feels like him. It’s his fault, it’s his fault, it’s all his fault.

That’s the night he creates The Plan. The Plan is to marry a nice girl, a church girl with blond ringlets and rosy cheeks and a dainty smile. Maybe he’d learn to love her one day, maybe if he tried hard enough. Deep down he knows he can’t, but the idea of living a lie sounds better than the alternative. White picket fence, 2 kids, and maybe a dog. He’d be just like his parents and try his hardest to ignore the heartache.

The Plan doesn’t work out. 

Alex is tired. Tired of remembering. Tired of not remembering. Tired of the cold metal against his palm, mocking him. If he squeezes hard enough, maybe it’ll turn to dust in his hand. Maybe it’ll melt, and burn a welt in his skin, a permanent mark that should hurt but can’t no matter how much he wants it to.

He closes his eyes, wonders how he can cry. He shouldn’t even have tear ducts.

“...that none of you have had any sinful desires recently?”

Oh he’s 15 now, he’d forgotten this one.

A chorus of “no sir’s” echo through the cramped room. Alex’s voice feels disembodied, his throat dry. He’s lying, he’s lying, he’s lying. He waits with bated breath for someone to stand up and blurt it out, that Alex Mercer is a sinful liar who deserves eternal damnation.

“Remember your role as the man...” Whatever comes next is blurred. Alex shrinks into himself, blinking rapidly to hide his tears, begging for someone to take him, toss him into the ocean and let him drown. It’s what he deserves, anyway.

The studio is cold, despite it being warm outside. Alex pulls his jacket tighter around himself, every motion seeming to disturb the air.  Sometimes it feels like he’s causing a disturbance, just by being there. He remembers the dark room, remembers it all too well. It was suffocating and horrible, and he was sure it was hell. He’d curled in on himself and sobbed because his parents were right. He’d gone to hell and he’d dragged Luke and Reggie down with him.

But it wasn’t hell. And it still isn’t. Sometimes he’ll wake up in a cold sweat, feeling disoriented and numb, dreams filled with fire and screams of “It’s your fault, it’s your fault, it’s all. Your. Fault.” Alex exhales shakily, attempting to even out his breathing. He doesn’t know how he feels cold, he shouldn’t be able to. 

Alex pulls himself up, careful not to disturb his friends. They all look so peaceful and gentle, Alex wonders if that’s how he looks when he’s asleep, fragile and just… happy. He hesitates by the door, hand hovering over the handle. He doesn’t quite know where he wants to go, but there’s something pulsing in his chest telling him to leave.  

The beach is quiet. Alex pulls his shoes off and digs his feet into the sand, squeezing his eyes shut as tight as he can, just wanting to feel. The sand is cold and coarse beneath his bare feet. He pulls his gaze to the ocean, rocking rhythmically and shimmering beneath the dull moonlight. It feels like just yesterday that he was sitting, feet dangling off the pier while Luke and Bobby wrestled in the sand and Reggie read whatever book he’d nicked from the Barnes and Noble as of late. But there’s a neighborhood where the bookshop used to be, and someone else where Bobby should’ve been, and everything was different. 

Alex unpins the cross from over his heart, the weight shifting from his chest to his open palm. It’s silver, glinting in the light, and he wonders if it’ll break apart from the glow and swallow him whole. It doesn’t. Alex turns it over in his hand and runs his finger along the point, a cynical part of him wanting it to somehow draw blood that doesn’t even exist anymore.  

Everything in him is screaming to crush it beneath his heel and walk off, leaving the mangled metal on the boardwalk. But it’s like there’s still a tether wrapped tightly around his wrists, the other tied to the tall steeple on the church that had towered over him since before he could even walk. It’s knotted and disfigured and red-hot, burning him up from the inside. How can he feel so disconnected and so stuck at the same time? He wants to let go, to toss the last reminders of his parents and their influence in the sand, leave it to rot. But he can’t, he can’t, he can’t- 

“What do you want?” Bobby asks a sniffling Alex. He tilts his head, waiting for an answer.

Alex opens his mouth, shuts it. What does he want? It’s always been what his parents want, what the church tells him to do, stand rigid and smile wide. But no one’s ever asked what Alex wants. “I- I don’t know.” His voice is barely a whisper. 

“You want to drum, right? 

Alex nods fervently. “Yea, of course I do.”

“Then start with that.” Bobby squeezes his shoulder and slips from the studio, leaving Alex to clutch his backpack to his chest and ponder. 

