#something about not wanting to be left behind but also fearing your own inability to do something about it

[toboldlymuppet]

gripped by fear

my piece for dark waters, an op angst zine

[bonefall]

I will cry (in a good way) if the theme of the arc is “the love was there. it didnt change anything. it didnt save anyone. there were just too many forces against it. but it still matters that the love was there”

I REALLY hope that I can do something like that. Again, BB really tries to stay in line with where canon goes and follow it while fixing its themes, but like...

With all the fixes I've done for TBC and below, where the last arc left off on Shadowsight giving up something he'd always wanted (his lightning-based connection to StarClan, blasting it back at Ashfur to hold him down) and the sacrifice of Bristlefrost to knock the holy beast out of heaven... something feels really cool about being able to follow that up with an arc that's very melancholic and painful.

Heartstar doing something DRASTIC to try and stop another Clan from falling apart, compelled to get more violent to keep her claws over it, driven by the fear of The Kin repeating itself and the fury of her dead child

Dovewing watching her sister take power in ThunderClan, knowing things are going to get VERY frustrating

Ivypool herself vowing she's not going to use this new status for personal gain... but then she kinda Does, unable to put down a DESPERATION to reconnect to a sister who doesn't want to see her

I kinda hope I can also find a way to explore Bumblestripe's feelings here, too. He JUSt had a whole journey in Ferncloud's Parting, and he comes back and LOOK! A perfect opportunity to justify how much you HATE Heartstar and Dovewing and all of ShadowClan! It would be SO easy to let your heart grow bitter again, wouldn't it? What will you decide, Bumblestripe?

Lightleap struggling with her failure to enter the Dark Forest, feelings of uselessness and helplessness, losing her best friend

Berryheart herself radicalizing a portion of ShadowClan, as Heartstar tries to prevent another Clan from falling apart, her own is pulling at its stitches.

Squirrelflight having saved Bramblestar from the Dark Forest, NO CAT LEFT BEHIND, only for him to show his true colors AGAIN and try to get into petty drama with her, her sympathy evaporating in an instant

Just. Everything with Sparkpelt and her kids. She ISN'T Firekin in BB-- she chose the names Finch and Flame WITH and FOR her mate Larksong.

Nightheart having a new name foisted on him and making himself believe it was a choice-- and then Bramblestar is dethroned, Sunbeam is telling him how much she loves his family, there's a new journey for glory in front of him, and... there's so many things to think about that he just doesn't.

And then he comes home to find they're OUT of chances to give him. And he's traveled far and is able to FINALLY internalize... he blew it. Didn't recognize or appreciate what he had, when he had it

Bramblestar isn't the big strong cool grandpa leader he thought he was, he's a disgraced elder, and he has to wonder... how much of this HATE for his family was Nightheart's own? How much was the Impostor? How much was Bramblestar? How much was his own inability to self-reflect?

Frostpaw's entire family turning on itself

Finding out that Curlfeather was behind the plot that killed her own father, Reedwhisker.

That Podlight, her funny sillyman uncle, was ALSO in on this the whole time, plus her dear friend Splashtail.

Still just a kid, left to agonize over how much of it was LOVE and how much of it was MANIPULATION. Where one ended and where the other began.

The love is there. The love was always there-- even when you didn't know it. It was strong, and it was beautiful, but it's NOT a fix-all. It isn't the hero that will save you. It isn't the medicine to fix you. It isn't the shield that will protect you. Love is mortal.

And when it dies, it dies in pieces. Like a fire in its ashes and its embers. The same love in one heart will burn forever, and for others, its cinders are quickly doused.

A painful arc, of betrayals, broken promises, last chances blown to rubble, and good intentions paving the way to hell.

[lovechrissturniolo]

7/ day one - afternoon

contains: Chris arguing with Nick on the phone, panicking about it, Lea resures him, intimate moment

"Chris, calm down! Don't let this affect you so much!" Matt tried to get a word in, but Chris was talking himself into a rage.

"You could have watched the video before, you should have sent photos," he mimicked Nick, who he had just spoken to on the phone. "You're not expecting a Friday photo dump? Or for us to post a video?"

Lea, who was watching from the living room, bit nervously her lower lip.

Nick apparently wasn't too happy about them neglecting their youtube tasks and putting so much effort in the three day stream, even though they had agreed it beforehand.

All in all, the phone call had gone rather badly and Lea feared that the event would fail - not from a professional point of view, but because she knew how much it meant to Chris in particular.

"Fucking idiot! He's talking to me like I'm a toddler! Who does he think he is?"

“We'll knot him up when he gets back, right?” Matt joked, trying to reassure him.

Chris let out an annoyed groan and rolled his eyes. “I'll be right back, give me a few minutes.”

Lea had the uncomfortable feeling that she wasn't supposed to watch this very private interaction, which of course was nonsense as there were also a million people on the stream. Plus she had to look at it from the professional point of view.

Chris left Matt's room and kicked a cardboard box on the floor with his foot. “Jesus!” he cursed loudly and ran his hands through his hair.

“You tell me if you want me to switch off, right?” Lea asked cautiously.

"No fuck it! It`s no secret that he`s an asshole!"

Chris walked around the living area without really having a destination. “And of course he's calling right now! While we're streaming! I`m not gonna watch shit!"

On her screen Lea saw Matt mute his microphone and she tried to signal Chris that he was probably too loud, but Matt's door was already opening.

“Chris, can you turn it down? Or freak out downstairs in your room?"

“YES!” Chris gritted out between clenched teeth. "I am trying!"

〽️

Lea's gaze flitted over the passing comments in the chat, focused on not missing anything important in this tense moment.

Nothing really precarious, - but a few comments that she found extremely annoying on a personal level.

Chris goes out to cry about it

he is in fact a toddler

they're screwed without Nick!

Lea rolled her eyes and sucked in a breath of air.

“What?” Chris asked sharply, well aware that her reaction was to the comments.

“No nothing.” she tried to deflect as casually as possible.

“Let me see the bullshit!” he growled and stood behind her.

“Yeah awesome!” Chris shouted sarcastically after reading them and intended to punch the screen with the back of his hand.

But he realized in time that it wasn't his own laptop, so it only got a light flick. "Ban them all!"

Lea ignored this request, knowing that it was not meant seriously.

He went to the fridge, opened and closed it without taking anything out and thought desperately about where to put his anger.

The fact that Nick had to put him down now, of all times, when he had no real chance of escaping the situation, really pissed him off and he got the oppressive feeling of being locked in.

〽️

Lea came from a very argumentative home and recognizing dicey situations was something she was practically born with.

The urge to de-escalate the situation got increasingly stronger than professional restraint.

The inability to form a clear thought made Chris panic and the more he tried to force himself to calm down, the less he succeeded.

He grabbed the headset hanging around his neck and smashed it across the kitchen onto the couch on the other side of the room.

Lea shot up from her chair and stood in his way, which prevented him from continuing to walk around restlessly.

“Stop Chris.” she whispered, placing her palm on his chest. “Let`s do something else.”

Chris looked at her, puzzled - but it stopped the rising panic.

"Why don`t you sit down for a moment." Lea continued and touched him lightly on the arm, directing him to the table.

To her surprise, he actually did it.

She went over to the fridge, took a can of Pepsi and placed it on the table in front of him.

“And now? Pepsi is the cure for everything, or what?” Chris grumbled, but she could see a smirk forming.

“Pretty cliché, isn't it?” Lea replied casually.

A short, grunting laugh escaped him before his face switched back to serious mode.

“Sorry. I couldn't think of anything better so quickly.” Lea sighed and sat down on the chair next to him.

“It was actually helpful.” Chris muttered, resting his forehead on the palms of his hands on the table.

〽️

Lea stared at his tousled hair and fought the reflex to stroke his head. Seeing him so vulnerable and confused felt eerily like she was very close to him.

Chris turned his face in her direction without lifting his head, catching her gaze and looking at her with such intensity that a shiver ran down her spine.

She was unable to form a clear thought, her mind was completely blank, she was petrified.

But that didn't matter.

It didn't even feel strange.

Her mind, which was so careful not to overstep any boundaries and remain professional, had nothing to say.

They just looked at each other.

And it felt completely fine.

next ➡️

⬅️ index

[antianakin]

Out of curiosity how do you think the Caretaker Luke AU of yours would work out if Luke were the last living Jedi? In other words, Luke has to be the one to rebuild the Jedi Order himself.

How successful do you think Luke would initially be at it with a pacified Anakin in his care?

Oh that's an intriguing twist. A devastating one, but intriguing.

I imagine the only Force sensitive students he'd be able to recruit would be the VERY desperate or the very young and orphaned. Basically I don't think any parent is going to pass off their child to someone with Darth Vader hovering over their shoulder (Luke can't just leave Anakin behind on an isolated planet, he HAS to be with Anakin at all times). Or if they did out of fear of Darth Vader's wrath, I feel like Luke would be able to pick up on that and would then have to refuse to take the child out of principle because it's not actually being done willingly anymore.

He MIGHT get lucky enough to find a Force sensitive orphan somewhere who's young enough to not know who Darth Vader is. He MIGHT get lucky enough to find an adult who has nothing left to lose and so is desperate enough for say food and shelter to accept the hovering Sith that goes along with the deal (they're about to die of starvation or something else anyway perhaps so death by Sith might actually be quicker and less painful depending on the circumstances).

How well this would go with Anakin just kind-of simmering away in darkness nearby at all times is... questionable, depending on how your interpretation of the Force looks. Like how much does Anakin's inability to let go of his anger and fear and grief and guilt impact Luke's ability to teach these new Force sensitive students? Are the students just as impacted by those negative emotions and darkness as Anakin is, kind-of like a second hand smoke giving someone lung cancer? Does Luke completely fail because Anakin's presence actually completely undoes everything he tries to teach anyway because none of the people he brings in are strong enough or prepared enough to protect themselves against Anakin's darkness in the way Luke's been taught to do?

But it's also just as likely he never finds ANY Force sensitive people willing to take him up on the offer willingly for as long as Anakin is attached to him at the hip. He builds a community maybe, he works on a school, he reads the texts and practices and comes up with lessons and what not, but he has no one to teach. Not until Anakin finally dies and he can go out and speak to parents of young children on his own. Which honestly might actually be the kinder thing to happen for all three of them.

Quite honestly, I just can't see a successful new Jedi Order or Jedi school being built with Anakin sitting at its center alongside Luke, my heart and mind rebel against it. Even if the possibility is there for Luke to somehow end up miraculously successful, I don't want it. The Jedi have suffered enough, they do not need this, too. So Luke waits or he fails, that's how successful he is if he has to do this alone. The Jedi Order has to wait.

The last alternative I can see is that effectively the responsibility passes away from Luke and on to Leia. Because there's quite literally nobody left. There are other politicians presumably who can help build up the New Republic, but there is absolutely nobody left to help the Jedi Order rebuild and Leia is convinced by someone to train with Luke until she's trained enough to basically start her own Order. They set up some sort of system to go out and find Force sensitive people, to try to find students who need them, and Leia takes them somewhere else, somewhere she doesn't even tell Luke about just to be safe. They start creating their own little community and Leia passes on what she knows as she trains with Luke and then takes over training the new students when she's finished her own. And so it goes much like the original AU, Luke just has to wait until Anakin dies and then he has a happy community to join that's been learning and growing without him.

And yes, this means that Han and Leia would not get married, they wouldn't have kids. Which quite honestly is an AU for them I like better anyway, happy endings don't all have to be marriage and kids. They can still be in a relationship together, they can love each other and work something out, it just looks a little different.

Leia becomes the face of the Jedi Order so that Luke can protect Anakin and protect the rest of the galaxy FROM Anakin. He sacrificed his ability to create the new Jedi Order so he could take on that responsibility but Leia understands how important it is to regain the Jedi's presence in the galaxy and in the Republic, so she takes that on herself when no one else can.

[kaurwreck]

For the song ask game!!! I hope when you shuffle for this ask you get chuuya's character song or wake up call from the dead apple ost or something equally gay

full disclosure: with some semi-rare exceptions, I don't usually add OST or character songs to my playlists because part of why i make character playlists is to tease out my understanding of their characterizations and dynamics by extrapolating my understanding and applying it to noncanonical material. for playlists that are explicitly about a specific dynamic, i also generally avoid single-character songs. every song has to relate to who they are relative to the other character(s) or their relationship with the other character(s).

(i do love bsd's ost and anime sound design though, it's bop after bop)

okay for the ask game!!!!

Real Love Song, Nothing But Thieves

This is a love song, real love Dirty rip out the whole of your soul love I'll hate myself for days love Sitting all alone and listening to Nick Cave love ... This is a dark song, real dark Feral tear off your skin to the bone dark I’ll drink myself to death dark Do anything to feel your breath on my neck dark ... This is a sad song, so sad Aching like it's more than I can take sad I cried so hard I died sad Losing all that's making me human inside sad

in the timeline of their relationship, this song exists in the interim between dazai leaving the port mafia and the guild arc. i fully believe dazai fell first, fell hard, and fell semi-gleefully, but when he left the port mafia, he wanted to leave. his aches and traumas around mori and who he was then are tangled and messy, evidenced by the extent to which the port mafia makes him emotionally erratic and passively self-contradictory (the image he projects starts to glitch as his sincerity and uncertainty trip over themselves) during the guild arc. that suggests to me he hasn't fully processed and struggles to reconcile what was good and golden about his time in the port mafia (including chuuya) with his prey animal fear of it and his inability to become someone other than himself.

from his perspective, he shouldn't be having this problem. he fucking ditched the port mafia; he went no-contact, off the grid, full ego death and death of his prior self. it's something he's used to; it's what he seemed to have done when he found mori. dazai is comfortable ripping out parts of himself and leaving them behind.

however, he can't do it this time. he tried, he really, really tried. but he couldn't. he couldn't let go of who and what he loved in the port mafia, and chuuya brings that into sharp relief. dazai couldn't just leave without first telling chuuya (by setting his car on fire), couldn't just disappear without some assurance to chuuya that he'd gone on his own, by sending a message only chuuya could understand (setting his car on fire). (chuuya says "that was you?!" when dazai references it later, but the feigned ignorance is part of their intricate rituals; how else would chuuya know to open the 1889 Petrus.)

(the omake dazai in which chuuya drunk dials dazai is especially damning: he kept the cellphone he had in the port mafia. not only that, he kept the same number, and he kept it on and charged. he got a new one too, as he tells hirotsu, sure. but he didn't get rid of the old one, and he didn't even turn it off. because, after all, what if chuuya called him?)

and then, of course, as soon as there's the slightest excuse to spill his past into his present (and now that he feels almost secure enough to do so), he can't help but go see chuuya. he didn't need to get captured to get the info he wanted on atsushi's bounty. he wanted to see him. he's wanted to see him for four years, he's thought about him every day, he misses him and his reactivity and who he is and he's both very aware of it and sooooooo mad about it.

i fully believe dazai when he tells chuuya, "I hate everything about you too." because dazai is very self aware, he's fully clocked his inability to let chuuya go. chuuya's roots in him are inextricable and dazai loves him with a ferocity that he doesn't completely believe people can feel or reciprocate, and he hates it because it's exposing and vulnerable and makes him feel like raw meat instead of an intangible, untouchable anomaly. (i.e., human, it makes him feel human, and he can't trust that feeling because he's also convinced humans can't actually love (not with any depth) least of all reciprocate his love, creating a paradoxical spiral that could be resolved if he admitted humans can in fact love how he loves, and they can even love him like that too, indicating that he is also human. but. the mental diseases). he loves everything about chuuya, and because of that, he hates everything about him too.

(whenever love and hate are this entangled, it reminds me of what aphrodite says to helen in the iliad: ‘Wretched girl, do not tease me lest in anger I forsake you and grow to hate you as much as now I terribly love you, lest I encompass you in hard hate, caught between both sides, Danaans and Trojans alike, and you wretchedly perish.’)

Can I sing this to you? Got a thing about you And it won't go away, no It won't go away It won’t go away ... This is a love song, so what? Did it slide into your heart? I guess not I still want your love a whole lot Have you heard a better song? Oh, I hope not ... Can I sing this to you? Got a thing about you And it won't go away It won't go away And I just came to say That it won’t go away It won’t go away

so, dazai loves chuuya and hates him for how much he can't help but love him. but what's so special about the dazai we're introduced to, the current dazai, is how he's beginning to succumb to his love. his attachments to others were a threat, but repeatedly in bsd, he gingerly prods that threat, tentatively hoping it's a promise too. and repeatedly in bsd, he is assured that it is.

it's why he can flit back to tease chuuya, and why it didn't take much at all for him to abandon any attempt to separate who he is from his attachments in the port mafia. he came to chuuya and all but spilled his guts to say that it won't go away. that he wanted to see him, that he can't stop thinking about him, that he won't let chuuya rest either because he can't help it, and that he's stopped trying. so what?

(and no, he can't sing it to chuuya quite so explicitly, he knows what will coax chuuya and what will make chuuya violently demur; it took five flags holding chuuya at proverbial gunpoint to restrain him enough to affirm their affection for him overtly without getting slung through multiple concrete buildings.)

for me, this song encompasses a critical juncture in dazai's growth, the moment dazai began to yield to the anguish of adoring chuuya even though that meant yielding, also, to the reality that he was still himself, even after shedding his prior skin.

[littleminnowswimming]

Avengers as Taylor Swift Songs

Okay, hi, hello, I have seen many posts detailing the Avengers as Taylor Swift songs, and they are usually written by either Swifties or Marvel fans, which causes some… problems. For example, I saw one list that said "illicit affairs" was Peter's because it said "don't call me kid" even though the SONG IS ABOUT CHEATING AND DOESN'T FIT HIM HELLO. Anyway, given that I have been a marvel and Taylor fan for at least a decade each, I have decided that I have enough expertise to create a definitive list. I think it is very good, though I'm sure there will be corrections. I know I didn't use songs from all of her albums but that is because I only wanted to use the songs she owns, and the songs that fit were more populated on her more recent albums. Also Tony, Peter, and Steve get two because I'm indecisive :)

Tony Stark: Epiphany or Anti-hero

Song Link:

Taylor Swift – epiphany (Official Lyric Video)

Taylor Swift - Anti-Hero (Official Lyric Video)

Most fitting lyric:

"Only 20 minutes to sleep/But you dream of some epiphany/Just one single glimpse of relief/ To make some sense of what you've seen"

"Did you hear my covert narcissism I disguise as altruism/Like some kind of congressman? (Tale as old as time)/I wake up screaming from dreaming/One day I'll watch as you're leaving

And life will lose all its meaning"

Explanation: I feel like this one is pretty self-explanatory, but let me crack at it anyway. Many people might label Epiphany as Steve's song because of the military references, but Tony holds more guilt for the evil he's done and the harm that the avengers have done. This is most easy to see in the five years around Endgame, where Tony is haunted by the fact that they lost and tries desperately to avoid having to work to make a difference. Tony just wants an answer to everything, but feels as though all he can do is dream without an answer. As for "anti-hero"… lets be honest, this one is pretty self-explanatory. Tony is harsh on himself and likes to hide himself behind fake narcissism. That's what we see.

Steve Rogers: "coney island" or "Right where you left me"

Song Link:

Taylor Swift - coney island (Lyric Video) ft. The National

Taylor Swift - right where you left me (Official Lyric Video)

Most Fitting Lyric:

"Were you waiting at our old spot/In the tree line, by the gold clock?/Did I leave you hanging every single day?/…/And when I got into the accident/The sight that flashed before me was your face"

OR

"Everybody moved on/I, I stayed there/Dust collected on my pinned-up hair/They expected me to find somewhere/Some perspective, but I sat and stared"

Explanation: Both of these songs reflect Steve's inability to leave the past as the past. He is still watching, waiting, looking for his opportunity to go back to the 1940's. There's also a reflection of his love for Peggy, which is his main goal, beyond what he is currently facing.

Bruce Banner: "peace"

Song Link:

Taylor Swift – peace (Official Lyric Video)

Most Fitting Lyric:

"But there's robbers to the east, clowns to the west/I'd give you my sunshine, give you my best/But the rain is always gonna come if you're standing with me"

Explanation: I was realllllllllllllllllllllllll close to using this song for Peter, but I think at the end of the day, it fits Bruce better. He worries throughout the movies that he can't have a normal life because of the whole whole Hulk thing. He seems to crave it and fear it at the same time, as does this song.

Thor: "The Lucky One"

Song Link: Taylor Swift - The Lucky One (Taylor's Version) (Lyric Video)

Most Fitting Lyric:

"And they'll tell you now, you're the lucky one/Yeah, they'll tell you now, you're the lucky one/Can you tell me now you're the lucky one?"

Explanation: This was not an easy one for me to label. I wanted to get something that fully encapsulated his grief and depression while also giving him something that showed off his past. I would say that this song gives off this impression, as he is realizing that he has everything he was supposed to want and nothing like he was actually aiming for. Feeling a little meh about this, but it's what I got.

Natasha Romanoff: "the archer"

Song Link: Taylor Swift - The Archer (Lyric Video)

Most Fitting Lyric: "Combat, I'm ready for combat/I say I don't want that, but what if I do?/…./'Cause all of my enemies started out friends/Help me hold onto you/I've been the archer/I've been the prey/Who could ever leave me darling?/But who could stay?"

Explanation: I know, I know, everyone wants to put Nat in her rep era because they think it sounds badass, but simply labeling her as a badass feels a little… deeming, don't you think? That's why I refuse to give her either "The Man" or any old revenge song, because she's cool! And deep! I have to give her something cool and deep! She, like Bruce, wants a family and is instead perched for a fight. She doesn't know how to trust as fully as she would like to, and struggles with who to let in the Avengers.

Hawkeye: "Sweet Nothing"

Song Link:

Taylor Swift - Sweet Nothing (Official Lyric Video)

Most Fitting Lyric:

"'Cause they said the end is coming/Everyone's up to something/I find myself running home to your sweet nothings/Outside, they're push and shoving/You're in the kitchen humming/All that you ever wanted from me was nothing"

Explanation: Hawkeye. Is. A Soft Dad. He don't wanna fight, he wants his fam.

Bucky: "This is Me Trying"

Song Link:

Taylor Swift – this is me trying (Official Lyric Video)

Most Fitting Lyric:

"I didn't know if you'd care if I came back/I have a lot of regrets about that/Pulled the car off the road to the lookout/Could've followed my fears all the way down"

Explanation: Bucky is trying his best, and still feels like he's slipping, which is pretty 'this is me trying' of him. Honestly I don't need to put more here, he's sad, the song is sad, that's what I got.

Wanda: "Bigger Than The Whole Sky"

Song Link: Taylor Swift - Bigger Than The Whole Sky (Lyric Video)

Most Fitting Lyric:

"And I've got a lot to pine about/I've got a lot to live without/I'm never gonna meet/What could've been, would've been/What should've been you"

Explanation: Wanda has lost so much throughout her past, her brother, Vision, and of course, her kids. That one relates most to the first song, as she is dealing with her grief of what should've been the life she wanted. I thought about putting 'delicate' here too, but I think her reputation and falling in love with Vision is much less important than her kids and her grief. Could also do with 'Vigilante Shit' for the sole purpose of Multiverse of Madness'

Vision: "the lakes"

Song Link: Taylor Swift - the lakes (Official Lyric Video)

Most Fitting Lyric:

"Take me to the lakes where all the poets went to die/I don't belong, and my beloved, neither do you/…/I want auroras and sad prose/I want to watch wisteria grow right over my bare feet/'Cause I haven't moved in years/And I want you right here"

Explanation: This one was also not easy, though unlike the Thor problem this is because Vision has barely over 100 minutes of screen time throughout the Marvel movies so far. So yeah. Less than two hours didn't really give me much. HOWEVER you know what I do know about him? He likes Wanda. And he wants to hide away from the crazy of it all. And 'the lakes' reconciled those two facts. I also liked giving a sentient robot a song about poets. Heheheh so fun. This is also quite fitting for Wanda, but she's busy with her not-alive kids.

