#stop painting over his flaws to drag down other characters!!!!!! }

[01zfan]

pray/want | j. sc

bad boy!sungchan x church girl!reader | 9.5k words

back at it again with another installment of my sacrilegious series! hope you guys enjoy heh. loosely based off of it will come back by hozier.

contains: drug mention, hand stuff (f. and m. receiving), biblical references and allusions to mary magdalene

sacrilegious masterlist | kofi

you were too forgiving. too merciful. you were raised to think it was a strength. giving extra grace to people who don’t deserve it. forgiving those who took advantage of you. 

it was a problem you had since you were a child. you always considered yourself to be empathetic towards others before you even knew what the word meant. if they were mean to you, they must have been having a bad day. if someone took your toys on the playground, they must have wanted it more. if you were pushed, they must be in a hurry. everyone in your life told you this was a strength to have. they presented your patience as if it was a holy virtue, and it was your duty to give it to everyone. your private christian school only further instilled this mindset. meeting everyone where they were often came at your expense, but you didn’t mind. school was an echo chamber of positivity and life was a bubble inside the padded walls of the church.

sungchan was your first introduction to the world outside. he was a new face at mass, round and young just like yours. you remember being confused at the way they scowled at him, how the elders pinched his sides and told him to pay attention to the preacher. he remained unbothered, always picking at the chipping paint on the pews or messing with the flimsy hand fans. you watched as they called sungchan a problem kid and a troublemaker. you think that the words they whispered about sungchan was the first time you were exposed to the harsh reality of people. you watched those words mold sungchan into the very thing they called him. whispers from the elders told you that he was out doing drugs, having sex with women, and hanging out with the wrong crowd. you remember your parents pulling you aside and telling you to not get involved with him, that he would only drag you down. 

your empathetic heart couldn’t stop you from extending an olive branch to sungchan. you didn’t see him as the terrible person they claimed him to be. you saw him as a troubled boy with no guidance. he was still so young, the same age as you with baby fat present on his cheeks. 

sungchan taught you that your forgiving heart was a character flaw. it was a problem you were developing, not being able to leave him alone. you were like his silent apostle, set on the mission of fixing his tumultuous relationship with the church. you would sit next to him during youth group and answer for him, singing extra loud during hymns incase he didn’t know the words. your voice had gone raw from talking to him constantly. you would talk to him for ages to only get a simple shrug or a one worded reply. it didn’t stop you, only further encouraged you to try and break down his walls. 

you came to him in between mass and individual prayer when you saw him sneak out through a door in the kitchen. you found him outside leaning against the church, smoking right below the kitchen window. all someone had to do was look outside and they could see him.

“you know you’re smoking right in front of the window?” you ask him. 

sungchan didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. your polite and slightly nagging voice seemed to follow him everywhere. but sungchan found himself looking to you often, loving the shocked look on your face when he’d shrug his shoulders and blow smoke clouds into the air.

“i don’t care.” sungchan says. 

his tone had become flatter over the years, losing that playful lift he had when you first met him. his sentences had become deadpanned words and eyes became stone. it didn’t drive you away, it only did the opposite.

you come down the stairs, lifting your sunday dress as you did so. the flowy fabric grazed your ankles, and revealed your cute frilly socks. sungchan watched you let the dress come back down your legs, using the same hand to motion at his cigarette. 

“can i try?” you ask.

sungchan has amusement on his lips as he raises his eyebrows at your question. he takes in another drag, turning his head away so he doesn’t blow smoke in your face.

“you smoke?” sungchan asks.

you shrug your shoulders, trying to copy the way sungchan did it. it feels awkward pretending not to care about anything and you’re sure sungchan can tell that your shoulders stayed up for just a moment too long.

“yeah. sometimes.” you lie. 

you don’t know why you are lying to sungchan, or why the lie fell so easily from your lips. you were never the type to ever lie, telling the truth no matter what consequence fell upon you. sungchan looks towards the door to the kitchen. someone could come out at any moment and catch you.

sungchan was intrigued by you. he let his eyebrows fall back down his face and looked away from you to knock the ash from the end of his cigarette. he was intrigued how you continue to stay there while all of his attention went to the ash falling from his cigarette, something that came like second nature to him. sungchan let his eyes go to your clear jelly shoes, something he had only seen children wear. he couldn’t stop himself from letting out a little laugh seeing you nervously rock back on your heels while he basically ignored you. 

once the ash had fallen to the ground sungchan walked over to you. he looked down with a smirk as he moved it to your lips. when you tried to grab it with your own hand sungchan raised it just out of your lips reach. you looked at him and he lightly shook his head. 

“the smell will get on you, let me hold it.”  sungchan said.

he watched you as you took your first drag from the cigarette. you almost went crosseyed to focus on the butt of the cigarette lighting up. it was fine only for a moment, before your lungs that were only used to pulling in air filled up with smog. your lungs started screaming at you and you could feel your throat burn, but sungchan looking at you expectantly egged you on.

“attagirl.” he said once he decided you were done. 

he pulled the cigarette away from you and watched you intently.

you could only hold in the smoke for a second before you started coughing profusely. sungchan gently clapped his hand over your back, your face started to burn along with your throat and lungs, embarrassed at how you couldn’t stop coughing. the heat only intensified when you looked up at sungchan. being so close to sungchan made you realize how angelic he looked. he was like a cherub, with his soft cheeks and unblemished skin. you were wondering how anyone in the church could call someone so pretty such awful. he had a smile on his face while looking at you, biting his lip to not laugh in your face. he distracted you almost to the point your body forgot it had to cough, having to turn away from his face to cough into your fist. right before you could cough, you heard the screen door of the kitchen open.

“what are you two doing?” a woman said. 

you recognized the woman from the congregation. she had a hand on her hip and the other clutching a purse just a little too big for her close to her chest. her dresses always matched her purse, and you always found your eyes ruefully drifting to the fraying garment of her apparel.

sungchan looked at you, like he was expecting you to lie to the woman. your heaves had turns into slightly labored breathing, clearing your throat to keep yourself from coughing. he saw your expression and decided to take matters into his own hands. he leaned against the wall of the church to hide his hand. he dropped his cigarette to the ground behind him, putting out the end with his heel. he cleared his throat and you cleared yours again. when sungchan straightened his back you did too.

“praying.” sungchan said sarcastically.

the lady rolled her eyes. you saw her sneak a pack of cigarettes back into her purse and she flicked her head towards the door.

“go back inside. they need help setting the table.” she said.

sungchan puts his hands in his pockets and starts heading towards the door. he is unfazed by the light scolding, something he has gotten used to over the years. you, however felt your heart drop at the thought of disappointing someone older than you. the shame is doubled when the older lady stops you before you go inside.

“you’re a good girl. you shouldn’t be hanging out with him. he’s a bad influence.” she said quietly. 

you know sungchan could hear it, because his steps falter for a moment before he continues walking out of sight. you nod in haste, wanting the interaction to be over. the lady closes the door and you watch sungchan go past the kitchen. he continues to walk down the hallway of the church, far away from everyone else.

the lady’s warning set the dynamic for your relationship with sungchan. it didn’t stop you from seeing him, it could be argued it made you want to hang out with him more. you had become his goody-two-shoes sidekick, tagging along to his adventures and indulging yourself in his lifestyle. 

you had your first drink with sungchan. you remember taking the shot, the clear liquid stinging the back of your throat and making your stomach warm. it had become more enticing to you than the blood of christ that touched your lips during communion. the cheers of your name from the unfamiliar faces around you tempted you to take another.

when your hand reached for the bottom sungchan places his hand over yours. you looked up to sungchan and found the same look on his face of when you took your first drag of the cigarette. you didn’t know a look could be so powerful, giving you the courage to do things you would’ve never done in a thousand years. 

you watched sungchan’s friend get a tattoo the same day you got your first piercing in the bathroom. sungchan leaned over the sink to inspect your ear, marking the perfect place. you could feel his hot breath fan your neck as he prepped your ear for the puncture.

“you’re parents might be upset.” sungchan said.

he pulled away from your ear to look at you. he was giving you the chance to back out, to refuse the piercing. but it was that look he gave you that had you shrugging your shoulders—it was starting to come to you naturally.

“i don’t care.” you said. 

the truth was you did care, but you cared more about the man dangerously close to you. your parents were the furthest thing from your mind as sungchan went back to looking at your ear, sticking a needle through your lobe. the sound you made caught both you and sungchan by surprise. you bit your lip when he did the other ear, not trying to make that sound in front of him again. your teeth nearly drew blood from your lip when sungchan moved backwards to inspect you, making sure the punctures were even.

when sungchan turned you around in the mirror he stood behind you as you checked out the new jewelry. you turned your head, trying to take it all in. you looked to your ears then sungchan, standing behind you with his hand on your shoulders.

“it’s pretty.” you said.

sungchan looked into the mirror to look into your eyes.

“yes. very pretty.” sungchan said.

just when you thought you had sungchan, he disappeared. it was like he was a ghost or a figment of your imagination. one day he was sitting next to you in the pews and the next day he wasn’t. he stopped coming to church, his parents stopped coming too. rumors spread that he had runaway after a particularly bad argument with his parents. the fact that his parents were too ashamed to come back made you assume they did something awful the church didn’t want to admit.

sungchan was even harder to get in contact with. each time you had hung out with him he came and found you. when you wanted to reach him, you realized you had no way to do so. 

not being able to see him led to your imagination running wild. everyday you would go outside to the kitchen window where he would smoke, looking out into the forest that surrounded your church. your mind had helplessly come up with a scenario each time you’d walk down the steps. your mind conjured up the image of sungchan hiding in the trees, scared to be seen by anyone else but you. after seeing sungchan you’d stop in your tracks, so surprised to see him standing there. you had practiced your facial expressions, letting your eyebrows raise and your eyes get large. you saw yourself mindlessly walking over to him when he’d beckon to you. you imagined that he would bring you in for a kiss, a type of kiss that would make up for the months of all the yearning and pining. 

then afterwards you imagined that sungchan would tell you how much he missed you, not being able to find god at the parties of the bottom of shot glasses. you’d then walk him back to the church and have the congregation apologize for pushing his soul to stray even further away from the path of god. you wondered about a christian wedding, going full traditional. having kids that were baptized for everyone to see. everything about you two would be by the holy book, except for sex. you don’t think you could wait that long.

your manifestation of sungchan coming to you didn’t come to fruition. you didn’t see sungchan until months later as you were leaving choir practice. the expression you had practiced didn’t pan out the way you wanted to. your binder fell from your hands, sheet music falling onto the rocky parking lot.

sungchan came over to help you quickly, catching papers before they could run away in the wind. you had bent down to take the music from him, but you were frozen, stuck in place looking at sungchan. he didn’t say a word to you until your papers were safely tucked away again in your binder, closing it and putting it back in your hands. he looked to you and you couldn’t believe your eyes. your feet were stuck to the ground keeping you both in the squat position.

“hi.” sungchan said quietly.

you nodded you head and cleared your throat. you hung onto your binder, the only thing keeping you present.

“where have you been?” your voice is barely above a whisper.

you had a white knuckle grip on your flimsy plastic binder. you don’t know why you were so nervous to ask sungchan a question. in his absence he had become someone you didn’t want to doubt, scared that he would leave you again. 

sungchan’s face flashes for a moment before he stands up. he dusts himself off, metaphorically wiping your question off of him. he holds out his hand for you and you grab it, surprised at how clammy his hand is on yours.

once you’re up you still stare at him like he’s a ghost.

“can i take you somewhere?” sungchan asks.

it was dangerous to have sungchan in your life. you found yourself nodding quickly to every question he had, you think you would leave the church the same way he did if he held your hand while you walked out. seeing sungchan smile outside of the church made you wonder what life was like outside of it. maybe it was nice and you would be happier than you were here. so you nodded as he led you to the motorcycle that looked similar to his fathers.

he helped you to the back and took a helmet out of the side compartment. he coaxed your musical binder from your hands to put it in there, tightening the leather strap to keep it safe. you were nearly shaking with anxiety as sungchan put on his helmet too, throwing his leg over to straddle the seat.

the engine revved underneath you, and your hands that were previously gripping your binder were now clenched at your sides. you waited for sungchan to reach behind him and guide your hands to clasp around his waist.

“hold on tight.” sungchan said as he pushed away the kickstand.

your words were drowned out by the sound of the motorcycle leaving the parking lot. you held onto him, letting your head rest against his back as he hit the throttle. you thought that the road sungchan was taking you down at an unbelievable speed could be comparable to your life. the fear that came with your future turned to excitement when sungchan turned around and looked at you, asking if you were having fun. everything that was scary seemed fun when you had your arms around sungchan’s waist, even the idea of getting into an accident on the motorcycle turned into a thrill for you. it was the same thrill that sungchan always seemed to give you. it was one that only subsided when you used the same hand that signed the cross on yourself underneath the sheets. you pressed your hands flat against his stomach, feeling how solid he was through his shirt. sungchan’s back vibrated against your head from laughing.

sungchan didn’t move your hands until the motorcycle was parked. your eyes didn’t open until the engine stopped roaring and sungchan gently touched you to let you know you had both arrived. you don’t know how long your eyes were squeezed shut to get here. you opened your eyes to  sungchan standing in front of you, helping you out of your helmet. this was somehow more intimate than having your arms wrapped around his waist as you two plummeted down the highway. you had to look away for your own good, focusing on the concert venue that had a steady stream of people going in. you saw people dressed like sungchan going in, various crowds of people were around the concert hall smoking while others tipped their heads back and wiped their noses.

“have you ever listened to music that wasn’t religious?” sungchan said.

he had leaned against his motorcycle as you took in the view around you. it felt like you were dropped in a different dimension or alternate reality from your own. you had no idea that people like this existed so close to your modest township. it was all so foreign to you that you couldn’t even find the words to describe the aesthetic. the words came and went, trying to define ripped skinny jeans and people cursing freely. what this had to do with music was beyond you, but before you could answer sungchan’s question you saw him turn his head towards someone in the moving mass of people.

“sungchan! you’re fucking late!”

you followed the voice until it landed on someone dressed similarly to sungchan. black leather jacket and ripped skinny jeans, with hair that was so black it shined underneath the street lamps. he looked younger than you and sungchan, he had an innocent look about him that betrayed the clothes he was sporting. the only thing you had in common with the person in front of you was the same beat up shoes you both everyday. you felt nervous and out of place, like you didn’t belong here.

“who is this?” the boy said.

he seemed to know you didn’t belong here either, his voice significantly lower than when he called to his friend. the boys gaze went back to sungchan after giving you a once over. you did the same, looking to sungchan like you didn’t know who you were.

“this is,” sungchan looked like he was contemplating for a moment. a hand that was supporting his body against his motorcycle pointed towards you. “my friend from church.” sungchan said.

anton’s eyes got big for a moment, head slightly tilting in confusion. it was almost like a lightbulb went off anton’s his head a second later. anton turned to you, his face suddenly neutral.

“oh. nice to meet you. i’m anton.”

he didn’t offer his hand out to you, they stayed stuffed in the pockets of his jacket. he nodded his head and you did your best to copy him. it felt just like when you started shrugging your shoulders to copy sungchan. anton took his phone from his back pocket and showed the time to sungchan. it was about to be your curfew.

“wonbin is about to be on soon.” anton said.