Alex wants to be free. He realizes it finally, 25 years after Bobby asked. He turns the cross over in his hand once more; it feels like it’s left a mark over his chest, a scar. He takes a step back, swinging his arm behind his head, and he throws it. It lands in the ocean, sending a ripple through the water. And then it stills. Alex imagines it sinking down, down, down. He lets out a breathy laugh, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. There’s a scar running all across his soul, dark and prickly, but it’s healing.

---

stupid text limit. i had to turn the new post maker off to post this, so that’s fun. not looking forward to when i can’t turn it off.

[prismartist]

Haul Away Jay

Fandom: Just Roll With It (Riptide)

Words: 3175

CW: implied/referenced character death

Relationships: Chip & Jay Ferin & Gillion Tidestrider

Summary: Jay is bored. Very, very bored. So, understandably, she tries to find a way to entertain herself.

She wasn't quite expecting the entertainment to come in the form of a song and dance, or that the other two would be roped into it.

None of them are complaining, though.

A/N: @tokencishetchip idk if you remember but you asked to be tagged for this a little while back !! here's the albatrio having fun with a sea shanty :D

Ao3

– – –

If there was anything that Jay Ferin knew as she leaned on the railing of the Albatross one peaceful day, watching the sun slowly set beyond the horizon, it’s that she was unmistakably, undoubtedly, incredibly, and painfully, bored.

Maybe it was the juxtaposition of the current situation to cursed islands, cursed casinos, or crewmates being dumbasses (well, that wasn't really a curse, but it sure felt like one sometimes), but standing on a boat in the middle of an endless calm sea under an endless calm sky wasn’t the most exciting event in the world.

Jay let out a sigh that floated out onto the indifferent blue water. She heard Gillion shout something from atop the crow’s nest, and Chip shouting back in turn as he walked down from the helm and started lighting the lamps. It was nice to see the two working in harmony.

Old man Earl was nowhere to be seen, probably in the kitchen making dinner and more orange juice. Jay was looking forward to that the most right now. She wasn’t sure if that’s a good or bad thing.

Well, she thought as she redirected her attention back to the ocean, if only they could find the adventure they all hoped for.

Her mind drifted in an attempt to entertain herself, going back to her days in the tavern. She had spent hours there working her butt off for loud, gruff soldiers, laying down in bed afterwards and thinking that her aching bones and five hours of sleep weren’t worth it. Over time she had learned to ignore the exhaustion, but compared to the adrenaline-inducing fights and rewarding victories she experienced now, Jay didn’t miss it.

Suddenly, a melody started to creep into her mind, a tune that she didn’t expect to hear in a long while. While tied to the memory of the tavern, the feeling the song settled in her is calm, comforting even. Jay closed her eyes, allowing herself to listen to it.

Apple sang serenely as she sat on the crow’s nest, and her chirps melded into the melody that Jay now recognized.

It was an old sea shanty, one that Jay often heard from the navy soldiers that frequented the tavern. She recalled memories of drunk men singing joyously, unprofessional in their performance, as if they were celebrating being freed from their ruthless job even for a night. Sometimes though, the way they would sing would come out soft and genuine as they sat in relative sobriety after a hard-fought battle, reflecting as the first few hours of the dawn crept up behind them and the orange rays shone on the mournful men. Jay would look on, almost in awe, unable to believe these were the same people who maimed and killed and imprisoned.

Jay hummed the beginning of the tune to the best of her abilities, and did not notice Chip cast a curious glance at her. She faltered as she lost the words, struggling to remember.

How did it go again…?

Oh. Right.

“Oh maiden, oh maiden, the love to I,” Jay sang softly. “I adore the shimmer, the shimmer, the shine in your eyes.”

She smiled and started to continue, but was cut off suddenly by the sound of Chip’s voice. Her eyes flew open and she turned in his direction, having half a mind to snap at him, but stopped upon realizing what exactly he was saying.

Or, rather, singing.

“It enamours, enamours, thy light to my life.” Chip was as surprised as Jay, eyes wide as he continued easily as if by instinct. His voice was surprisingly smooth and not all that bad. “Thy touch, carries, it carries, my soul to the sky.”

They stared at each other for a few moments, processing what had just happened.

Jay tilted her head, and spoke, “How do you-”

“I-it’s a song, I– the Black Rose Pirates used to sing it all the time.” Chip saw a small flash of a memory, of fireflies fluttering around in hanging terrariums, of voices chanting the same song as Chip joined in. He gestured a bit wildly, as if he was trying to swat away the image. “You?”