Peter Parker: "You're on Your Own, Kid" or "Eyes Open"

Song Link: Taylor Swift - You're On Your Own, Kid (Official Lyric Video)

Eyes Open (Taylor's Version)

Most Fitting Lyric:

"'Cause there were pages turned with the bridges burned/Everything you lose is a step you take/So make the friendship bracelets/Take the moment and taste it/You've got no reason to be afraid/…/You're on your own, kid/You always have been."

"The tricky thing is yesterday we were just children/Playing soldiers, just pretending/Dreaming dreams with happy endings/In backyards, winning battles with our wooden swords/But now we've stepped into a cruel world"

Explanation: OOOOO BABY PETER TIME THE WHOLE REASON I MADE THIS LIST. Peter is. A child. Or at least he was for the majority of his plot line, and I wanted to make sure the song that I chose reflected that, which both of these do. I also wanted to reflect the coming-of-age that Peter goes through, and the fear that he is put through in his plot lines. And yet, at the end of it, he still doesn't know what he's up to. He's still lost, and he's still scared. WAY BETTER THAN GIVING HIM ILLICIT AFFAIRS JUST BECAUSE IT SAYS DON'T CALL ME KID.

Thus ends my Swiftie and Marvel fan rant. Hope you enjoyed. Let me know if you want me to do more characters below because I just did my faves :D

[lesucremygic]

Recurring

This morning, I woke up feeling like all of my energy was drained from my body. I didn’t know what to do after I prayed except to go back to sleep since I still had a few hours to spare before I start my daily activities. But then when I woke up from the second sleep, it felt even way worse than I felt initially. Feeling like crying but also screaming profanities to no one in particular and my eyelids kept on giving up on me.

Frustrated, I sat up on my bed for what it felt like a really long time, when actually I just spaced out for a whole 10 minutes. Sitting up, gathering my thoughts and deciding that today the sunlight would be my enemy number one if it won’t stop blazing my eyes. 

My body felt fine, there were no resounding cracks like it usually presents whenever I pulled an all-nighter. My joints cooperated with me, for once in a long long month. They didn’t crack or even ache like they used to every single morning. But I feel worse. Seemed like there was not an ounce of energy left in me. 

The world felt like it’s too sharp, the sunlight, the chirping of birds, even the faint sound of tinkering machines up on the hills in the neighborhood. They bothered me. I didn’t know what was going on and how to improve my energy and mood. 

I just wanted to cry for hours and hours but at the same time, didn't want to explain anything to my parents about the reasoning behind my crying. In the household, crying is still regarded as a very weak thing anyone can do, despite my radical, not really, declaration to the whole house a few years back that I’d rather cry than being an emotional time bomb. Despite the previous reason, it was just simply because I don’t know what was going on with me. 

Only the immense lack of energy and deep unlocated sadness.

How am I going to explain them while also sparing the lectures that always follow afterwards?

But in the end, I got up. Because my bladder forced me to and there was still something inside me that screamed for me to get up, inhale them and start your day. For the rest of the morning, I did feel fine until I stumbled across the emotion wheel poster I put up on the wall in my room.

Then I paused. No thoughts screaming, not even the clanking of pots and woks in the kitchen bothered me at that moment. I was completely struck in front of the emotion wheel poster, staring, more like boring a hole, into the paper like it will give me the answer I’ve been searching for the past few hours. 

My eyes stopped and stayed quite long on the blue and purple parts of the chart. The intensity of the revelation made me chuckle. For the most part of my days ever since the start of the year, I was always haunted by the fear of not being able to fulfill everything I wanted and needed to. Going back and forth between the two to find out which are things I have to prioritize first. It occurred to me one day when I was watching a Korean movie about a lonely young woman navigating through life in isolation despite many giving their helping hands to be companions. It occurred to me how sometimes I am detached from the whole world because I can’t even take the pressure of not being able to excel in things like I used to. The changes make me drifting ashore.

The sadness comes from the inability to stay in one lane or navigating both to my life. I realized, the situation, systemic and my own creation, made me set a high standard for my own self. I realized I have been way too cruel to myself for the past few months because of how frustrating the bleakness of my situation is regardless how hard I tried. 

Faintly, in the midst of the musing, I was reminded by my friend’s words. 

“Take it easy, try and try again despite how dark the paths are. Take those walks you always love, take those pictures of flowers as much as you like, disconnect from the digital world, breathe those icy cold winds, work out, write, draw, do all of those little things that always improves your mood. Tell your story, to the written words or to lended ears.” 

The same person who used to scold me for being an apologist to a person who used to give me a really hard time navigating through life. 

“Listen to your feelings, to your emotions…” 

In the end, I decided to listen. After I finished everything I needed to do that afternoon, I worked out. The improvement of my mood then was distinctive. A miserable feeling of holding on to your body weight on every set of moves got me almost in tears and somehow sent a wave of happiness into my brain. The pumping feeling and the sense of accomplishment after getting a set done improve my mental energy a little bit. 

I will probably get a sore body tomorrow morning since after that I got dragged helping people in my neighborhood preparing for tomorrow’s gathering, then I got dragged by a visiting friend to frolic around in the city with her, watching her and her boyfriend fight over who got to eat the biggest piece of the snack while in the end, they gave them to me, blinking cutely expecting me to take them like I’m some feral cats or something. To be treated like a younger sister but not looked down to, I didn’t know how much I needed them sometimes.

Catching up and talking a lot about our life, I laughed so much for 2 hours or so. The sadness was still lingering somewhere inside me but at least, connecting with people and being active helped me a little. I know that sometimes I need to talk about them with someone, even when I don’t really need a solution to every kind of sadness and fear I’m feeling. I just want someone to listen, but that could also be so hard. Most of the closest people in my life are either way too tired on their own, which I respect immensely, or will immediately jump to talk my ears off instead. 

Even though most of them kept on telling me to tell them about my worries or whenever I’m weary, but everytime I do, instead of listening like they’re promised, I get my ears blown off instead by the way they respond. Trying to relate while I explicitly ask them to just listen and I only want to tell them about my worries, not asking for a solution. That’s how most of the time, instead of looking for someone close to tell my tale, my hyper-individualistic soul chose to write them instead. Or silently hang out in a quiet coffee shop, basking in the white noise with a book to keep me company. 

I always have trouble finding someone to confide in. Listening, I realized, isn't really most people's forte. Strangers, they usually listen to you, but baring your soul to a stranger, the idea is terrifying to me. People who are close to you however, they usually have this certain image and expectation they hold of you, so instead of being comforted and seen, I will always feel small.

That’s probably why when the pair of friends that were visiting and dragging me to frolic around the city decided to listen to the horrible feelings that keep on raging inside me since early in the morning, I feel very much seen and understood it’s almost ridiculous. But I’m grateful for their existence, present when I needed someone to listen to me the most.

I could only chuckle, God’s plan sometimes came almost like a miracle, and me a mere human can only listen and listen. 

[random-mailbox]

Random-Mailbox's Favorite Sailor Moon Fics - Week 5 - Darker Stories

Since it is October and the season for everything scary and dark, this week I was originally going to do the single saddest post of the entire series (including upcoming instalments) - “Unhappy Endings”. HOWEVER, after talking to @master-ray5, we decided that maybe it is best to stick to some darker stories that are angsty to start but have a happy ending, something that was dubbed “The Road of Suffering.” All of the below end on a positive note, which is something I personally crave. If someone does want to read a sad one, I will link 3 of them at the bottom of the post - but proceed at your own risk and be prepared to cry. 

As always, my apologies in advance for spoiling some of these for you (Fic Titles are linked to either FFN or AO3 entries).

Alone - Draegyn

Sailor Moon disappears without a word and leaves Tuxedo Mask to protect the city with her other guardians. She comes back to Tokyo 10 years later on her own mission but does not want to be recognized or work together with her former teammates. Eventually Mamoru manages to piece together who she is and tries to stop her from leaving once more, finally starting to understand the horrors she had faced while on the run and away from him.

Untethered Universe Series - @gottagetmeoneofthese

When Mamoru’s star seed was taken, he felt only the darkness and his inability to get to Usagi when she needed him most, constantly calling out to her. This series explores the nightmares, the disconnect and the fears, with Usagi realizing what Mamoru needs the most to help re-ground himself and move forward. 

Blue - @caelenath

In this one-shot, Usagi deals with her loneliness while trying to get a project she insisted on undertaking (to break up her monotony and bring Mamoru closer to her) completed around their new house before the birth of Chibi-Usa. 

i'll tell you my sins (and you can sharpen your knife) - winterbones

This two-parter tells the story of Minako dealing with her memories of Silver Millennium, Kunzite and other Shitennou’s return and not being able to trust them after everything they did under Beryl’s control. As the other Senshi slowly restart their relationships, Minako struggles with letting go and allowing herself to fall in love again.

If I only belonged to you - @beej88

Dark Kingdom got defeated without Usagi realizing that she is the Moon Princess or finding the Silver Crystal. This story is part of the Doom Tree-AU where, as Usagi and Mamoru fall in love, she worries about him having to eventually choose the princess from his dreams over her. Especially after having seen what their potential future could look like (This one has the BEST ending!)

Crimson Haze - @reispinkoveralls

Mamoru has a very debilitating panic attack after seeing someone who looks like Queen Beryl at his university library. His better half comes to his rescue and makes sure he is alright.

The Ghosts of Yesterday - @master-ray5

After many years away, Usagi comes back to Tokyo for work, but also to face her past and the decisions she had made, ending up in a car accident on the first day. With her own conscience taking on an almost physical manifestation, she has to face Mamoru, old friends and her parents that she had left behind, as she tries to piece together what went wrong and how can she move forward. This was one of the stories I talked about in more detail during my episode of Oshioki Yo! Podcast. 

That Original Lifeline series - @idesofnovember

Mamoru and Usagi are trying to find their footing after the events of the Stars Arc. Mamoru, in true anime-centric fashion, is having hard time articulating what he needs now that he is trying to readjust to a new normal, planting new doubts in Usagi's mind. 

The Runner-Up - @daikon1

In this AU story, Usagi is plagued by self-doubt about her chosen profession, her abilities as a Senshi and how Mamoru REALLY feels about her, as she tries to have a casual “not-quite-friends"-with-benefits relationship with him to help her de-stress. I have re-read this one a few times because of how much I relate to the way Usagi is written, I identify a lot with her insecurities and occasional inability to see past those - the "Imposter Syndrome" is definitely real.

This post ended up being a little longer than the other installments so far but I love all of these and could not bring myself to cut any out. As mentioned at the beginning, here are a few of the stories I was going to originally include in this post when it was all about "Unhappy Endings":

My Worst Fear , In the Dark , and The Crystal Tear

Next week's post was originally going to cover "Wrong Impressions" but we will move that one to November, and do "Potions" trope of @floraone's matrix instead. Which is way more in line with the Halloween theme!

Here are the links to the previous posts to explore more amazing works based on different tropes: Sex Positivity, Established Relationships, Groundhog Day, Unfinished Stories

[coffeecatsandcandles]

𝐏𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐃𝐨𝐠 𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈

part 1

➵ 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | Rebecca Barnes had gone from the terrible twos to the terrible teens. You finally put your foot down, scolding her for taking advantage of Bucky’s inability to say no. But when she calls him in distress one night, all Bucky knows to do is to save his baby girl.

➵ 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Dad!bucky x mom!reader (ft. Rebecca Barnes)

➵ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 3.1k

➵ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | ANGST, lots of arguing, underage drinking, a little fluffy. Feat. Cassie Lang.

დ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | დ 𝐛𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | დ 𝐤𝐨-𝐟𝐢

Ever since Rebecca was old enough to talk, all she did was ask for Daddy. Only Daddy could heal her wounds, calm her down from a tantrum, and give her everything she wanted. Her love for you was just the same, but she wasn’t as obvious about it as she was with Bucky. You would wonder when she would treat you the way she treated him, but you also knew that a father-daughter relationship like this one was rare and needed to be cherished.

Bucky loved her with every fiber of his being. From the minute he woke up to when he fell asleep, all he thought about was his daughter. As she grew up, he feared their bond would falter, but it never did.

Although, you always seemed to notice something he never did.

Rebecca was sneaky. She knew exactly how to get her way the second she realized Bucky would do anything for her. If she didn’t like something you had told her to do, she’d tell her dad and have him do it for her. Starting from when she was a baby, and only Bucky could calm her down in the middle of the night. The older she got, the bigger her problems got.

Rebecca wants to get out of eating her dinner? She’ll tell dad.

She wants to go on an overnight field trip? She’ll tell dad.

She needs to borrow money for untold reasons? She’ll ask her dad.

Over the years, Bucky never got the slightest idea that maybe his daughter was taking advantage of his kindness- which is why it bothered you so much. You raised your daughter to be better than that. To be above getting what she wanted just by batting her eyelashes at the man who’d already spoiled her for her entire life. And you were upset at Bucky- he should’ve seen through it. He should’ve believed you when you first told him that this was happening, way back when Rebecca was a toddler. He should’ve been less naïve, not justifying his own behavior by saying that Rebecca was always going to be his baby- that it was a father’s job to give his daughter everything she wanted.

It was a quiet Thursday night. You’d been reading a novel on the couch while Bucky was in the kitchen cleaning the dishes left from dinner. Rebecca was on the couch opposite to you, typing away on her phone and smiling.

Rebecca stood up, shuffling over to her father and hugging him from behind. She was already tall for her age and was towering over you by a couple of inches, but she still looked so small compared to him. You smiled. You loved that even now, at sixteen years old, Becca wasn’t embarrassed of either of her parents. She wasn’t afraid to hug either of you in public or call you while she was with her friends like other teenagers were.

“So,” she started, and you could already detect that she was going to ask for him to give her something based on her tone. You braced yourself, hoping it wouldn’t be anything major, “my friends are having a small party tomorrow night, is it okay if I go?”

You sighed- it wasn’t bad at all. Even you would say yes, you were unsure why Rebecca didn’t just ask you.

“Are there gonna be any boys there?” Bucky asked, turning his head to face his daughter, still hugging him.

You chuckled lightly at your husband. His protectiveness, though in good intentions, could be a little ridiculous at times.

“No, just me, Cassie, and Kate.”

“Do their parents know about it?” Bucky asked to which Rebecca responded with a nod. “Then that’s fine. I’ll drop you off tomorrow night.”

“Actually,” Rebecca started to say, letting go of him and distancing herself slightly. You could tell she was nervous, about to ask something big. You braced yourself again- this was far more entertaining than the book you were reading. “I was wondering if you’d let me take the car? I’ll be super careful and I’ll sleepover at Cassie’s so you know her dad will be there. It’s only a couple miles away, I won’t do anything dumb.”

Bucky pinched the space between his eyebrows, “You’re taking the life out of me, Bec,” he started, “you don’t even have your license yet, why on earth would I-“

“Daddy, it’s just for one night. I promise I’ll be super careful.” And then there they were, Rebecca’s signature pouty eyes that crushed Bucky’s heart.

You could tell he was actually considering it- that he was weighing the pros and cons of letting his teenage daughter drive by herself for the first time at night. To you it was no argument- absolutely not. There was no way you would even consider her driving at night by herself, even if it was just to her best friend’s house. So, you decided to intervene.

“Rebecca, absolutely not. You heard your father, you don’t have your license. Your dad’s gonna take you to Cassie’s, end of story.”

Rebecca’s eyes widened, “But-“

“Babe, I mean she is a good driver-“

“Oh my god!” you exclaimed, tossing your book to the side and standing up. “Am I insane here? It is actually illegal for her to be driving on her own.” You turned to your daughter, “you know better than to ask for something that insane.”

You watched as Rebecca crossed her arms, looking at the floor. There was nothing but silence between the three of you.

“I feel like,” you started, trying to find the right words, “your entire life, you’ve been taking advantage of your dad. Like you know you can get your way if you ask him. That’s uncalled for, Bec, and it’s unfair. And you-“ you turned to face your husband, eyes fixated on his teenage daughter, trying to examine if she was embarrassed or upset. “-you need to learn how to say no. How to put your foot down like I’m doing right now. I’ve been really lenient with you for a long time, I used to think it was cute how you couldn’t say no to her. But this is too far.”

You felt something similar to a punch when you finished. This was the part about being a parent you hated. Seeing the look on her face after you had to scold her. But there really was no other thing you could’ve done, you’d been letting this slide for sixteen years.

“From this moment on, that attitude stops, okay? From both of you.”

Bucky nodded. In this moment, he was trying to hide how upset he was at you. He’d been like this ever since Rebecca was a baby- if someone made his daughter sad, he’d almost go feral. But you, his wife, the woman who gave him the life he had and was just as important to him as his daughter, he couldn’t be upset at you. And he had to admit, you had a point. His hair was going grey because of Becca. He was getting too old to always cover for her. She was going through his wallet, his car, and his energy like they were nothing.

“From now on,” Bucky started, “you have to start taking no for an answer. And you can’t keep asking me for all these things- I love you, Bec. More than life itself. But it’s time you start acting more independent.”

You were honestly impressed. You could tell it was paining Bucky to put his foot down, but you were proud. He did it in a way that didn’t traumatize Becca or make her hate them.

Looking over at Rebecca, you noticed that she was in fact hiding her face because she was just as upset as her father. It wasn’t that she’d been doing anything wrong- you just knew that there’d come a time where neither of you would be there at the drop of a hat for her.

Eyebrows furrowed and her gaze directed at the floor, Rebecca crossed her arms and spoke, her voice small. “So I can’t go to Cassie’s?”

“Of course you can go,” you said, keeping some space between you and your daughter, “Dad will take you tomorrow night. Go upstairs and pack what you need.”

After watching Rebecca go upstairs to her room, you turned to Bucky, “That went well,” you half-joked, sighing.

“I can’t believe you.” Bucky muttered, your heart dropping at his words as he followed up the stairs.

You scoffed as your husband left you alone. You’d only heard that coldness when he was talking to someone he didn’t like. You were never on the other end. It was cold, but you stood your ground. Bucky couldn’t baby Rebecca anymore- not when she was sixteen years old.

The following evening, after returning from dropping off Rebecca at Cassie’s house, Bucky continued to shun you, still upset at the way you talked to Rebecca. You were hoping the evening would be different- it being the first time in months Rebecca would be gone overnight. You’d planned for a shared bath, a romantic dinner, maybe even a massage, but no. Bucky was still hung up on being forced to scold his daughter.

"You’re gonna have to talk to me eventually.” You finally said after Bucky had walked past you, still damp from a shower but now dressed in pajamas.

Taking a moment to collect his thoughts, Bucky spoke. “I’m normally on your side for everything- but this,” he shook his head, “So what if I wanted Rebecca to have a little freedom? Maybe it wasn’t the best example for me to set-“

“This is more than just her wanting to take the car,” you said, “for years, you’ve been babying her. And she knows that you do it and you let her control what you do! You need to put your foot down every once in a while too, I can’t always be the bad guy.”

“She’s still a kid,” he protested.

“She is sixteen,” you said, “we have two more years before she leaves for college, or moves out, or whatever it is she wants to do. How do you expect her to learn how to be independent when you do everything for her?”

“Yeah, she’s sixteen,” he said, “I don’t do everything. She does her chores, she makes good grades, she has good friends, I’m trying to be the dad I’ve always wanted to be. Someone she’s proud of. There are gonna be people who just want to chew her up and spit her out; it’s our job to make sure that we never make her feel that way.”

Bucky hid his face from you for a second, pulling himself together. He rarely cried, and when he did, he noticed that in the last sixteen years, it’d been for Rebecca. When she was born, he cried. When she went off to kindergarten, he cried. When you’d told to him that she’d confessed to you about her first kiss, he cried. He loved her so deeply that he felt emotions he’d thought he wasn’t capable of feeling anymore.

“I just want her to know that no matter what happens to her, she’ll always have us.”

Before you could respond, you were interrupted by the vibrations of Bucky’s cell phone on the nightstand. A picture of Rebecca and Bucky at a restaurant lit up the screen, the picture you’d taken of their identical laughing faces the one Bucky had chosen to be her contact photo the second Rebecca got her own phone.

Bucky scrambled to pick it up, answering after only three rings. “Hey, you okay?” he immediately asked.

“Um, no.” Rebecca said, Bucky immediately switching to speaker so you could hear, “I kind of lied and Cassie and I went to a different party. She went off somewhere, I don’t know where she is- and then two senior boys started fighting and I think one of them has something,” your baby girl sounded scared. Her breathing was heavy and you could hear in her voice that she was trying not to panic.

“What do you mean ‘something’?” Bucky asked.

“I don’t know, it’s stupid- I think he- well I heard someone say-“ Becca started fumbling on her words, something she did when she was scared. You’d seen her do the same thing when she was six, when she realized too many people were listening to her tell a story at one of Sam’s cookouts. She started off strong, telling you, Bucky, Sam, and Sarah about the class’s pet hamster, Scooter- or was it Scooby? It’d been a decade, you couldn’t remember. Then suddenly, two, three, then four more people were looking and listening. She’d lost her train of thought because all she could focus on was them looking at her. She was in the spotlight, and she hated it.

“Becca, just breathe.” Bucky encouraged her. You listened with him as Rebecca inhaled deeply, sighing out her anxieties.

“I heard someone say one of them has a knife. I know I can run away or fight if I need to, but I’m worried about Cassie. I know you also carry around a knife sometimes- I don’t know, it’s just freaking me out.”

Before Rebecca could even finish what she was saying, you and Bucky were out the door, scrambling to start the car and telling her to stay on the phone with you.

“Just try to find Cassie, baby. We’re on our way.” You said, holding the phone as Bucky drove. You checked her location on Bucky’s phone- something you didn’t do often- to find her. “Did you drink at all?”

“No, but Cassie drank a little.” Rebecca admitted. “I’m sorry to worry you. I didn’t know who else to call, I’m sorry for always asking you to do things for me but right now I really need you.”

“I know, bug. It’s okay. We’re coming.” Bucky assured her.

You found a trashed front yard near where Becca’s location was. You couldn’t find her at first, a panic settling in before spotting her a few houses down, distancing herself from the chaos the other teenagers were causing. Though it was dark, you could still see the relief on her face when she saw you and Bucky searching for her. Bucky parked the car out front of the unfamiliar house and nearly ran out of the car.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry-“ she kept saying, crossing her arms as if she were curling into herself- or maybe she was just cold. Either way, Bucky took off his jacket and wrapped it around her, reminding him a little too much of the blanket she had been wrapped in when he first held her.

“Don’t be sorry. Thank you for calling me- god, if anything had happened to you, I don’t know what I would’ve done.” He wrapped his arms around her as well, tightly holding on to his daughter as she cried.

It was beautiful, given the shitty circumstances. She was in big trouble, no doubt, but for now, you were just happy she was safe.

“Did you hear from Cassie?” you asked as the two of them got into the car. Rebecca shook her head, a look of worry back on her face.

“It’s okay, let’s drive around, see if we find her.” Bucky said.

You looked closely for the other teen, not knowing what she was wearing but having a clear picture of what she looked like in your mind. Cassie and Rebecca had been friends since kindergarten, she was basically a second daughter.

“Worst case scenario, I have Scott’s number,” Bucky said to you, his voice low so he wouldn’t worry his daughter even more. It terrified him, being somewhat responsible for his friend’s daughter going missing. He didn’t want his mind to go there- no parent deserved this, but especially Scott.

“Oh my god, there she is!” Rebecca said, pointing up ahead at a young girl dressed in a flowy purple top and skinny jeans. Bucky stopped the car and Rebecca lowered the window to call to her friend. Even from here, a few blocks away from the house the party was at, you all could hear the loud music, revving cars, and yells of a bunch of teenagers.

Cassie came in, apologetic as ever, joining Rebecca in the backseat as you all made your way back to your house. You assured Cassie it was okay if she slept over, as that was what she had told her father she was doing. Whether or not you would tell Scott what happened was a decision you weren’t in the mood to make- at least not until morning.