“let’s go then.” sungchan said.

sungchan pushed himself off his bike and started following the crowd heading towards the building. you followed behind the two men, not really having anywhere else to go. you couldn’t help but stare at every face you passed by, wondering where all these kids your age had come from.

the only indication that showed you were in your town still was that the building had the same look as everything else in your town. there was a certain archaic and abandoned look to the building on the exterior. the brick had cracks the painting was chipped, and vegetation grew along the edges. the closer you, sungchan, and anton got to the building you could make out the faded sign of what the building once was. it was a factory who knows how long ago, and judging by the size business was booming at one point. now it was honing beacon for all the rebels in your town, young adults that were the same age as you but looked wiser and seemed significantly more mature. you had always been proud of your innocence when it came to life, but your lack of experience weighed down on you heavy as you looked past the large doors into the unknown. 

you saw two burly men guarding the entrance dressed in all black with shades on even though it was nighttime. both of their eyes immediately went to you, and you felt even more out of place than before. sungchan followed their eyes to see what they were looking at. he grabbed your hand and you grabbed it back, trying to seem as casual as possible. sungchan visibly straightened his shoulders a little more, his hand settling on something in his back pocket. you saw anton show his ID to the other bouncer while sungchan’s hand led you to the other one. the bouncer held out his hand but before he could ask for your ID, sungchan smiled big at him.

“she’s with me.” sungchan said cheerfully.

“still need to see ID.” he said.

you see sungchan pull whatever it was from his back pocket and hand it to the bouncer. it’s something small, but sungchan’s body blocks your line of sight to see exactly what it is. the bouncer gives you one last look and you can’t stop yourself from looking down at your feet. you’re sure it is painfully obvious you shouldn’t be here. the bouncer takes mercy on you for some reason and nods his head. sungchan pulls you by your hand to drag you inside. the bouncer only continues to look at you for a second before tending to the next person in line.

the inside of the venue was completely opposite of the outside. if the outside was worn down the interior looked like it was recently experienced a complete rebirth. the ground you thought would be cracked concrete was reworked hardwood. the mass of people coming in walked towards a medium sized stage, where a curtain was drawn hiding who was behind it. this was what you imagined to be a concert venue now, equipped with stands on both sides for extra people. you didn’t know something like this existed in your town. you stopped for a moment and anton looked back at you smiling.

“first time?” anton asked.

sungchan looked between you and anton with an apprehensive look. you almost felt like you shouldn’t talk to him before you nodded your head yes.

“this is like sunday mass but for a different type of congregation.” anton said.

you don’t know anton said it to poke fun at you, the smile on his lips fading when he looked at sungchan. but it made complete sense. everyone looked the same, dressed in attire for the occasion the same way you dressed every sunday morning. anton and sungchan bobbed and weaved through the crowd, sungchan leading you through the mass of people until you ended up on the side. anton said something to the security guard, leaning in close before turning around and pointing at you and sungchan. the security guard faltered for a moment before stepping back and pulling open the safety gate. the three of you walked through and made it on the other side of the curtain to a smaller room.

immediately when you walk in the something musty and pungent fills your nose. it’s strong and almost skunky. you look to anton and sungchan—they are unfazed. you don’t comment on the overwhelming smell, or the smoke that filled the small room. 

you only remember being in the room for ten minutes before your perception of time changed. one moment you just suddenly felt yourself looking to the clock every ten minutes to see that only two had passed. you sat on the couch while sungchan navigated the whole room. they listened to every word and the way they followed him around made you think of disciples. it made you giggle, you smiling into your hand when sungchan came to you on the couch.

“what’s so funny?” sungchan asked.

he had a smile of his own now, and his eyes were low and bleary. when you forgot the answer you just kept smiling. sungchan smiled back at you. you were giggling while sungchan when sungchan told his friend to break a leg, and you were giggling when sungchan grabbed you hand and took you to the bathrooms. you laughed at how piss covered the floors and how there was no toilet paper or soap in the dispensers. you were nearly in tears when sungchan started stuffing pieces of toilet paper into your ears as makeshift ear plugs. he was laughing too, quelling your worries that the toilet paper would get stuck in your ears. 

whatever you felt had died down by the time the show started, the loud music pulling you from your trance. the music thumped in your chest, you had to hold a hand to your heart to make sure it was still beating. sungchan seemed unbothered by being so close to the speakers though. he was cheering and singing along with his friend on stage. sungchan smiled more than you had ever seen him do so in church, and he knew all the words unlike the latin hymns he mouthed unsuccessfully during service.

everyone sang along to the lyrics except for you, bodies bumped into yours and everyone was pushing. if it wasn’t for sungchan behind you, you were sure you would’ve been swallowed up into the crowd. the music was nothing like what you were used to, but you tried to enjoy it anyway. it was different to see what rebels your age were doing while you were busy knowing nothing about life beyond your oratory.

the music blared from the stage, the bass made the floor underneath your feet shake. it went right through the soles of your shoes and travelled up from the balls of your feet. the bass went all the way to your head, shaking the individual hairs and rattling your skull. it was like all your senses were being taken away from you and replaced solely with the music that played onstage.

you could barely make out anything from the strobing lights, as fast as you were granted vision it was ripped away. the flashing lights contributed to the energy of the people surrounded you, like a ticking time bomb as gasoline filled all the way to the ceiling. everyone’s restless bodies started colliding when the music intensified. you don’t know if people started forgetting there were bodies around them as the music got louder and louder. it was the same way it was at sunday service. you saw people be overcome with emotion as they pushed to the music. they were swayed by the band on stage the same way your congregation was swayed by the priest. but just like there and just like now, the only thing that swayed you was sungchan. the only difference was that in church you could only dream about how close he was to you now. his hands rested on your hips as he guarded your body from the people moving around you. you felt his wet lips place a kiss to your neck, so soft and gentle unlike the harsh music that played onstage and the hectic crowd of people that surrounded you. 

sungchan’s wet lips pressed to your skin. you could feel the heat coming off his body in waves, and you were sweating on your own. the air seemed to vibrate as sungchan worked his way up to your ear before kissing the shell and leaning further in. you could feel his chest come close to your back as he whispered in your ear.

“i missed you.” sungchan said against your neck.

you weren’t sure if you were supposed to hear what sungchan said to you. his voice had intent, but it was supposed to be drowned out by the riffing guitar onstage and the bass that vibrated the speakers next to you. but when sungchan spoke to you, it cut through all the noise. it made the pulsing bodies surrounding you disappear. suddenly it was just you and sungchan in the venue--maybe in the whole world. 

you knew that whatever you said would be lost over the sound of the music. you just tilted your head until it rested on sungchan’s and nodded, to make sure he knew you felt the same way. 

you knew sungchan understood when his hands on your hip dug into the your church dress. the fabric stood no chance against his grip, it was almost like there wwas nothing there at all as sungchan held you tight.

“i want you.” he said into your ear.

you smiled as you looked ahead to the stage. want was so juvenile to you. you learned about want and have felt want for so long that it came to you like breathing. the want you were taught about in church was subject to god’s will. what you felt for sungchan couldn’t be contingent on anyone, not even if they were all knowing. 

what you needed couldn’t be defined as something so simple as want. it was defined as a burning desire and something you pretended wasn’t a necessity until now. the same way you taught sungchan about the bible you planned to teach him about something else. so while you were shoulder to shoulder with sweaty pushing strangers you turned around to face him. sungchan was still leaned over to kiss your neck when you put both hands to his face to pull him in. he kissed you with want but you kissed him back with necessity. it was carnal the way you took his bottom lip into your mouth and the way the bass in your moan rang in both of your mouths. you only took a hand away from sungchan’s face to push his hands lower on your body. he gripped your ass as you deepened the kiss. you kissed sungchan so eagerly that his face was being pushed back as he tried to reciprocate. 

when the song ended you pulled away first. sungchan was in the same place you left him, with his eyes closed and head tilted. his lips were red and swollen. want couldn’t compare to what you felt. you could fill this warehouse to the ceiling with want. what you felt for the man before you was something that could only be expressed underneath the sanctified sheets of your bed.

“my parents are asleep around this time. they don’t get up till afternoon service.” you said.

you said it at normal volume, still thinking it was just you and sungchan. the lights around you barely illuminated your face as your faced sungchan. your voice was lost in the screaming crowd, and sungchan could hardly make out the words your lips mouthed. so he looked into your eyes, he let them guide his next actions as he nodded his head. sungchan looked down to see your hand and your gaze fix on the exit. 

the show was over when sungchan grabbed your hand and led you to the exit. it was sungchan who was pushing concertgoers now, bumping into people without care if they were in the way. you trailed behind him, bumping into people as a result of it. you apologized to who you could, but someone giving you a hard look was the least of your worries. you would repent for being impatient later.

you and sungchan beat the crowd leaving the venue. he didn’t bother to look for his friend or to say goodbye. sungchan was only focused on making sure his spare motorcycle helmet was secure on your head before kicking his bike off the ground.

you held onto sungchan’s waist as you sped down the highway towards your home. you took the risk to let go of him when he hit the highway. he slowed down on the empty road to let you spread your arms out. you felt the wind around you, and you hoped it would carry away the smell of cigarettes and skunk that stuck to your clothes. sungchan still knew the way, and he knew to park his motorcycle on the side of the road instead of pulling up to the driveway. 

you looked to sungchan one last time before opening the door to your home. he was on his own path that deviated from the church a long time ago. you weren’t sure what he was doing besides enjoying music and doing drugs, but it didn’t matter. him being outside of the church as you were leaving had to be something like divine intervention. 

it was that intervention that led sungchan down your creaky hallway, sneaking past your parents that were sleeping on the couch. with a finger to your lips sungchan found himself following someone else’s orders for the first time in awhile, taking the same steps as you to be as quiet as possible.

sungchan walked down your hallway that was adorned with crosses and decorations of angels. he was sure he saw the statue of jesus on the top of a table, and a painting of his birth was stuck to the wall. sungchan let you pass by him so you could slowly open the door of your bedroom. he looked down the hallway to see the glow from the television casted on the wall. he heard the low sound of a late night televangelist before hearing your voice.

“sungchan.” 

you called to him gently from the depth of your room. he couldn’t see from his spot in the shadow of your hallway, so his feet carried him until he was beside your doorframe. 

sungchan saw you sitting on the center of your bed. you were still in your dress, but sungchan felt like you were laying yourself bare before him. he was frozen in place underneath the rosary that draped your doorframe. he was compelled to do the sign of the cross over his body, but nothing could make him move. it wasn’t until you beckoned to him that sungchan took a deep breath before taking a step into your room. 

sungchan said nothing about the religious paraphernalia in your room. suddenly the crosses you had collected over the course of your life was humiliating as sungchan looked at every single one of them. you motioned for him to turn off the lights as he closed the door behind him, but the miniature figure of christ you had on your desk could still be seen in the dead of night. sungchan almost felt like something terrible would happen to him if he mentioned it, like getting struck by lightning or your parents suddenly coming into your room. 

the only thing that kept sungchan calm was looking at you. you felt unrest seeing sungchan stand still in your doorway. he must’ve still feared something judging him by the way he looked at you. you patted the space on the bed beside you, adjusting yourself on your knees to seem as welcoming as possible. 

sungchan sat on the bed next to you, his legs leaning over the side of the bed. he was ready to get up and leave at any moment. you’re body head to toe is tingling with excitement, and you want to remind sungchan about the want he told you about earlier. you turn your back to him and reveal the zipper down the back of your dress.

“can you help me?” you ask.

sungchan says nothing, but you can feel the pads of his fingers hold the fabric surrounding your zipper in place while he brings the other hand to the zipper itself. you can feel the pads of his fingers on the bare skin of your neck that the dress doesn’t cover. you shake as your hear the metal teeth open down your back, and the cold skin of your room touches your skin.

when the zipper is all the way down, sungchan brings his hand to your two shoulders. he slowly helps your arms out of the sleeves, and you let it fall off your body. you can hear him exhale and feel his breath fan the skin of your back. sungchan brings hesitant fingers to the clasp of your bra. you can hear him behind you shuffle to move his body further on the bed.

“can i?” sungchan whispers.

you swallow and nod your head.

“yes.” you say quietly.

sungchan misses the clasp on the first try, and it catches you off guard when your chest suddenly feels free after his second attempt. he helps you out of the bra the same way he did with your dress. you let it fall off your body, falling on top of the pile your dress made.

you stretch the curve or your back. sungchan only looks at your shoulder blades, too nervous to move any further. you lift the top of your dress from the bed and press it to your bare chest. you look behind your shoulder to look at sungchan. his eyes break from your shoulders to your eyes, and then to your lips. sungchan watches you as you move backwards onto the bed, giving him space to move in front of you.

the two of you sit in the silence of your room, looking to eachother. you can hear the sound of the wind blowing outside, and the sound of a loud commercial break on the television in the living room. you move underneath the loose fabric of your dress and bring your legs closer to your body. sungchan shifts too, and you can see his hand reach out before he brings it back to his body. he lets his finger press into the duvet on your bed as you clear your throat.

“do you still want me?” you ask.

sungchan nods his head and moves forward towards you. he still hesitates, not letting his hand that’s on your calf go up any higher. 

“i want you so bad. you don’t understand.” sungchan said.

you hated that you understood what sungchan meant all too well. you could sit here and debate the logistics with him, how you could teach him what it feels like to truly yearn something like the way you yearned for him. you wanted to show sungchan about passion that went beyond want, and you longed to drive him so crazy that he would feel the same burning desire you felt when you didn’t see him for all that time. so you grab sungchan’s hand and guide it to the dress you had let go of. it rested on your body like covers, ready to be taken off if sungchan was willing. he looked to you and you nodded your head as he held your dress. 

sungchan pulled the dress away from you slowly, revealing more and more of you to him. you gasped as you felt his eyes on you. by the time sungchan takes your dress fully off, you are only left in your cross pendant and underwear. sungchan is entranced, eyes dragging down your whole body. he lifts your legs to help pull the dress off all the way. sungchan gently drops your clothes over the edge of your bed. you point at sungchan’s shirt, and he takes off his shirt and pants too. 

you are both left in your underwear underneath the plethora of crosses on your wall. the bible is next to your bed on the table with a rosary piled neatly on top. it’s ignored when you sit on your bed and spread your bent legs slightly. sungchans hand starts from your feet, tracing up your leg slowly until he reaches your knee. his fingers come down your leg as he slots his body in between them. 

his fingers don’t stop until he thumbs the cross pendant on your necklace.

“sign of the cross.” sungchan says quietly.

you settle further into your bed, and spread your legs further.

“do you remember how to do it?” you ask

sungchan nods before bringing three fingers from his right hand to your bare body. he touched your forehead, then dragged his fingers down the valley of your chest to your solar plexus. sungchan touched both of your shoulders, using your collarbone as a guide. you let out a breath sigh of amen, but sungchan didn’t do the same. he brought his hand back to your stomach, going lower and lower on your body. he looked at you for permission, and you nodded and spread your legs further. 

you felt the carnal desire that evolved from want fill your room to the brim as sungchan let his fingers go underneath the waistband of your panties. he teased you only for a second, the pads of his fingers bumping your clit before his fingers went further down your folds. you gasped when sungchan finally put his fingers inside of you. he kept his fingers still for a moment inside of you, waiting for you to adjust and move first. you wasted no time pulling your hips back to bring them forward again as you used sungchan’s fingers to pleasure yourself.

he brought his other hand to your lower stomach, feeling the supple skin of your stomach.

“i’m so bad for you, you know.” sungchan said.

his actions differed from his words. the way he had his fingers on you made you feel so good, and the high you felt from the drugs in your system and the rush from the night made you want to continue chasing that feeling. so you ignore sungchan’s indirect warnings and continued to push your hips to meet his fingers.

“i can save you.” you whimper quietly. 

sungchan looked from your hips to your eyes. he looked deep into you but you didn’t shy away. you continued to push your hips to feel his fingers go inside of you deeper. you didn’t break eye contact until sungchan bent his fingers and hit a spot you didn’t know existed. you bit your lip and tilted your head back. your whole body leaned, forcing you to prop yourself up on your outstretched hands behind you. 

sungchan moved from his spot on the bed to get closer you. he hovered over your body, his hand on top of yours as his other hand continued to pump in and out of your body. you looked up at sungchan, spreading your legs further as sungchan took over. he let you rest as he started doing all the work. he wanted it to be fast, seeing your chest jump as his finger started pistoning into you. you brought your hand that was free to hold sungchan’s bicep. he still held your gaze, nodding as you let quiet moans fall from your lips. your eyes closed in bliss—you couldn’t stop the words from falling out of your mouth.