“I heard it in the tavern a lot.” Jay chuckled, a little in disbelief. “I guess it’s more popular than I thought.”

Chip vaguely remembered being lifted into the air by a laughing Arlind, teasing him for messing up a line, the golden glow overhead. “I guess so-”

“And my love! I swear in the sun and the rain!” The booming voice of Gillion Tidestrider rang down, causing Chip and Jay to look up and see the Triton slide down the pole, landing with a flourish. He straightened and completed the verse in a perfect baritone. “That someday, our hands will intertwine once again.”

Gillion grinned at the other two’s astonished faces. “That's an oversea song, is it not? My sister taught it to me. I much enjoy it as well.”

Chip turned to Jay. “So definitely more popular than you thought,” he said.

“Yeah,” Jay muttered, feeling a grin grow on her face. “A little different in some places, but yeah.”

She found herself tapping her fingers against the boat to the beat of the shanty and humming the post-verse interlude. Gill and Chip noticed as well, and their eyes trained on her, silently assigning her the role of the shantyman.

Jay tensed up upon noticing. She’s not used to performing, especially in front of an audience (could you call two people an audience?). It’s far from one of her strong suits.

But after a moment of contemplation, she eventually decided that, fuck it, it’s time to sing.

They started this ballad, they might as well finish it.

“Oh damsel, oh damsel, my heart belongs to thee.” Her voice cracked a bit on the high note, which Chip snickered at, but Jay merely shot him a dirty look and continued. “If you are troubled, so troubled, you must only call on me.”

“And though it rages, it rages, the condescending sea,” Chip joined in, his smirk slowly morphing into a genuine smile.

“For you I know my journey will succeed,” he finished, noticing Gillion’s voice join in. Chip glanced at him for a second before letting out a soft chuckle.

Jay started stomping on the boat to get the beat going. To her delight, Chip clapped rhythmically and Gillion followed both their suits. Energized, Jay hummed louder.

“And my love, I swear in the waves and whirlpools,” all three sang together, “Soon we will meet and once again become whole.”

With a laugh, Jay skipped closer to the center of the ship. She spun and gestured, mimicking the dances she had observed at Loffinlot, imagining a band accompanying her as she sang as loud as she could.

La, la la la, la la la, la la la.

Gillion was quick to join her, imitating her dance. His heavy boots threatened to break the wood they danced on, but Jay only cared for the lovely bass beat and snare they happened to offer. She grinned at him approvingly, and Gill grinned back.

Off to the side, Chip hung back, providing the main melody.

“Oh lover, oh lover, don’t you dare cry.” Jay reached out a hand to Gillion, who took it. “But laugh and laugh under the pristine blue sky.” She raised it and lead him in a spin. “And never, oh never, would I ever lie. I wish nothing more than for us to reunite!”

Gillion grabbed Jay by the waist, catching her off-guard, but as he lifted her into the air, she loosened up and cheered, feeling the song come to an end.

When she landed, Jay made a show of dusting herself off before bowing to Gillion. Gill, ever the gentleman, bowed back, and Jay giggled.

She looked over to Chip, leaning against the railing and watching with a rather deflated smile. Jay raised an eyebrow. That didn’t look right.

Absent-mindedly tapping his toes, no longer minding the beat, Chip stewed deep in his thoughts. Seeing his friends dance their hearts out was a nice scenario, don’t get him wrong, but despite the undeniable want to join in the festivities, there was a hesitance that Chip couldn’t quite get over. Maybe it’s the weird ache when he remembered voices that he’d never hear again. Maybe it’s because he didn’t want to interrupt the others’ joy. Who knew. Chip sure didn’t.

And Chip definitely didn’t know why the sight of Jay marching towards him made him panic.

“Hey,” Jay said, and Chip immediately heard the over-friendliness in her voice. “What’re you doing, moping in the corner? You said you and the Black Rose Pirates sang this all the time, right?” She leaned forward and locked eyes with Chip, who tensed up. “So, show us what you got.”

She daintily held out a hand, and with it, a challenge. “Dance with us.”

Chip’s eyes grew impossibly wide as his face flushed. “Oh, nah, nahh, that’s okay, I’m really not a dancer,” he stammered. “And you guys are already done with the song, so I really don’t-”

“Gill.” Jay smirked. “Take the beat.”