As Cassie got ready for bed in Rebecca’s room, you and Bucky sat down for a quick talk with your daughter as you brewed some tea.

Rebecca picked at her nail buds, “I know I’m in a lot of trouble, but-“

“Of course you are,” you said trying not to get as livid as you felt, “you lied to me and your father, you went to a party with kids who were drinking and fighting, and worst of all, you put yourself and Cassie in danger.” You could see how badly this had hit Rebecca. Her eyes said it all- whenever she pulled them on her father, you could tell she exaggerated them a bit. But these sad eyes were real. They were the most apologetic they’d ever been, and you could just tell Rebecca was sorry.

You and Bucky exchanged a look. Sure, Rebecca was in trouble. But not tonight. Not right now.

You both wrapped your arms around her, exchanging kisses on the top of her head. “I’m just so glad you’re okay.”

Bucky rested his head on top of his daughter’s, eyes apologetically looking at you. Now you were certain you knew where Rebecca had gotten hers from. Just by the look he was giving you, you could tell Bucky was sorry for snapping at you. And you were sorry, too.

Bucky had a point. You wanted to be someone Rebecca was proud of. Someone she could call in times of need. Though you knew you couldn’t let Bucky continue to baby her, his dedication to her still made your heart soar.

It all came from a place of love, and Bucky’s love for his girls was the strongest type of love he’d ever experienced.

[wannabe-fic-writer]

Kara Danvers x Reader : Behave

Summary: Only good girls get rewarded. 

Genre: 18+ Smut Includes(d/s dynamic, choking, edging, spanking, bondage, temperature play, overstimulation)

Request: Yes / No

Word Count: 3,104

* * * * * * 

Blazing blue eyes watch you from across the apartment. A deep dent rests between light brown eyebrows as pink lips press together.

This is the third time you’ve bent over to show your ass to Winn and James and there’s no way they weren’t looking with the way you’re dressed tonight. That plus your shameless flirting with Lena.

Kara trusts that none of them will do anything but that is far beyond the point. 

When you raise up you make direct eye contact with your girlfriend and she catches the glint in your eyes. She’s seen it a million times and knows exactly what it means, that doesn’t change a thing for her. 

The second you step away from your shared group of friends into J’onn’s dining room, she’s grabbing your hand and pinning you to the wall around the corner. Her thumb and fingers press into either sides of your neck, the palm of her hand against your throat. When you swallow you can feel the slight pressure of her palm.

“You are testing my patience little one.” She speaks in a lustfully menacing tone that sends a shiver down your back straight to your core.

The way you raise your head and look down at the blonde could be taken as a challenge from anybody else but Kara knows it’s your way of exposing yourself to her, in the only way you can at the moment. More of your neck is laid bare before her eyes, a just barely noticeable vein there that Kara stares at, she could just lean forward and leave a perfect mark right there. You’d walk away from here with everyone knowing you’re hers.

“I’m sorry, did I do something wrong?” You feign innocence. 

With the way she narrows her eyes you just barely fear that she’s going to hit you with her laser eyes. 

Her jaw clenches and you swear you can hear it click.“ You do a lot of cute things, but playing dumb isn’t one of them.” Kara keeps her voice low which just adds to the faint throb between your legs that you’ve been feeling since you saw her putting on your favorite strap earlier.“ If you behave for the rest of the night, you can get the reward I had planned for you after your punishment.” 

Knowing that your girlfriend will hold true to her words you nod. And you do in fact behave for the remainder of the night. 

You’d gotten the exact reaction you wanted from her so you have no reason to dig a deeper hole, even though there are times where you like to push the limits. 

By the time everyone is heading out, your anticipation has reached its peak. You can barely keep your expression neutral as you hug J’onn goodnight and walk out with Kara. The blonde wastes no time securing you in her arms and shooting across the sky to her apartment. 

In a matter of seconds, she’s setting you down in the living room, her hands gripping your hips,“ go strip and wait for me.” The swat on your ass is hardly enough to even warm you up for what’s to come but it does make you jump a little.

“Yes ma’am,” you say teasingly, making sure to look back at her when you pull your bottom lip between your teeth.

Inside the bedroom you make quick work of shedding all your clothes off, neatly folding them and setting them on the dresser, before placing yourself on the edge of the bed. 

There isn’t a single noise that gives way to what she could be doing and it slightly worries you. However you trust Kara. This is far from the first time something like this has happened so you know she won’t hurt you or do anything you’re uncomfortable with.

When she finally steps into the room she comes to stand in front of you. With a teasing slowness, she removes each article of clothing without taking her eyes off of you at all. You swallow at the sight of her completely bare in front of you.

The number of nights you’d gotten off on just the sight of her and your own touch plays in the back of your head, only fueling the flames that are growing inside of you.

Reaching out, Kara curls a finger under your chin,“ what’s our word little one?”

“Jumanji.” 

Despite the intensity of the situation, a smile cracks on both of your faces. Your safe word never fails to amuse you both. It was oddly fitting when you’d chosen it, both of you being movie buffs, also what better phrase to use to stop something you can’t handle or don’t want happening. 

The smile wipes from her face quickly.“ Good girl,” she stands up straight,“ lay back and put your hands over your head.”

You do as she says, scooting up the bed and crossing your arms at the wrists above your head. Patience chips away as you wait for her but you remain silent, there’s no need to worsen your punishment. What it’ll be tonight you don’t know but Kara never disappoints.

Your beautiful girlfriend returns from her trip to the closet with an all too familiar cloth in her hand. Made from the same fabric that her cape is, makes this particular cloth perfect for the current situation. Bullets couldn’t pierce her cape so you both know there’s no way you’re getting out of it when it’s tied perfectly around your wrists.

Ever loving, Kara tugs on the perfect bow and glances down at you,“ too tight?” You shake your head in response. 

It truly is a sight to see the woman throw her legs over your body, sitting her ass back on your thighs as she runs her hands up your sides.“ I’m proud of you for behaving,” she speaks softly,“ but I can’t disregard how you acted at the beginning of the night little one.”

She doesn’t miss the way your breath seems to hitch when her fingers brush under your breasts.“ You gonna be a good girl for the rest of the night?”

“Yes.”

“I know.” Dragging her nails down your side ever so slightly, she raises up enough to spin you around. 

Her chosen punishment is a spanking, made incredibly clear when her hand lands on your ass, much harder than it had earlier. The shock of the first hit always sends you pressing into the bed, a near silent hiss slipping through your teeth. 

Each hit gets progressively harder and makes you all the more aroused. The magic number is twenty but you can feel the slick coating your thighs at ten. 

“Oh you’re enjoying this aren’t you?” She pauses,“ you love when I mark this little ass up don’t you?” The next smack tells you she expects a reply. 

A sigh of yes falls from your lips, the struggle of not squeezing your thighs together growing by the second. 

She tsks,“ but this is supposed to be a punishment baby.” Before you can even reply she spanks you harder than she has all night. A mix between a cry and a moan leaving your lips.

The light throb on your backside is welcomed as it accompanies a wave of arousal. 

But you know, as pleasuring as you find this, it won’t be enough to douse the fire in your belly. 

When she delivers the final smack you swear you can feel it all over. It’s possible she put a little more power behind that one, enough so that you never forget but not enough to truly hurt you. Letting you calm down, she straddles your back, hands slipping around to your front. The instant her fingers pinch your nipples you know the break is over. It never lasts long. 

Just as she had before, she turns you over. You can now feel her core against your abdomen. Her slightest movement spreads her slick across your stomach along with a light brush from the harness of the strap. The thought alone of her being so turned on is enough to make you moan, the sound starting deep in your throat.

Soft fingers brush your now pert nipples, one of the appendages replaced by the warmth of her mouth. Her tongue swirls around your nipple, teeth gently biting into it, tugging up to leave a tingling sensation.

You swear you were about to say something, possibly ask that she speed up just a little, but the words are snatched from you mouth and brain at the suddenly cold feeling on your had been warm breasts. 

A glance down shows her mouth still wrapped around you which draws the conclusion that she most certainly just used her ice breath on you. 

It’s an odd sensation at first, completely out of left field, but she repeats it. The cold goes away, she warms you up, and the cold comes back. You can feel the goosebumps rising across your skin as you arch up into her.

Kara places one featherlight kiss on your abused nipple before moving to the other. More than anything you wish to thread your fingers into those golden curls and the inability to do so frustrates you.

Growling lowly makes blue eyes flick up to you, a brow quirking in curiosity.

She pulls her mouth from you with a quiet pop,“ getting impatient are we?” Puckering her lips, she blows down on your breast, cold air bursting over your nipple. 

“Please let me touch you.” You beg, for the first time tonight.

Her head tilts, fingers running down your jaw,“ you think you deserve to touch me little one?” You nod frantically. You need to touch her. For a split second she looks like she’ll let you, only to shake her head,“ not yet.” 

With still cold lips, she kisses your neck. Your heated skin clashes with the temperature of her lips and your toes curl with yet another shiver. 

“Kara…” you groan when those kisses press to your hip bones and pelvis. Just a few inches south and she’ll be exactly where you need her to be, where you crave her touch.

Instead of her mouth though, you feel the digits of her fingers run through your folds.“ Oh you’re absolutely soaked baby.” She whispers against your pelvis, breath no longer cold. 

Collecting your juices on her fingers, she trails them up your folds to your clit, light circles drawing around the bundle of nerves. Your hands clench into fists above your head, hips pushing up in search of more friction. If you weren’t experiencing such pleasure you’d frown at how easily she allows you to get it. 

Her fingers press tighter circles into you, loving the occasional throb she feels, before she moves them back down to your entrance. With ease she slips both digits inside of you, dragging them across your walls and expertly curling against that perfect little spot in you. 

You say her name like it’s a prayer and her need to keep hearing it drives her to finally wrap her lips around your clit. However you aren’t expecting her mouth to be cold again. 

“Oh fuck,” you sigh, body unsure whether to run from the sensation or embrace it. Your back arches into the bed, running from it, while your hips jolt up in search of more. 

She swirls her tongue and curls her fingers like she was put on this earth for the sole purpose of pleasing you. Your moans bounce off the walls and Kara knows her neighbors can hear but she doesn’t care one bit, not when silencing you means stopping. You taste like honey and Kara laps at everything you have to offer like it’ll save her.

The coil in your belly wounds tighter and tighter. Kara can feel how close you are, your walls fluttering around her fingers, clit throbbing more with each lick. Just when she feels you about to let go she pulls away. 

“Kara!” You whine, body slumping into the bed dejectedly as frustration runs over you. 

“It’s only what you deserve little one.” A teasing smirk forms on her lips as she bathes in how needy you are for her. She’d love to say this is only part of your punishment but she’d have done it anyway. It’ll be worth it in the end and she knows that, almost better than you do. 

Pushing your legs even further apart, she kneels between them, blue eyes taking in the mess you made of the sheets. Gods if she didn’t already have plans she’d eat you like you were her last meal, cause there’s nothing better than you coming on her tongue. 

“Kara,” the softness of your voice draws her eyes up. Her eyes widen a little at the look in yours, she isn’t sure she’s ever seen it.“ Please fuck me.” You beg for it so sweetly that she couldn’t say no even if she wanted to. Those eyes reveal your need for it even more than mess between your legs does.

Moving up to hover over you, she raises a hand to cup your cheek, and pull you into a kiss. Your lips mold together perfectly. The taste of yourself on her tongue as she slips it into your mouth elicits another moan and your, now free, hands rests on her back, nails lightly scratching the skin there.

The hand on your cheek slips down your body, smoothing over your breast and ribs and then away. Tracing the tip of the dildo through your folds, deliberately running it against your clit, she covers it in your slick, before thrusting into you. 

She gives you a second, a literal second, to adjust before taking you with a brutal speed. The nails on her back dig in harder, nowhere near breaking skin. Your legs wrap around her hips, bringing her closer to you. 

Every moan and gasp that slips from your lips travels straight to her ear and only fuels her ministrations. But she can’t help but feel like it’s not enough. Her head leans down to bury her face into your neck, seconds later she bites and sucks marks into your skin. 

You could feel that flame that had been inside of you, licking every inch of your skin. The toy drags across your walls perfectly and every angled thrust causes it to hit your gspot. 

If she weren’t a kryptonian you’d swear that her superpower was fucking you so perfectly. 

Feeling you close again, Kara snakes a hand between the two of you, fingers wrapping around your throat. She just leaves it there for a moment, the anticipation enough to build you to that perfect point. Just when you arrive, she applies the slightest bit of pressure to the sides of your neck. 

A whimper falls from your lips, so pathetic that if it weren’t Kara causing it embarrassment would’ve killed you. Your eyes screw shut, lip getting trapped between your teeth. With how hard you’re biting it she knows you're fighting hard not to come without permission and you’d already received your punishment. 

“Come for me little one.” She whispers against the shell of your ear. 

Your legs tighten even harder around her and she slows her thrusts. She feels the pressure of your nails on her back increase and it drives her mad. There will never be a sight more beautiful than watching you come undone. 

Her hand unwraps from your throat and you breathe easier, chest heaving from your orgasm and lack of air. 

When she sits back on her calves, still softly rocking into you, the purpose for her trip to the bathroom is revealed. Two vibes seemingly appear in her hand out of thin air. She clicks one on, slipping it behind the harness to no doubt rest against her clit based on the moan she releases, and the other, she sends it to its highest setting and presses it to your swelling clit. 

The instant vibrations makes you throw your head back into the pillows, fingers now clenching the bed sheets as your back arches. 

Just when you thought it couldn’t get any more intense, she sets an even more brutal pace than before. Her hips slam into you at an ungodly speed, going deeper than she had before. 

You know the vibe plus her thrusts are going to send you over the edge long before she does and she’s hoping for it. 

Pressing the vibe even closer to your clit pushes you over. It seems as though your body adopts the vibration of the little toy. Your thighs quiver as you come but she doesn’t stop. 

With the next one, you feel as your juices nearly explode from you, soaking Kara and the bedsheets. A loud cry leaves your lips as your fingers wrap around the wrist of Kara’s hand holding the vibe. 

“Please, I can’t-” breathless words spill from your lips and Kara clicks the vibe off, stilling her hips and removing the vibe away from her own swollen bud. 

Blue eyes search your form as you breathe laboriously. Her hands rest at your hips, gently rubbing from them up to your sides in a soothing manner. 

It takes a long minute for you to finally breathe evenly, your chest now rising and falling in a less concerning way. 

Kara slips the dildo from you, your pussy clenching around nothing at the now empty feeling. She leans down to kiss your thigh,“ you did so well little one,” her lips ghost over your skin,“ look how much you came for me?” Sitting back, she allows you to look down at the large damp spot on the sheets, you felt it on your thighs, but seeing it on hers and the sheets makes you realize just how hard you truly came. 

“Well fuck,” you mumble, head falling back against the pillows,“ this is my favorite set.” Both of you chuckle at the little joke.

Having tossed the toys aside, your girlfriend moves to rest beside you, her elbow allowing her to prop her head on her hand.“ Are you okay?” She asks softly, combing her fingers through your unruly mane. 

You nod, kissing the palm of her hand when it lays against your cheek to back up your words. 

“Okay,” her thumb strokes your cheek,“ I’ll run a bath.”

She rolls out of bed and your head lolls to the other side to watch her naked form head to the bathroom.“ If this is what I get for misbehaving,” your words make her stop at the door, gaze catching yours over her shoulder,“ I might have to do it more often.”

* * * * * *

Taglist: @owloftheshadows @zhellas 

[diavolosthots]

hello ! can I request a fic of mammon realizing the MC is kidnapped and being tortured so he goes on searching mode with his brothers and once they found MC, he would hold on to them for dear life because he's afraid he'll lose them again? please give it a lot of angst, I need to cry :)) also thank you so much for accepting requests again, can't tell you how much I love your writings and blog <3

I tried my best 💀 thank you so much ❤

Warning: angst, mentions of torture -> happy ending

Fearful ( MAMMON X GN!READER ft. THE BROTHERS )

“I wondered how long until this would happen.” “Lucifer!” Mammon, for once, can’t believe his older brother. You had been missing for literal days. You spend the night with Simeon and Luke and then didn’t come home the next day and at first, everyone tried to justify it by saying that you decided to stay with them a little bit longer, except that, after the 3rd day, when Lucifer called Simeon to confirm your whereabouts, they found out that that was not true. They searched the whole house, frantically running up and down the stairs and opening the many doors that led to various rooms. All of RAD and part of the Devildom’s downtown streets were also searched and still, no luck. Mammon was freaking everyone out even more with his inability to stand still and think straight for even a moment. “Mammon!” But even yelling their brother’s name and threatening him did little to calm him down. He’s thinking the worst and can’t see a scenario of where you’re not dead. “What if they’re dead, Lucifer!? What we gonna do then…?!” The worst part was that besides saying that they don’t know anything for sure, Lucifer can do very little to comfort his brother, which is torture on another level. Mammon was, is, and always will be his favorite, no matter how bad it looks to an outsider. He loves his brother and seeing him so anxious makes his own heart ache. 

See, to Mammon, you were one in a million; he knew that from the minute he saw you. Not having you with him or at least in the same house, has him very much on edge and the fact that they knew even less about your whereabouts had a chill running down his spine. “I got something!” The minute he heard Leviathan’s words, he pushed everyone else out of the way and looked at his brother’s computer screen where a red dot was blinking. “The hell is that?! I thought ya had somethin’!” “I do! That’s their phone’s location! Seems like whoever took them forgot to turn off the location setting…” Lucifer pushed him out of the way to which Mammon protested, trying to see where that might be. “That’s the abandoned gold mine. It hasn’t been used since Lord Diavolo rose to power.” Everyone stayed quiet, except for Mammon, who was already breathing heavily and freaking out, “gold mine, gold mine…” Before anyone could say anything else, he was already off. “Mammon! You’re be-.... Reckless… You’re being reckless…” Belphegor groaned, shaking his head. Of course he wanted to find you as well, but he wasn’t about to jump in head first without a plan.

Mammon switched between flying and running, knowing where that damn mine is located and only because he heard some rumor about some of the gold still being in there. There wasn’t back then, but there is now. “I swear if they did anything to ya (Y/N)...” he’s mumbling to himself, his heart pounding with both fear and hope of finding you there. He rushes in without a plan. Looking back now, that was stupid, but he just wanted to save you damnit! The sight that greeted him was less than exciting, though, “(Y/N)...” those bastards had you dangling from the ceiling, your body shed from all the clothes you were wearing and you looked like you barely clung to life. 

His heart shattered right then and there. Seeing you like that had his heart stop for a moment, long enough for your attackers to wrap something around his throat and drag him back. Mammon gasped out, trying to catch a breath of air as he struggled, his wings flapping hard behind him and one of them actually managed to cut the demon that was holding the thing that was wrapped around your throat, which gave Mammon the opportunity to grab him and throw him over his shoulder and hard into the ground. There were at least two more guys coming from the shadows and Mammon made quick work in knocking the demon below him unconscious before he took on the other two with an almost animalistic scream. Your body stirred at the noise and he was glad to catch a glimpse of some form of life left inside of you, “hold on (Y/N)!” He wasn’t so nice with the next guy, opting straight for ripping his head off. Right as he was about to do the same to the third one, he saw a fourth come up behind you, cutting your body and adding to the wounds that already drained you of so much blood, “no!” 

He lunged himself at the fourth guy first, body slamming him to the ground and then taking his head in his hands, smashing it on the ground as well. A pool of blood collected behind the demon and Mammon silently prayed that that was enough to knock him out for good. The third, and last guy, took a hold of Mammon and yanked him back, holding him in a choke hold until Mammon saw Lucifer out of the corner of his eyes, yanking the demon back off of him. Immediately, Mammon’s eyes were on your form again, watching as Asmodeus and Satan took you down, gently undoing the cuffs that held you to the ceiling. 

Mammon rushed over, taking your body from them and falling to his knees, pulling you into his lap, “(Y/N)! Damnit, (Y/N)!!” He slaps your cheek lightly before leaning down to see if he can hear, or feel, any type of breathing. “They’re breathing…” at least something good, right? “Oi! Wake up! (Y/N)!” He’s shaking you, his voice starting to crack as he brings you up into his arms, squeezing you tightly against his chest. Beel came up behind him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, “Mammon… take them. We have to get out of here.” But Mammon shook his head, burying his face into your shoulder to hide the tears that are threatening to fall, “(Y/N).... babe… wake up… please…” He’s mumbling against your skin now, fear that those breaths he heard weren’t actual breaths and just his imagination setting in. 

Satan was the first who noticed, seeing the slight movement in your fingertips. You had lost a lot of blood from the several deep cuts, and your body was pretty bruised up. How much blood could a human lose before it became too much? Satan wasn’t even quite sure, but apparently you hadn’t lost enough to be dead yet. “M-Mammon..” your voice was hoarse, quiet, but it was enough to alert the demon and he immediately pulled back to look at you, not caring about the tears that have now stained his cheeks. “(Y/N)? (Y/N)! Say… Say it again!” “Mammon…” Your eyes opened up for a moment, too weak to stay open for long but you mustered a small smile before your head rolled against his shoulder, “you came…” 

He didn’t know if his heart was rising or aching even more, “of course I came…” Why wouldn’t he come? Slowly rising to his feet, he made sure to keep his grip on you strong, almost growling when Lucifer moved to wrap his coat around your naked body, but he didn’t want anyone else to see you like this either. “Thanks…” he was more worried about you right now than the look Lucifer gave him, slowly moving to make his way back home. His gaze stayed on you, scared that if he looked away for even a second you’d stop breathing for sure, “Of course I came for ya, (Y/N).... I love ya…” he wasn’t sure if you heard it until a soft grasp could be felt on his chest and he quickly returned his gaze to look at your face, a small smile present again. You were hurt, but you would be okay, or at least, that’s what he’s telling himself, and you. 

[scrawnytreedemon]

Victor Frankenstein and Frustration: a Not-Essay, because I can’t structure for shit.

Alright, I’ll try to keep it as clean and concise as I can, but at the end of the day this is a sorta-heat-in-the-moment thing I’m writing while all the ideas and motivation are in me yet. I will be jumping around alot of topics, as this covers alot of ground, but I can’t say I’ll do it with grace: for this, I apologise.

I’ve noticed a trend in online lit fandom, not just on Tumblr, to condense Victor’s character to something roughly following “arrogant, ineffectual and selfish weenie who failed horribly at parenting, who ought not to be taken seriously in any significant way, largely in-due to his constant whining“ --In other words, a right twat.

And here’s the thing: largely, I agree.

However, what I take issue with, I suppose, is largely how this is all framed.

See, fandom has a tendency to sort characters into boxes, and then pick favourites or bête noires from that selection; this is helpful for the largely memetic(as in, shareable,) nature of online spaces; but where I think this thinking falls short is that it tends to divide casts into More Good or More Evil, with little room for nuance.

I think you can see where I’m going with this.

Victor Frankenstein, by all accounts, is an incredibly frustrating character to witness; he gets way in over his head, isolates himself from his loved ones, leaving them worried, deems those ambitions failed, hides from them, then when shit starts hitting the fan, he takes initial actions to try and mitigate the consequence, hits a roadblock, either stops their or chooses an even worse option, someone else gets hurt, he whines, rinse and repeat until the final act of the book, as the stakes get higher and higher and his mental state deteriorates more, and more, and more. If you look at this entirely from an outsiders’ perspective, as you, the audience, being subjected to his moaning time and time again, it can wear on you and your sympathies-- Needless to say, I Get It™.

I think, however, it needs be remarked that Victor is also just some guy. 

What I feel is often missed, is that even before Victor goes to university, he has just suffered the loss of his mother, with little time to recover, and that all of this is being told in hindsight, on his deathbed.

When Victor took on, all by himself, at twenty-two years old, not even letting anyone else know what he was up to, the monumental task of creating life, and then finding that life horribly botched, he did not have the perspective that what he created was equivalent to a newborn child-- For all he knew, he might have animated an actual demon. It isn’t until two years later, after the death of his little brother at the hands of said demon, the he’s even remotely made aware of this.