“oh my god.” you sighed.

“i know.” sungchan whispered back.

sungchan kept going, even through the pain of you digging your nails into his skin. he kept going even when you fell to your back and closed your thighs around his hand. sungchan didn’t stop until you cried out his name from your pillow and slick want came from you. you clamped around his fingers and sungchan scissored them inside of you, trying to give you all you could take. he didn’t stop until your legs slid down your bed and you used a weak hand to pull his fingers out of you.

sungchan watched you bring your hand to your chest as you stared at the ceiling. sungchan laid on the bed next to you and placed a hand next to yours. he could feel your heart pounding in its cage. he brought a hand to his heart and he could feel it beat with the same urgency.

you let yourself relax next to sungchan. you let your hand go down his body. you do the same thing sungchan did to your body, your three fingers grazing across his body before going underneath the waistband of his boxers. you look up and kiss sungchan’s forehead as you wrap your hand around his length. it’s heavy and twitches in your hand as you slowly stroke him. 

his usual demeanor crumbles almost instantly, he is the vulnerable one underneath your touch. he pushes his body further up until he is resting against the headboard of your bed and you follow him. you face sungchan as you continue pumping his length, and his hands dig into your sheets. you come closer to his lips to kiss him again, trying to swallow the tiny sighs he lets out. sungchan gives you the reins and you let desire take control of your actions. desire makes you pull down sungchan’s waistband and it makes you put your tongue into his mouth. sungchan pulls his underwear off the rest of the way and you take a peak at his length. in the darkness of your room the moonlight comes in perfectly, giving you just enough sight. you can see your hand glisten in the light as it goes up and down sungchan’s dick. it’s a soft wet sound, only magnified by the quiet of the night. 

sungchan grips your hand and tightens it around his length. he starts lifting his hips to fuck himself up into your hand and you watch his body work to bring himself pleasure. you can see the sweat form on his taut skin, and his hair starts to stick to his forehead from the exertion. sungchan can barely bring himself to look at you as he chases his own pleasure. you force him to make eye contact when you move his bangs from his face and lift his gaze with fingers underneath his chin. the pace he set with his thrusts falter for a second when he looks into your eyes. you help him by bringing your hand down faster and tighten the grip of your hand. you can feel sungchan’s hand clasp around yours further, and how his thighs start to shake from the work of thrusting. 

that’s what separates you and sungchan. his want drives him to hastily fuck your hand, trying to reach a high that only came to him hours ago. what you needed has had time to ferment. it started as want—you wanted sungchan to come to church. you wanted him to find his path. you wanted him to kiss you. but it had time to brew in your stomach over the time time you didn’t see him and when your mind was forced to fill in the gaps. it was like a wound, festering on your skin and reopened anytime sungchan came into your orbit. he knew nothing about yearning or craving something the way you did. but you kept pumping your hand for him, because you wanted to keep him coming back for more. you wanted to become a wound on his skin and burn the fleeting touches into his brain. you were going to become something sungchan longed for, and maybe over that time your own craving would subside. sungchan would need you and you would be able to use a word as weak as want to describe how you feel about him. 

when sungchan’s hand go back into your panties, your hand faltered. you looked to sungchan bewildered, but he only looked back at you with blown out eyes. his eyes consumed you while his bitten lips drew you in again. maybe sungchan already felt the same as you, he was just better at hiding it. maybe the plan you had for sungchan would end up destroying the both of you. you didn’t care as you helplessly rutted into his fingers. if desire killed you before it subsided to want you would be okay with it. if you were to die at the hands of something that felt so good, you would welcome it with open arms. 

you brought your mouth away from sungchan’s to go to his neck. you suck and bit at his skin, and he brought a hand to your back to bring you closer. you were kneeling beside his body, praying into the skin of sungchan’s neck as he whimpered next to you. in the comfort of your bed kneeling wasn’t painful. you wondered why you spent so much of your life kneeling for forgiveness on the rough ground of the outside world or the padded walls of your church. you wasted your time kneeling to anything but pleasure. 

your revelation hits you the same time it hits sungchan. he thrusts into your hand once more before staying there. he whined quietly as his hand presses deeper into your back and inside of you. you can feel his dick twitch and warmth covers his hand and yours in spurts. you continue to pump his dick as he becomes a mess underneath you and you grind your hips on his hand so you can feel your own revelation again. your body turns to jello for the second time of the night as you lean your entire body weight against sungchan’s chest. you can’t stop letting your sounds increase in volume as you lean further into sungchan’s chest. you let your sounds out into his clammy skin as he continues to finger you. you have to take your hand from his dick and pull his hand out so you can calm down.

“i’m sorry.” sungchan says.

he wraps both arms around you and brings you weak body in for a hug. you only shake your head, trying to form a coherent thought.

”it’s okay.” you whine.

after you come back from heaven, you realize exhaustion is starting to weigh down on your body. you’ve had a busy day, the adrenaline high crashes down on you fast. you end up drifting to sleep still leaned against sungchan’s body, but he is left wide awake. he only says your name once, slightly shaking your body to see if you will come to. you don’t wake up, and sungchan uses what’s left of his energy to slide down from the headboard so you’re both laying on the bed. sungchan feels the mess he made over his hands and stomach. he believes that he doesn’t have a home here, or the right to lay in your bed. so he gently moves your sleeping body, pulling your hand wrapped around his waist and turning you so you lay on the pillow. your body instantly adapts, pulling in a blanket to hold it the same way you were holding him. 

sungchan gets up from your bed and starts putting his clothes back on. it’s slow and hesitant—he does everything in his power to keep you asleep. sungchan starts walking towards your door with his jacket and belt in hand when he hears shuffling on your bed.

“do you need a place to sleep tonight?” you whisper sleepily.

sungchan froze before he could turn the handle. he looked back at you, seeing your state and he nodded solemnly. you thought even in the dark of night you could see his crestfallen face, or maybe it was waves that radiated off of him in droves. you thought for the night he wouldn’t be alone as you lifted up the corner of your sheets, showing an empty spot just for him. sungchan came from your doorway to your bed, setting his jacket on the back of your chair and taking off his jeans. in just his boxers and shirt he crawled underneath the covers. he held open his arms, showing he had a spot for you too. you nestled into him without hesitation, tucking your head underneath his chin.

“i would give you anything you need.” you whispered into sungchan’s chest.

his arms around your body wrapped around you more, pulling you closer. you had almost wished he had drifted off to sleep. you wanted to whisper into his chest that he could come to you like a stray cat, wounded and hungry and you’d take him in each time. you wanted to tell him that you didn’t care if you were too forgiving or too naive. you wanted to be there for him like a saint if it meant you could continue to receive his offerings. if you enabled him until there was nothing left you would savor each moment you had with him. if you ended up saving sungchan you would make a future with him.

sungchan knew that he wouldn’t be able to rid himself of you even if he tried. something about you entranced him and had him wanting to come back. maybe it was the way you prayed with the same hands you used to undress yourself backstage. he imagined nights in the near future of him sitting on the edge of your bed while you gave him a show. maybe it was a trauma response. sungchan knew that the life he was living would drain him emotionally and physically. if he were to appear on your doorstep in the dead of the night after a show or a bender he knew your forgiving heart would let him in. he knew you couldn’t bare to see someone else in pain, especially if it was him.

you both knew the dynamic you two were actively changing all night was going to become volatile later down the line. you would end up taking mercy on sungchan’s self-destructive lifestyle in exchange for the freedom he brought you, while sungchan would use you to recuperate before going out and destroying himself some more. you would try to change him under the guise of showing him “the light” and he would corrupt you under the guise of showing you life outside the church. who needed who more would only become blurred and several lines would be crossed. you both knew you were trapping yourselves in a vicious cycle, one that you would probably go through on your own to keep it a secret from the church and your family. 

it didn’t matter when sungchan sighed contently and kissed your forehead. his lips were soft against your skin, it brought you the same comfort the church used to bring you. so you sighed from the comfort and settled further in your tomb, underneath the six layers of your clothes and blankets. your body was still cold, the only thing that brought warmth was sungchan’s body. it made you feel like you were alive, like you would be reborn when you emerged from the covers in the morning.

“you know i’ll be back.” sungchan said clearly.

when you woke up the next morning, sungchan had dug himself out from under the blankets. he had risen revived from your forgiveness while you were left alone in the grave.

[cjsinkythoughts]

Ocean Eyes, Cherry Lips, Ivory Keys

Pairing: 40s!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2747

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of alcohol, I think that’s all

A/N: This is a headcanon I’ve had for a while that I’ve been wanting to write about 40s!Bucky, pre-War. I kinda want to write a series about it, so that might happen. For now, enjoy this little tidbit I’ve written, with the prompt of Occasion for HBC’s Lucky in Love Day 18! (This isn’t beta’d so please excuse mistakes.)

He’s something of a celebrity. A living legend. A God amongst humans. Starting as a kid in Brooklyn, his fanbase rapidly grew, expanding to Queens, Manhattan, even parts of New Jersey, just in the past few years.

You don’t get it. So what if he’s got cool blue eyes, soft chocolate hair, and a charming smile? Who cares if he’s got smooth moves and even smoother words? He’s just a man - a human being - with flaws just like everyone else. A talented and gorgeous man, who has all of New York wanting to fall to her knees to please him, but still just a man.

James Buchanan Barnes.

Most everyone knew his name, but there was a lot of mystery surrounding the actual character. 

You just don’t see what all the fuss is about. You’ve never personally met him, or even seen him, but you know people who have. Your friend’s cousin even claims to have danced with him once. Not that that would be hard. You hear he’s never danced with the same bird twice, and, considering most start dancing in their teenage years, that’s a lot of dames.

It’s not that you’re not curious about him - if he’s actually as dashing as they say - but you’re not about to stop your life for him like some of your friends. They’re obsessed with getting his attention. With seeing if they’d be the one. The one to finally chain him down and tame him. The one he’d go steady with.

It feels like that’s all you ever talk about anymore. It was amusing at first, but now it’s just getting annoying. It’s been three years since that day in March of 1938, when your roommate ran into your room, plopping down onto your bed, before ranting and raving about the new ocean eyed piano player at her favorite bar. And since then, he’s been in your life without actually being in your life.

Speaking of, here you are. Listening to Lucy, MaryAnne, and Jean gushing over the man, trying to enjoy your milkshake.

“I heard from Sally that Thomas said that he knew the brother of one of his friend’s in high school!”

“That can’t be true! I heard from Billy, who heard from Martha, who was told by Ben, that he only had, like, one friend in high school.”

“You’re kidding, right? There’s no way a man like that had only one friend.”

“I hear he does boxing and that’s why he’s got a body sculpted like a Greek God.”

“Oh my God! MaryAnne!”

You rub your temples, resisting the urge to roll your eyes as the three burst into fits of giggles. If you have to hear one more word about-

“I heard he’s going to be playing at Georgie’s on Friday!”

Gasps echoed around the table. “No way! Georgie’s?”

You raise an eyebrow, this actually intriguing you. Georgie’s is a popular little hole in the wall, on the edge of being a speakeasy, which doubles as a pub and a dance hall in Brooklyn. It’s one of the best hang outs for kids like you and your girls, but it isn’t very high class. Maybe that’s why it’s one of the best. “Isn’t Georgie’s a little…cheap for him? He’s been playing at the best bars and restaurants for a while now.”

“It’s a classic in Brooklyn. Near his home, probably.”

“Do you think he lives near there?!”

“Ooo! Maybe we could find out!’

You scoff. “That,” gesturing to Lucy with your glass, you take a sip of your milkshake. “Is called stalking, my friend.”

Jean waves towards you dismissively. “I think he lives near Tin Pan Alley. That’s where he plays the most, after all. Georgie’s was probably just an old hang out for him and his pals.”

“Wait, wait,” you shake your head, a thought popping into your head. You turn to Lucy, confused. “How’d you find out he’s playing at Georgie’s anyways? Isn’t part of his whole act not telling anyone where he’s playing?”

Giving you a smirk and a wink, Lucy shrugs. “I’ve got my connections.”

You roll your eyes again, turning your attention back to your milkshake. “So?!” MaryAnne squealed. “We’re going on Friday, right?”

“Hell yes!”

“Absolutely!”

“Not.” You mumble, causing the other three to stare at you incredulously.

“Not?!”

“I’m not wasting my Friday night going to see some fella you all have a crush on. Especially when he might not even be there.”

Your friends groan, exchanging glances. “And what’re you gonna do?” Jean crossed her arms with a pointed look on her face. “Sit down and read a book like you always do?”

You huff. “I like reading, sue me. I don’t get a lot of time to myself. You know that new girl’s been gumming up the works and I’ve had to stay late to fix her mistakes all week.”

“This is exactly what you need, then! Come out, have a drink, jive a little-”

You look up at that, an amused kind of smirk on your lips. “Jive? Me and my clumsy ass?”

You all laugh. “Okay, so maybe not dance, but c’mon! It’ll be snazzy, you’ll see!”

“Fine, fine.” Standing up with a sigh, you collect your things, smoothing down your dress with your hands. “I’ve gotta scram.”

“We’ll see you on Friday, right?”

You give a small smile, shooting them a wink. “I guess I can make it.”

***************

Friday comes a lot faster than you anticipate. You dress up; a navy blue dress going to your knees with white, heart shaped buttons and a bow around the waist. The shoes you’re wearing are your nice black and white Mary Janes. Lips painted deep red, and hair pinned back in loose curls, you glance over yourself in a mirror. You’ll admit; you look damn good. You don’t wanna go, but you might as well try to have some fun since you are.

It’s a cool evening, early May meaning the summer humidity hasn’t hit just yet. You didn’t even think about bringing a coat, but you start to regret the decision as you start walking. MaryAnne, who you actually room with, already left, being way too excited to stay put.

It doesn’t take you long - you live on the border of Queens and Brooklyn - but your feet are more sore than you’d like when you arrive.

“I knew you’d come!” Lucy grins, coming up besides you and linking her arm in yours. MaryAnne comes up on your other side and does the same to your free arm.

“Where’s Jean?”

“Where do you think? She already found a Joe to swing with.”

You laugh. “Of course she has! So is your dreamboat here?”

The grins that are immediately on their faces answer your question and they quickly drag you inside.

It’s hot and crowded and dim. Skirts with their beaus, guys with their broads, swinging and dancing to the lively music of the band on stage. Smoke from cigarettes, pipes, and cigars is evident in the air as they neared the bar portion of the building, mixing with the boisterous sound of laughter and chatter.

“Everyone’s talking about it! He’s here, but he hasn’t played yet. We’ve been trying to catch a glimpse of him, but we think he’s in a back room.” The dramatic sigh MaryAnne gives makes you laugh a little.

“Okay, khaki whackies. Let’s get a drink.”

You, just as you thought would happen tonight, are left alone at the bar by your friends who quickly found partners to dance with. A few men asked you, but you have never been a good dancer.

You’re lost in thought, running a finger gently around the rim of your cup, when a voice sounded besides you, pulling you out of your thoughts, a slight rasp to the otherwise mellifluous voice.

“You gonna drink that, doll, or just stare at it all night?”

You raise an eyebrow at the jest, turning your head, only to have your breath hitch. What a specimen. Ocean blue eyes, fluffy brown curls, cherry pink lips. A white dress shirt is pulled over his broad chest, gray dress pants hugging thick thighs, matching suit jacket across wide shoulders. He has a blue, black, and white plaid tie around his neck and you can see the edges of his blue suspenders under his blazer. He’s put together, but it’s nothing special, a normal Sunday best suit, that much you can tell.