“Wha-”

“On it!” Gillion grinned with sharp teeth and began to stomp and clap again. He hummed deeply, the tune once again emanating through the ship.

“Jay,” Chip begged, taking a step back. “I don-”

“Nope, round two, coward!”

“Ja-AAAAY!”

Chip yelped as Jay grabbed his arm and dragged him to the newly appointed dance floor, guiding his kicking and screaming form into one of dance. She took one of Chip’s hands and held it up, putting her other hand on his shoulder. “Your free hand on my waist,” she reminded him, ignoring his confused sputtering. “And one, two, three, go.”

She lead the dance in a sort of wild, messy foxtrot, stretching their clasped hands in the direction they move in, side skipping energetically. Chip stumbled at first, caught off-guard, but he quickly adjusted to her same pace, glancing at the ground to make sure he was keeping up. Seeing his face relax and the corners of his mouth quirk up, Jay smiled at him encouragingly.

“Sing, shantyman, it’s your turn,” she said.

Chip’s expression turned into horror once again, gulping as he scrambled to remember the words in time for the melody.

“O-oh maiden, oh maiden, the love to I,” sang Chip.

“I adore the shimmer, the shimmer, the shine in thy eyes,” he and Jay sang together.

“It enamours, enamours, thy light to my li-IIFE, JAY!” Chip screamed as Jay gave him a spin, laughing at his surprised shriek. “Jay, don’t just spin me without warning!”

“You’re being sloppy, shantyman,” Jay teased. “Keep up with the song.”

Chip glared, but continued nonetheless, “And my love, I swear in the sun and the rain.”

Jay gave him another spin, but this time, Chip didn't miss a beat. He gave Jay a smug, triumphant look. Jay raised an eyebrow in turn, admittedly impressed.

“That someday, our hands will intertwine once again!”

“Alright, nice,” Jay complimented, grinning widely.

Chip caught a mischievous glint in her eye, and his face consequently fell.

“One more spin, pretty boy!”

Before he could protest, Jay suddenly spun Chip away with a greater force than before, and the world around him became a blur, the air swirling with the sound of Jay’s devilish voice.

“Gillion,” he heard her yell, “catch!”

And Chip is spun into the arms of Gillion, who beamed at Chip’s very red face.

“Come, Chip.” Gill took both of Chip’s hands. Chip, still trying to recover from the jarring switch of partners, only blinked down at their now clasped fingers. “It is our turn.”

“Oh my god.” Chip laughed nervously.

Stomp, stomp, stomp, stomp.

“Oh damsel, oh damsel, my heart belongs to thee,” Jay belted as Chip and Gillion figured out their dance. “If you’re troubled, oh so troubled, you must only call on me.”

The other two started to push and pull in tandem, reminiscent of a cha-cha with a bit more energy and spins thrown in every once in a while. They surprisingly guided each other with more harmony and grace than Jay expected.

“And though it rages, it rages, the condescending sea.” Gillion leapt and circled with Chip, almost lifting the latter off the ground. “Just for thou I know that my journey shall succeed!”

“Gill, calm down!” Chip chuckled, partly in amusement and partly in fear, as he started to lose his footing.

Jay looked on, not ignorant to the warm fuzzy feeling in her chest, the beat pulsing along with the adrenaline in her veins.

“And my love, I swear in the waves and whirlpools, soon we will meet and once again become whole.”

Soon she joined them, whooping as she jogged, and they welcomed her with wide smiles, one pair of hands separating to reach out. Jay took the offer to form an interconnected circle, spinning and bobbing as they shared the melody. They sang, as loud as they could, filling the air with a joyful energy.

“Oh lover, oh lover, don’t you dare cry,” Chip started.

The others joined in. “But laugh and laugh under the pristine blue sky.”

And laugh they did, the pure euphoria of indulging in fond memories emitting from them. They stumbled and laughed through mistakes, put their all into the performance, harmonising wonderfully.

Jay caught Pretzel doing somersaults in her globe and Apple circling the crew, chirping the tune with them. She’s reminded of a joking conversation about starting a band. Perhaps they had a chance after all, she thought amusedly. Gillion and the Tidestriders. Chip and the Bastards. Jay and the Dumbass Bluebirds. Whatever you wanted to call it.

Now, though, they were simply three friends, holding hands and dancing, rattling the wood of the ship without a care, singing a sea shanty that they all happened to know.

The stars slowly flooded the darkening sky and twinkled at them like they were dancing along.