Victor had worn himself out over the course of several months, physically and mentally, to this one task. He was not equipped to deal witht he consequences. I do not say this to downplay the weight of his actions, or the horrible mess of events that come afterwards, but to state perspective. Victor does not have the hindsight we have at the time of this act. I cannot stress this enough. As much as I enjoy Deadbeat Dad Vick jokes, I get the feeling many people actually view the story from this lens, and hold Victor up to that standard.

Then there’s the trial of Justine: a horrible, useless, unneeded and avoidable affair that ends in even more senseless death. This is where alot of people’s sympathy for Victor runs out-- For more than understandable reasons. He failed to act accordingly, to share the information he had, deeming it to be either dismissed instantly or for himself to be put under scrutiny; it’s clear he’s passionate about Justine’s innocence, but he cannot push himself past his fear and doubt, and ultimately, it ends in her death.

It is a horrible, horrible moment, and one that cements the tone of the story from there on out.

These are two key events that largely colour this image of Victor so prevelant online; and it certainly doesn’t help, what with fandom being almost aggressively left-leaning at times, that Victor comes from a place of privilege; he is almost tailor-made to push all the buttons of fandom sensitivities.

Let me elaborate.

A key feature of Victor’s character is his complete and utter inability to ask for help; no matter how dire the situation. Victor feels, that, despite and even because of his incompetence, that it is his cross and his cross alone to bear. Any inolvement from others, such as Clerval when he heads to England, is hesitant and highly discouraged, even when he wants nothing more than to partake in the company of his loved ones, after all he’s been through. While it is also heavily coloured by the anguished sentiment that borders on self-absorption so much of the time, I think it is also worthy to examine this too.

Victor’s tendency to indulge in self-pity and self-loathing is nigh, if not entirely, all-consuming; it pervades the narrative to a painful degree, particularly as it comes from his recollections; it is often exhausting to read through, and nigh unbearable if you already hold a disdane from his previous actions; but here’s the thing I think most people miss,

Victor is depressed.

I don’t mean “ooh, he’s so sad, leave him alone 🥺,“ I mean the guy is fucking depressed, stuck in a constant cycle of attempting to make do but failing, hating himself even more, letting it consume him because he at once feels like he deserves to be consumed and it’s the only thing he can do then and there to soothe to pain as shit gets worse and worse.

Victor Frankenstein’s internal monolgue is a prime example of deep-seated, far-gone depression, and I say this because I myself have experienced and do experience this. Depression is fucking soul-sucking, man; it turns you in on yourself, makes you feel entirely undeserving of love and compassion, leaves you feeling like you must, have to, deal with this entirely by yourself because it is your cross to bear.

Depression is so often self-flagellating and pointless, leaving the subject drained and often largely unable to experience the world outside their own miserable little bubble.

Victor is so wrapped up in this soul-sucking guilt, attempting to fight his own ineffectuality and in doing so only furthering his own ineffectuality, refusing to ask for help, that he ends up putting the ones he’s trying to protect in further danger as he tries to scramble a hodge-podge solution to the problem he created and couldn’t have even begun to forsee its consequences at twenty-two years old. It is a painful, painful example of how if only he reached out, if only he told someone, was honest, all of this could have been avoided, or at least mitigated.

And I think that’s the thing with Victor.

He’s a kind of banal evil-- If such continuous stumbling can even be considered so --He is an example of every day self-isolation and refusal to let anyone else in ballooning to such a degree it ends in distaster.

People are far, far more willing to forgive Adam for his transgressions-- And I say this as someone far more sympathetic to his plight, what with the absolute abandonment he faced at the hands of humanity --Despite their far more horrific consequences; in many ways, they’re attributed to Victor’s failing; which isn’t entirely untrue,

But I have to wonder, if alot of this also comes down to the fact that Victor’s wrongdoings are so human; leaving someone in your care behind; not speaking up in cases of injustice; being self-involved; again, the constant whining. In a way, it’s the sentiment that in stories a horrible person is often far more bearable than an annoying one.

That doesn’t even begin to touch on how much of the bemoaning might largely be and often is directly post-hoc regret colouring all his previous actions. This, above all else, is a cautionary tale to a fellow idealist in the hopes that Robert Walton doesn’t Fuck Up the way he did. Victor stresses his regret and his failings and his misery time and time again because he wants to protect Robert from a similar fate; a fate that ultimately ends in his death.

Victor Frankenstein is a study in frustration; in audience frustration, self-frustration, narrative frustration; it seeps into every corner of the story.

I am not trying to defend Victor Frankenstein as a person; he is flawed; and he’s meant to be flawed. Victor, at the end of the day, is a deconstruction of the Byronic hero-- Of Great and Powerful Men on the Fronteers of History™-- And most importantly, I think, a deconstruction he himself undergoes. Victor eventually alerts someone, a Genevan magistrate, is doubted just as he feared, and then runs off to take revenge into his own hands.

It takes the death of Elizabeth Lavenza to do so.

Victor is a flawed, miserable man, but not an evil one. That doesn’t mean he deserved to have his life crumble around him.

He could have done better. Should have done better.

And he knows this.

His entire arc is about how he knows this.

Victor dies knowing this.

Him being unlikable doesn’t make him a bad character. Him being unlikable is part of the character; and in a meaningful way.

God, I don’t know how to end this. I’ll probably come back and edit this many, many times.

I guess I’m just tired of people flattening characters just because they’re not particularly endearing.

[sxltedcxramel]

Lover’s Quarrel

c!techno x gn!reader

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

: ̗̀➛ Summary:  You and Technoblade have been friends for decades, always by each other’s side you two faught alongside each other. That was once in a lifetime, and should never happen again. Unfortunately life doesn’t play out that way and you happen to need him one more time... or maybe they’ll be a change in plans?

: ̗̀➛ Word Count: 1515

: ̗̀➛ Chapters: 1/1

: ̗̀➛ Tag(s): No beta reader we die like ghostbur, c!techno, gn!reader, immortal reader x immortal techno, angel!reader, god!techno, angst, friends to enemies to friends, complicated ik

: ̗̀➛ Warnings: slight cursing, mentions of torture and death

: ̗̀➛ Taglist: Here

: ̗̀➛ Link(s): Ao3

: ̗̀➛ Notes: *screams into oblivion* one this is all platonic I didn’t specify 😓 two I barely survived the writers drought (no friken inspiration) but I bring to you my first c!dsmp x reader fic (please be kind I tried-) basically this taks place in really old times and not modern considering how its writter like I just finished reading shakesphere although the idea came while listening to classical music so that it how you will. Also this isn’t edited so my bad if theres mistakes-

The room was dimly lit with candles and the r oaring fire that burned passionately at the fireplace. White tiles were plastered with gold diamonds, the shade almost as if it was antique jewelry, Old but could tell an amazing story. The colour completing the beige-coloured room

You waited patiently, cross-legged glaring at the clock that ticked every second or so. 10 minutes you thought to yourself while you grind your teeth. That man seemed to be early only when it was for his own convenience, how distasteful.

Just as you finished that thought you saw the dark oak wood door being pushed open. A man walks in, he wears a white loosely fitted blouse, with bishop sleeves which was decorated with frilly fabrics. Along with death-black dress pants that were worn up to the waist. His face where his mask usually is is replaced with glasses and the man's delicate bubblegum pink hair is loosely braided and thrown on the right side of his shoulder.

“Your late” you glare crossing your arms

He let out a sigh “Well pardon me for taking a while to get ready, It's almost like you didn’t come here unannounced” he spoke sarcastically.

He walked over to the glass tray and picked up a small glass cup with a gold ring around it and poured himself a drink. He eyes you “Would you care for a drink y/n?”

“I don’t drink”

He shrugs “Suit yourself”

“Technoblade, I didn't come here for idle chatter.”

He arched his eyebrow slightly “Oh?” Techno placed his cup down “Pray do tell, what exactly did you come here for?” You watched him walk to the other side of the room as he said that.

“I-“ you could even finish before being rudely interrupted by a rustling noise. You watched as your patience grew thinner by the minute he took out a black vinyl disc and placed it on a wooden box making sure the oin was adjusted well. A soft tune of the piano came out of the music player.

“Would you care for a dance?” He holds out his hand, you stare at it contemplating whether you should grab his hands, you really shouldn't, you didn’t want to play his games, you wanted what you came for, but then again it would harm a dance. Or course your brain chose the latter considering how you delicately placed your hand in his letting him place his hand on your waist the the other on your shoulder. He lead the way,(just like he always does)

“Apologies for interrupting music helps me think.” He spoke as he spun you around the floor “They calm the voices” . You knew all about the voices, how much they love to chant and clog his brain with different variations of thoughts, perks of being his ex-partner you suppose. But you watched as he hid a smirk, you guess he’s just telling only half the truth. You roll your eyes

“You can finish”

“Wouldn’t you mean start idiot” you snap

“Meh”

You clicked your tongue in annoyance, his inability to ever grasp the mood of the situation was flawless. It seemed as if he never cared about the other person's feelings, unless you were the god of death you were out of luck for a serious conversation. You’ve dealt with that for decades

You could remember once in a lifetime the two of you were partners, fast and precise that's how the job went. The blood god and the angel of destruction are an amazing duo. You remember when the two of you used to watch as people begged on their knees for their life or perhaps a mercy kill. Watching as your foes tried to retreat to their bases only for their pitiful lives to end in such a disgraceful manner. At the end of the day the two of you stood in the battlefield side by side knowing the world could shake in fear knowing you two were alive

And you loved it like that desire to make people fear you brought giddiness to your body and enlightened your world. You wanted one thing and it was to get revenge.

Revenge on all who did you wrong from your youth up, and now you were strong enough to bring it tenfold.

Everything was fine, It wasn’t until one day the two of you had sat down for a cup of tea like you usually did on Thursday evenings. He told you he wanted to retire, he was done with the killings and the torture.

He was finally putting down the title ‘Blood god’

At first you thought it was a joke but then you saw his eyes and they were as serious as he could ever be, anger rose up in you unable to process the statement.

How could he leave you like this, he promised to be by your side when no one else would.

A liar that's would your made him out to be

A slap to the cheek was all you left him that day

Now here you were decades later, hand in hand dancing to the sounds of the instruments harmonizing becoming one just the way you two were.

He spun you around gracefully on the tiled floor, there's something about dancing in an empty room that makes you feel weird inside. What was this feeling? Him making you feel weak in the knees, perhaps it was the fact the last time you did this it was when you two were young and reckless. He always seemed to know how to brighten your life,even to the point the friendship you two had was envied amongst the other gods.

He twirled you across the room dipping you slightly “Cat caught your tongue”

You rolled your eyes “As if”

You saw outside the glass panes, the sky was painted a blood orange mixed with lavender purples and hints of blue. The sun slowly sets,bringing the nightfall.

You chuckle to yourself, how romantic of the sky to show such a sight for people who would die before dating each other.

You turn your gaze to the god “I need you one last time” you say cutting to the chase

Technoblade glared at you “I already told you I’m retired, don’t be so stubborn”

“I’m not, your being selfish putting your needs before anyone else's”

He snorts “Isn’t that what you're doing y/n? Or am I reading the situation wrong?” He says sarcastically “Plus I thought you made it clear that you wanted nothing to do with me, or was that slap something you did on impulse and you couldn’t face me after?”

You grind your teeth “It was not, and why are you making it seem like you're the victim? You're the one who wanted to leave me!” You snapped

He took his hands away from you and pinched the bridge of his nose “See, this is why we cannot have a conversation. You always jump to conclusions” he growls

“I do not!”

“You do! I never intended to leave your side, only retiring. Is it so bad I wanted to stop killing and do something better with my life, and here I thought you’d be happy with it.”

You stared at him shocked, “I..”

Was he right? You were known to act on impulse which did cause problems in the long run but he’d be there to be by your side every time. But yet, you couldn’t fathom the thought of him leaving his life behind to start a new one. Why? You weren’t sure.

Techno sighed “You act so tough when actually you're broken inside. The thing is you weren’t mad at me for retirement, you were mad that things were changing. You're scared of change because you don’t know where you’ll fall between it all.”

The piano falls into a soft handsomely rhythm

The violinist quietly drag their bows delicately

You cast your eyes aside, you couldn’t argue with the truth. You swallow hard fighting back the tears. You couldn’t fathom the amount of times you’ve been in the wrong or how much you’ve hurt him

Stupid

Stupidstupidstu-

A hand is placed on you head

“You think too much, stop that”

“I’m sorry”

“For overthinking or for being impulsive” he questions

“Both” you whisper keeping your eyes on the floor

“And?”

You huffed “You were right about everything”

He grinned showing his pearly whites “I’m sorry what was that? I couldn’t hear you?”

You laughed slightly making your worries go away for the time being “You asshole, get your head out of the skies as if I’m repeating that again”

He chuckles shrugging “Worth a try”

“So, let's get something straight. I’ll help you one last time then I’m forcing you to retire. Seriously you have no say so.” He eyes you “You probably need therapy too jeez”

“Fuck You I’m perfectly fine”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night” he responds ushering you out the room

“Bold of you to assume I sleep”

“Bruhh”

Taglist: @ttakinou @angstyx

[stutterfly]

Love Bytes 09 |  Trivia: 01001100 | KNJ (M)

Last time on Love Bytes 08: After a night that left your head spinning, your best friend confessed his feelings for you. Now that you’ve admitted the same, everything is different.... but is it?

Rating: M (Explicit 18+)

Word Count: 17K

Series: Love Bytes (9/9)

Genre: Friends to lovers, IDIOTS to LOVERS, fluff, humor, slow burn, friendship feels, angst, pining, sexual tension, SMUT, Bestfriends!au, CollegeProjessor!Namjoon, IT/Nerd!Reader

CW& Other Tags: corny humor, nipple play, an absurd amount of kissing, dirty talk, grinding, fingering, hair pulling, sexual instruction, let’s play just the tip, cunnilingus, blowjob, protected sex, sexual roleplay, unprotected sex, adoring boyfriendJoonie, suave Joonie, supportive friendships, love talk, dorks in love

Pairings: Namjoon x Reader, brot7

Posted January 2021 by stutterfly & cross-posted to ao3. Do not repost.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You’ve crossed the line you’ve been so afraid of only to discover there really isn’t anything to fear at all. Namjoon has already made you a totally non-burnt breakfast and told you about the success of his student following the release of the poetry program. When he brings up the poem he wrote as an example, you beg him to read it for you.

He apologizes again for that day when you clicked on the document containing the draft, with dozens and dozens of half-thoughts and scribbled words placed within. He wasn't ready to show you then. He settles on the couch and opens his laptop. You look over his shoulder as he clicks a vaguely familiar document labeled: Trivia_L_Final. Unable to sate your curiosity, your eyes scan through the first few lines but he quickly flips the screen down.

“Patience."

"Ugh," you complain. "But you said I could see."

"I said I was gonna share," he clarifies with a snort. "That doesn't mean I want your speed-reading ass going through it at lightspeed without understanding any of it."

"Fair." You cross your arms but stare at him expectantly, trying your best to be patient.

“Is this love?”

He pauses to spare a glance up from the screen and freezes when his eyes meet yours. Even after everything you’ve shared he still finds himself sweating through the thin tank top he’s put on. Although he’s sure he’s masked his apprehension behind a wall of stone, all it takes is your soft, reassuring smile to break through. A wave of serenity quickly douses the anxiety. It crashes against his wall, and erodes its harsh edges until all that’s left is a familiar longing to kiss your lips.

“Is this love?” he repeats with emphasis. “Sometimes I know. Sometimes I don’t.”

He can’t stop grinning at the way your smitten gaze matches his own. It’s a difficult decision, but ultimately he chooses to ignore the urge to pull you in for the hundredth kiss of the morning and continues on instead. You sit and listen, hanging on every word you know was painstakingly thought out and written for you.

You're my person. You're my desire. You're my pride.

You're my love. One and only love.

The closing words are left echoing in your head. It’s so easy for you to forget that Namjoon is as smart as he is. Right now you feel too stupid to respond. Nothing can possibly match the perfection of his poem.

“Please say something.” He quickly closes his laptop and sets it aside. “Actually, wait, don't. It was too much wasn’t it?” He reaches over and places a large palm over your forehead and begins lightly rubbing. “Delete it from your brain.”

A laugh bubbles from your throat. “What are you doing?”

“Wiping your hard drive.”

His response has you cackling. Did he really just make such a lame joke all on his own? You grab his wrist and pull him close while a big cheesy grin graces your features. “I think I’m rubbing off on you.”

He groans as he leans in and pauses before kissing you. “You are.”

His hand gently cups the back of your neck as he slips his tongue inside your mouth. You lose yourself to the rhythm of your tongues rolling across one another, hungry to keep tasting and feeling. It takes every ounce of self control you have to pull away long enough to breathe out a compliment.

“You’re incredible. Your poem is so good.”

“I had a good muse.” He smiles and moves in for another kiss but you press a finger to his lips.

“I mean it. I love what you wrote. I don’t think anyone’s ever written anything so beautiful with me in mind.”

To spare himself from the embarrassment tingling in his belly, he presses his lips to the pad of your finger with a few light, teasing kisses before moving to repeat the motion against your neck. Goosebumps immediately prickle at your flesh and you can’t help the way your hands travel along the warmth of his body, seeking to consume his heat to assuage the chill in yours.

“You make it easy,” he mumbles, kissing a line up to your ear.

“Do I? I thought I made it harder.” Your smile grows impossibly bigger as you reach down to palm him through his basketball shorts and find exactly what you’d been hoping to.

A breathy sigh warms the shell of your ear. “Fuck. You know you do.” He drags the lobe through his teeth and exhales another sigh at the way you tease his shaft. “Wanna practice?”

He whispers the words against your ear like they’re some secret he’s almost too shy to reveal and you deliver your response with equal timidity. “Please?”

Warm fingers press into the skin at your stomach and travel upward. The action disregards the flimsy white fabric of your borrowed shirt, which slides up with the rising of his arm. You think he's about to cup your breast when he suddenly changes direction and slides his fingers around your ribs to tickle you.

"Na-Namjoon!"

You're a little offended that he would do you dirty like this when you basically just begged him to fuck you for the second time today. But, if you're being honest you're also incredibly grateful. He knows how to take the nerves out of everything with such ease that you almost forget how new this aspect of your relationship is.

You grab at his hand, effectively pulling him down into a kiss brimming with laughter between the pair of you. When you try to retaliate he grabs your wrists to keep your cold fingers at bay. As his tongue dips into your mouth again, he slowly guides your hands above your head. You shift beneath him, spreading your legs so he can slot a knee between them and get even closer. It feels like it's always been this way. Nothing's going to change. This is just you guys. It's always been you guys.

At the heart of your friendship, it's always been about you being dorks together and having each other's backs. You'd never considered the possibility of adding even more physicality to it before but now you don't want to imagine life without it because it feels so fucking good. It feels so fucking right.

Instead of bearing his weight down on you, he drags your bottom lip through his teeth and lets it snap back. He hums a satisfied sound as he rises, pulling you to your feet with him. Your head feels light and for a moment it feels like you might float away, but his arms are strong and they ground you in a tight embrace. He begins walking you backwards and peppers your neck with light kisses.

“Trying to get me back into your bed, huh?” you tease.

He brushes his nose against your neck and inhales deeply, taking in your scent before expelling an airy, audible sigh. “Ah… You see right through me. I mean we could do it on the couch if you prefer. I just thought it might be a little more comfortable, you know, somewhere where I can lay you down so you don’t get a leg cramp or anything.”

You can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of his statement. “How considerate.”

“Yeah, you know, ‘cause I plan on being between your legs as long as it takes.”

“Oh?” You feign ignorance. As he spins you towards him you’re glad he’s holding you steady because it feels like you’re about to faint. “As long as it takes for what?”

The tone of his voice drops low as he leans against your ear. “To make you cum.”

You stiffen in his embrace, frozen by interwoven fears of inability and inadequacy.

“Is that okay?” he asks, guiding your stiff form towards the bed.

The large, borrowed t-shirt bunches up around your thighs as you sit on the edge. It seems like every few days he’s telling himself he’s never seen you look so beautiful. Maybe you’re really to blame for the increased frequency. Now you’re looking at him in a similar light to the way he’s always seen you, and it’s added a new layer to everything.

“Yeah.” You nod, pausing to chew on your lip. “Just… don’t expect too much, okay?”

“Hey, no pressure. I promise. I just want to make you feel good.”

You pull him into a kiss before wiggling backwards up the bed. He follows your lead, slotting a knee between your legs as he climbs over you in an attempt to chase your lips.

“You do make me feel good. All the time.”

He assails your neck with kisses until he’s hovering above your lips. “Really good, though. Like right now. Right here.”

He takes a moment to meet your eyes as he ghosts his fingertips over your stomach, traveling down towards your mound. Almost as if he second guesses himself he stops and moves his hand back up to rest just above your navel.

“Can I try again?”

An embarrassed smile creeps across your face. “You really want to, huh?”

“Of course.” He pauses and his voice drops to a low whisper. “Will you show me how you like it?”

Your palms slide up your cheeks until your fingers cover your eyes. You purse your lips and try to keep your brain from short-circuiting. “Joooon.”

“What?” He shakes his head and offers a small laugh. “Why are you so shy now?”

“Because,” you murmur.

“Because...?” he prods when you leave the explanation unsaid.

“I’m embarrassed.” The words tumble out in a whisper but he seems to catch them regardless.

Hot, sweaty palms encircle your wrists and push them aside. It doesn’t take much effort to separate your hands from your face and when he does he slides his hands up to meet yours. In perfect sync, the pair of you weave your fingers together like you have a thousand times before.

The truth is that you want him. You want him so badly that your cheeks are on fire and all you can hear is your heartbeat in your ears. Despite seeing his mouth in motion, every nerve ending in your body is preparing for his touch. Anticipation overrides every other command in the forefront of your mind as your knuckles press into the pillows beside your head.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he whispers, planting a kiss on your cheek. “Your body is perfect. I could spend all day exploring it, exploring you. I wanna learn what feels good for you. Teach me. Teach me how to make you cum.”

In a stupor you blink slowly and gape at him in wonder, offering a tiny wordless nod. You’re not sure if you’ll be able to instruct him with much success. It’s not like you’re a teacher in any sense of the word and it’s definitely not something you’ve ever tried to talk through with a partner. But his eyes seem to sparkle in the dim light and the sight floods you with the determination to try, even if you don’t know how to begin.

Luckily Namjoon has an idea to assist with comfortability. He carefully positions himself beside you and runs his fingers down your chest, basking in the sight of your areola, which are perfectly visible through the faded fabric.

“You look so hot in my shirt.”

Your ears flush with heat at the compliment. Massaging light circles around the nipple he’s chosen to tease, he watches in wonder as it grows rigid. He experiments, alternating featherlight touches with a tiny pinch between his fingers.

“Do you like this?”

Words seem to escape you at the moment so you nod and mirror his actions on your other nipple. The barrier between his fingers frustrates your growing desire for skin on skin contact. You slowly hike up the shirt past your stomach to expose your breast. His eyes widen and guiltily dart away.

You pull the shirt back down abruptly and sit up with hot embers of embarrassment heating your cheeks. Maybe he's having second thoughts now that he's seeing you up close again. Before your mind can spiral too far he places his hand over yours.

"Sorry. It's not that. I just— Promise me you won't ask me to forget? I want to remember how you look, how you feel, how you taste.”

Relief cools the fire in your face and you half-heartedly chuckle as you climb over his lap. Cupping the side of his face, he Instinctively he leans into your touch.

"Joonie, I don’t think I could ever do that now. There's not a single restore point we could go back to, and I don't want there to be. I never want to pretend like I don't love you with my whole heart ever again. Because the moment you kissed me it's like this weight lifted from my shoulders. Everything I'd been locking away in my heart finally broke free. And it felt… incredible. It felt right. There's not a doubt in my mind. You're my person. You're my light. You're my pride."