“Uh, not all night.” You look back to the drink, before looking at the clock with a hum, tilting your head playfully. “Maybe another hour.”

He chuckles, gesturing for the bartender. “Tell me this, sweetheart. What is a beautiful dame like yourself doin’ drinking alone?”

“I’m not very good on my feet, I’m afraid.” You laugh nervously, taking a sip of your drink.

“Don’t come here often, then?”

“Only for special occasions.”

“What’s the special occasion this evenin’, sugar?”

You shrug. “My friends dragged me here. They’re practically in love with this guy who’s supposedly playing the piano tonight. James Barnes. Have you ever heard of him?”

He chuckles, a grin pulling his lips upwards. “Yeah. Yeah I’ve heard of ‘im. Not a big fan yourself?”

“I’m sure he’s fine. I just don’t understand the fascination with him. Let the man be.”

“I agree.” He hums with a nod, grabbing the glass of whiskey the bartender set in front of him. “I actually know him.”

“Really?” You look at him in interest.

He tilts his head with a smile towards you that makes you melt. “Yeah. He feels the same. He just likes playin’. That’s all. He didn’t want all the attention. He gets enough without that.”

You raise an eyebrow, finishing off your drink. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I’m Bucky by the way.”

You eye his hand, grabbing it after a second, letting him bring your knuckles to his lips. “Y/N.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, mama.” He shifts his body more towards you, running a hand through his hair. “You said you ain’t fond of dancin’?”

Shaking your head, you quickly defend yourself, “no, no. I like dancing. I’m just not very good. Got two left feet.”

He smirks, tongue poking out to run over those plump lips of his. “Well, with the right partner, it doesn’t really matter.”

“Are you asking me to dance, Bucky?”

“Not if you’re gonna say no.” He responds with a toothy grin, leaning his elbows on his knees.

You sigh and shake your head. “I’m afraid tonight’s not your night, pal. I just can’t seem to get myself in the mood.”

He hums, leaning back. “Is it the music? Too fast for you?”

“I wouldn’t mind if they slowed it down some, I suppose.”

He smiles cheekily. “I can help with that. Hold on.”

You grin at him, nodding. “I’ll be here.”

Watching him stand and make his way over to the stage, you quirk an eyebrow. He seems to know the band well, if the handshakes and the claps on the back have anything to say about it. He says something to the lead, who nods with a grin, shooting him a wink. Bucky laughs, but you can see a tint of pink dusting his cheeks, making you wonder what they were saying.

He makes his way back over as the band shifts tones, the animated swing changing to a slow jazzy number. Bucky beams at you, holding out his hand as he approaches. “Care to dance?”

You purse your lips, narrowing your eyes, but taking his hand anyways. “How’d you do that? Do you work here?’

“Uh…somethin’ like that.” He states vaguely, leading you to the dance floor with the other swaying couples. Pulling you as close as appropriate, his hands resting politely on your waist, he starts moving you side to side. 

“That’s not ominous.” You place your hands on his shoulders, following his lead as you stare at your feet.

He chuckles, hooking a finger under your chin to lift your gaze. “I’ve gotcha, doll. I won’t let you fall.”

“I’m going to step on your feet.” You explain.

“Nah. You’re doin’ great. You just need to get outta your head. Relax a little. Tell me something about yourself.”

You hum. “Like what?”

“Anything.”

“Uh, okay…I have a roommate who is one of the girls who begged me to come, I’m a secretary - I know, boring - and…I dunno. I like reading.”

His eyes lighten at this. “Reading? Whaddya like to read?”

“Different things. Depends on my mood. I’m re-reading The Hobbit for, like, the twentieth time right now.”

“I love The Hobbit.” Bucky grins, making you smile back. “I read it almost as soon as it came out.”

“Me too! I was planning on reading it tonight but,” you gesture around. “Here I am.”

Bucky lips pull up softly, his hold on your waist tightening ever so slightly as he pulls you closer. “Well, as much as I love that book, I’m glad you came out tonight.”

Giving him a little tease, you tap your chin thoughtfully. “Eh…I think I’d rather be at home.”

He pinches your side gently, making you squeal and squirm. “That hurt, sugar. That physically hurt me. C’mon, mama, your gonna say you aren’t havin’ a good time?”

“I just met you ten minutes ago.”

“Well, sweetheart, if you think we’re movin’ too fast, I won’t introduce you to my folks just yet.”

You laugh, blinking up at him. “That’s very thoughtful of you, Buck.”

The two of you rock for a little while longer, before the band stops, announcing they’re taking a break and a special guest is going to play a little something.

“Maybe James Barnes is here.” You say, a bit of intrigue lacing your tone, trying to see through the crowds of people who started gathering around the stage to catch a glimpse of the charming pianist. “I see why he would be over the attention.”

“Yeah.” Bucky sighs, almost sadly, giving you an apologetic look. “Listen, I’ve gotta go work for a bit, but I’ll be right back.”

You smirk. “So you do work here?”

“Um…kinda. You’ll see.”

You raise an eyebrow at his words, but he’s kissing your knuckles and walking away. You frown, but can’t think more on it when three young women are on you, babbling about their dates.

“Who were you dancing with, Y/N? He was cute!”

You roll your eyes, feeling yourself heat up, and not because of the many bodies in the vicinity. “Just…some guy.”

“C’mon, c’mon! We’ve gotta get a good spot to actually see him!”

You huff, letting the drag you through the crowd, shoving their way towards the front just as a familiar deep voice spoke. 

“Thanks for comin’ out, everyone. I hope your havin’ a good night. Let’s get this hop started, yeah?”

Your eyes widen when you finally catch sight of the man sitting at the piano with a polite smile on his features. He catches your eye and shoots you a wink, before his fingers start flying over the keys. The beam that he gets while tickling the gleaming ivories, his azure eyes lighting up, and you can’t fight the smile you get. He looks so relaxed, so invigorated, that it makes you happy just watching him.

“Oh my God! Weren’t you dancing with him?!” Lucy shook your shoulder obnoxiously, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, mesmerized with the way he played like it’s the only thing he wanted to do with his life. Which, as you remember his words, ‘he just likes playin’. That’s all.’ you figure it is the only thing he wanted to do with his life.

You just danced with James Barnes…and he’s just as perfect as everyone says.

You’re still trying to wrap your head around it, your friends jumping around you, trying to get every little detail of him from you, when your heart skips a beat and your brain malfunctions. Bucky had started up another song, slower and more intimate, and he’s looking right at you. 

You find yourself doing something you never thought you would; you’re swooning over James Barnes, smiling like an idiot, heat blooming up your neck and flaming your face. And yes, he’s just a man - a human being - with flaws just like everyone else. But he’s a talented and gorgeous man, who has all of New York wanting to fall to her knees to please him.

And now that includes you.

[internalsealpanic]

Love Through the Ages (Damian Wayne)

Summary:  Love like baggage needs to be declared.

a/n: This is part one of a series that is a fic rec list disguised as a fic. For these fics, most of the characters will be speaking different languages, so unless specified otherwise assume that the characters are speaking in the first language I mention. They’re all vampires with centuries under their belt. Why wouldn’t I make them all polyglots.  Also, thank you to the proof reading gang for putting up with my shenanigans.  I will have links to the fics I recommend in the fic itself.

Warnings: Everyone is dramatic. 

Masterlist

Series Masterlist. 

You wait by the platform, tapping your feet to the rhythm of the Little Colonel Bojangles Dance. It's been so long since you've seen the movie but your feet can still remember the steps- much to Damian's annoyance. Your feet patter against the pavement, wet from the spring rain, in a soft rhythm that kept your excitement at bay.

You wave to the approaching cab. The passenger of the cab looks away from you, pressing his mouth into the heel of his hand as his eyes stare out into oblivion. Your mouth quirks at the petulant gesture. You haven't seen each other in two decades and he's still mad about... what was it again? You'll find out soon enough.

The cab stops in front of you.

You bow your head, resting your weight on your umbrella. You grin at his seated form postured perfectly with an ease of a man born with the world in his pocket. He's dressed in a black suit and a dark coat that looked far too thick for spring.

"Long time, no see, little prince." You say in a dialect of Spanish too old for the young cab driver to recognize.

Damian raises his brow, articulating his annoyance. It takes you a moment to realize that it was with the accent you'd chosen. It was inelegant and curt and it mangled the curve of the syllables far too easily. In short, it was your favorite dialect.  Rolling your eyes, you try again. This time with a softer, smoother dialect much more modern but still old enough that you could talk freely without worrying about eavesdroppers.

Damian cracks a smile at you. It was wry but soft in the way Damian always was. Your own exasperated smile softens as you look at his eyes, their ever-changing lushness. It's been too long.

You open the door. Damian eases out of the cab handing the cabby what you quietly hope was the correct amount.

But considering the wide-eyed glee on the cabbies face, you can guess that twenty years has done nothing for Damian's spending habits. That was if the tailored suit wasn't a dead giveaway.

You look him over whistling," whose funeral are you going to after the museum?" 

"Yours if we're on schedule." Damian deadpans looking at his watch. 

You snort, sounding like a piglet in mud. Adoration flickers in Damian's eyes but you miss it as you throw your head back.

"Who has a schedule on vacation."

"People who don't like wasting time."

"That's what a vacation is for."

Damian makes an annoyed noise in the back of his throat and you shake your head. Damian wraps his arm around your shoulders. You happily press into his side, reveling in the intimacy of the action.

Damian had been telling you a story in rapid Arabic, the only words you understood were 'Jon' and 'moron', when you pause in front of a pair of paintings. The painting on the left was of Damian, his form drawn in harsh, messy angles. He's hunched over his sketchbook, candlelight glowing softly by his side makes his copper skin and forest green eyes breathtaking. The subject is out of view. The other was a portrait of you dozing off on a workshop table, your flaws lovingly rendered in gentle brush strokes. By contrast, your portrait was lit by the summer sun. Only Damian could make your features look this beautiful.

Vaguely, you remember this.

You remember it only for the countless times it had happened.

"They say that the one on the left is the painter sketching the portrait on the right and that the portrait on the right is of his lover."  You say airily. Damian, not one to disappoint, gives you an unreadable look.

Your stomach turns. You drop the subject. Wordlessly, you two make your way to the exhibit.

"Love through the Ages?" Damian asks, crossing his arms.

"Shockingly love wasn't invented by Stephenie Meyer."  You say. Damian wrinkles his nose at you and you cover your mouth to hide the scraggly smile spreading across your lips.

"I'm shocked your paintings didn't make it in."

He looks down at you huffing, "it's only speculation." 

You're heart twinges at that.  You press a frown to your hand.

"It'll be fun, Dami. I promise. Pleeeeeease."

Damian's stern look gives way to a weary half-smile as he capitulates to you.

"I promise it will only be half as nauseating as Dick's attempts to do family bonding."

"Tt, it would take a miracle to surpass that."

You grin. "Perish the thought."

"They say this stardust came from star-crossed lovers as they traveled through space. Oh and this one is a statue gifted by Persephone to Hades."

You drag Damian all over the exhibit. Pointing to specific exhibits with enthusiasm. He has to admit. It's infectious. Then again, Damian's never been able to resist anything about you. This amount of enthusiasm for something so frivolous would have been obnoxious on anyone else but because it's you, Damian's found himself utterly enamored by it.

"This one," You say, pointing to a series of paintings. They were all beautiful, painted in bold colors. The torrent of emotions radiating off of the canvas. "This one was made by an artist torn between three loves."

"Three? She must have been an exceptional artist."

"Probably was but her name was lost." You sigh.

 "She’s got exceptional brushwork." Damian hums. 

You squint at it. You would think after hundreds of years you would be able to discern that.

"And over there! Look at those postcards!" You say, pointing the three postcards pinned to a cloth in a glass case.  One card showed the northern lights, another with a picture of a thick rainforest, another with a large cave, and another with the pantheon. 

"They're not well preserved are they." Damian comments, scrutinizing the postcards and noting all the imperfections, the little cracks and tears, the water stains, and odd splotches of dirt. 

You roll your eyes, curling your fingers around his arm. "That's cus Hermes supposedly brought them everywhere while he searched for his lost love." 

"Quite the romantic. Do you know all the artifacts?"

"Yup." 

"I see..." Damian drawls.  "Then why are we here then?" Damian winces at how harsh and impatient he sounds. 

"Cus Jon said I needed an excuse to get you here and viola. It worked. I knew you'd cross the sea for a rare exhibit."

I would cross the sea for you, no matter how many times, Damian thinks.

"What about this?" Damian points to a golden coin, shaking his thoughts away. 

You lean back, side-eyeing him. "Care to guess?" His handsome features furrow as he thinks. 

"I think it’s a coin used to pay Charon." He says finally. 

You frown. "Good guess." A smug grin curls on his lips.  You stick your tongue out at him. 

"It’s an old Greek coin to pay the travel into the underworld."

 "Why would they want to travel  to the underworld?" It's Damian's turn to frown. 

"Yanno for someone who's so smart. You're asking the dumbest questions."

"It's a reasonable question." He asserts, his tone oddly defensive.

"Most people can't bear to be apart from their beloved."

Damian hums noncommittally. He understands that. he understands that all too well. 

"Like you and Jon." You say grinning.

Damian glares at you. No real anger behind it. 

"You two bicker like an old married couple." You laugh.

 "So do we." Damian says flatly, stepping closer to you and closing the gap between the two of you. He's looking at you so intensely that your skin sets itself on fire. 

"I often think about burying you under the kitchen patio too." Damian sneers, with a sharp grin. 

You snap out of your daze. Leaning in close and smiling, your hot breath fan against Damian's face.  "Will you do it affectionately?"

The moment hangs still in the air.  If you could capture it in amber, you would.

"Huh? This is new." You say, looking down at the glass case.

"How many times have you seen this exhibit?"

You preemptively shoot him an accusatory look. "What are you?"

"Concerned."

"Pfff!"

You lean down reading the plate. "Says here it's a letter from the late 1700s and early 1800s. An unsent letter to lost love."

"Sounds cliched." Damian says, leaning down next to you. 

"You've said that about everything."

You feel Damian stiffen beside you. You glance at him. He looks mortified. Your eyes follow his and land on the letter. The calligraphy looks familiar but you can't think of where you've seen the scrawl.

Damian tugs at your shoulder.

"(Y/n), let's go."

You shrug him off.

"(Y/n), let’s go." He repeats with increased urgency.

You shove your palm to his face.

Damian wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest. You flail and kick out childishly.

“Damian Al Ghul Wayne, I will gnaw your arm off.” You hiss but he doesn’t let go. In a last ditch effort to break free of his hold, you wriggle out of your coat.  Landing on your ass, you scramble for the glass case. 

My beloved (Y/n), 

Finding the words to tell you how I feel about you is not an easy feat. I feel as though Ibn Hazm himself would struggle to compose poems to express my feelings for you even then they would be inadequate.

Whilst we are surrounded by such death and misery, here in London, I want you to know that during these dark times, it is you that keeps me a light. It is you that leads me through the void and guides me.

I think I’ve always loved you from the very first moment I laid eyes on your beautiful lopsided smile. Yes. Your real smile. The one only a handful of people will ever see. I have been lucky enough to see it every day.

As time passed, I fell more and more in love with you. You have seen all of me. You have seen the monster within me and yet you still stand by my side. Never faulting in your stance.

I wish I had the strength to tell you this, face to face. I wish I could look into your eyes and whisper words of love my immortal beloved.

With Love, 

Damian

You stare at the letter uncomprehending. Realization slides off of you like rain off a tin roof. You read it over and over again until each syllable is embedded in your mind. “Damian, what the actual fuck?!”

“I-”

“You dork!”

Damian clams up unable to think of a response. Ok, no. He had a number of responses but none of them were appropriate or witty. He searches your features but the only thing he can make out is shock. 