To one, the fresh air, the touch of familiar calloused hands that had fought alongside her, and the spray of the ocean was a welcoming contrast to past memories of stuffy spaces and dispassionate work. To another, though the memory was a bit painful, it still brought him the same comforting feeling from years ago, sharing laughter and celebration in a tight kinship that was expected in that of crewmates, deepening the bond with experiences that were not just in battle, but in recreation. And to another still, it was a reminder of a time when he was desperate to learn the oversea culture, and that he still remained ever so curious now as he learned its differences and similarities to his world, forming relationships with its inhabitants, people who were perhaps not as cruel as the elders had suggested.

Those who share such joyous experiences with others must not be that selfish, after all.

“And never, oh never, would I ever lie. I wish nothing more than for us to re-u-nite!”

Jay grinned up at the sky as they hummed the outro melody, a gust of wind sweeping down on them and carrying their voices away, out onto the shimmering waters.

La, la la la, la la la, la la la…

A tug from Jay led the trio up in one final leap, whooping and cheering with the others as they followed. And once their feet landed simultaneously with a bang, the song ended.

As the rush receded from her mind, the pumping blood in her ears quieting down, Jay took in the sound of the waves crashing up against the ship and her heaving breaths. She looked up at the now star-filled sky, wondering when it got so dark. She allowed her hand to slip from her friends’ grasps, moving to lean on bended knee. Jay heard the other two breathing quite heavily as well, and even a plop as Chip seemed to collapse out of the corner of her eye. She followed suit, sprawling onto the wood and closing her eyes, catching her breath. Jay wasn’t extremely tired, but she needed to recuperate.

“Oh god, you kids just had to make a racket up here, didn’t ya?”

Jay breathed out a chuckle upon hearing the raspy voice. “Hi Earl.”

“We were partying, Old man Earl!” Gillion said preppily, unsurprisingly not as out of breath as the others.

“Earl, you got…” A huff from Chip. “You got orange juice? Perhaps? Please?”

“Hmph, you’re fuckin lucky I do.”

Tired cheers chimed from the pirates.

“But you have to go down to get it with dinner. Chop chop.”

“Ohh, come onnnnn,” Chip whined, joining in with the groans of Jay.

“I’ve seen you work, you’re not that tired,” Earl scoffed. “Maybe you shouldn’t have wasted all your energy on destroying the ship! And your vocal chords.”

“Hey, I don’t think we sounded that bad,” Jay said.

“Whatever, just come down and have dinner, I’m definitely not hefting everything up here.” Earl barked out a laugh and proceeded to go back down, ignoring the cries of Jay and Chip.

Soon Gillion’s face popped into Jay’s view. “Are you alright, Jay?” He glanced over. “Chip?”

“I’m coming around,” Jay assured. She stretched her arms up, making grabby hands. “Pull me up?”

Gillion complied, grabbing her arms and lifting her, though at a faster-than-preferred pace. Jay let out a yelp as she got back on her feet before stretching with a groan.

“Thanks, Gill.”

“Hey Giiiilll? Big man? Can I go next?”

Jay looked to Chip, who also had outstretched arms. Gillion walked to him and helped him up as well.

“Thanks, buddy.” Chip patted Gill on the back.

“No problem. Honestly, I did not think you would tire out so easily.”

“Well we need to gain back our energy, then,” Jay said, starting to follow Old man Earl.

“Hey, uh, Jay, um.” Chip caught her attention, and she turned back to see him with a raised hand. He moved it to scratch the back of his neck sheepishly. “That was… that was fun.”

“I agree,” Gillion said with a nod. “I was reminded of some… rather fond memories, actually. And it was a good exercise. We should do it more.”

“Yeah, yeah actually, same. I agree.” Chip looked up at Jay, his face rather tentative. “So, thanks for that, I guess.”

Jay smiled. “You’re welcome, dweeb,” she jabbed. “You’re being more affectionate than usual, but I appreciate it.”

“Hey, don’t call me a dweeb!” Chip’s expression morphed into one of offense. “I just thanked you, that’s so insensitive of you. That’s actually insensitive.”

“I let you fulfill your showman dreams, you’re the one being insensitive right now.”

“Showman- hey, I actually like the sound of that.”

“Yeah you would, you drama queen.”

“You’re calling me dramatic? Have you seen Gill?”

The sound of bickering paired with Gillion’s oblivious chimes trailed below the deck, leaving a fond memory to the glittering dark waters and the twinkling stars still dancing along.