"My one and only love," he adds with a kiss to your palm.

You smile and nod, pushing down the tears threatening to spill out of your eyes with a joke. "Are you gonna change your mind now?"

"Wouldn't dream of it." He smiles at you softly, watching you struggle to regain your composure as you sit back on his abdomen.

"Good. 'Cause it's like a totally binding thing now."

"Oh, okay," he laughs and lifts himself with his elbows to get a better look at you. "You gonna type up those terms and conditions for me? I'll sign, Geeksquad. Get me those papers."

"Yeah, yeah. Let me write a draft right now.” You press him back against the bed and lean over his chest, splaying your fingers out for a moment before pretending they're tapping away at a keyboard.

"Under this agreement, I, Y/N, agree to the following conditions..."

"God, you're a dork."

"We have fun. We have lots of…" you stop to giggle and wiggle your eyebrows, "you know, sex when we both want it."

He rolls his eyes but he's smiling so big his cheeks hurt. "You're so corny and I'm here for it."

"And…" you pause and meet his eyes as you fake-type the next condition. "We don't ever feel bad about loving each other. I'm in love with you and I don't want to waste another minute of my life acting like I feel any other way."

He looks down at his chest. Your fingers have stopped moving. "Is all that going in the, uh, love contract? It's a binding thing, you know."

"Yes, yes," you agree, pretending to catch up on typing. "If something doesn't work, we will talk about it. Deal?"

He doesn’t even stop to think about it before he answers, looking down at your fingers like they'll show him an invisible dotted line. "Okay where do I sign?”

"See I'm typing on your heart because that's how this works. So..."

You bite your lip and lift your shirt over your head, watching his eyes struggle to stay focused on your face. You really don't deserve him.

"You type and sign right here." Your fingers lure his gaze down to the valley between your breasts and then slightly to the left. "Right on my heart.”

He ghosts his fingers over the area you’ve pointed to and licks his lips, trying to hide his smirk. “Actually your heart is a little bit lower and a little bit…” He massages his fingers against your breast. “Here.”

“Hmm. Educational and strategic. What a combo.”

"Do I gotta type the whole thing up before I sign?"

You roll your eyes. "Depends. You gonna type as shitty as you usually do?"

He tongues his cheek as he starts tapping away at your breast with his two pointer fingers. It’s too true to reality. “Under this agreement I, Kim Namjoon--”

“Nevermind this is taking too long,” you complain, wiggling over his lap. He quickly drums his fingers over your chest. “--Agree to everything you just said. Signed... Namjoon...” His fingertips trace his name along your breast. “It’s a deal.”

“Okay, okay.” You laugh and reciprocate. “If you break it I'll probably cry and Jennie will beat you up."

“Like I would ever…” he mumbles.

With a rut of his hips he cups your breasts in his hands and resumes gently working his fingers over your nipples. Following the slow rhythm he sets, you grind yourself down and thumb at the band to his basketball shorts, pulling them down just enough to reveal that sliver of dark hair leading below. A loud groan escapes with his breath. His heart aches to feel you against him again, without barriers.

He sits up and heaves his shirt over his head with reckless abandon. His arms are immediately wrapping around your waist, fingernails digging into the skin of your back with the hope feeling your body can assuage the ache in his chest. The heat of his mouth envelops your nipple before you can comment on his earnest behavior and you whimper instead. His rough embrace draws you closer, and his sinful tongue batters your nipple as you loop an arm around his neck and tangle your fingers in his hair.

The suction of his mouth makes you throw your head back. “Fuck, Joon.”

He moans and skims his lips across your chest to show your other breast love. Despite his adoration for the current position of his face, it’s not enough. Greed overtakes him. He holds you tight and musters the strength to flip you onto your back. The tiny squeal you make in response makes his dick twitch. You make such wonderful sounds.

As you draw him into a kiss, the barrier of silky basketball shorts do nothing to conceal his hardness. It makes you crazy. You want to feel his dick glide against your folds again. When you raise your hips to grind your clit against him he meets your motion with equal enthusiasm.

“Take them off,” you mumble. “Put it in me, Namjoon. Please.”

It’s hard to say no when every fantastical thought about you he’s ever had is now coming to fruition. How long has he yearned to hear those words? He thinks of earlier. He thinks of the disappointment he holds for his own performance, how he squandered his opportunity to make you feel the way you deserve.

“But I wanna go down on you,” he insists, slowly making his way down your torso. He plants deep kisses as he goes, working a trail of tiny dark marks into the surface of your skin.

“Joon…”  Your fingers claw at his back as he descends.

“Show me how you like it. I’m a good student. I promise.”

The ever present flames in your chest burn hotter, searing a path to your cheeks. He kisses along your hip and pauses to inspect the bruise from your earlier slip. He carefully creeps past it, and instead focuses on the skin of your inner thigh. Taking your hand in his, he positions it over your cunt. He rests his cheek against your thigh to watch the way your fingers settle in place.

“Are you gonna be looking at me like that the entire time?” You laugh, covering as much of your sex as you can with your hand.

“I’m a quick learner,” he assures you. “Plus…” He leans in and laps at the glistening slick in the space between your fingers. “I could taste you all day.”

“It’s after noon,” you mumble, drawing your fingers away to allow him greater access to your folds.

“Mmm,” he hums against you, letting his tongue explore every crevice of your labia. “You want me to keep going?”

Your head falls back against the pillow and you lift your hips with a whimper. “Yes.”

“How?”

Pulling his mouth back just enough to allow your finger to creep back into place, he offers a blissful sigh as you work light circles against your clit. He places a finger over yours and follows the movement, listening to your quiet breathing. He cocks his head to the side and repositions, sliding his finger beneath yours to take control.

“Like this, baby?”

It’s been so long. You’d forgotten just how good it feels to have someone else touch you, to not have to put the work in yourself to attain the reward. It feels so good. Maybe you will be able to let go.

“A little more pressure.”

You guide him again by pressing down over his finger and moving him towards the peak of your clit. He immediately gives in to the change of pace. After a little while he finds his own rhythm and you move your fingers to the back of his head where you tangle them in his hair.

“Yes, like that.”

Confident in his ability to hit that spot again, he glides his fingers down to tease your entrance and brings his lips to your clit. Your entire core tingles as he presses down and creates suction around the tiny bud. As your hips lift in ecstasy he wraps an arm around your thigh and slips two fingers into your slick cunt. Much to his delight you moan in tandem with your desperate exhale.

A proud grin spreads his lips apart and he does his best to hide it by battering his tongue over your clit instead. How many fantasies has he indulged in? How is it that they all pale in comparison to your true taste and sounds? Determined to keep himself on task, he focuses on the spot you seemed to favor and presses his lips back down while rolling his tongue along you. His fingers curl up and search for the promised sweet spot within your cunt.

You tense and clench around his fingers, body desperate to draw him deeper, to take more of him inside of you in any way that you can. Then you feel it: the unmistakable pleasurable pressure steadily rising within. You don’t want to let it slip away this time. With the pads of his fingers pressing as close to your g-spot as he can, the area of your clit you need him to hit with his tongue seems to shift.

Palms shaking, you pull on Namjoon’s hair to guide him to your newest point of pleasure. “Right there. Right there.”

He moans and expels shaky breaths through his nose. Immediately feeling guilty for being rough, you soften your grip and lovingly smooth back his hair. Disheveled, sweat-slicked strands fall against his forehead, rebelling against your touch.

“Sorry,” you mumble, cradling the sides of his face, trying to draw him up from his position. “Did I hurt you?”

He doesn’t budge. Dark brown eyes flicker upwards. The electric tingle in your heart steals your breath as you’re caught in his lurid gaze. He digs his fingernails into the soft flesh of your inner thigh and the energy contained in your chest bursts. Shockwaves of internal chills scatter throughout your body.

“Don’t you dare apologize,” he whispers. “Pull me however you want, baby.”

His voice is so low and soft that it barely registers to your ears. Your brain doesn’t have time to process the words before he drags his nose over your clit and sucks on your labia. You gasp out his name as he moves back to tongue your clit. He keeps his eyes on you as he plunges his fingers into you with a renewed sense of urgency, desperate to make you say it again. It doesn’t take long for a stuttered verse of his name to sputter from your pretty lips.

Another shockwave of excitement pulses through your gut. He makes it so easy to lose yourself in the pleasure he offers. Any shame and anxiety falls to the wayside, making way for your impending orgasm. You gasp out a pitiful sound and grind your pelvis towards his soft, plush lips to create even more pressure where you need it most. There’s no doubt he feels the way you clench around his fingers and because he reaches as far as he can in search of your g-spot and looks to your face for any sign of discomfort. Instead he finds you looking back through half lidded eyes that threaten to close any moment. With your eyebrows knitted together and quivering lips parted, he knows you’re on the brink of coming undone.

You reach for the back of his head as you lift your hips and cry out. You might not make those exaggerated pornstar moans, but yours are infinitely better. It’s better than anything he could have imagined. His name spills from your lips again, tired and quiet as you come down. There’s no need for you to tell him to stop or push him away this time. His softened lips are already crashing down against your mouth.

As you glide your tongue along his, the tang of your own juices fills your mouth. It doesn’t bother you. If anything it spurs you on to wrap your arms around his back and pull him closer. You tug on his shorts again. This time he raises no argument. He inhales a shaky breath as he goes in for another kiss and works the clothing down his legs until he’s steadying himself over you and clumsily struggling to kick them off.

You take his face in your hands while he gracelessly fights the fabric caught around his ankle and he smiles at you. Another jolt of electric butterflies pulse in your gut, frazzling your senses as they travel outward from their point of origin. By the time the sensation reaches your brain, it carries along the weight of your feelings. You reflect on how he cares for you, how he’s always cared for you. Navigating the key pleasure points mapped to your body is just one more way he can show it. You’re so incredibly lucky to have someone in your life so attentive and considerate of your needs. It makes you wonder how you meandered through life without a guiding light like Namjoon to lean on for support. Meditating on that thought threatens you with torrid tears.

“I love you,” you whisper.

Before he can respond with you draw him into a deep kiss, crossing your legs behind his waist to pull him closer. His shaft presses against your sensitive clit as he grinds himself down. While your body reacts with a twitch, you still roll your hips up to meet him. His bottom lip quivers and you suck it between your teeth, slowly drawing it away from him. When it snaps back to him he chases your mouth and presses you down into the pillows.

He follows the enticing motion of your hips with a loud groan. The slippery nature of your folds promises to make his entrance effortless. Each pass his cock makes over your cunt is another strike against his willpower, but god if it doesn’t feel amazing. It would be so easy to slip in, just a little bit, just enough to satisfy the aching need of the tip that inches closer and closer to your cunt. The way you lift it for him only serves as a greater invitation.

He rolls himself through your slick folds, floating on the high of the pleasure, encouraged by the moans you breathe into his mouth. He ruts into you, coasting into your entrance just enough to make him break the kiss with a whispered expletive. You whimper as he retreats and try to beckon him back with another gentle roll of your hips. He sighs, allowing himself to rock back into you enough to coat the tip of his dick with your warmth. Your cunt pulses against him, seeking to lure him further inside.

Again he surrenders to your salacious advance, sheathing the head of his cock in its entirety within your heat. You gasp and moan at the welcome intrusion, pulling on his hair as though it will move him closer than he already is.

“Please,” you whisper. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

Desperate to feel the stretch of his cock diving deep inside, you make your best attempt to raise your hips higher to take more of him in. He moans into your mouth, gently rocking himself further into your cunt and then slowly pulling back out.

Playing this game is dangerous. He knows that. But with each gasp and moan he pulls from you, the stakes rise. He tells himself he’s allowed to drive another moan from you with his teasing. Just one more time. One more sound. He tests his own resolve with each shallow thrust, never sinking deeper than before.

“Joonie,” you whine as he pulls back again. “Please. Stop teasing. I want your cock in me.”

His stomach does a somersault and it snaps him back to reality before his hips can snap forward instead. He leaves the comfort of your sweet cunt to lean over you and fish for the packet in the drawer of his nightstand. It should be right on top, but it’s not. Where the fuck is it?

The sticky wet head of his cock slips against your belly while he frantically rummages through the drawer. You shudder and reach down to take him in your palm, earning you a breathy curse in response. He spares a glance towards your mischievous eyes before looking down at the way you gather the moisture from the peak of his cock and pump it down to the base. His eyes roll back in delight for a moment and he drops onto the weight of his arm. The drawer rolls out farther than it should and promptly clatters off its track and onto the carpet below.

“I can fix that,” he announces.

“Are you okay?” You laugh, trying to sit up to help.

“Fine,” he murmurs, leading you back to the pillows with a kiss. “You just got me a little...”

His eyes wander to the nightstand. Perched on its surface are the remaining foil packets he’d been searching for in the drawer with its contents now spilled on the floor.

“Oh my god.” He sighs.

“Yes?” you press with a smile. “You good?”

“Mhm.”

He quickly snatches one up, fumbling it in his hands for a second before he recklessly rips it open. He leans back on his knees to roll the condom on, but about halfway down his shaft the rubber splits and snaps against his fingers. He vents a frustrated sound from his throat and scolds himself internally for being too excited, too eager. He wasted another one in his haste.

“I’m sorry,” he says in defeat. “Hold on.”

You’re already carefully opening the last packet while he rises to discard the bits of ruined rubber. “It’s okay. Come here. I got you.”

As he approaches the bed you reach out and begin to slowly roll the new condom down his shaft. He watches your hands roam over his cock with wonder. You seem much more confident now that he’s made a complete fool of himself for the millionth time today. Maybe you won’t think of him as so much of a saint now. He’s just as much of a mess as you are.

“You don’t have to worry so much,” you say with a slow pump of your hand over his cock. “I always have that five dollars, you know?”

It’s difficult to take your eyes off of the perfect shape of his dark cock. It’s veiny and thick in your palm, and long enough to make you wonder how it might feel hitting the back of your throat.  You manage to shift your gaze to his face and beam at him.

His worried expression melts into a dimpled smile. “Geeksquad saves the day again, huh.”

“Yeah. Pretty great, right? So, come here.” Despite feigned confidence, your jaw trembles with anxiety as you settle against the pillows once more. Nerves set your body alight with excited anticipation. “And put your cock in me.”

He slots himself between your thighs and cups your cheek, catching the subtle shiver of your body.

“Cold, baby?”

“Excited,” you admit, grazing your fingers over the expanse of his back until they’re nestled in the hair behind his neck. You kiss him.

It doesn’t matter how much time he’s had to recuperate. As soon as your lips are on his and he’s teasing himself into you, he knows he’s in trouble. You’re so tight. How is he supposed to last? Inch by slow inch you take him in, then out again. Your fingers twirl around strands of his hair until you’re sure it can’t be twisted any further.

“Oh fuck.”

Your jaw drops and you gasp a stuttered slew of nonsense as he bottoms out. He remains there, unmoving as your body adjusts to the stretch of his cock. Every executable file in your brain stops working as you lie beneath him with your mouth agape, eyes wide, and fingers tangled in his hair.

“Need a minute?” he asks, peppering kisses along your bottom lip and lightly working it between his teeth.

Finally you find the command in your brain to resume all processes. You moan into his kiss and purposefully clench around him.  “Do you?”

“Evil,” he murmurs as he begins setting a slow, steady pace with his hips. “Goddamn, you’re tight.”

You throw your head back in ecstasy, exposing your neck for his mouth to latch onto. Your hands explore the muscles of his back, digging into the sculpted flesh with your nails. He grunts against you, sucking a mark into the crook of your neck to muffle the sound. Taking time to follow the creases dividing the defined muscles of his triceps, your palms drift further down to curl around the pillars of his forearms. Without disrupting his pace, he reaches up to lace his fingers with yours.

The back of your palms press into the soft pillows beside your head. You’re connected as deeply and as literally as two people can be and still you crave more. When you moan his name into the open air he trails a line of sloppy open-mouthed kisses to meet your lips. You meet each slow thrust with a roll of your hips and a desperate need to keep him inside of you forever. Frenzied panting fills the space between you as you break the kiss.

Dark eyes full of adoration peer down at you, focused on the way the force of his accelerated thrusts shake every part of your body but leaves your gaze untouched. It’s insane just how much he cares for you. By now you must be sick of hearing his declarations of love, but he wants to say it all the same. He wishes he could make you cum for him like this. He would do anything to make you cum a second time before he does. Maybe with more practice he’ll learn your body well enough to make it happen. For now he’ll settle for making you feel good. You’re enjoying yourself at the very least.

A smile spreads across your face and a sweet laugh slips out. “What?”

“What?” he echoes, lost in the sight of you beneath him like this.

It’s like his head goes empty when you laugh like that, when you look at him like you’re shy and infatuated at the same time.

“Looks like you wanna say something.”

The serious expression plastered on his features matches the intensity of his whisper, “Yeah. Maybe I do. You wanna know what it is?”

Every muscle in your cunt contracts around him. He purses his lips, takes a slow breath through his nose and relaxes his pace.

He leans next to your ear and whispers in a quiet tone, “You’re just so fucking sexy.”

You’re so flattered that all the embarrassment resting on the tip of your tongue dissipates the moment you open your mouth. Flustered words form and then decompose the moment they’re to be spoken into existence. All that comes out is a broken sound of uncertainty.

It’s like the lights dance in his eyes as he takes a moment to straighten up and regard your features. His lips press against your forehead, then your nose and he pauses over your lips.

“I love you.”

The words fall from your mouth easier than ever. “I love you too.”

He kisses you like it’s the first time: passionate, desperate, and needy. You break off to rest your forehead against his.

“So are you gonna cum inside me or what?” You can barely conceal the smile that breaks through your pursed lips.

“Wow. So am I just a piece of meat to you, Geeksquad?” he jokes.

“I mean… Protein right?” You make a ‘yikes’ face at him and start to laugh.

He shakes his head but he’s grinning like a fool. “Well if it’s what you want…”

Just like that he calls your half-bluff. He ducks his face into the crook of your neck and begins to suck another mark over the fading mark from his earlier endeavors. Your laughter quickly turns into a string of moans as he resumes the previous tempo of his thrusts. A surge of adrenalin flips your stomach on itself and excitement pulses through your body at the thought of his cum slowly dripping out of your cunt.

“I do.”

You squeeze his hands and shimmy him away from your neck so you can sink your teeth into his shoulder to hide the shame of your desire. A broken moan rattles its way up his throat as he entertains the fantasy you’ve conjured in his mind.

“You want me to fill you, hmm?” he whispers in a breathy tone between shallow breaths.

There’s no doubt in your mind that he feels the way your cunt tenses at his words to offer a wordless answer, but you also offer a muffled hum of affirmation.

“You want me to fuck my cum into you just like this, baby?” His words are followed by the sound of his balls slapping against your ass at a new feverish pace.

“Yes,” you whimper and bring your lips to his, high off the sensation of his dick plowing into you.

“Gonna take it all for me?”

“Mhm. Cum for me,” you plead between sloppy kisses. “Cum inside me.”

“Oh shit, baby,” he gasps.

You don’t get another opportunity to coax him into letting go because he’s already slamming his hips into you and crushing his mouth over yours. He’s buried deep inside of you when his hips still but you wiggle beneath him and purposefully clench to give him the tiniest overdose of pleasure. He sighs as he leans back, finally releasing his death grip on your sweaty palms.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, planting a kiss on your forehead.

“You’re sweet,” you murmur, running a hand through his sweaty hair. “Good lay too.”

He rolls his eyes but smiles nonetheless. “Likewise.”

When he pulls out to rise and dispose of the condom you already miss his shape, but the unmistakable ache starts to set in: the ache of a pussy pounded too well after a long hiatus. You clamp your legs together and roll onto your side to expose the skin of your sweaty back to the cold air of the room, closing your eyes as you listen to the patter of raindrops against the window.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Mmm.” You don’t bother opening your eyes. “I seriously need another shower. Sorry about your bed.”

He kneels on the floor next to the edge of the bed and carefully moves the hair from your face. “You can soak my sheets any time.”

“Hmm. I’ll keep that in mind. Sounds gross though. Definitely don’t wanna lay in the puddle behind me.”

“Tired?”

“Yeah.”

“You gonna sleep right there?”

“No.”

You’re such a liar.

He lets a few seconds of silence pass before he speaks again. “How about shower and movie?”

You peek at him from beneath one eyelid. “What movie?”

“Thinking The Kick, unless you have something else in mind.”

“No, that’s— Wait, what time do we have to be at Tae’s?”

Namjoon’s eyes widen and he rubs the back of his neck. “Later… Uh, about that. Are we— I mean on one hand I don’t wanna make a big deal about it but…”

You bolt upright. “Oh no. They’re gonna make such a thing out of it. Nevermind. I’m never seeing them again.”

“It won’t be that bad.”

“Won’t it? Oh my god, if I show up in your clothes…”

“Geeksquad.” He grabs your face.

“Joonie.”  

You reciprocate the action and squish his cheeks towards the center of his face, causing his lips to pucker. He quickly takes your hands into his own.

“Hey. Look at me,” he pauses to make sure you meet his eyes before he continues. “You’re fine. Stay. We’ll figure it out when we get there and we’ll do it together.”

“Okay,” you breathe a sigh of relief. “Okay.”

“Be my ride?” He flashes you his wide dimpled smile.

“Only if you’re mine later.” You wink and draw him into a chaste kiss.

───── ⋆⋅☆·⋆ ─────

"Geeksquad."

His voice sounds distant and soft while reminding you you’re home. In this moment, you’re safe, you’re warm, and you’re loved. It’s too comforting to move away right now, too comforting to bring your eyes to open, so you cling to the heat of his body.

“Hey,” he tries again, gently nudging your shoulder. “Geeksquad, wake up.”

You make sure that your distaste is apparent with a loud grumble. You nuzzle against his chest with your cheek and hum like it will drown him out. He laughs softly as the sound fades away. He briefly lets silence fill the space, which allots you the precious seconds needed to hit the imaginary snooze button and doze off again. It seems he isn't having it when he lets out a loud sigh.

“You missed the end and it’s already five,” he tries to reason. “Weren’t you the one who told me not to let you sleep too long? Unless…” He carefully snakes his fingertips down to your side, hoping to remain undetected. “...You changed your mind about going home to get all cute because you finally realize you are cute, you know, without trying."

You groan against his chest and that seems to be enough to keep him quiet. Just as he feels your head begin to drop down he starts talking loudly.

"Oh, I see. You just really wanna be out flaunting how good you look wearing my clothes. That’s it, right?"

You lightly smack your hand against his chest but don’t allow yourself to let your guard down until you’re certain he's given up.

"That must be it," he continues. "Not you... Being a pain in the ass to wake up. At all.”

With your head pressed against his chest, you find it difficult to drift back off with every loud word dropping from his mouth and vibrating straight into your eardrum. Still you rock your forehead against him and try to ignore his booming voice. When his fingers dig into your side to tickle you, your body jolts up straight and you can’t help but laugh.

“Wow. She speaks,” he jokes. ��...Kinda.”

You wiggle against his grip, thrusting your chest up while dipping your head back. You attempt to scold him with his name between a fit of giggles. “Stop,” you wheeze.

“But I love the way you laugh.” His fingers relax despite his words. He leans in to press his lips to your perfectly exposed neck.

Your breathless laughter quickly transforms into a subtle slew of whimpers. He swathes his tongue across a particularly sensitive spot and your breath hitches. You grab his arm and pull down like you want him to crush you like a bug. He doesn’t. Instead he smirks against your neck when he feels your nails dig into his bicep.

“Joonie…” you whine.

He offers his inquiry in the form of a hum that radiates vibrations from the point of contact with your skin.

You’re embarrassed to admit the million things you want to ask him to do right now in place of complaining about his teasing. “Come closer.”

“Closer how?” he murmurs before kissing that spot again.

You take the hand at your side and slip it beneath the worn fabric of your shirt. You don’t have to lead him very far until he’s molding the flesh of your breast with his hand and you’re panting shallow breaths into the air around you. The sweet kiss at your neck turns into a sinful demonstration. The things he could do to you, for you. Do you truly know?