“(Y/n), I was-”

You press your hand to the glass. “How come you never sent me this?”

“The French Revolution.”

“Which one?”

He crosses his arms raising a brow. 

“Ok, nevermind. But still, it’s been 200 years.”

“A lot has happened in 200 years.”

“A lot has happened in 200 years.” You repeat mockingly.

Damian pinches your cheeks in retaliation.   

“I was pinning for more than 200 hundred years!” You protest. 

“So was I!” Damian says, releasing your cheek. 

“Then why didn’t you say anything?”

“Why didn’t you?” Damian asks, accusing and curt. You flinch, something vile and caustic rising in your stomach.  Damian sees it and grips your hand as you fall away from him. He just got you back. “(Y/n)....”

The fear and hurt melt off of your face. “I thought… I just thought you’d...” You ball your fists in frustration, not quite grasping the right words. But Damian already knows what you’re thinking. He’s seen that look in your face. He’s seen it every time you look at the mirror. It was infuriating to watch you like this. Why couldn’t you see just how perfect you are?

Damian pulls you into a hug, burying your face into his chest and resting his chin on top of your head. 

“You are infuriating.” He mumbles into your hair.

“And you’re rude.” You mumble back.

“Yet here you are 400 years later.” He laughs softly. 

You two stand in silence for a long moment. With Damian, silence itself was a language. It was one you’d grown fluent in. An unspoken conversation of confirmations and reassurances. 

He releases you but holds your hand in his. It feels warm. You shiver and Damian smiles at you, smooshing your coat into your face. Both of you can’t help but laugh. 

You step closer to the glass case, pulling him along. Damian follows without resistance, only lacing his fingers into yours. You both stare at the page. His proclamation of love carefully preserved for all to see. You take your phone out to take a picture.  Damian shoots you a glare. 

“You’re not sending that to Jon.” 

“Tim then.”

“No.”

“Fine, for myself then.” You pause seeing the confusion on his face. “In case, you know...” You say waving your hand. 

Damian tilts your chin up. “Beloved, I’m not going anywhere.”

Your chest flutters. After centuries of inaction, you can feel your heartbeat.  

[ibuki-loves-you]

Killed for a Hopeful Future (Nagito Komaeda x Reader)

Warnings: Angst, mentions of suicide, domestic stuff, detailed descriptions of murder, mentions of v/mit, potential spoilers???

Mod Ibuki: Another piece me and @call-me-ko worked on together! Execution based off this fan-made one! I hope you enjoy!

Sobs were all that could be heard throughout the small cottage.

Heavy, distraught sobs.

Nagito sat in his bed, the bed Y/N often accompanied him in. Heavy sobs racked his body. He doesn't think he's cried this hard in his entire life.

His love, his world, was gone.

It was like they were taken right out from under him.

One gunshot wound to the chest and bruises around their neck. Their leg looked broken, probably from the fall.

Y/N's body was hung from the door of strawberry house and dropped all the way to grape house's floor. Blood was everywhere due to the gunshot wound.

When Nagito saw, he thought he was going to die himself. No one told him that they were the victim. They just said they didn't know who it was yet.

He didn't get to say goodbye

He didn't get to tell them that he loved them.

He didn't-

"Nagito!" Fuyuhiko yelled. Nagito swung his head around, glaring at him.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Nagito stated. Fuyuhiko stayed quiet. "Simple question. Is it really that hard to answer?" He snapped. Fuyuhiko didn't say anything. Kazuichi shakily sighed. "W-We didn't want to make you panic."

Nagito scoffed. "A little late for that, isn't it?"

Nagito investigated your body himself. He didn't trust anyone. You were loved by everyone here, and yet you still died. It didn't add up.

Bing Bong Bing Bong

Bing Bong Bing Bong

"Nagito... it's time for the trial." Hajime mumbled apologetically. Nagito nodded slowly.

"Give me a minute..." He responded. "Of course." Hajime said softly, moving to the elevator.

Nagito dropped to his knees in front of them. Tears started streaming down his face.

"Who did this? Angel...who did this to you?" He mumbled, stroking Y/N's head. "I promise...your killer will get what they deserve." Nagito placed a kiss on their forehead.

He began making his way towards the elevator.

Justice would be served

"The murder occurred at around 5:30 am." Hajime started.

"The murder weapon was a noose found at the scene, but they also had a wound in their chest. I think a gunshot. That could be the cause of death as well." Chiaki added.

"It was the cause of death." Nagito interrupted. "How else could they have fallen?"

"Fallen...?" Chiaki asked. Nagito scoffed.

"I'm not looking to play games this trial. I want to know the blackened as soon as I possibly can so let me tell you this so you can put everything together." Nagito said angrily.

"Strawberry house and grape house are connected. It's an elevator. Y/N died beforehand via gunshot. That means the killer went to the Final Dead Room. I would know because I went there. The elevator won't move if a living thing is detected. It moved because they were dead already. The killer tied a noose around their neck and tied the other end to the doorknob. Then, they activated the elevator. Eventually, Y/N would fall because that's how gravity works. Now, figure out who killed them." Nagito snapped. He explained the murder in perfect detail, no flaw.

With Nagito's explanation, soon enough they found the killer.

"Gundham...why did you do it?" Hajime asked, a solemn expression painted onto his features. 

Gundham stood silent. After a moment, he took a breath.

"We had a plan." He muttered. "Please explain." Hajime requested, taking a few glances at a fuming Nagito.

"Y/N and I agreed that we would allow all of you to escape at the expense of our lives. I completed the Final Dead Room, and we planned the murder from there." Gundham started.

"We wanted you to survive. Y/N didn't go down without a fight, nor did I. I request you remember that." Gundham looked towards Nagito. He dug through his pocket and pulled out a key. He walked over to Nagito and held it out.

"It is the key to their cottage. I didn't know if you had one or not, either or I assumed they'd want you to have it." Nagito took the key silently.

"I don't expect forgiveness, nor do I want it. But one thing I want you all to carry from mine and Y/N's demise is that you must always fight. Do not go down without one."

With that, Gundham was dragged to his execution.

And that's how he ended up in his room clutching a piece of your clothing while he bawled his eyes out.

Bing Bong Bing Bong

Bing Bong Bing Bong

"Please make your way to Jabberwock Park! Not attending will result in immediate death! See you soon! Puhuhuhuhu~"

Nagito looked at the monitor. Should he even attend? He didn't care whether he died or not.

After contemplation he decided to go. He dried his eyes and placed your belonging neatly on his bed. Nagito made his way out the door and to Jabberwock Park.

Upon arrival, everyone gave him pitied stares. He looked horrible, worse than he usually did, and he knew that.

"Are you alright?" Chiaki spoke. Nagito looked at her and stuffed his hands into his pockets.

"No, not really. But you shouldn't worry! I'll be fine." That was a lie, even he didn't believe it.

"Allow me to introduce the new motive. Future visions!" Monokuma announced. Everyone rolled their eyes.

"We aren't gonna do that shit!" Fuyuhiko screamed. "Yeah, like we'd believe it!" Nekomaru hollered after. Nagito stayed silent.

Future visions? He didn't believe in any of that, but it's worth a look, right?

When everyone left Jabberwock Park, mainly out of anger towards Monokuma, Nagito looked at the vision motive.

A character select button appeared on a screen that seemingly came out of nowhere. He selected himself. A video began to load.

"Alright, let's go see baba." Nagito cooed. He took his daughter's hands and gently pulled her to her feet. The baby giggled in response.

"Ready? One step at a time." Nagito looked up at Y/N. They sat on the other side of the living room, smiling at the two. Nagito gave them a bright smile. With small steps of his own, he guided their daughter in Y/N's direction.

Their child shook their hands from Nagito's. Nagito let go and smiled, keeping close behind her.

Y/N opened their arms and their daughter stumbled into them. Nagito hurried over with a wide smile.

"You did it, baby! I'm so proud of you!" Nagito cheered. His daughter crawled out of Y/N's arms and into his. She rested her head on his shoulder and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"And you say she isn't a daddy's girl." Y/N teased. Nagito smiled and kissed his daughter's cheek over and over, earning a giggle in response.

"Yeah, I guess I see where you're coming from." Nagito leaned forward and gave you a kiss.

"I love you, angel." "I love you too, Nagi."

Nagito stared at the screen with a mix of horror and awe. He moved his hands towards his pale face and rubbed his temples. He took his hand and selected Y/N’s character.

“Daddy! Higher!” His daughter giggled, gripping the chains of the swing. Nagito chuckled

“A little higher, okay?” Nagito compromised. She giggled and nodded. “Okay daddy!”

Y/N smiled from next to Nagito, watching as he booped her nose every time the swing came towards him.

“Baba! Look how high I’m going!” Their daughter called. Y/N giggled and nodded.

“I see! You’re almost as tall as me and daddy from up there!” Y/N said, a smile gracing their features. Nagito nodded in agreement, a huge smile on his face. He turned his head to face his lover.

“Look how happy she is.” He mumbled, chuckling everytime she giggled.

“Daddy keep pushing me!” She said when he stopped for a moment. Nagito laughed and continued pushing the swing.

“She really is such a happy kid.” Y/N smiled throughout their sentence. Nagito wrapped one arm around Y/N’s waist and used the other to push the swing.

That was his future? Or would’ve been?

Nagito put his forehead against the screen and started crying again.

He couldn’t help but feel selfish because he wanted that more than anything.

Soon enough his tears turned to crazed wheezes, laughter shaking his body.

Hope and despair mixed in his eyes once again. He had nothing to lose…

So why not get himself killed? Or better yet get them killed. It's all their fault after all, Y/N did nothing to them yet they had to die.

Bing Bong Bing Bong

Bing Bong Bing Bong

“A body has been discovered! Please make your way to the warehouse on the fifth island!”

Everyone dropped what they were doing and made their way to the warehouse next to the factory while Nagito took his time. Everything went according to plan. Now all he had to do was wait. Whether he survived the trial or not didn’t matter much to him, since one way or another he would die.

Suicide or execution was the question now.

“The victim is Nekomaru Nidai, the Ultimate Team Manager. The murder weapon is unknown, but definitely a tool of some sorts as he was taken apart.” Hajime started. 

“Trip wire was found at the scene.” Kazuichi added. “So we can assume that was definitely used, especially since he has scratched on his ankles. Well, as scratched as metal can be.”

“Killer probably pressed the power button after using the trip wire, right?” Fuyuhiko questioned. Hajime nodded. “Most likely.”

Sonia put a finger to her chin. “So what you are saying is the killer used tripwire, and then powered Nekomaru off?” Hajime nodded again.

“Who would want to kill Nekomaru? He was so kind to us all.” Akane muttered. “I can’t answer that, I wish I could. But for now all we can do is find his killer.” And with that the trial was officially underway.

“So this is how it happened.” Hajime started. “Nekomaru was lured to the factory’s warehouse by an anonymous letter. He assumed whoever it was he would be able to handle, so he expected a fight. What he didn’t expect was tripwire a few feet away from the door. With his height, I wouldn’t expect him to see it either. Nor would I expect it myself. After Nekomaru fell into the tripwire, his head slammed into the floor, causing him to be weakened for a moment. It may not have been a long moment, but it was enough for the killer to rush into action and press his power button on the back of his neck. When the power button was pressed and Nekomaru was officially powered off, the killer took him apart using a variety of tools found at the market. This explains the mess of oil we found. The killer scattered his parts all around the warehouse and factory, thus leading to us having to find the parts and put them together for investigation.”

Hajime turned to the podium across from his.

“Isn’t that right, Nagito Komaeda? The Ultimate Lucky Student…”

Nagito smiled that crazed grin of his. His eyes were swirling with hope and despair once again.

“Yep! You are absolutely right!” He laughed. Hajime winced while Akane banged on her podium in sheer anger.

“Why, Nagito?” Hajime asked. Nagito continued to laugh. “Isn’t it obvious? I wanted to die!” He said as if it was nothing. Akane growled. “So why didn’t you kill yourself!?” Nagito’s laughs died down, his emotions doing a complete 180.

“Because I wanted to kill you all as well.” He said simply. Everyone looked as if they’d seen a ghost.

“W-What?” Hajime whispered. “Did I stutter? You guys were the reason Y/N died! Y-You took them away from me!” Nagito screamed. He dropped to his knees behind his podium, sobs beginning to consume him once again.

“I-I could’ve had a life with them...We w-would’ve been happy a-and I w-would’ve had a d-daughter.” Nagito mumbled weakly. “I just want Y/N...I-I want to see Y/N. P-Please just kill me already.” He pleaded.

Everyone looked at him with a mixture of sadness, pity, and fear.

“Who am I to disobey?” Monokuma said. “W-Wait, we need to talk more! We have more questions, bastard!” Fuyuhiko cursed. Monokuma ignored him. Nagito continued sobbing and clutching his podium.

“Let’s give it everything we’ve got! It’s punishment time!”

Nagito was set up straight, strapped to a wheel similar to one you’d see on a gameshow. Every section other than him was either Monomi or Monokuma.

Monokuma spun the wheel, causing him to start spinning with it.

It landed on Monomi.

Monokuma spun the wheel again. A wave of nausea hitting Nagito like a truck as his head began pounding.

It landed on Monokuma.

The wheel was spun once again. Nagito laid cursing his luck as he began throwing up in his mouth from the constant motion sickness.

The torture continued for nearly 15 minutes. A vicious cycle of spinning and choking on his own vomit.

Monokuma spun one last time, the wheel finally landing on Nagito. He smiled, elated that the torture was finally over.

Before he could blink, copious amounts of spears fired towards him. Out of many, only three struck him.

Two in each of his legs, and one in his chest.

As he slowly bled to death, all he could think about was one thing.

He was going to see them again.

[carboniteprincess]

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, Canon-typical violence, mentions of blood, character death, murder, you're literally a rebel sniper, it's enemies to lovers boba is not going to be nice to you yet, love at first fist fight, I cannot stress this enough, ENEMIES TO LOVERS, he's kind of arrogant? but he's young give him time

Pairing: Boba Fett x F! Reader | 2.0k words

You're arguably the best sniper in the entire rebel alliance, with hundreds of high ranking Imperial officials on your belt. When you're given the order to kill Boba Fett, you are under the impression that this would be like any other mission. Unfortunately, he seems to have great skill of getting out of situations that aren't in his favor. Now you're on Tatooine, where your comrade Orda has lured him into discussing business in a shady restaurant under the guise of being an Imperial Commander. His luck has to run out at some point, and you intend that to be today.

Crossposted on Ao3!

Being a rebel wasn't as glamorous as you thought. You weren't conducting high-level espionage or anything of the like. Instead, your penchant for sniping was homed in on, making you one of, if not the best in the entire squad. The only flaw you had, was arrogance. Never have you let a target walk away, never have you allowed yourself into a tight spot. 

You were always ahead of the enemy, so when your general gave you the order to kill Boba Fett. You assumed it would be an easy in and out job, perhaps he would've posed a threat to other members of your squad. But to you it would be simple, right? Unfortunately not. 

This is your third attempt at some kind of ambush, luring him into a perfect position. Mandalorian armor had few weak points, meaning you had to meticulously spend hours figuring out where would land a good, clean blow. His neck. If angled correctly, one tilt of his helmet and it would be over. Right through the jugular, no more bounty hunter. Another imperial dog to add to your list. 

If he would just turn his head, a little more to the right. Sweat beads on your forehead, eyes focused down the scope. Being a good assassin was all about your ability to linger, to wait. You're positioned on a balcony, a blind spot to the restaurant below. Your associate kept him talking under the guise of being an Imperial Commander, negotiating pay for the next rebel target. Boba Fett sits across from him, drink untouched. If you could see his face you'd swear he seemed bored. His legs wide open, leaning back nonchalantly. 