[literaryfic]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 빈센조 | Vincenzo Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Vincenzo/Hong Cha Young, Hong Cha-Young/Vincenzo Cassano, Vincenzo Cassano | Park Joohyeong/Hong Cha-young Characters: Vincenzo, Hong Cha Young, Vincenzo Cassano | Park Joohyeong, Hong Cha-young Additional Tags: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon - Korean Drama Summary:

Cha Young knows that he's leaving, but she can't seem to let him go.

A short fic about how I want Vincenzo to end.

When all is settled with Babel and the gold, Cha Young waits for him to leave. She’s trying to prepare herself for it. For the hole he’s going to leave in her life. She knows she should distance herself from him, so that it’s easier in the end. But she’s past that.

Instead, she hangs out with him as much as she can. She wants to enjoy every moment they have left. Vincenzo’s not saying anything and that worries her even more. She’s scared to wake up in the morning only for him to be gone forever. So they go grocery shopping together, they drink coffee and eat pasta, they even jog together. His silence overwhelms her most of the time, and she wants to ask. She almost does a million time, when they’re eating dinner or when they’re walking back home together. It’s on the tip of her tongue but she just can’t bring herself to ask him. The truth is that she’s scared of the answer. She’s terrified that once it slips out of her mouth, he’s going to say, “My flight is booked for tonight. It was nice knowing you.” So she stills herself and swallows the words. She feigns ignorance and secretly prays that day never comes.

It’s a fine line Cha Young’s walking. She’ll pick up the pieces by herself once he’s gone. It’ll be okay, she tells herself. She can live without him, she just doesn’t want to. Some nights she almost calls him up and begs him to stay with her, to not run away from this. She wants to scream at him that what they have is worth it. But she’s Hong Cha Young and she’ll be damned before she begs for a man who wants to leave. So she waits for him to put her out of her misery.

It’s Tuesday and he’s cleaning up the office, organising some files. Maybe she should’ve seen the signs. They go back to his to drink some makgeolli. They’re watching a rerun of some comedy show but she can feel his eyes on her instead of the tv. He clears his throat and turns it off. The sinking feeling in her stomach warns her, this is it. This is when he leaves you. She can’t bring herself to look at him.

“Why aren’t you asking me?”, his voice is softer than what she had expected. She thought he would be cold about it, detached. She’s not sure if she would’ve preferred it that way but the hint of what must be pity in his words brings tears to her eyes. “Asking you what?” She plays dumb, looks at her nails. She commands her heart to stay still and blinks back her tears. She can’t cry in front of him, she’s better than this.

“You know exactly what I mean, Hong Cha Young.” This time his tone is lighter, filled with something she can’t quite put her finger on. Maybe it’s the affection he’d felt for her after all this time spent together. Either way it feels too much, the way he’s being so gentle with her while simultaneously breaking her heart, and a few tears roll down her cheeks. She finally meets his eyes and what she sees in them surprises her. She knew that whatever she felt wasn’t unrequited, she could read him well. But it was the first time he’d looked at her that way so openly. The small smile hanging from his lips angered her. Couldn’t he have done that earlier? Before it became too late for them? All that’s left to do now was mourn the time they’d lost.

She finally speaks up, “When are you leaving the country?”. More tears were falling and she couldn’t quite stop them now. Vincenzo wipes the wetness from her left cheek with his thumb. He lets his hand rest there, bringing her head closer to his. “I’m not leaving, Cha Young.” He was whispering, almost as if this was a secret he was sharing with her. “I’m staying here.” Her heart stops. She looks at him, searching his face for an answer. Was this real? Was he really not leaving her? Vincenzo nodded, the smile reaching his eyes. Slowly, he presses his mouth against hers. He kisses her gently, as if he were scared to break her. Cha Young feels herself melting away under his careful touch. She grabs his shoulders, pulling him closer. She needs to feel him everywhere, to hold on to him as hard as she can.

They’re panting when they finally break out from their embrace. “But I will be moving out of this shit hole. Somewhere nice, with a view.” He says once he catches his breath. “As long as I don’t have to sleep on the couch anymore, I’m okay with that”. They’re smiling at each other now, and Cha Young takes his hand. She kisses it and intertwines their fingers. “Mademoiselle!”, she repeats what he had once said to her, from what feels like forever ago. He laughs while shaking his head, before reaching for the remote. That night Cha Young falls asleep on his shoulder and Vincenzo can’t remember a single thing from the tv show they watched.