You know you never want him to leave. The heat from his mouth seems to sear a path of lava straight to your core. Your fingers glide through his hair and settle at his jaw. It takes all of your self control to gently push him away from that delightful spot he’s found so that you can plant a soft kiss against his jaw.

You draw out a groan as you pull away. “Maybe we should just cancel.”

“Mmm, don’t tempt me. You know I will,” he murmurs, chasing after your lips.

You lean back just a bit further, a grin plastered on your face as you allow him to press his mouth against yours just one more time.

───── ⋆⋅☆·⋆ ─────

The rain has been reduced to a light patter against your windshield now. You’re grateful that visibility is decent as you pull up to the familiar curb in front of Namjoon’s building. Already waiting just within the building’s entrance, he sprints out at the sight of your headlights. He eagerly hops into the passenger seat and you do your best not to look over at him. Suddenly, you’re nervous. Have your palms ever secreted this much sweat in your life? Still you keep your hands planted on the steering wheel, staring ahead like you’re playing the role of a first-time chauffeur.

Sensing a lingering apprehension, he clears his throat as his seatbelt clicks into place. “Everything okay?”

Keeping the car in park, you allow yourself to look over at him. He smells good. He looks incredible, even in a simple black tee and jeans. And he’s looking at you like all he wants to do is kiss your lips for the millionth time today. It’s like you can feel the anxiety melt from your face.

“I’m nervous,” you admit, shaking out your hands as though that will clear the sweat from them.  “I don’t know why I’m so nervous.”

Your sheepish laugh causes him to reach out for your sweaty palm. To your surprise his hand is just as hot and moist as yours. Regardless of how uncomfortable it is, he holds on tight and laces his fingers between yours.

“It’s okay. Me too.”

The pair of you stare at each other for a few seconds in silence, just smiling and trying to think of what you were going to say before promptly getting lost in one another’s eyes. How is it you’ve never noticed the softness in his features when he looks at you like this? It still feels kind of surreal. But your heart skips a beat and you allow yourself to acknowledge the way heat radiates from your cheeks. You want to kiss him, to reassure him you’re not going to waffle on him again, but you’re too entranced by the infatuation smeared across every aspect of his face.

When you finally speak, he starts at the same time and you both have to pause and laugh. Silence falls between you, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s charged. It’s shy. It’s excited. He bites his lip and drags it through his teeth as his eyes rake over any part of you they can.

“You look beautiful.”

You lick your lips and your smile grows larger in response. “I- Thank you. I’m. We-- I mean, you look…” A nervous laugh slips into the breath between your words. “Hi.”

He leans across the armrest and plants a soft kiss against your lips. The moment you reciprocate his tongue dips into your mouth and glides against yours. It takes all of your willpower to keep the car running instead of plucking the keys out and dragging him back into his apartment to fuck him stupid. Still you rely on him to break the kiss.

“Hi,” he whispers, dragging a thumb across your cheek as he cups your jaw. “Still nervous?”

You nod. “My stomach hurts.”

“Hey, they’re our friends. It’ll be okay.”

“I know. You’re right.” You sit back against your seat and stare blankly out the foggy windshield. “I haven’t answered Jennie all day. She’s asking and I… I don’t want to answer.”

His heart sinks. It sounds like you want to keep things a secret, even though he knows you’re a terrible liar. No wonder you’re so nervous. It’s the last thing he wants to do, but if you asked he would attempt to cover for the both of you. He sincerely hopes you don’t ask.

“It’s just… I don’t want it to be a text. I mean, do we go in holding hands?” you ask, instantly allaying his fears. “Do we just announce it?”

He breathes a sigh of relief. “Geeksquad, come on. Pretend like nothing’s changed. Things are basically the same right?”

You nod, but your expression casts uncertainty over the action. “Right, right. We can just say it like that, right? I mean, we still work at the same place. We still like to hang out together. Watch movies,It’s just a little more… intimate. You know, the kind of time you spend with someone that you care about and like… make out and have bomb sex and—”

“I’ll tell them we’re together,” he interrupts. “You’re my girlfriend. You signed the love contract.”

“Okay but you’re not going to tell them about the contract right?”

“Mmm. Maybe. Didn’t see anything about it in the terms and conditions.” He laughs.

“Uh, the fine print says you’re sworn to secrecy of its existence. You know, like fight club.”

“Must have missed that. Didn’t have my glasses on, you know?”

“Oh, here.” The lightbulb in your head flickers on. You rummage through the compartment beneath the armrest, presenting Namjoon with the glasses you’d been meaning to return for some time now. “Maybe these will help. You left them at my place.”

“Shit. I thought I lost those.” He sighs, taking them from you. “Wish I hadn’t ordered another pair.”

“Sorry, I kept forgetting to give them to you,” you admit.

He smiles. “Did you forget, or were you pining over me? Be real with me, Geeksquad.”

You roll your eyes. “Okay. I’m gonna start driving before I push you out of this car.”

“Sniffing them because they remind you of me?” he teases.

“Yeah. They smell like avocados.” You laugh as you turn your attention to the road. “You’re lucky hipster glasses are in.”

“Alright, baby.”

He hums in amusement, sparing a glance out the window beside him. It seems like the barrage of rainy days may be coming to an end soon. At least he hopes so. There’s not much he wouldn’t give to take you to his favorite hiking spots, have a picnic with you under clear blue skies, or lay on a sandy beach with you by his side.

“You keep calling me baby,” you point out quietly, pulling him from his reverie.

“Wha— I’m sorry. It was heat of the moment and it felt really natural when we were fucking you know? But if it’s weird now, I-I can stop. I’ll stick with tried and true Geeksquad.” He stumbles through his embarrassment in true Namjoon fashion.

“No, I like it. I just wanted to tell you it... makes me feel good. Way better than Geeksquad.”

“Yeah, you are.”

You smirk and reach for his hand and he gives you a tight squeeze, driving the rest of the way in a comfortable silence. Holding his hand is enough to keep you distracted from all the noise in your head.

───── ⋆⋅☆·⋆ ─────

Knock-knockknock—-knock-knock.

The answer to your knock is the resounding pound of Hobi’s fist through the barrier of the door.

KNOCK-KNOCK.

The door swings open and Hoseok’s smiling face greets you. Namjoon’s hand falls from around your shoulder on instinct. Although Hoseok’s eyes briefly drop to Namjoon’s twitching fingers he draws no further attention to the reaction, stepping aside and gesturing for the pair of you to enter. Seokjin’s incoherent shouting carries from the other room, nearly drowning out your greetings.

“It’s about time.” Hoseok tips a bottle to his lips and the majority of the liquid sloshes back down as he makes a face and runs to shove it against Yoongi’s shoulder. “Yuck.”

Yoongi takes a hearty swig without so much as a glance away from the kitchen. The unmistakable bounce of a ping pong ball springs from the unseen room and you lean back to attempt to see around the blockade Yoongi and Hoseok’s bodies have created between you and whatever is happening in there.

“They started playing while we were waiting for you. Should be done soon,” Hobi says, walking back towards you. “Jimin and Tae put up a good fight but Jungkookie is too good.”

“You didn’t have to wait. We could have met you there,” Namjoon says, rubbing the back of his neck and stealing a sideways glance at you.

Hoseok raises an eyebrow and smirks, his eyes following Namjoon’s to you. His bony finger pokes your spine and you instantly tense and straighten your posture.

“I think we all wanted to wait.”

He knows. Even as you spin towards him you feel it. Despite the words left unspoken, somehow he already knows.

Yup. It’s time. Just get it over with. Easier thought than done.

“Why?” you blurt.

“Well...” Hoseok begins, ghosting his fingers over your shoulder as he walks towards the couch to put his shoes on. “We wanted to see you guys. Had a feeling we might not see too much of you as the night goes on. Figured you might want some,” he pauses to finish knotting his shoelace, grinning at you as he stands, “hmm, alone time?”

“I— Pssfht. What?” The unexpected shrillness of your voice cuts through the space between you. You clear your throat and do your best to dampen your anxiety. “I mean, like, why would we—? We’re—We, uh, whew… Is it hot in here?”

Words are no good right now. Anything else you say will just be another unnecessary embarrassment to endure. Your heartbeat resides in your ears as your flight response kicks in. Namjoon must hear it too because drapes his arm around your shoulder and pulls you towards the comforting mass of his chest.

Your fingers fidget with your keys even though you know you won’t need them tonight. You consider tossing them in the bowl Tae keeps on the counter, but that would require walking past the rest of your friends and abandoning Namjoon. You agreed you would face them together.

Namjoon smiles softly and gives your arm a reassuring squeeze. “We’re good, man.”

“Are you?” The look on Hoseok’s face tells you he’s hoping you’ll expand on Namjoon’s short answer. “How are you doing, Y/N? Has that douche tried to contact you?”

You almost forgot about Jihoon. It seems like such a distant memory now. The sting of his words echo in the darkest corner of your mind, but not for long. A smile forces those thoughts to scatter as you look to Namjoon for support. You take a breath and exhale a relieved sigh.

“Nope. He’s gone for good, I think.” You reach for Namjoon’s hand, using the courage his touch instills to fuel your confession. “If he comes back around I’m sure my boyfriend will try to kick his ass.”

“Wait. It’s finally happening?” Hoseok’s eyes go wide and he springs from the couch in an instant to poke his fingers against your sides. He didn’t expect to be totally correct in his assumptions, but he hoped for it. “For really real?”

You said it first. Out loud. Namjoon’s stomach churns in excitement as he looks at you. You’re grinning like a dork and nodding even though he knows you’re embarrassed as hell. Yeah. He’s pretty sure he’s never been more in love with your goofy ass smile. Hoseok covers your entwined fingers with both of his hands and practically drags you both towards the kitchen.

“Guys, guys! It’s official!”

The ball leaves Jungkook’s fingertips, launches across the table and circles the rim of the final cup as his opponents turn away. The room goes quiet, save for the airy spin of the ball slowly decelerating into the contents of the cup. Namjoon adjusts his glasses and you swallow hard under the burning spotlight of your friends’ eyes.

“Drumroll, please!” Hoseok demands with a smile, rolling his tongue to begin the buildup. “Bdrdrdrrdrdrdrdrdrdrdrdrdr--”

Yoongi presses his lips together to hold back a smile and begins drumming his fingers on the wall beside him. Not willing to be outdone, Seokjin and Jungkook join in, pounding their fists on the table, followed by the light tap of Jimin’s hands against his thighs, and the smack of Taehyung’s palms against his face.

“I present to you the moment we’ve all been waiting for…” Hoseok ducks behind the pair of you and lifts your arms like you’ve just tied for victory in a boxing match. “Joonsquad!”

The inflection at the end of his tone makes you cringe almost as hard as the nickname.

“Nope. No. We’re not calling it that.”

“Joonsquad? Really?”

The combined cheers from your friends drown out your objections.

Jimin’s arms are the first to wrap you both into a tight bear hug. “I’m so happy for you both.”

The statement seems genuine, but you’re flooded with the embarrassing memory of drunkenly slobbering over his face. Namjoon had always reminded you that Jimin was used to keeping things casual but still you find yourself ashamed for going there. Harmless flirting and games of chicken ruled your friendship with Jimin for so long. You used to fantasize about his lips exploring your body, but it seems so preposterous now. You’re not sure when it happened, but things changed.

Despite your mind’s acknowledgement of his beauty there is no worry accompanying it, no butterflies wreaking havoc on your senses. Your simple crush has faded into surface appreciation. It seems easy to recognize that now that you’ve stopped trying to push down the feelings you have for your best friend. Any lingering affections you bear resemble nothing more than a strengthened friendship, much like the one you’ve shared with Jennie for years.

Even with all the back slaps and fistbumps, Namjoon’s eyes are trained on you in a smitten stupor. Embarrassment does nothing to steal the light in your eyes or the joy in your laugh. All of the congratulations in the world can’t reach his ears when you’re looking at him like that.

“I knew it!” Jennie comes running from around the corner, pushing past all the men in her path to throw her arms around you. “No wonder you’ve been dodging my texts. I wanna know everything.” She attempts a whisper, but softness doesn’t translate through the liquor already clouding her voice. “In detail.”

Namjoon clears his throat loudly to combat the redness spreading along his ears. “Where are we headed? Seesaw?”

Everyone looks at one another like they hadn’t really thought about it.

“Sure. Your first drink is on me.” Yoongi throws an arm around Namjoon.

Hoseok weaves his arm beneath Yoongi’s from Namjoon’s other side, beginning to walk them towards the door. “It’s a dancing night, don’t you think?”

“How about we hit up the strip club after?” Jungkook suggests, already tugging his sneakers on and stumbling towards the door.

Seokjin rolls his eyes and claps a hand around the youngest’s neck. “Do you really want to break up a couple so soon?”

“What? They can look together, right? Wings doesn’t discriminate. It’s like a bonding thing. You don’t mind, do you, Y/N?”

“Don’t worry, Y/N. We’re not going there.” Seokjin turns back to Jungkook to whisper, “Not every celebration needs to be at a strip club.”

“I’ll remember that on your birthday,” Jungkook mutters, already on his way out the door.

The others begin to follow suit but before you can get too far, Taehyung latches onto your elbow. “Keys.”

“Right.” You produce a tangled mess of keychains and keys. Namjoon hangs back to wait with you, leaning against the doorframe as Tae disappears.

“You’re always welcome to stay here,” Tae offers as your keys clang against the others in the bowl.

Namjoon chews on his lip and looks to you. As long as you’ll lay next to him he doesn’t care where he sleeps tonight.

“Depends how drunk we get,” you reply with a smile, lacing your fingers with Namjoon’s to lead him out of the apartment. “Thanks, Tae.”

He grins and pats Namjoon’s shoulder after locking the door. “Don’t worry, Jungkook washed all the sheets yesterday.”

You flip up the hood of your sweater and tighten the strings to cover your face. You’re definitely not coming back here tonight.

───── ⋆⋅☆·⋆ ─────

You’ve done your best to balance your attention between your friends throughout the night, sharing food, drinking and laughing together. But as the night continues you feel your energy draining with each attempt to remain social and engaged in conversation. You’re grateful when Namjoon steers the conversation away from you, leading most of the table towards the bar to collect more drinks for everyone. Only Hoseok and Yoongi are left to hold down the table with you. You’re pretty sure Namjoon is counting on the majority of the group getting distracted and splitting off. At least you’re hoping that’s what he’s playing at because you’d really like to get away from all the questions and stories.

When you yawn Yoongi nudges your elbow out from under you, forcing you to catch yourself before your chin slams against the table.

“Tired?” he asks with a smirk, eyes focused elsewhere.

“Mmm,” you agree with a nod. “I guess I should get up before they come back or I’ll be stuck here forever, huh?”

“You know, you’re not being rude if you want to head out. You don’t have to stay and prove anything. We’ve all been rooting for you to get together. If you wanna slip away for some privacy, you should.”

It’s funny how well your friends know you. You can’t even remember what life was like before they came along.

“A break from questions would be nice,” you admit with a stretch of your arms.

Hoseok, who’s been nursing the same drink all night, brings the glass to his lips and gulps down a rather large sip and scrunches his features together. “Blegh. Ooooor you can come dance with me.” He wiggles his eyebrows for good measure.

You stare him down, tonguing the straw to your tequila sunrise and trying to steal the last sip of the drink from the ice that remains in your glass. Is he trying to fuck with you?

“Don’t worry, I’ll be good.” He laughs, offering you his hand. “Namjoonie’s not much of a dancer, but I think he’d be willing to learn from you more than me. Think I can teach you something to show him before he gets back?”

“Hobi, I know how to dance,” you say with a laugh, although you’re already taking his hand.

“Mmm, do you though?” Hoseok flitters his free hand back and forth. “Ehhhh.”

With a roll of your eyes, you spare Yoongi a glance. “You coming?”

Yoongi leans back in his seat with a shake of his head. He casually pops a fry into his mouth.“Go on. I’ll send Namjoon your way so Hobi will keep his hands above your waist.”

“That’s just rude,” Hoseok scoffs, pulling you towards the dance floor.

He’s true to his word, dancing as respectably as someone with hips like Hoseok can. He guides your hips with his hands as he sways behind you.

“You’re perfect for him,” he says.

“What?” Your rhythm falters and you lose your sense of balance, stepping on his foot as you try to keep yourself from falling. “Sorry.”

He laughs, tickling your sides. “See? That’s what I mean. Took you dummies long enough to realize it.”

“It’s my fault. I was too scared and stupid to see what was right in front of me this entire time.” You sigh and lean back, surprised to find his chest a decent distance away. “I still think he’s too good for me.”

“Oh, pffft. Stop it,” Hoseok chides in your ear.

“I hope— Ugh, nevermind.”

“What?”

A small chuckle escapes with a held breath. “It’s dumb.”

“So?”

“I just— I hope my love is good enough for him.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that.”

His hands hug around your stomach and push you closer to him, but the way they subtly tremble as they descend to rest on your hips feels different. When Hoseok steps around and hands still clasp you from behind, your heart soars. If not for the familiarity of the stiff chest at your back and the loving embrace enveloping your form, you might be nervous.

Namjoon’s lips caress your ear as he whispers, “You know it is.”

Even your best attempt to hide your embarrassed smile would fail, so it’s a good thing you’re not even trying. Hoseok wears a satisfied grin as he watches you turn towards Namjoon for a shy kiss. He thinks about leaving you with dancing advice, but instead he decides to slink away wordlessly. There isn’t anything he could say right now that the two of you would hear, not when you’re in a world of your own like this.

It’s easy to lose track of time as you grind against him, teasing him with every swaying motion of your hips. Every sigh against your ear spurs you on to press him further. Even with all the layers between you, the hard length grinding against your ass is ever-present and obvious enough to make you want to bend over so he can take you right here.

Instead you dance and feel his body move against yours until exhaustion starts to set in. Tae and Jennie are already waiting for a ride by the time you step outside. Your cheeks ache from smiling so much and every muscle in your face is too tired to speak. She looks just as tired as you but she gives you a small greeting.

It’s funny how you don’t find anything odd about the way she leans into Tae as they sit near one another, or the way Tae is absentmindedly stroking her hair. You feel like it should be odd, but the world is so far away that you can’t hold the details in your brain long enough to make a connection. Between the haze of alcohol and sleep, you’re too far gone to think too much about it.

Namjoon keeps his arm around you as he talks to Tae, but you don’t catch much of their conversation. Sleep threatens to take you where you stand. You count yourself lucky that Namjoon cares for you so well. You close your eyes to rest for a moment, but when you open them again he’s unbuckling your seatbelt and helping you out of the lyft. You shuffle past the threshold of Tae’s home.

Namjoon leads you down the hall to the guest room and pulls on the dangling chain on the lamp  near the bed. A soft yellow glow fills the room as you start to sleepily yank the clothing from your body. Namjoon quickly goes for the open door, but Tae is already in the doorway averting his gaze with one hand and holding a small quilt in the other.

“Thanks. She, uh, gets really cold,” Namjoon says, blocking your body with his frame as you bend at the waist to untie the shoes you now realize are blocking your pants from sliding over your feet.

“Sorry. Let me know if you need anything else,” Tae mumbles, clearly embarrassed. “Goodnight.”

“Night,” Namjoon murmurs back, clutching the quilt as he softly closes the door and turns to you. “Baby.”

“Hmm.”

Your foot is stuck in your shoe but you can’t get your foot out because your shoe is stuck in your jeans. This is a conundrum.

“Baby, you’re gonna fall. Sit down. I’ll help you.”

“I can do it,” you mumble, plopping down on the edge of the bed.

“I know,” he says, already on his knees before you.

He frees your legs and gives you a kiss as he helps you wiggle below the bedspread, setting the quilt on top of your side.

“It’s hot,” you mumble.

“I know.”

“Too hot for blankets.”

“I know. How about the sheet?” he asks, rolling everything back except for the topsheet. He knows you. You’ll want them again soon enough.

“Mm. Come here.” You reach your grabby hands out for him as he flicks the light off.

“I’m coming.” He laughs and slides beside you. “So needy.”

Although you know he can’t see you pout, he pulls you toward his chest anyway and it turns into a smirk against his warm skin.

“It’s ‘cause I needy--you” you slur with a giggle, planting your lips against his chest in a drawn out kiss.

“You’re a hot mess and I love you,” he says, shaking his head.

“Love you, too.”

It’s clear you’re already falling asleep but he gently strokes your arm until the world around you begins to cool and fall away. When you roll away with a shiver, he carefully secures your body in a cocoon of blankets and drapes his arm and leg over you. Not even overheating could keep him from your touch. A wave of calm overtakes him.

This time he knows: this is love.

───── ⋆⋅☆·⋆ ─────

Months into your relationship,you’ve have prepared for the end of the semester by planning a little vacation for just the two of you. Namjoon struggles to get through his last day of work, daydreaming about staying at Tae’s summer home and laying on the beach with you. His favorite hiking spot isn’t too far from there and he’s been dying to take you and show you the clearing of wildflowers he loves so much. Hopefully they’ve bloomed beautifully.

He yawns and stretches out, flipping the binder on his desk. It’s been a long day, commemorating the end of a long week. He’s exhausted, but he’s graded every last paper and is in good shape to submit final scores by the deadline. His phone buzzes against the dark wood in the only spot bereft of errant papers. He flips the screen around, finally allowing himself to check the time and give in to distractions.

You: Still working bae

He smiles, thumb gliding over the screen effortlessly while attempting to organize the mess on his desk.

Namjoon: Just finishing up. You: 😏 You: can I You: come before you finish You: it’s only fair

He halts his efforts to stare at his phone.

Namjoon: … You: yes?? Namjoon: 🤦‍♂️ You: what? I’m serious You: 😈😈😈 Namjoon: You on campus? You: I mean... You: who else is gonna be your ride 😘

He shakes his head, smile growing wider as he glances up at the monitor before him. He definitely doesn’t miss running to catch the last bus on late nights. He’s nearly done logging final comments. He’ll be done sooner than you can get here, but this might be as good a time as any to make the reveal.

Namjoon hits the icon to call you, swooning at the familiar image of you stealing his drink. He straightens his glasses and types away at the keyboard while trapping the phone between his ear and shoulder. It doesn’t ring for very long.

“Joonie?”

“Hey, I gotta upload these grades but I’m having trouble.”

You sigh. The last thing you want to do tonight is work, especially not with what you had planned. “What kind of trouble?”

Even as he types away on the keyboard, his mind searches for a term, some kind of red alert to get you off the phone and into his office so he can tell you in person.

“Uh… blue screen.”

“Blue screen of death?” You rub your temple. “What does it say?”

“Uh,” he swallows, pausing to proofread the comment along with the grade he’s about to submit. “It just restarted.”

“On its own?”

Submit.

“Yeah.”

“Is this the first time it’s doing this?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, see if it starts up okay. We can always come back before we go on vacation.”

“Baby, I really want to get these done tonight. I was so close to being done so we can start tonight.”

You sigh heavily and check your makeup in the rearview mirror. “Is it starting up?”

“No, it’s beeping.”

Even straining your ears doesn’t help you pick up on the sound.  “Are you sure?”

“Can you come here? Please?”

Your heart melts. “I’ll be right there.”

You turn the car off and grab one of Namjoon’s oversized hoodies from the backseat. You slip it over your skimpy outfit and carefully make your way to the library, tugging on the hem like it will somehow magically cover all the exposed flesh down to your knees. No such luck. Regardless of how many times you’ve practiced wearing these awful heels, it’s not like you expected to be walking up several flights of stairs in them.

There’s no security guard at the station across the quad. You don’t know if you should feel as happy as you do about that. Despite the voice in the back of your head telling you to get in your car and demand an escort to his office, embarrassment outweighs any fear for safety and you push on. Only a familiar yellow cardigan draped over a chair greets you at the receptionist’s desk, its occupant long gone for the night.