Fingers clenching on the trigger, you close your left eye. It wasn't like you enjoyed your job, when this war was over you'd swore to never lift a weapon again. The Empire made you, molding you like clay into a perfect killer. A painful truth, a driving force. Your parents. Both were medical professionals, caught smuggling medication to the galaxy's poorest. Promptly executed and then you, an orphan. A street urchin, nothing more. 

It wasn't long into your teens that you heard of the resistance, your heart burned with a want of revenge. So you got stronger, learned how to use a blaster, pilot and any skills that would make you useful to their cause. But you weren't a rebel, not really. You didn't care for politics, didn't even bother listening to the speeches about restoring the Republic. It didn't matter to you, but what did matter was taking out as many Imperials as you could before you die in battle or finally become numb to the anger. 

Self-preservation was no concern of yours, and that made you dangerous. A loose cannon, hot-tempered, and scarily a woman. You were used to being underestimated by your peers on gender, height, birth planet…. and you were the one who gets the high-profile missions. You were the one who has the highest accuracy, years of practice which left your trigger finger calloused, and every other emotion muted. 

Boba Fett had become a real thorn in your side. Threatening your record, career and possibly your sanity. His uncanny talent for escaping situations, even if all cards were against him, was exasperating. You would be lying if you didn't have some modicum of respect for him though, you were somewhat alike. Respect, no matter how great, does not destroy a death warrant. 

Someday soon his luck would run out, and it would be you at the other end of the blaster. That day was today. Lips twitching into a smirk, you watch his neck turn. Bingo. You steady your rifle, pulse pounding in your ears. At last, this mission would be over. You'd become a legend, the woman who killed Boba Fett. 

Bang. You take the shot, accurate as ever. A hum leaves your lips, watching him fall to the ground. Your calculations were correct, there was a weak point. Every armor has one, even Mandalorian. It was like a drug, the puzzle pieces clicking together with every fragility you discovered. 

The restaurant below descends into chaos, even the bartender is panicking. All guests rushing from their tables, abandoning their meals as your associate checks the man's pulse. You stare down your scope, watching the ordeal. He gives a thumbs-up, definitely dead. A buzz in your ear alerts you to a comlink.

"He's dead. But I think you'll want to come down here." Orda replies through static. Your brow creases, what the hell could've gone wrong. Muscles twitching with irritation, you make your way through the currently uninhabited building. You were ordered to avoid collateral damage by all means necessary, a false fire alarm did the job well. 

Your feet tap against the stairs as you make quick work of assessing your surroundings— if something is wrong, then it's always better safe than sorry. It seemed to be all clear, so you proceeded out the door and onto the street. This area of Mos Eisley was pretty habitable, aside from the abundance of criminal undertakings. Dust kicks as you march into the restaurant, pushing through various guests who were piling out at lightspeed. 

With a gruff, you finally make it to the rooftop, an exclusive VIP spot which proved difficult to doctor identity necessary to enter. You're about to start asking what the hell could've been so important that he dragged you down here, but your eyes meet Orda's now slumped body, face down with all color residing. A frustrated sigh leaves you, he was a good man. Even worse, he was a great rebel. His heart was in it, unlike yours. He shouldn't have been the casualty here. You reach down, pulling out his identichip and stashing it in your pocket. An action that you've taken with far too many of your comrades. 

Painfully you pull yourself from Orda's body, standing upright. Lingering would be a deathwish, whoever killed Orda was skilled. An impressive marksman, obviously one of Boba's accomplices who mistakenly thought he was the one that shot him. You could go over what-ifs later, right now you were going to finish the fucking job. 

The sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in crimson constellations as the wind settled. Inspecting Boba's body was your primary concern, whatever Orda discovered, it cost him his life. You were determined to find out what exactly it was, from a glance it seemed like Boba Fett. With a grimace, you move his drooping head around. Concerningly heavier than expected, beskar is light and durable. 

You hook your fingertips under the helmet, pulling it off and coming face to face with…. not your target. Fuck. You'd be deceived, spectacularly. Knuckles white, feeling bile in your throat threatening to explode in a cocktail of frustration and admiration. The crudely made edges of the helmet abrasive against your palm, a reminder of your failure. 

Without a second thought, your balled fist comes into contact with the wall, encasing the helmet and sending tendrils of pain, a shock wave through your arm as you verbalize your confliction with a strangled scream. Orda died for nothing, you were a joke. Everything you had built, buried and locked away was floating to the surface. 

But you haven't felt this alive in years. Being outsmarted, so cunningly sent a morbid thrill up your spine. You could almost laugh, had you not heard footsteps approaching. Impulsively your hand fell to your blaster, making a mental note to thank your teacher for always carrying more than one. 

"Surely you didn't believe it was that easy to kill me." Before he can finish you turn, firing your blaster in his direction. Of course, his armor deflects it with ease. "I must admit, I'm impressed. Not everyone could distinguish beskar through weight alone." A snort leaves him at your feeble attempt to hold ground, looking over your pathetic secondary weapon that could barely injure an Ewok. 

"Go thing I'm not everyone then." You stand, keeping your right arm extended, blaster aimed at his inner thigh. It wouldn't kill him, however it would allow ample time for escape. "You killed my friend." He's circling you now. "Who's your Intel? How did you know I'd be here?" 

"You are hardly in the position to be making demands, little rebel." Another chuckle, you'd heard of him toying with his advisories before, but this was different. A teacher disciplining a student. 

"You're going to kill me anyway, what's the harm." You huff, shrugging. He stops pacing, chewing over your words. 

"Killing you would be a waste." That bastard. "Of my time and resources." He adds matter-of-factly. 

"Orda wasn't?" You spit, voice cracking in frustration. Figuring out what made others tick was your specialty, but the lack of motivation and reason within Boba's actions is what baffled you. 

"That was a favor." He sounds like you should be grateful, almost insulted that you hadn't figured it out yet even with him practically dangling the answer in front of you. Perhaps you weren't as clever as he thought. 

"A—favor? How would killing my comrade benefit me!" You reply astounded, cheeks burning red, hand shaking on your blaster. 

You think for a second, taking your eyes off him. Why did it take until after the kill for Orda to realize what was wrong with the body… He isn't… wouldn't…could've of… you've been double-crossed. "He wouldn't— I've spent months with him—" 

"And every little thing you did, he told me." His admission is calm, you look over Orda's body, no longer do you feel remorse. Just shame. You couldn't even see betrayal under your nose. 

You walk closer to him, the barrel of your blaster getting dangerously close. Nothing could stop you from finishing your mission right now, but he's letting you. Knowledge is far more appealing than rewards in the resistance. 

With your grip around the handle tight, you slam it down across his helmet, your knee reaching his groin. "You're very easy to fool." A smirk replaces the look of misery on your face, it was a dangerous game to pretend to let your guard down. Your risk paid off, managing to get a shot at his thigh. 

Swiftly, you press all your weight on him, knocking him back just enough to make a run for the edge of the balcony. He groans in pain, you're so close to the edge, escape almost in your grasp— when a grappling hook wraps around your ankle. 

You struggle against the cold floor, doing anything you can to wriggle free from his grasp.

It's fruitless, as soon as he's in reach you're kicking him, hurtling all kinds of abuse. Your attempts to wrestle him are almost comical and in a frenzy, you grip the only thing that seems viable. His Helmet. You manage to free it, your fingers hooking under and pulling it off his head, sending it on the floor beside you. For a moment you're the one stunned, not him. 

Dark curls frame his face, a beautiful border to tanned skin. His nose is prominent but compliments his features. Scars pepper his face, but he's young. Younger than you thought. You watch as his forehead crinkles in anger, hands pinning yours beside your head. 

Wasting no time, you bring your head to crack his, sending him back with a kick to the stomach. Your nose pours from impact, dripping onto the floor as you clamber to your feet. 

"This isn't over." You hear his voice, unmodified. You rush to the edge, peering over and assessing if you can land in one of the speeders below. He stands, trying to rush over to stop you. "Don't!" 

With a wink, you throw yourself over the side. In seconds you're hurtling onto the street, watching a bare-faced Boba Fett grow smaller with each passing second. His eyes are widened in either admiration or shock for your bravery. 

He eventually dares to look over and finds that you're gone. Whoever you were, he finally had a worthy opponent. He would find you again. His little rebel. 

[lesetoilesfous]

For DWC: "These chains never leave me, I keep dragging them around" from the Florence prompt list for Anders/Fenris?

Ah I had so much fun with this, thank you! I hope I did it justice!!

(If you’d like me to write you a dragon age fic, send me a prompt from here!)

@dadrunkwriting​

Pairing: Fenders

Characters: Fenris, Anders

Tags: hurt/comfort, angst, canon-typical graphic depictions of violence, Anders was right, anti-chantry, graphic reference to infanticide, Tevinter is awful, graphic reference to abortion, oblique reference to sexual assault, self-hatred, mention of self-harm, suicidal ideation. Basically post-Danarius, and all that entails. Characters dealing with trauma, PTSD and survivor’s guilt.

Rating: Mature

It’s been one week, two days and three hours since Fenris killed Danarius. He is sitting with Hawke and her friends in her mansion, because he had not been able to conceal his discomfort when they’d visited The Hanged Man, unable to remove from his recent memory the stain of blood on the floorboards and the sting of his sister’s betrayal. Corff had, at least, worked a miracle with the former. As far as the latter was concerned - Fenris did not think that Isabela was the only one who’d noticed him startling in the Lowtown crowd at the sight of every redheaded elf. The trait was, blessedly, a rare one. There was that, at least.

In the beautiful marble fireplace, Hawke’s fire roars loud and red, crackling with heat that licks gold light over the sandy, muscular back of her mabari, half asleep on the wine purple rug laid over the stone. Sandal is humming somewhere in one of the rooms nearby, and occasionally, under the loud sound of Hawke’s voice and her companions’ laughter, Fenris can make out the soft sound of Bodahn talking to his son. Orana, of course, is inaudible. She knows better. 

Fenris bites the inside of his cheek, hard, and drinks deeply from his cup. The wine in it is thick and rich and velvet. Fenris can feel Marian’s eyes on him, but he can also see, from the corner of his eye, the way that her muscular arm is looped casually around Isabela’s shoulders. As he lowers his cup, he catches the way that Isabela tilts her head back, thick black hair falling over Marian’s tunic as she brushes her lips against her ear. He can see the way Marian flushes. 

Fenris gets to his feet, and by the fireplace Dog raises her great sandy head. He gives her a small, calming gesture, and next to the low table onto which they’ve scattered their cards, Marian frowns at him. “Fenris?”

Fenris motions vaguely in the direction of the kitchen. “I need some water.” He tries to ignore the eyes of his companions on him as he goes. Instead, he leaves the warm, firelit parlour and walks into the cold, empty rooms not baked gold by fireplaces. Fenris feels his shoulders lower as soon as he gets to the second room, standing in the grey and black dusty shadow of an utterly deserted music room. Through the narrow stone windows of the Amell Estate, he can see the deep black sky of Kirkwall, scattered with stars. Houses fall like broken marble down towards the sea, which crashes with a distant roar against the cliffs. At the edge of the horizon, moonlight races silver across the waves. Fenris stares at it, and thinks about being a younger man, on an island, thinking that it would be the last thing he ever saw.

“Nice view, isn’t it?”

Fenris whirls on instinct, limbs moving with muscle memory as the lyrium sewn into his skin sets his nerve endings on fire and he plunges his hand into the intruder’s chest. In the dark, Anders’ blonde hair is grey and silver. If he’s bothered by the pain about which Fenris’ victims had so often complained to him before their grisly demise, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he raises his eyebrows at Fenris over the wrist plunged into his chest. Fenris squeezes his fingers, and feels the frantic, shuddering jerk of Anders’ heart in his palm, the warm, wet sensation of it dulled by the distance of the Fade.

“Why aren’t you afraid of me?”

Anders breathes out, a long, shuddering breath that belies his calm demeanour. Fenris had not previously thought him capable of such a poker face. His heart beats in Fenris’ hand like a bird, struggling. “I don’t know.” Anders meets his eyes, and in the dark his are almost black, but his blonde eyelashes are gilded silver by the moon. “I guess I trust you.”

Fenris’ fingers uncurl around Anders’ heart, and the mage’s shoulders lower from where they’d been scraping his ears. Fenris’ gaze falls to his long, crooked fingers, but there’s no telltale spark of magic there. Slowly, Fenris withdraws his hand, watching it fade through the frayed fabric of Anders’ coat as he tries to ignore the burn of a hot, embarrassed flush pushing up into his cheeks. 

Outside the mansion, on the streets of Kirkwall, a pair of mabari start barking, great bellowing things that echo against the stone buildings. A cat yowls, and far off there’s the sound of people shouting. Fenris stares at his bare feet on the stone floor of Hawke’s mansion and hates the fact that his eyes are burning as he tries to untangle his tongue, and dispel the impression that Anders will do something awful to him for his trespass. (Hadriana’s smile flickers behind his eyelids every time he blinks. Her fingers curl, wreathed in green light. His own screams echo in his ears long before the pain hits.)

“Are you alright?”

Anders’ voice is rough and soft, and Fenris jerks his head up, falling back on the easy confidence of anger and letting it buoy him up out of his despair.

“What do you care, mage?”

As Fenris speaks he surges forward, feeling his lips curl back from his teeth in a sneer. Anders doesn’t back away, and it leaves their faces mere inches apart. Anders is looking at him oddly, and abruptly Fenris wishes for more light: knowing the man well enough by now after almost a decade to be able to read the spiderweb cracks of wrinkles in his face as the giveaway they tended to be. 

“You haven’t been yourself since -” Anders hesitates, and Fenris hates him for it, and abruptly cannot look at him. So instead he turns away, throwing his hands into the empty air as if that will satisfy his urge to hit something.

“Since what? Since I killed him. Tell me, mage, what is my ‘self’? What am I?” Fenris means it as a challenge, but his voice cracks, and when he turns back to Anders, chest heaving, he’s horrified to realise that tears are running down his cheeks. He glances at the open door, leading into the dark and deeper into the mansion. He takes a step in the direction of the doorframe.

“Brave.” Anders says the word quickly, and Fenris stops, unable to force himself to turn around but unable to leave either as some stupid, childish part of him that he had long since thought irreparably ruined rises in delight. “Funny. And you know it, though you pretend you don’t.” It’s getting hard to breathe. Fenris stares into the thick shadows of the next room, where Orana’s drawn the curtains across the window. Elsewhere in the mansion, there’s a cheer and a crow of triumph from Isabela as the rest of their friends laugh.

“Smartest man I’ve ever met, probably.” Anders goes on, but doesn’t move. “Fucking stubborn. Annoying. Terrifying, with a greatsword. And without one.” Anders hesitates, and Fenris hears the catch of his breath as clear as a bell struck at daybreak. “My friend.”

Fenris clenches his jaw so tightly his teeth hurt, and shuts his eyes. More tears fall down his cheeks, tickling his chin  as they go. 

“A good man. That’s what you are, Fenris.” Anders delivers the proclamation with the same certainty with which he insists on his desperate, hopeless, flawed revolution.

Fenris whirls on him. “And what do you know of good men?” Fenris means it cruelly, and he tries to take satisfaction in the way that Anders flinches. But then the stupid, stubborn, ridiculous man lifts his chin.

“Enough to know one when I see one. And know when he’s being an ass.”

“You know nothing of me!” Fenris almost bellows, and cowers when the words echo. For a moment, both he and Anders hold their breath as they wait for one of Hawke’s servants - or worse - their friends, to come and investigate. But a minute passes, tense as a knife edge, and no one does. Fenris goes on, and tries to ignore the prickling in his sweating hands. “You don’t know what I am. You don’t know what I’ve done.”