Adrenaline pumps through your veins as you climb the stairs, passing stack after stack of dimly lit bookshelves until you’re standing outside of the only office still illuminated. Thankfully the door is propped open and you power walk as fast as you can towards it. The faster you can fix it, the faster you can head home and celebrate the end of the semester the way you originally planned.

He nearly tips the chair as he stands. It hits the back wall of his office with a graceless bang. “Y/N? Are those heels? Did you drive here in those?”

It’s difficult to keep your lips as they are when he adorns that expression, features battling between where they might settle: aroused or awestruck. You’d rather not screw up the perfect lipstick application you worked so hard to achieve— not yet at least. The plan is to be on your knees when that happens.

“You look—” he pauses as his traveling eyes try to glean any information they can. His voice lowers to a whisper and he quickly attempts to sate his curiosity with a wandering hand up your thigh. “Are-Are you not wearing anything under there?”

Before you can answer his fingers find the pleated fabric hidden beneath the hoodie and a new, eager question fumbles from his lips. “What are... you wearing?”

As much as you’d like for him to keep exploring, you muster enough willpower to smack his hands away. It’s only fair that he has to wait while you work.

“Computer first. You said it was beeping. Did it ever start back up?”

He swallows hard as you round the desk and start troubleshooting. It’s hard to think when all the blood in his brain is quickly evacuating in favor of inhabiting a far less intelligent location. He’s supposed to say something. He knows that much. But you look so beautiful he forgets how to say it. Your brows furrow in frustration and you sigh his name.

You’ve done your makeup, your hair is down for the first time in a long time, and you even put on a cute outfit as far as he can gather. But here you are in his hoodie, donning a pair of blue-light blocking glasses, rolling up the baggy sleeves, and tying your hair into a tight ponytail as you start to go into full on geeksquad mode. Even with your hunched shoulders and irritated tongue clicking, you’re trying to help him, still beautiful in the way he loves.

Underneath all that skin-deep beauty that fades with time, within the wrinkles that have already begun to crease the edges of your eyes and the corners of your mouth, you shine. You shine brighter than any star he’s ever seen. Months of reflecting your light haven’t been enough to show you the true glow of your soul, but he’s confident that one day you’ll see it.

He’s pulled back to reality as your scowl settles on him. Repeatedly pressing the power button with your finger won’t change the fact that he’s purposefully unplugged it, a fact it seems you’ve come to realize when you reach for the VGA cable and there’s nothing there.

A charming, dimpled smile graces his features and he picks up the monitor with ease. “I, uh, think maybe something fell off before you got here.”

“There’s nothing wrong with your computer, is there?” You lean back in the chair and sigh as he stands there like a fool on the opposite side of the desk, cradling his LCD screen like a bouquet.

“No,” he says sheepishly. He gently lowers the monitor to the floor and sighs. “I planned on presenting this better, but you distracted me. There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about for a while now.”

Your stomach is spinning and you take in a deep breath. Oh fuck. Is he really going to break up with you? No, he can’t be. He wouldn’t be smiling about that. Would he?

“Nothing bad,” he quickly adds, circling behind the desk and your chair in one large stride. His thumbs dive into the fabric of your hoodie to rub circles into your shoulders.  “At least I don’t think you’ll think it’s bad…” Terror strikes at his belly and he adds, “Unless you do...”

“Joon. Please. You’re stressing me out. Whatever it is, just tell me.”

He spins the chair around and squats down onto one knee. He straightens his tie and reaches for your hand, sending your stomach on another rollercoaster ride, only this one is running in the complete opposite direction and you’re equally as unprepared. You’re not really a marriage kind of person. Well, maybe you are, but you’re not sure. It’s too soon to know! You’re more of a limbless amoeba at this point, stuffed into heels and floating with the other protozoa in the petri dish of the universe, unthinking, just existing.

The world stops as he reaches into his coat pocket and you find yourself too petrified to speak. You close your eyes and slump into the chair like you’ve become a being comprised solely of pudding. Your skirt rides up as you sink and your panties shrink into the world’s thinnest thong. Have you ever held a breath for this long? Maybe you’ll melt through the mesh seat and evaporate into the cheap carpet below. It takes him too long to realize his latest mistake.

It was probably the pudding hand that tipped him off.

“Oh. Shit. Okay. No, look at me. I’m not—” He laughs and sets something in your palm, closing your fingers around it and holding them there. “Look.”

You finally settle on the floor before him and squeeze the item in your palm. It feels unremarkable, like a basic wire or plastic cap. The most remarkable part about it is that it is definitely not a ring.

Relief washes over you with the breath you exhale. “Joon. You’re killing me. Please.”

“Here’s the thing.”

He releases your hand so you can look at this unremarkable thing that has caused you so much panic. It’s the plastic head of a CAT5 plug, pins and all. You tilt your head to one side and inspect it with childlike curiosity and bewilderment.

“I’m not that bad with computers. I mean, I’m not like you-level, but I’m not as bad as you think.”

Things begin to click into place. This isn’t just any ethernet plug. It’s the first one, the one you couldn’t fathom disappearing like it did, leaving a mess of wires in its wake. Namjoon just seemed so clueless that you naturally blamed drunken students vandalizing campus property for shits and giggles. It never crossed your mind that the sweet, quiet professor could have staged the whole thing.

“Before I knew you, I wanted to know you. But I felt like I needed an excuse to talk to you so I…” He reaches into his pocket and adds various bits of broken plastic and screws to your cupped hand. “...did this.”

You blink stupidly at the pile in your palm, watching busted pieces of plastic slide off the side of the tiny heap of junk and fall onto the floor beside your knees. “Oh my god. You…?”

“Breaking things seemed like the easiest way to spend time with you,” he admits. “At least at first. I started doing less destructive things after a while. Deleting empty documents. Unplugging my keyboard. Turning off bluetooth. Moving my email shortcuts. I mean, damn. I thought you caught me more than once. I kept waiting for you to call me out. I dreaded it. I hoped for it.”

A cackle bubbles in the back of your throat but you suppress it with a snort. “So you held onto these? This whole time?”

“I didn’t know if I should like, recycle them or not and it’s not like I could ask you. And I mean googling that just seems suspicious. I’m not about to land myself on a watch list or something. But like, for real, you should definitely tell me if I can recycle them though because I have more and I would really like to clean out my drawer.”

Laughter breaches your lips in full force. “You faked being bad at stuff this whole time? Joonie, are you serious? I can’t believe I fell for the way — the way you type!” You cough and wheeze, trying to catch your breath between laughs. “With two fingers! I should have known. Only dads type like that. Oh my god. “

He offers a sheepish smile. “Actually, I really type like that. Something about the keys.”

“Oh.” Your laughter dies. “Sorry. I mean that like… mmm. You know what, I meant what I said. Kinda crazy, considering you text faster than me.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes. “Okay. Texting is different.”

You cross your arms, burying the broken pieces in your clenched fist. “Have you ever needed my help? Should even come running anymore?”

“Hey, sometimes I really do. I’m still clumsy. Plus, it’s out there now. I have no reason to waste your time... unless you want me to. I won’t stop you from climbing under my desk in those hot pants you wear with all the little pockets.”

You furrow your brows and scoff, an incredulous grin spreading across your face. “My cargo pants? Those pockets are huge.”

“Not compared to your ass.” He shakes his head with a smile, holds up his hands like he’s cupping your ass and pretends to squeeze it a couple times.

“Why are you like this?” You laugh with a roll of your eyes.

“Excuse me, who’s the one getting so drunk she’s going on thinking it’s hot to talk about making guacamole with my avocado dick?”

“Vaguely remember that. Smeared it all over me though, didn’t you?” You grin and wiggle your eyebrows.

He purses his lips and takes a breath. “If you mean watched you drink too fast on an empty stomach while we waited for takeout, sat with you while you dry-heaved for 20 minutes untiI I carried you to the couch and held your hand till you drank enough water to fall asleep, then yeah. Smeared it good.”

“And that’s why… I love you.”

You lean in and stop short of his lips, sitting back enough to narrow your eyes at him.

”Wait a minute. Projector.”

If you’ve been living on a ramen and cereal diet for two years because of a man’s inability to properly express romantic interest, you’re going to be pissed, regardless of how much you love said man now.

“Oh, hey, no. Hold up. The projector was a real accident. I cried,” he reminds you. “I will proclaim you as my goddess and savior for all time on that one.”

“Goddess, huh?” you smirk and close your fist around the busted pieces, leaning in for a kiss. “You gonna call me that instead now? I think I like that better than Geeksquad.”

He hums disagreement against your lips, “Mmm-mmm.”

You rest your forehead against his. “Promise me you won’t purposefully break anything else going forward.”

“I promise. That includes your heart,” he whispers, cupping your chin and pressing his lips against your cheek.

“You are so corny.” You pull at his tie, grinning as you lure him to your lips again. “And I’m so here for it. Now are you gonna help me up so we can start our vacation? Or are you gonna sit there with a hard dick and pretend like you still have work to do?”

He clicks his tongue and rises to his feet to extend a hand to you. As you attempt to pull yourself up, he reaches for your sides and lifts you with ease until you’re perched on the edge of his desk. He didn’t ask you to part your legs yet they spread for him anyway, wrapping around his waist and pulling him close.

“Are you gonna make me guess what all this is about?” he asks, tilting his head to the side and giving your crude ponytail a soft tug.

You smirk, staring at the red streaks of your lipstick circling his mouth while you try to ignore the heat between your legs that begs you to take him right here. You’ve imagined fucking on this desk thousands of times, but at least you still have enough sense to realize the risk in playing out that fantasy. He’s got a perfectly good desk at his place anyway.

“Take me home and maybe you’ll get to find out,” you say, pulling your keys from the hoodie pocket and letting them hang from your finger.

He groans as he takes them from you. “You know I can’t do highways.”

“Backroads are fine.”

“It’s gonna take forever,” he complains, dropping his head to your shoulder.

“It’s a good time to practice. Come on.” You pat his back a couple times and hop down from the desk, making sure to grind yourself against his erection. “I promise I’ll make it worth the wait.”

───── ⋆⋅☆·⋆ ─────

As soon as you’re in his apartment, you remove the hoodie to reveal your very crude surprise: a slutty schoolgirl costume. Eyes wide and jaw slack, he stops loosening his tie to imitate a lifeless statue of a drooling neanderthal.

“Y/N, what is… Why?”

“Because,” you begin in a low, sultry tone as you drag your fingers over the soft silk still in his hand. “I want you to teach me a lesson.”

His soft exhale fills the space between you and he stumbles to form a response. He laughs nervously, unable to compose himself. “What?”

You bite your lip, suddenly feeling stupidly uncertain. “You… watch this porn all the time, don’t you? At least I thought you did. Oh. Oh god. This is stupid. Sorry.”

He grips your shoulders to keep you from running towards the bedroom. His eyelids flutter for a

second as he struggles to compose his thoughts. “No. It’s fine. I’m all for roleplay. I’m just... I’m not into the teacher-student trope.”

You frown and reach into the hard-drive files of your brain for any porn you’ve seen on his computer. He’s lying and he knows you know it. He wilts under your puzzled gaze.

“I’m not that into it. Like a lot. I’ve seen some, but only when the story is there.”

“Oh, the story?” You hold back a giggle.

Is he really trying to tell you he’s watching porn for the plot to cover for some terrible porno choices? He should know by now that you don’t care about that. You’ve watched more than your fair share of terrible videos just to get off and immediately hated yourself after. It shouldn’t come as a surprise considering he pretended to be a total idiot with technology for years to cover up his feelings.

“What? I’m serious. I think it’s great when the woman is the teacher and the guy is her equal, you know? She definitely makes as much as he does, if not more because she does it in tight clothes because of the dress code, you know? And he comes in one day after hours and is like how does all this work, anyway? And she starts explaining but you know a button snaps and there’s tension. Baby, you know I’m a feminist. I would never—”

“Joonie. I’m not judging you. I wouldn’t do it if I wasn’t into it myself. I thought it might be fun. And I mean… I really wanted an excuse to have you bend me over your desk, but if you’re not interested I can just—” As soon as you start to work at the buttons of your blouse, he reaches out to stop you.

“We can try it,” he says, bashfully taking a step back and tapping his fingertips against yours. “I’d like to, if you’re down.”

You see an opportunity to break the tension and put him at ease, donning your best valley-girl accent. “Oh em gee, Professor Kim! You are, like, my favorite teacher. Is there some way I can get some extra credit? Puhleeeaase.”

“Nope, none of that,” he says with a laugh, twining his fingers with yours. “As a rule you cannot use that voice.”

“Fair enough.” You lead him towards the desk and gesture to the chair nearby. “How about I’m the teacher since you like that plot point so much?”

He chews his lip to hold back a toothy grin and watches with eager eyes as you bend at the waist to inspect the desk before him, giving a clear view of your ass and panties as your skirt rises. You relocate anything valuable to the nearby bookshelf and work on gathering the papers strewn about the surface.

“Sorry just let me gather up all my extra paychecks,” you mumble.

Once the desk is clear you perch yourself on its edge. Namjoon is already holding out a hair tie and a pair of glasses.

“You forgot these at the staff meeting.”

You roll your eyes and grin, working your hair into a messy bun and resting the glasses atop your head. “Thank you, Professor Kim.”

“Professor Kim is my father. Call me Namjoon.”

You purse your lips and try your best not to laugh, uncrossing and recrossing your legs purposefully. “I suppose you can call me Y/N, then.”

He makes no attempt to hide his lurid gaze, but his eyes travel to your face and he smiles. “Can I call you beautiful, instead?”

“Very smooth, Joonie,” you chuckle, breaking character for a moment.

“Joonie. Hmm. I like the way that sounds in your mouth.”

“I think there’s something else you’d like in my mouth. Maybe you’d like to put it in?”

Namjoon straightens in his seat as you approach, chest heaving in anticipation as he spreads his legs further so you might slot yourself between them. He dips his tongue into your mouth and you work his belt off, slowly sinking to your knees as you try to will yourself to break away from his kiss. He’s eager to unzip his pants and free his cock for you. It stands at attention, eagerly awaiting your touch.

Your breath warms the tip as you skim your lips across him, teasing him just enough to have him twitching, aching to thrust into that pretty mouth. He bites his lip as he looks down at you and inhales sharply through his nose the moment you grip his shaft. The moan that follows is like music to your ears and you grant him the flat of your tongue to reward such a sound.

He combs his fingers through his hair and clutches your shoulder as you take him into your mouth. The dark swollen head of his shaft is thick enough to make your jaw ache, but the sound of him cursing and losing all sense of coherence makes it worth it. As he sinks further into your mouth, he tilts his head back and squeezes his eyes shut in ecstasy.

You take him as deep as you can, allowing your spit to coat his cock. He likes it when it’s sloppy, when you’re drooling over yourself while he fills your mouth and you’re more than happy to oblige. Your eyes water as he flirts with the back of your throat with a soft, shallow thrust. When you choke his head snaps up to focus on you but you wave his concerned look away and grip his shaft tightly.

A thin string of precum and spit still connects your mouth to him as you lean back for just a second to compose yourself.

“Hope you don’t have any other meetings planned.”

“Why’s that?” His palm gently cups the back of your head, waiting for the moment you’re ready to take him again.

“I’m gonna make a mess of you.”

“Good.”

You meet his eyes and gather as much spit in your mouth as you can, allowing it to dribble down his cock before pumping your fist over him. He doesn’t have time to guide your head back down because you’re already on him again, working him over with your hand any place the warmth of your mouth can’t reach.

He chokes out an expletive and buries a hand in your hair, taking in the sight of your perfect mouth offering the bliss he craves. “You take me so well.”

You bob on his cock until he snakes his fingers down to undo the first button of your blouse, granting him access to a sliver of cleavage. He’s eager to see more of you, to feel more of you. Even after months of being with you, it doesn’t take much to tip him over the edge. He won’t last much longer if you keep going, but he’ll be damned if he blows his load in your mouth before even getting an opportunity to touch you.

“I wanna feel you,” he murmurs, leaning forward to coax you away from his cock and back to his lips.

The moment you press your lips against his he reaches for your waist to help you stand. He’s about to follow suit when you surprise him, straddling his lap and grasping at his tie to pull him towards your chest. His cock throbs as it grinds against the slick barrier of your soaked panties, begging for entrance as he buries his face in the splendor of your cleavage. A roll of your hips tempts him to push your panties aside and plunge into you like this. His fingers work as quickly as they can to pop open a few more buttons before slipping down to grip the meat of your ass.

“Fuck me,” you plead, grinding yourself down.

His arms tense and before you can entice him further he stands with a grunt, hoisting you onto the desk. You barely have time to react as he yanks your panties down and plunges a finger into your dripping cunt. Planting an arm behind you and keeping the other clasped around the back of his neck, you weakly attempt to keep yourself somewhat upright.

“How about you make a mess for me instead,” he whispers, leaving your cunt in favor of rubbing quick circles against your clit. “And then I’ll fill you up. Walk you out of here past everyone so they can see my cum dripping from your thighs. Everyone will know what a filthy slut you are for me, won’t they, beautiful?”

The way your muscles tense up nearly gives you a cramp. You bite your lip and nod with a pathetic fucked out grin as he fucks his fingers into your cunt, continuing to rub against your clit. Your elbow wobbles and you frantically grasp at his shirt instead, balling the material into your fist, desperate to undo the buttons but too close to nirvana to remember how to perform such a simple task. Your legs shake against the surface of the desk, and while the steady rhythm of his finger against your clit is heavenly, you’re ready to cry when his fingers leave your hole empty and aching to be filled.

“Joon, please.”

As soon as the desperate plea leaves your mouth, the tip of his cock teases your entrance, providing small, shallow thrusts that send you soaring past the threshold of your release. He can’t help but smile against your kiss as you drag his bottom lip through your teeth and melt into his form. Your walls spasm wildly around him and he gradually lets the pressure off your clit, instead increasing the pace and depth of his thrusts. He fucks you through the shockwaves of pleasure that follow your orgasm, stilling only when your eyelids stop fluttering and you’re able to meet his gaze with a fatigued satisfaction.

“Why’d you stop?” you wonder, lazily opening the buttons on his shirt. Pert brown nipples poke out from beneath the soft fabric, with the silky tie still swaying between them.

He watches you with a smile for a moment before pursuing the last few buttons of your blouse. Quickly working it off your shoulders, you give him the opportunity to reach for the clasp of your bra. It doesn’t take long for him to sweep you into a deep kiss, entranced by the way your skin feels against him while he’s still buried inside of you.

“Bend over this desk for me, baby. Show me that sexy ass.”

You whimper at the loss of his cock but do as he asks, knowing you’ll soon be full again. He lifts your skirt, takes both cheeks in his hands and squeezes before giving one side a slap. The moan that escapes you is embarrassing and it spurs him to repeat the action.

“Fuck,” he whispers, finally allowing his cock to press against cunt once more. “So fucking wet.”

Your own juices coat the expanse of your thighs, slowly trailing down them. Without warning he slams into you hard and fast. Wet slapping sounds fill the room as he holds your hips, driving them back to meet his thrusts.

“So fucking tight.”

You grip the opposing edge of the desk and moan. “You’re so deep, baby.”

“Fuck...” The word is exhaled through a shaky breath.

“So deep you could read me poetry,” you whisper, unable to stop the joke even though you know he’s on the cusp of cumming.

He huffs out a strained puff of air as he tries his hardest not to laugh. He gives in to the laughter after you begin to giggle. Unable to save himself, he leans into the joke that threatens to ruin his orgasm. “You’re my person. You’re my desire. You’re my pride...”

His thrusts are sloppy, his legs tense. You crane your neck to look over your shoulder to make sure he’s not mad. It must be your own grin that is contagious because he’s smiling even though he’s shaking his head at you.

“You’re my love. One and only love,” you recite for him, reaching back for his hand and pushing your hips back into him with force.

His grip on your hip tightens and he squeezes your hand. He slams into you a final time with a moan, ensuring he’s as deep as he can be before filling you with his seed. The pleasure amplifies every time you try to wiggle back for some sort of movement and he moves his hand to your ass, digging his fingernails in like it will keep him grounded. He leans over your form, kissing any bit of skin on your back his lips can reach.

Regardless of the sensitivity he keeps himself buried in you, hoping by some miracle he’ll stay hard enough to fuck you a second time. He can’t tell what’s his mess and what’s yours anymore as it drips down his balls to his thighs. As he finally slips out, you turn to face him with a sweet smile on your lips.

Your fingers glide through his hair and trail down to cradle his cheek. “I love you.”

Namjoon leans into your touch, pressing his lips to the inside of your palm. “I love you too.”

Maybe it’s the endorphins, but he can’t remember the last time he felt so comfortable and happy with another person, someone he can be so unapologetically himself with. He’s completely certain that he’s bound to you by fate. The love you share is destiny, a gift from the universe he never intends to take for granted.

No matter what the future holds, he knows he wants you by his side through it all: his one and only love.

[smellsfaintlyofvanilla]

SPOILERS! SORRY i wanna request another annie x reader, this includes spoilers like season 4 episode 8, and when annie comes out of her crystal in the manga so feel free to ignore! basically, reader was in sasha’s place and ended up dying when gabi shot her. after annie comes out of her crystal, the scouts explain to her what happened to reader. when annie and the scouts see gabi again, annie has a breakdown and screams at gabi how much reader meant to her? <3 tysm!!

You guys are sending me on an Annie brainrot, I’m not even kidding...

Also, the part where Annie comes out of the crystal hasn’t been animated yet (I already knew it happened cause of spoilers don’t worry), so I kinda just looked it up really quickly, so it might not be super accurate but ya know.

ALSO I LISTENED TO “I love you” BY BILLIE EILISH WHILE WRITING THIS AND IT HONESTLY ADDS TO THE MOOD SO MUCH BUT IT’S MAKING ME SAD

Tragedies of War

(Annie Leonhart x Reader)

AU: Canon (Somewhat non-compliant)

Warnings: Slight violence, season 4 spoilers

Category: Angst

Summary: After coming out of the crystal, Annie searches for her s/o, and when she receives news of your passing, she searches for the one who ended their life in order to get closure.

Words: 5.0K

The sun shined harshly onto the parched dirt below your feet, and a swift pivot of your foot kicked a small cloud of dust into the space that surrounded your legs. You had dodged Annie’s punch flawlessly, and you held your hands up to your head defensively, just as she had taught you.

For a moment, a smile graced her lips. She was proud of how quickly you were catching up to her technique. She had taken up the task of teaching you basic martial arts and hand-to-hand combat after you expressed your dismay at being so inept at it.

Her fists raised to her face once again, signifying her readiness to continue.

You slowly approached her, preparing to land a strong hit, and hoping to get the upper hand against the experienced blonde girl.

Once you were in range, she swung her right fist swiftly towards your face, but a quick shift of your head to the right managed to have her arm swing right into the air above your shoulder. You acted quickly, not giving her the chance to recoil her arm or regain her stance, and delivered a harsh uppercut to the underside of her jaw with your idle right hand.

She stumbled backwards in a mixture of shock and slight pain. She had to admit, the late night training the two of you had been partaking in for the past few weeks was starting to pay off. Your uppercut was stronger than it had ever been, and a dull aching pain spread rapidly through her whole jaw, rocking her usually tense form ever so slightly. She brought her left hand up to rub her jaw, trying to sooth the pain as she winced.

“Impressive.” She muttered through her clenched teeth. Outwardly, she seemed annoyed, but inside, she was pleased at your performance. “You’re improving Y/n. Sooner or later, I might have to start to actually try against you.”

You chuckled nervously, reminded of how many levels above you Annie was. Still, a spur of confidence surged through you at the successful hit, and you raised your hands once again. You let out a satisfied huff.

“Well then, let’s see it!” You smiled confidently, high off of the delusion that you could possibly beat Annie’s master level combat skills.