Dust motes dance silver in the starlight as they fall onto the piano. Anders purses his lips. “Alright, I don’t. But I know that you dress up as Fen’harel for the kids in the alienage every Wintersend. I know you win more often at cards than you say you do, and that you let Merrill win. I know you’re a little bit in love with Isabela, and a little bit in love with Hawke, and it kills you that they chose each other because it kills me too. I know that you have more reason than any bastard I’ve ever met to hurt me until I forget how to breathe and you’re one of very few people who never has. I know that I’ve known you for a decade and you haven’t killed me yet.”

“I might.” It’s not a threat. Fenris doesn’t look at Anders when he says it, staring dully instead at the painting on the wall: some rainy Fereldan landscape, the details of which he can’t make out in the dark. 

“But you haven’t.” Anders steps forward, and Fenris steps back, and feels dizzily as if they’re dancing. The moonlight catches on Anders’ chin, and Fenris can make out the faint tooth of a scar just below his bottom lip, hair thin in his stubble. Anders swallows, and breaks Fenris’ gaze, eyes tracing over a lute hanging on the wall. “You know mages don’t get to keep their kids.”

The subject change is so abrupt that Fenris feels as if he’s been physically thrown off kilter. “What?” He’s been standing here long enough to feel the cold, now, and taste the wood polish in the air. Anders goes on, still not looking at him, massaging one hand with the other as his fingers flex. 

“They take them away. Can’t abort them, not under Chantry law. I’m a Spirit Healer.” 

Fenris’ frown deepens, the back of his head already aching with the dull constant stress of the last fortnight and the sleeplessness that came with it. “I know.” He tries not to make his frustration obvious. Judging by the small grin Anders gives him, he doesn’t succeed.

“I started working with the Circle Healer when I was 17. Day after I was Harrowed. First day wasn’t so bad. A couple lashings. Attempted suicide. Self-harmer. Some kid who said he walked into a wall.” Anders rolls his eyes, huffing a laugh as his hands move to massage his wrists. Fenris watches him carefully. “Second day. There was this girl. Fifteen, Templar father, obviously. I helped deliver that baby.” Anders’ expression shutters. “She wasn’t allowed to see it. I did. I got to hold it, give it to some lieutenant who held it like it was contagious. I don’t even know if it made out of Kinloch. But she begged me to let her hold it and all I could say was that it was already gone.”

“That -” Fenris picks his words as carefully as he would navigate a floor covered in broken glass. “I do not think that you were the one at fault, there.”

“I know.” Anders says the words simply, and reaches up into his hair to pull the tie loose, scratching the tangled waves that fall around his head as he does so. “My point is, when you’re a prisoner, most of the time, the burden is on your gaolor. And you aren’t Danarius’ crimes.”

“It is not the same.” Fenris grinds the words between his teeth as his fingers tighten into fists hard enough to hurt. “I was - the things I did - I did not take babies. I killed them. I broke their skulls on his altars. I aborted them from their mothers before I killed them, too. I cannot - there are not words for the marks that what I have done, what I did, has left on my soul, and I do not know if I will do them again, and I fear them and I fear him, and I fear myself, and I hate them and I hate him and I hate myself, and every hour of every day I live with these cursed chains on my body that I cannot shake no matter how far I run and I do not know how to make it stop.” Once Fenris starts speaking, he can’t slow down, the words falling from his tongue with the tears that run thick and fast down his cheeks as he tears at his arms hard enough to make them bleed. Anders startles forward, and Fenris jerks backward, thrusting his burning hands into the air between them. “I would tear it from my skin. I would rip myself apart piece by piece if I did not know that killing myself would only be a mercy that I have never deserved.” Fenris breathes, and it splinters in his chest. He finishes in a hoarse whisper. “You know nothing of what I am, or what I have been, or what I have suffered, or what I have done. You never have.”

Behind Fenris, through the window, the sound of the ocean beats incessantly against the land. Elsewhere in the mansion, their companions are quiet, and the sound of Sandal’s singing has ceased. Fenris can feel his blood roaring in his ears, and doesn’t bother to brush the tears from his cheeks. Standing in the middle of the room, Anders stares at him, his tall thin figure swaying like a sapling in a breeze. 

Then he says, “You’re right. There’s a lot about you that I don’t know or understand and, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I’m kind of an asshole sometimes. But, Fenris? I need you to know this.” Anders steps forward and gets, stiffly, to his knees, one leg bending more slowly than the other. Fenris stares at him, bewildered, and steps backward until his head bumps softly against the wall. “Forgive the melodrama but uh, I don’t get on my knees for just anyone.” Fenris doesn’t think he has ever seen Anders on his knees, and he realises abruptly that he had never wanted to. Anders gives him a small, nervous smile, and takes a deep breath, swallowing before he speaks. “Fenris. From a mage, on his knees, asking you to listen to him. You deserve to live.”

The sob that works its way out of Fenris’ chest is a living thing, and Fenris chokes on it, sliding down the wall as he begins to cry in earnest. Anders, mercifully, doesn’t move. Fenris doesn’t know how long he cries, only that at the end of it his throat aches and his eyes burn and his head is pounding. But when he opens his eyes, Anders is still there, silver in the dark on his knees next to the piano. Fenris stares at him, and tries to clear his throat.

“You’re a very strange man.”

Anders shrugs, and moves with a visible wince to take the weight off his left knee, leaning against the piano stool as he gingerly unfolds his leg. “I’ve been called worse.”

Slowly, he reaches out into the space between them, scarred, crooked, calloused hand palm upwards, fingers outstretched. Anders looks at him, and his brown eyes are almost black in the dark. Slowly, fighting the sensation that this must be some kind of trap, Fenris reaches out and takes it. Anders’ fingers are cool against his, and his knuckles are bumpy and uneven. But he squeezes Fenris’ hand so hard it’s almost painful, and Fenris feels more tears stinging at the back of his eyes.

For a moment, they sit like that, peaceful in the quiet. Then there’s a soft knock on the doorframe, and Bodahn ducks his head in, face lit by a candle in a brass dish. “Sorry to interrupt messeres, but Mistress Hawke wanted to know if you’d like some libation to keep you company?”

Fenris glances at Anders, half moving to pull his hand back. But Anders’ hand tightens on his, and instead, feeling strangely childish, he nods at Bodahn. “Yes, please. That would be appreciated.”

Bodahn gives him a small, kind smile and ducks his head. “Very good, messere.” He turns, and leaves, and Fenris watches Anders as he shuts his eyes and leans his head back against the barstool, hair fanning out around him like some Orlesian princess.

“I thought you didn’t drink.” It’s not an accusation, motivated more by curiosity than anything.

Anders’ lips curl, and he opens one eye to look at Fenris, fingers tightening in his. “For you? I’ll make an exception. It’s been a long week.”

[voiceless-terror]

Pinning it Down

@aspecarchivesweek Day One: Pride

Characters: Jonathan Sims/Georgie Barker

Jon fiddles with the pin in his hand.

He and Georgie had only been dating for six months. They were still getting to know each other, at least, from Jon’s perspective. When she suggested going to the pride parade he’d blanched- the concept itself was fine, of course he supported it. But the crowd, the noise, being surrounded by drunk college students on a hot day; well, it wasn’t really his scene. Georgie must have read the hesitation in his face and quickly changed track, instead suggesting a quiet brunch with a few friends from class.

Georgie’s friends, not his. They tolerate him well enough, but he can see they’re perplexed by Georgie’s choice in partner. Quiet, pedantic, acerbic Jon. That’s what they think of him, he’s sure of it.

He’d had one friend before Georgie. It was his first year, he’d felt even more out of place than he did in Bournemouth, surrounded by kids eager to socialize and participate. Jon was in the library at some forced mixer, mumbling his way through ice breakers and trying to ignore the titters his answers brought. But he��d caught the eye of one girl from the floor below his; tall, with long brown hair and a wicked gleam in her eyes. She barked out a laugh at one of his answers, gave a commiserating smirk. He smiled tentatively back.

From that moment on Maria latched on to him, despite his many efforts to push her away. She was one of those people for whom intimacy came naturally. She studied with him in the library, they bantered back and forth over drinks she’d dragged him to, attended shitty concerts together where Jon had to duck out early, too overwhelmed by the flashing lights and sweaty bodies. She was easy-going, quick with a laugh and even quicker with a smile. It was nice to have someone who appreciated him, flaws and all.

One night over too many drinks, he confessed to her- he’d never felt that pull you were supposed to, that primal attraction that seemed to govern the lives of those around him. He confessed it like a dirty secret, something you kept close to the chest. But she just nodded, gave him a tap on the wrist as she always did when he got nervous. “My girlfriend’s asexual too,” she said, in the most nonchalant of tones. “You want another round?”

He blinked. He’d done his own research as a teenager, trying to find out what made him so different and how he could ‘fix’ it. There weren’t many resources back then, and though he’d seen some helpful information he felt too nervous to delve deeply. He’d heard the term only in science class, and he didn’t like the connotations that brought. But to hear someone use it so casually, as if it was something to be accepted, something completely normal, almost made him weep with relief. Here was someone like him, in a relationship with Maria, who was practically his idol in all things. 

The next day she passed him a pin in class: black, grey, white and purple. “My girlfriend’s got a ton of ‘em, thought you might like.” Later that night he stared at it, turning it over in his hand. He thought of putting it on his backpack, but instead decided to tuck it away in his drawer. 

At the end of the semester, Maria transferred to a different university to be closer to her girlfriend. She made him promise to keep in touch, but, well- Jon’s never been good at that. 

And now here he is, standing at Georgie’s door as she laces up her boots. Her fingernails are painted pink, purple, and blue, just like Jon’s. She’s even convinced him to let her braid his hair, threading it with similarly colored ribbons. It looks nice, Jon has to admit, and he found he liked the feeling of her fingers in his hair. She’s much more flashily dressed, but bright colors have never been Jon’s style.

“What’ve you got there?” Before he can protest, Georgie’s grabbed the pin out of his hand, staring down at it with some consideration. He sees something briefly flicker in her eyes- a dawn of understanding, and what he hopes isn’t disappointment. Georgie’s face is anything but unreadable most times, she wears her emotions plainly for all to see. But Jon’s not so sure of his ability to decipher them now, not with all of these thoughts rushing through his brain at hyper-speed.

“I-I really-” he begins to babble, hands fluttering nervously as the silence stretches on. “I should’ve told you, I mean-”

Georgie interrupts him with a gentle hand to his chest, pulling at his sweater. He looks down to find her delicately pinning the button to his chest, right above his heart. He shivers at the carefulness of it, looking up to meet her eyes.

“Yes,” she says, each word considered. “You should’ve.” His heart drops and he anticipates her next words, as heartbreaking as they will be.

“I want you to feel like you can trust me with these things,” she continues, and Jon pauses in his panic. What? “I sort of figured, honestly- you’ve been quite the gentleman these past six months. Even when I came on to you in that bar.”

Jon remembers that night. How could he forget? He’d never had someone approach him, want him so brazenly. It was strange. “You’re not mad?” His voice is tentative, though luckily clear of its usual stutter.

“No.” She shakes her head, her hand dropping from its place on his chest. “I just wish you’d told me, but- communication’s not our strong suit, is it?”

Jon lets out a weak laugh. “No, it isn’t.”

“We’ll just have to work on that. And maybe discuss boundaries, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I know you’re fine with cuddling-”

“Yes, please. Don’t stop that.”

“I won’t,” she laughs, taking his hand in hers. “But we can talk about this after brunch.” She looks down at their hands, suddenly unsure of herself, her grip loosening. “Is...this is okay, right?”

The trepidation in her tone is so uncharacteristic, completely foreign to him. They’ve done this a million times, but he finds the sudden hesitance almost sweet in its own way. She’s assessing his comfort level, making sure he’s not just going along with it to please her. After all, Georgie’s always telling him he needs to be more assertive.

“Yes,” he says, bringing her hand to his lips and delighting in the blush it earns him. “It’s more than okay.”

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28699863

[anxiouslyfred]

Black???? Out Mall

Summary: Most people do not believe that black is a colour the soulmate link can prevent you from seeing. A complete black out in a mall has Remus’s friend relying on the fact he’s never been able to see black and has far better dark vision because of it. Now he just needs to avoid making eye-contact with the only other person leading friends around the mall.

/\/\

Virgil's world had always been difficult to describe. People would talk about the world in shades of light and dark, white to black when mentioning the colours they couldn't see, but that could never work for him. Afterall, it's hard to explain that inside the night is dark brown and there's a specific shade of violet especially for midnight when everyone else just calls the dark black.

Part of him wished that there was a different colour he couldn't see, but no, there could be nothing black for him. Anything that would be black outside of the dark was a gentle ash green, far paler than people would believe, if they even considered that he couldn't see black true at all.

Mostly people just dismissed it, calling him a liar and that he could just say he didn't want to share. It had always been that way, from the first time his parents had asked what colour he couldn't see on the wheel to the crowd he befriended in school and finally following him into the work place. Each group that knew Virgil would only have him reply to the question once before he retreated, blocking them from ever getting close.

He did still find the ash-grey a comforting colour to wear though and would just claim to be trying out camouflage whenever someone commented on his usually black outfits. Once he managed to get a top that actually was ash-green but got put of wearing it after a few too many comments about his 'Summer look'. It felt like Virgil couldn't win, either he wouldn't be listened to about being unable to see black, or people would call out the times he mistook ash-green things for black ones. At least paints named the colours usually, so he didn't have to worry over mixing them up incorrectly.

/swap character focus\

All of Remus's room was maroon and green. Well if you asked him it was and he wouldn't give anyone a chance to argue with that. If he said something was maroon purple then nothing would change his mind, no matter how many people insisted the walls were painted black.

Currently Janus was the only person who had stuck around long enough to learn that Remus honestly couldn't tell when things were black and knew that when soulmates came up there would be a wonderfully long lecture over the many reasons, suppositions and stories Remus had over why people would claim such an absurd colour as black existed. Too many times they'd watch someone dismiss from all realms of possibility that Remus really couldn't see black and wouldn't until he met his soulmate only to quickly want to run away at the rather violent suggestions Remus had for “imbeciles obsessed with everything having opposites”. It was one of the more amusing things Janus found happening since befriending Remus and was at least generally harmless.

Remus was actually more interested in the places he could navigate better than everyone else. He'd perfected moving around in dark rooms, moving through the brown and around the objects that appeared other colours. For some reason if people could see black they couldn't see the other colours of objects in the night which frankly sounded like some evolutionary flaw.

He'd dragged Janus with him to all manner of deserted places, looking for ghosts and cool trinkets abandoned to time, despite their complaints that they could see nothing and had to be guided around constantly. It just gave Remus more chance to cling onto someone who wasn't shoving him away really.

This time though was not intentional, planned, or even something Remus had expected to be possible.

Everyone, literally everyone, said malls had back up generators and emergency lights in case there was a power outage or something went wrong; That you couldn't just cause a full on black out because they'd have emergency lights coming on in minutes so why was Remus suddenly having to pull Janus along carefully behind him and trying to remember the way out?

“You do know where we're going, don't you Remus?” Janus's normally carefully controlled voice was wavering, uncertain of the situation and what could be happening.

Remus couldn't blame them, almost everyone had sat down, or was stumbling forwards, trying to find a wall and then follow it somewhere. There was a group ahead that hadn't though. It looked like they were trying to do a conga line and possibly the person leading them could see where they were going.

If it hadn't been for the grip on his hand tightening and pulling him back to the present situation Remus would have raced after to find out if his was his someone who couldn't see black either. “Sure. You pulled us in at the entrance to that kids shop and that's back here, up in the lift... I'm gonna have to break into the lift now, aren't I?”

“Just look for some stairs. We can figure out the way back to the shop from there.” Janus sighed, trying for disappointed but just sounding scared at this point. There wasn't even a guarantee they'd be able to get out if they did manage to find an exit with this power-cut.