You charged at her more recklessly this time, and reused your previous uppercut in attempt to catch her off guard once again. In response, she arched her back, tilting her head away from your fist effortlessly. Before you even had the time to acknowledge that you had missed, her left hand struck your stomach fiercely, and as you buckled over in pain, she placed her hands on the back of your head, and drove your face to her kneecap unrestrained.

You sunk down into a heap onto the dirt, clutching at your stomach in pain. You coughed dryly, trying to regain the breath that had just been knocked out of your chest oh so mercifully.

“O-Owww... That was... A little rough, Annie...” You choked out between pants.

“Well, you seemed confident. I needed to knock you down a peg.” She stared at you, unamused.

She waited a moment for you to stand up so the two of you could resume training, but you stayed hunched over on the dirt as crimson started to drip slowly from your nose. The small whimper of pain that left your lips ignited a twinge of sympathy in the girl, and she knelt down next to you to grab your hands and cautiously lift you up.

Her attention shifted to the blood that leaked from your nose, and she averted her eyes. It was training, you were bound to get hurt no matter what, but that didn’t stop her from feeling guilty over your minor injury.

She walked over to the small pile of towels she had set aside, originally there in case one or both of you got too sweaty and needed a break. She picked up one from the top of the pile and brought it to your nose to try and prevent the blood from leaving stains on your clothes. After all, you only had so many shirts, and they were seldom washed to remove stains.

“Maybe I was a little rough there... sorry...” She murmured, embarrassed at how soft the whole situation was making her feel.

An adorable giggle left your lips, and Annie looked at you in confusion. What is she laughing about? What’s so funny?

Her look of confusion didn’t help you keep your composure, as you started full blown laughing.

“Y/n??” Annie asked, accidentally bringing the towel away from your face. “What it is??”

Your laughter died down, and after letting out one final chuckle, you spoke up. “You’re just really cute, especially when you’re worried.”

She blushed at that, still not used to the verbal affection that you were so fond of giving her.

Flustered, she tilted her head down to rest her head longingly on your shoulder. You grinned once again as you felt a gentle smile curve upwards on her lips.

“Take it back...” Her voice faltered. She was deeply conflicted between accepting the compliment or insisting that she wasn’t cute.

You only chuckled once again. Her inability to think of anything to do in response to affection was even cuter.

You grabbed her wrist, and brought it up to your face. You started gently and endearingly ghosting kisses along her skin, starting at the wrist and moving wordlessly up her arm. You stopped for a moment though, just to hug her arm into your chest lovingly.

“I love you Annie...”

“...”

“I love you too...”

*CRASH*

Cold. That’s all it felt like. Cold.

Something was... wrong... very wrong... but she couldn’t place her finger on what.

Her eyes peeled open slowly, and the first coherent thought she would have after four years started to form in her mind.

Oh... I’m on the floor...

She sat up slowly, her tense joints and muscles refusing to give her an easy time of it. Once she stood up on her unsteady, almost shaky legs, she stretched, surveying the room around her.

Small fragments of icy crystalline shards lay scattered at her feet. It took one bewildered look behind her for her scatterbrained mind to form together an understanding of what was going on.

I... I’m free from the crystal...? Why?

She glanced around, confused and desperate for any indication of why she was free. There were no MPs in the room, nor any scouts or Marleyan soldiers. Clearly, no one was intentionally trying to set her free.

After assessing the situation to ease her mind a little, she shuffled backwards and slid down the wall, taking a deep, full breath for the first time in years. The air felt great, she had to admit, and being able to move once again was certainly freeing. She hugged her knees to her chest and rested her head in her arms tranquilly. She loved feeling free once again, but she felt her heart tug, as it was yearning for something... or someone.

Her head perked up abruptly, a memory flashing through her brain. She was training with you... her girlfriend.

It had been four years since she’d seen you... she wondered what you would look like now. Had you been having fun with everyone? Did you find out the truth and escape the walls?

An anxious thought ruthlessly tore it’s way through Annie’s brain. Did something happen to you? Did you take your final breaths cold and alone while she slept like a baby in the stupid crystal? Were you devoured by a titan that her own nation sent to kill you? Did you... die hating her?

She stood up abruptly, swinging her leg back and kicking a shard of crystal across the room and letting out a huff through her clenched. Surely not. She’s an extremely strong soldier. I know her better than anyone else would. Nothing could have happened to her...

But, still, a seed of worry had already planted itself in her stomach. Still, she just had to see you again. Not only did she need to make sure that you were unharmed by this senselessness, but just to see you once more. She couldn’t care less what become of her, especially now that she had escaped. She wanted to treasure one more conversation with her lover, and to hold you and whisper sweet nothings to you. God, she was missing those little things so bad right now.

Her mind shifted to the first step towards seeing you- getting out of this shitty dungeon. The wooden door was unlocked and unguarded, at least from this side. She took quiet, strategic steps towards the door, and creaked open the door gently, as to not alert anyone outside of her presence.

A lone guard stood with their back turned to the door. One look at the short and wavy cream colored locks and she was easily identified as Hitch, her old MP roommate.

She made a quick dash, stopping behind the unaware girl and placing one hand over her mouth to prevent her from making any noise, and the other arm was wrapped tightly over Hitch’s neck. She felt the girl tense up considerably out fear in her grasp.

“Take me to the Scouts.”

---

Within the day, she had arrived at the current residence of Scouts. She had convinced some of the higher up MPs to let her see them, with much pleading of course, and on the promise that she would do absolutely no harm, and she would be under MP supervision the whole time.

She walked along the worn dirt path quickly, an MP standing to either side of her, holding both of her arms as to prevent any chance of Annie attacking. She stepped right in front of the door, and her heart filled with both excitement and anxiousness as she thought about her lover, who was most likely waiting on the other side.

An MP dully knocked on the door, and a disgruntled Levi answered.

“Military Police? What are you doing here?” He asked, unamused at the sudden presence of guests.

Peering over his shoulder from inside, Armin’s eyes widened as he recognized the anxious girl in the doorway. “Annie? What are you doing here? Why are you out of your crystal??” He started to jog to the front door, standing next to a confused Levi.

“You know her?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, from our cadet years. She didn’t join the Scouts though.” His gaze shifted from Levi’s eyes to the floor, an unreadable expression painting his face. “She’s also a Marleyan Warrior.”

Annie’s eyes widened at the mention of the Warrior Program. Of course they found out...

Levi turned around to head back inside, deciding this was none of his business. “Take care of it Armin.” He let out a small chuckle before continuing. “I thought we were getting arrested again.”

Armin’s eyes followed Levi as he walked away, but he turned back to face the MPs and Annie once again. She admired him for a moment. He seemed more mature now, but at the same time, it seemed some of the childish wonder had left his eyes in place of a more hopeless, dead look in his eyes. Such was to be expected of a soldier long at war.

“What are you doing here?” Arming questioned, staring at Annie.

“I... uh...” It wasn’t until now that she considered that admitting the only reason she was here was her lovesickness would be a little embarrassing, but she had to explain. Still, she altered her motives just a little bit so she wouldn’t seem so hopelessly devoted to you. “I broke out of the crystal... somehow... and I just wanted to visit you all one more time.” Even if she wasn’t directly speaking about you, admitting that she missed any of the people from her cadet days made her fluster up a little bit.

Armin stepped out of the way, beckoning her and the MPs to come inside. She stepped inside curiously, gazing at the inside of the building. It doesn’t seem half bad in here...

The MPs followed her cautiously, and still held both of her arms securely behind her back. Armin saw this, and motioned with his hand for them to let go, before speaking calmly.

“She’s not a threat, you can release her.”

The MPs loosened their grip on Annie, allowing her arms to fall comfortably at their sides. The two officers stepped back and against the wall, deciding to stay there to observe the situation.

Annie took the time to gaze around at the soldiers surrounding her. People looked on at her with many emotions. Some were indifferent, since they didn’t know her, but many were weary of her Warrior status, and a select few stared at her with pity-filled expressions. She continued to look to see if she recognized anyone in the crowd. Most faces were unfamiliar, but certain people stood out to her from her memories. Mikasa, Eren, Connie, Jean, Sasha... she glanced around, searching for the faces of her old comrades, but more so, she was looking for you.

“Everyone has changed a lot, haven’t they?” Armin sighed, looking at the ground with a look of sad nostalgia.

After a few more seconds of searching, she failed to find your beautiful e/c eyes anywhere in the room, and the seed of worry in the pit of her stomach began to grow, her palms growing clammy with anxiety.

“Where is Y/n?” She spat out abruptly, worry evident in her voice. She couldn’t bear any small talk at this point, she just desperately wanted to see where you were.

Her eyes widened as she looked back to Armin. His mournful expression by itself answered her question clearly, but she refused to pay any attention to it.

She gazed around at the others in the room desperately. Everyone from the 104th Cadet Corps (in other words, everyone that knew about the Annie’s relationship with the h/c haired girl) had the same expression.

Their faces were all laced with the same emotion.

Pity.

The kind of pity that you see when a neighbor has to tell the little kid down the street that the family puppy got hit by a car, or the kind of pity that you have when somebody gets their life’s work stolen from them, or, in this case, the kind of pity where you are forced to tell a distraught individual that their lover died at war. That kind of pity.

She didn’t want to believe it. No, she couldn’t believe it.

She couldn’t be bothered to close her slacked jaw, or to hide the distress on her face as she waits for the possibility that she was reading the room wrong.

Armin looked to his side, averting his eyes. He truly couldn’t find it in his heart to answer the question.

It wasn’t until the distinct clacking of boots on the hardwood floor started to approach her that she snapped out of her trance.

The person approached Annie slowly, but calmly, and Annie took a moment to scan her face. The stranger was decorated with a Scout badge on her shoulder, and a shiny medal hung from their neck. They had auburn/brown hair that was tucked into a loose ponytail behind their head, and an eyepatch covering their left eye.

The person had a sorrowful look as they grabbed Annie’s limp hand and encased it in their own.

“I am Hange Zoe, commander of the Scouts.” They said courteously. They bowed her head in mourning and respect as she continued on. “It’s my displeasure to have to inform you of this, but during a semi-recent mission to the city of Liberio, Y/n was shot and killed by a Marleyan.”

All of the sudden, everything stopped.

No sound, no motion, no nothing. It had just... frozen.

She had a feeling that the person in front of her was still talking, based on the fact that their lips were still moving, but she couldn’t hear them. She couldn’t hear anything. All that enveloped her ears was ringing. Painful, painful ringing.

She had stopped shaking, and she was certain her hand had gone cold in the other person’s grasp.

She didn’t understand it at all.

“How...” A barely audible whisper ghosted from her lips, and Hange’s word stopped in their throat. “How did this happen?” She grit her teeth and spoke out shaky words of disbelief. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes and threatened to spill down her cheeks. “How did someone like her... die...?” The last word of her sentence was so light in volume, yet so heavy in emotion. It’s almost as if the blonde girl couldn’t even comprehend the word itself.

“It was a warrior candidate.” Someone spoke from the other side of the room, and both Annie and Hange turned to look. The speaker leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, a scowl adorning his features.

“Floch, now isn’t the time-” Hange quietly tried to coax the man into shutting up and letting Annie grieve, but he continued to speak.

“That little bitch- she climbed aboard the ship using stolen ODM gear, took a gun, and shot into the crowd of soldiers blindly. Hit Y/n in the chest, she dropped to the ground in seconds.” He continued to explain so nonchalantly, as if the death of a comrade was just another casualty in his eyes. His calmness made Annie want to knock him out cold, but she wanted him to finish. She desperately needed to know.

“We beat the shit out of her for a minute- her and some other little blonde kid. They’re in holding cells downstairs as we speak.” Annie’s eyes widened as she thought about her girlfriend’s killer residing in the same exact building as her. Dark thoughts of violence flashed through her mind as she imagined all the things she would do to the murderer if she just got a chance. All she needed was a few minutes.

“I wasn’t with her when she died, but Mikasa, Armin, and Connie were. I think her last words were directed to you, but I don’t remember what she said.” He folded his arms and looked away, a subtle indication that he had finished speaking.

The room was still with tense, stagnant air. No one moved, nor spoke. Annie tried desperately to gather her thoughts, to try and think rationally about all of this- but she couldn’t. Rage and sorrow flooded her mind, and any other thoughts were just a blur. She was going to go confront this person. No, she swore, she was going to kill her.

Taking advantage of the stagnant environment (and the MPs questionable devotion to their guard duties) Annie made a mad dash towards the hallway.

The tears were rolling down her cheeks unrestrained now, and she made no effort to wipe them away. Normally, she would never let anyone see her this emotional. Well, no one other than you, of course.

She ran to the end of the hallway, and found the staircase that led to where the supposed murderer was- the basement. She swore she could hear chaos filled yells from behind her, but she couldn’t pick out if they were directed to her or this “Floch” guy, and frankly, she didn’t care.

She rushed down the stairs, nearly tripping because of how hurried she was, and reached the only jail cell that remained locked.

Gazing through the bars, she was met with two figures, both sitting slumped on the beds. One had short blonde hair, with a lost and confused look in his eyes, while the other had the same auburn hair as Hange, alongside chestnut colored eyes that were swelled over in rage. They looked battered and filthy, but that was to be expected of any prisoner of the Scout Regiment.

Still, their faces ignited a twinge of sympathy in Annie’s bruised heart. They were the faces of children. Lost, confused- they hadn’t began to even sort the world out. They still had lives to live, so much opportunity ahead of them. Opportunity that was not to be found in the Warrior Program.

Regardless, nothing could stop her from getting to that child on the other side of the bars. The anger in her eyes would easily single her out as the guilty party. No one with kind eyes, like the blonde boy’s, could have done this.

The children gazed upon her, mostly with confusion, but also a mix of fear and apprehension. Despite her relatively small size, she could look pretty damn intimidating when she was pissed.

A swift, but strong kick hit the ancient rusty lock, and it snapped open easily. The forced of the kick cause the door to swing wide open, and no longer did anything separate her from the monster that just crumbled her world from all around her.

Dangerously slow steps approached the girl as she gazed on with both fear and aggressive apprehension. The blonde boy could do nothing but watch bewilderedly.

“You...” A low whisper escaped Annie’s throat, like the shriek of a ghost trying to breach the worlds between the living and the dead.

She stopped walking when she reached the bed, and she gazed at the floor silently. She wondered if this was the sympathy that lay locked in her heart. She couldn’t say she didn’t understand the girl, after all, Annie was a warrior candidate once too. She knew what it was like, the desperation to get picked and become an honorary Marleyan, and to not disappoint your family- she got it. It led you to do a lot of things, and she couldn’t help but feel bad for anyone caught up in the twisted program, especially since she was only a child, twelve at most.

The flicker of empathy that burned quietly in her chest was quickly snuffed out, however, as images of your bleeding form crying out for her, alone and in pain, floated in her mind tauntingly.

She grabbed her right arm with her other hand, and let out hushed breath, before leaning her head back and bursting into hysterical, almost maniacal, laughter.

None of this was fair at all. Why did she lose you? Why did you have to die? Why you? Why? Why why why why why why-

“WHY?!” She suddenly screamed, tugging on the front of the girl’s shirt and throwing her across the room carelessly, adrenaline flowing through her and giving her all the strength she needed.

The girl collided with the wall with a thud, and fell into a heap on the floor with a yelp. But, Annie wasn’t done. She marched over and picked up the girl by the collar and slowly raised her off of the ground. She held her against the wall with fury in her eyes, and the girl winced in pain as her feet lifted from the floor and kicked helplessly into the air.

“WHY DID YOU HAVE TO DO IT?!” Annie screamed, her eyes wide with trauma and lips frozen in a broken frown. “WHY DID IT HAVE TO BE HER, DAMMIT?! DID YOU EVER THINK BEFORE YOU CHOSE TO KILL SOMEONE?! WHAT THEY MIGHT MEAN TO SOMEONE?!”

Annie vigorously shook the terrified girl, trying desperately to get some sort of point across. Any point was lost in the translation of anger and grief, however. But for now, scaring the shit out of this girl would have to do.

“Dammit...” The tears that had been held back for so long started to flow once again. All she saw was you... your smile, your laugh, everything about you was just so perfect. She yearned to see you just one more time, and to have one final conversation with you.

“Dammit! Don’t you understand?! I was going to spend the rest of my fucking life with that girl! We were gonna get married and settle down and live a normal fucking life! That’s all I ever wanted! I was supposed to be there for her through everything, and you let her die cold and alone because of what?! What did you gain out of this?! Do you feel proud?! Satisfied?! Do you enjoy the blood on your hands?!”

Her hands stilled around the stiff fabric of the shirt that she still clenched in her hands. The girl had giving up on clawing Annie’s grip from her- Annie wouldn’t let go.

A final, lowly chuckle left her lips, her hands slowly relaxed, and the girl slowly slid down the wall, and her feet connected with the ground at last, but the girl didn’t run away. She could, if she truly wanted to, but she stayed there in the blonde girl’s grip. Perhaps guilt, or perhaps fear. Annie couldn’t tell, of course. Her vision was too blurry from tears to make out facial expressions.

Sobs started to wrack Annie’s body as she struggled to keep her composure, and one of her hands left the worn shirt to instead go up to her mouth, covering her mouth as she started to breakdown further into grief.

“I... I loved her...” She chocked out quietly. “I loved her so much... and now... I’ll never get to... see her again.” Her other hand finally let go of the cloth, and she leaned that arm against the wall for support as she leaned her trembling body onto it, her forehead meeting the cold stone.

The final realization of her lover’s death hit her like a brick as her sobs wrecked helplessly through her body, and she shut her eyes in mourning, or perhaps to pretend that nothing had even changed at all...

“I... I miss her...”

She stood there for a moment, and although she could feel the gazes of the two children on her, she didn’t care. She stood there in silence, crying silently in vain for her lover to return to her.

After what felt like hours, a gentle hand placed itself upon Annie’s shoulder. She turned around hesitantly, and was met with Armin’s saddened gaze.

“Annie, I...” He averted his eyes and gazed at the two children still inside the cell, as well as Mikasa, Connie, and Jean, who all appeared silently in front of the open prison door. “I think it’s time to go.”

---

“Her last words?” Connie questioned sorrowfully.

“Yes.” Annie leaned her back against the stone grave and gazed into the moon as it began to rise elegantly over the horizon. “What did she say?”

“Well...” His eyes darkened as he slowly started to recount the events that unfolded that day.

“When she was first shot... and I ran to her side to try and talk to her, and see how bad it was. She said your name, Annie. I thought it was a little strange at first, until she cupped my cheek and smiled at me. She lost a lot of blood, and fast, so I figure that she may have been hallucinating, and thought I was you for some reason.” He chuckled painfully at that, conflicted on whether to be sorrowful or nostalgic about that moment.

“I was screaming at her to hold on until we arrived at the island, but there was just too much bleeding. There was nothing that we could do. But, she told me something else right before she died...”

-

“Hey, Annie... Don’t be sad, okay? I promise you... w-we... will meet again sometime. Maybe another life, or in heaven... I don’t really care. I don’t really want you to forget me, but... let me go. You have your own life to live, even if mine ends... here. This is a senseless war anyways. But... if even just my sacrifice... can slowly bring... c-closure to all this fighting... than it’ll have been worth it, I promise you. So, in that regard, I don’t regret anything. Just... stay strong for me, Annie... I l-love you...”

-

Connie finished speaking, and turned his back away from Annie respectfully as the tears started to fall yet again.

“Try not to get too cold out here...” He stated bluntly before leaving.

After a few minutes, and she was sure he and anyone else was gone, she slowly shifted to lay right underneath the tombstone. The moon now shone brightly upon her, and reflected beautifully against the grave stone. She didn’t figure that this was how she would be spending her night with you, but she felt a least a little solace in being alone with you again, under the vast, unaware stars that freckled the night’s sky above.

Her mind having finally been cleared, she came up with a conclusion that she was honestly ashamed for not reaching earlier.

This was a senseless war. A war where everyone is a victim. It wasn’t Annie’s fault, nor was it yours, or Eren’s, or even Gabi’s- as she had soon learned was the girl’s name. All this fighting amounted to nothing but bloodshed and loss.

She peered around her surroundings, and pondered if every solemn gravestone belonged to someone who was loved in the same way that she loved you. She stopped to wonder, as well, about all the Scouts she had murdered during that time as the female titan. She thought back to Marco, as well. All of it was pointless. Every single person meant something to someone, and she was so cruel for ripping that away. This stupid war- she should say- is cruel for ripping it away.

War never felt so cruel until it affected her like this.

It was like your final conversation that she could ever have with you, one that she would have from beyond your grave. A conversation of ideas, and of hope for a future without bloodshed.

Truly, the reality of it started to set it. Even without you, she would do all she could to stop the bloodshed. It meant sacrifices. Sacrifices, most notably, like you. She would’ve given anything for you to be at her side- to end this conflict with her, but she sighed as she figured that it just wasn’t meant to be that way. Your death wasn’t in vain, though, as it helped her understand.

With or without you, she would fight to end this war, no matter the costs.

WHY IS THIS SO LONG HOLY-

i did this instead of maintaining a consistent posting schedule...

Still, I hope you don’t mind how unusually long and detailed this is, I may have gotten a little hooked on the prompt.

Hope you enjoyed it, after all that effort lmaooo

[johannas-motivational-insults]

Catradora, Wanting, and Religion

When you think about it, discovering and accepting what they really want is a huge part of both Catra’s and Adora’s arcs this season. And that really was necessary after they spent all this time fighting each other and telling themselves they wanted to stay on this path.

With Catra it started last season when Double Trouble called her out on this life not being what she really wanted. The question was posed to her again this season by Glimmer and Horde Prime before she realized that what she really wanted was to protect Adora and maybe somehow earn her forgiveness. Then she struggled to accept that she wanted to actually be around Adora because of her guilt and her habit of blocking emotional connections out of fear of getting hurt. She even told Adora she wanted to be alone before she realized how much the prospect of Adora leaving hurt and asked her to stay. And admitting this to herself ends up hurting, because Adora’s inability to prioritize her own desires makes Catra think Adora doesn’t want her back.

For Adora, it’s less about thinking she wants something else and more about not being able to identify her own wants, because she has never prioritized them. Despite how she’s clearly worried about Catra in episode 4, Glimmer has to be the one to voice that Adora wants to go back for Catra, and Adora looks ashamed when she admits that it’s true. Towards the end of the season Catra questions whether risking her life to save the universe is what Adora really wants, and again she can’t really answer because she’s not used to this thought process. What she wants is to save the world, right? Even when Mara asks her what she wants when this is all over, Adora insists that it doesn’t matter. It’s not until she has that wish for the future that she realizes and maybe even accepts that she doesn’t want to die, she wants to live to be with her friends, be with Catra.

This theme of learning to recognize and accept your own desires is really powerful in a season that also features a lot of toxic religion. Wanting is often considered sinful in religious contexts. You’re supposed to cast off your own desires and want what your god wants for you. This is something that becomes very ingrained in your psyche when you are raised in that environment, especially if you have desires that are considered deviant and sinful. Like being gay, for instance. (That whole “Prime casts out all shadows” and “all beings must suffer to become pure” thing was very uncomfortable to watch, as you hear a lot of that same kind of stuff in some Christian sects, especially re. conversion therapy.)

The Horde has always been a metaphor for toxic religion, even before this season took it to a new level. Adora and Catra were raised in an environment where wanting anything was frowned upon, where you had to be willing to sacrifice yourself for the good of the Horde, of the world. Adora bought into this especially hard and was unable to leave this way of thinking behind when she switched sides. Even the more rebellious Catra was affected by it, because letting herself want anything was dangerous in an environment where she couldn’t have what she wanted: Adora to herself, both of them against the world. Giving into and chasing that desire could only lead to heartbreak, so she kept it under wraps, then pushed it deep down once Adora left because it hurt too much to acknowledge.

Seeing both Catra and Adora identify and accept their own desires by the end of this season was just so satisfying. And inspiring, as someone else who was raised in a toxic religious environment. The fact that it all culminated in a beautiful moment of love between two women who had to fight so hard to embrace their own desire for each other, that made it unforgettable.