They'd carried on walking while muttering to each other, not wanting to have everyone they passed attempt to join up with them, and bringing them a lot closer to the group Remus had spied before. He definitely would have preferred to avoid the group now given he could see his brother as part of it, but the leader was heading directly for them.

“Yo, can you see or are you just wanting to trip over as many people as you can?” The leader of the group called and Remus was torn between making immediate eye contact and trying to avoid it as long as possible.

Janus had turned to the voice already and was tentatively trying to head in that direction so Remus had to keep pace if only so they didn't fall. “Much as tripping over everyone sounds like fun Jan would kill me if I caused him an injury.” He replied, focusing on Roman to avoid looking at the front of the group.

His brother's stumble literally cause the rest to all stumble too, only just gaining their footing before any of them fell. “Remus? What the hell are you doing in here?”

“Trying to find one of those gadget shops. See if we can steal their stock of night vision goggles so me and Janus can make a break for freedom. I see Patton, Logan and a stranger up front. New friend or did you describe me enough that they ran screaming any time you mentioned I'd pop in to bother you?” Now he'd said it, Remus actually thought finding some night vision goggles would be sensible, at least it would give Janus a bit more confidence in the dark. Plus then he could possibly even make eye contact with the hoodie clad guy.

“Virgil, Premier Tour Guide for dark halls and supplier of every worry you'll never need.” Roman introduced, attempting to bow and wave towards the front of the conga line but headbutting Logan's back instead.

Remus snickered at that, but before he could say anything Logan spoke up. “I do have to agree that even some poor quality night vision goggles would probably do us good right now. There should be one... Virgil, what shops are we next to currently?”

“Princey's favourite jewellers and it looks like there's a build-a-bear around the next bend. Ro, Is this the brother that thinks everything is maroon, or have we run into someone else?” There was something harsh in Virgil's words, as though whenever he'd come up between them Roman had upset Virgil with something he'd said.

“He's only got the one Remus. That much I can tell you. So are we joining up for now?” Remus nodded, turning to scan the shops along with Virgil, wondering if Logan would need any more details to locate the shop he'd thought of.

That didn't prove to be necessary as Logan was tugging and twisting in his spot of the conga line to turn them around. “We've come the wrong way then. Back around the corner, 5 shops along and there's a gadget shop. I definitely saw some night vision goggles when I was looking for cheap chemistry supplies.”

“Off we go then.” Virgil nodding, gripping Patton's hands on his waist to lead them off with Remus and Janus following behind.

Remus let them fall back a little, just enough that the group could hear their steps but they could talk quietly without the words being distinguishable. “Are you okay with joining them? I kinda just changed the plans on you when you wanted to find an exit as soon as.”

“If you promise not to even look at Virgil until I have some of those goggles on I guess so.” They demanded. “You could lose your special ability in the worst possible situation”

“Best thing about being unable to see black, it gives night vision while no other colour provides benefits to being unable to see it.” Remus snickered, moving a little faster once again.

There were fewer people in this section of the mall and all of them seemed to have reached the walls or some kind of furniture and decided to stop there to rest. It made for quicker movement, but also disappointed Remus a little that he wasn't getting to dodge them around human obstacles constantly. That did at least give him the opportunity to try going as fast as Janus could stumble along behind him and overtake Roman's little group in entering the shop.

“Everyone, I need a very specific thing from these shelves so you better be backing away from them now.” He snarled, dropping Janus's hands and beaming at the frightened squeaks let out from the customers and staff of the store. It wasn't often he could be this threatening when most people assumed his ruffles and lace meant he was harmless, despite how dark and unnerving the designs on them were.

He didn't waste time enjoying the fear though, hurrying to scan the shelves, trying to locate where the night vision goggles were. They couldn't have been a fashionable item to use since Remus was on one of the shelves further back and away from the tills by the time he found them. He didn't hesitate to start tearing the box of one open, grabbing as many more as would fit in his arms before heading back to where Janus was being pulled along beside Virgil now.

“I got goggles for everyone!” Remus bounced, already putting the open set onto Janus and trying to figure out the on switch. The instructions would be no help, with white paper and black writing the entire page just looked brown to Remus. “seeing yet? Seeing yet? Seeing yet?”

The repetition of the words was interrupted by hands shoving him away from the headset. “Shut up, get to opening boxes or go and see if you can pay for these at the checkout.” Virgil hissed, already removing the headset to check for the switch on it. “So you're Janus, I guess. Tell me if you can see anything through this now?” Remus heard the mutter as he was opening up the fifth box. He'd set 2 aside, intending to shove them into Janus's arms just in case he and Virgil would need them in a few moments, but for now he was going to stare at everyone's shoes while passing goggles to Virgil.

“You're a lot better at getting things functional than Remus is. I never heard your pronouns though, so can I have them?” Janus confirmed, already breathing a little easier as they stood looking around the store.

“Can't have them, they're mine already, but I go by he/him.” Virgil nodded, already taking the next and moving to help Patton get the goggles on.

Janus paused, looking towards the check out and back to the group they made. “I'm not some kind of Fae, you know. Although, given how well you're navigating through here, could you be? Or perhaps you just can't see black, like Remus here?” Their questions were prying and definitely spoilt some of the fun Remus had been hoping to have while trying to make eye contact with Virgil.

“You mean ash-green right?” There was a smirk and a snicker in Virgil's voice as Remus's head shot up to stare at his back, almost at the same time as Roman let out a loud groan.

“That's a Remus line! No becoming my brother, Virge!” Roman exclaimed, making everyone start snickering now. Only Remus seemed to notice that Patton had wandered off with his wallet out as soon as his goggles were functional. Apparently his wonderful theft wasn't allowed to actually be a theft. What a complete shame!

Virgil had sorted Logan out a lot more quickly than the first to, but held the last open set of goggles above Roman's head, just enough for one of the cords to brush his hair and shoulder. The shrieks only setting off more laughter and snickers from the friends. “If you're that scared of the night vision goggles, perhaps I shouldn't give you them.”

“You Nightmare. Give me back some sight, right this instant!” Roman's demands probably would have been more effective if he hadn't turned around completely in his fright. Still Virgil put them on him with no further argument, while Remus wished he could have scared his brother a bit more while stood in the dark.

The he realised that that was the last of their friends with night vision goggles on and he could actually find out if Virgil was his soulmate or not and had to leap over to him. “Can I see you now?” He cheered, getting their faces as close together as possible before whining when there was suddenly nothing to see.

“You better have got enough of those goggles for us or your next sight of me is going to be when I attack you!” Virgil snarled, though a hand tightening on his upper arm kept him close.

“Januuuuussssss, My soulmate if threatening meeeeee! Can I at least have the goggles to see if he still looks as hot while threatening me as I think he does?” Remus whined, leaning his head as far backwards as he could imagining he was still able to see Janus standing a little way behind him.

He didn't hear any response though, only the shuffling and a few snickers from his friends for a few minutes. Randomly he'd let out self pitying whines for a bit before he decided to see if the hand on his arm was far enough up he could nuzzle it with his head.

For all he'd heard about black as a colour it really wasn't that interesting when absolutely everything was covered in it with no distinction to offer shapes or forms. It did however give him the chance to try getting to know Virgil's body by touch he eventually thought, only to get his hands slapped away if they strayed off of his arms.

“Fine, if I put the goggles on you, are you going to stop trying to grope me?” Virgil eventually snickered, already pushing them over his head after shoving it upright again.

“No promises there, My Maroon,” Remus tried to leer but was already distracted looking around for their friends. “Where'd everyone go?”

“Well I think Patton's trying to figure out how many other set of goggles he can afford to give to everyone and Logan is trying to talk him out of that. Janus and Roman have both gone in search of the exit once more. All pretty much excuses to as Roman put it 'Leave the gloomy soulmates to get used to the dark.'” Virgil waved in a few directions before actually taking Remus's hand. “Getting to know you sounds more interesting than this new colour though.”

They might still be in a powerless shopping mall for an undetermined future, but at least Remus and Virgil had found their soulmates and proven that black definitely is a colour and they couldn't see it before.

[goodvibesprompttime]

DSMP AU :D

Gods abandon children all the time. 

It wasn't uncommon for children to find each other, be it on the road, travelling to somewhere that even they didn’t know existed, or, perhaps if they were the lucky ones, in a school among the rest of humans, where their godly heritage goes to die. It was up to opinion if losing heritage was worth it. If not, the children left a means of shelter to follow the path of uncertainty, chaos, without education or any guarantee they would see the beauty of dawn, or her loving embrace.

Like all abandoned children, twelve year old Tommy was good at something. It may not have been dancing, or cooking, or baking, or sports, or… a lot of things. But, the blonde was good at something. He was good at counting steps, and he was good at breathing, and smiling, and he was really funny. Although, according to the other abandoned children, in the abandoned children villages, none of those were things to be proud of. Tommy hated coming across villages. In truth, calling them villages made the places sound nicer than they were. If you were lucky, you could come across a village that was really just a house. Most of the time, however, these villages were just a group of children in whatever shelter they could find - painted in brilliant roses of risk, with brushstrokes of broken glass, or the potential to be discovered and torn apart like useless paper, soaked in water. 

Following the train tracks, as Tommy had done since he left the certainty of a foster family, led the blonde to many villages. Some villages only had two or three people, some had ten, one even was in the thirties. Tommy knew to avoid the bigger villages as a child with no insight on his godly parent. He had no powers to rely on, much less any intimidation. He was a scrawny kid carrying a stick, a backpack full of things, with a bandana around his neck, and a bandaid on his nose. Lesson one of being an abandoned, Tommy discovered, was to avoid big villages with bigger kids, or risk being beaten with your own stick. Tommy was only lucky they gave him bruises.

Despite having life, rather literally, beat him down when he was already low, Tommy followed the tracks with an uncanny sense of optimism. He sang for himself when even the birds were too tired to listen. He told himself stories when the forest did not. He still cheered as excitement swelled in him when a train passed by, even more so when he checked the time and found that the train came later. He was moving somewhere, farther from where the train was coming from, but that meant he was heading where it was going too. Time was still moving, and so was Tommy. 

~

Meanwhile, in the passing train, there hid a pair of twins who lived on the run their entire lives. On the caboose, out of sight from the authoritarian eyes of adults, was Techno and Wilbur. One with pink hair, tusks, and pointed ears, the other a brunette and unnaturally human looking for being Techno’s twin. They were both fifteen, soon sixteen, with enough years of experience to know the natural law of being an abandoned child: Lesson one. Do not trust anybody.

While Wilbur was sitting near the caboose exit, knees tucked under his chin, Techno was studying a map of the city the train was heading to. The city was named Las Nevadas, and nicknamed “The City Who Never Sleeps”. Someone of human descent says it’s because of how busy the gambling city was. Anyone of godly descent knows it’s because Las Nevadas was a place untouchable by the gods, including the god of sleep himself. It was the perfect place for Techno and Wilbur.

Las Nevadas welcomed artists, of all kinds, and, they hoped, they would not be discovered as abandoned children long enough to be hired by someone. There were most certainly flaws in the plan, and the twins weren’t quite sure what they would say about Techno’s appearance, but they were clever enough to figure out something. It was fake, they could say. Techno loved the theatre, especially a character from a local play from their far away town that they definitely came from. So much so that he decided to dress like them everyday. 

“Techno…?”

“Yes, Wilbur?” 

“I’m hungry… Do we have anything left?” Techno set down the map and checked his bag. Staring at the rather empty contents, Techno took out the last sandwich he had made from their last stop. After giving that to Wilbur, Techno gave his twin an orange and his metal water bottle. “Thanks, Techno…”

“Eat slow,” Techno picked up his map. “We still have an hour until Las Nevadas…” 

“Okay…” 

~

The City Who Never Sleeps. It was always a facit of conflicting viewpoints coming together to drown in the losing game of gambling. It was giving individuals jobs to work themselves to death. It was an approximation of a monster that never slept, just continuously fed on the poor souls it, and its creators, lured in. It was infectious. A disease that allowed people to walk like the living dead, with local folklore painting it as so alluring the pride and joy casino, Los Amantes, first ever built, lured in gods. 

All who lived in Las Nevadas, from the richest sinner to the poorest saint, that one phrase that dictates all in the city. Those who haven’t learned it perished mercilessly, their souls ripped from their bodies and minds to be sold to the highest paying bidder.

Lesson one: the house always wins.

From between the buildings, continuously wandering through alleyways, there was a tall child, just reaching fifteen not too long ago. His eyes were a misty purple, his pointed ears tilted towards the ground. He was an obvious abandoned child. If one couldn’t tell from ears or normally red and green eyes, then his skin of black and white was the giveaway. Truthfully, it was uncharacteristic for him to be in public and, if there was no other choice, then he would be in disguise. To have him wander so dangerously close towards the busy streets was suicide. 

“Ranboo!” A hand grabbed the sleepwalker’s, yanking him away before he could get into trouble. Ranboo hissed, struggling, but his companion was much stronger than him - albeit shorter. “Come on, not again…” 

His companion went by Tubbo, an abandoned child left behind before he was known to have existed, then yet again when he was growing into his demigodly features as a small child. He kept his brown hair over his eyes, blocking anyone from seeing their yellow glow, and always kept his pants baggy to cover up his goat-like legs. Surviving through the streets, being a thief, getting an odd job once or twice, all led to him taking care of Ranboo and another abandoned child. Nights like these, where Ranboo was “sleepwalking”, Tubbo searched for him. Sometimes it took minutes, sometimes it took hours. Tubbo had trained himself to wake up an hour after falling asleep just for these occasions, but predicting everything was impossible.

“Hisssss,” Ranboo snapped at Tubbo, literally hissing and snapping his jaw.

Tubbo snapped his fingers at Ranboo. “Don’t get mouthy with me, mister!”

The sleepwalker went quiet, making tiny noises Tubbo couldn’t describe - or replicate, for that matter. Tubbo dragged Ranboo back to their makeshift home, made from the fifth floor of an abandoned office space that had yet to be torn down. It was a stuffy place and it was hard to transform into a decent enough space to live, for both themselves and baby Michael. It wasn’t an unwelcomed surprise, just one unexpected. Ranboo freaked out, but who left a baby crying behind a trash can to either starve or freeze or get eaten by raccoons. Tubbo wasn’t expecting a baby, and was thankful Ranboo had some semblance of childcare knowledge. Tubbo supposed there was some benefit from being raised in an orphanage.

Tubbo panicked when he heard Michael crying, the abandoned child swore the baby was asleep. Before Tubbo could react, Ranboo near sprinted past him to attend to the baby. Out of his sleepwalking phase, Ranboo picked up Michael and soothed him to sleep. Tubbo smiled a bit, relieved, and watched his platonic partner while leaning on the doorframe. 

Michael didn’t sleep easily, especially if he can’t feel Tubbo or Ranboo. It’s why Tubbo moved his makeshift crib into his and Ranboo’s, for lack of a better word, room. It was just a mattress with a sheet Ranboo stole from the orphanage when he escaped, a blanket Tubbo stole, and pillows they managed to save up for. It was comfortable, appearances being deceiving of course. Michael surely thought so, resting as Ranboo set the baby on one of the pillows. 

“... you should go back to sleep, bossman.” Tubbo mumbled, taking off his coat and letting it fall on the floor. “Under the blanket too, it’s too cold for that shit.”

Ranboo made a small noise, brushing some of Michael’s hair out of his face. Tubbo shook his head, sitting on the mattress.

“He’s fine…” Tubbo assured him. “And you’re fine! It’s not like you’ll sleepwalk again, you’ve never done that before.”

Ranboo, hesitantly, laid down, and Michael moved to cling to his face. Tubbo muffled his laugh, throwing the blanket over all three of them. 

“Night, bossman.” Ranboo mumbled a goodnight.

Nights in Hell can only stay cold and dark for so long.

[kidnappedbycartoons]

Thoughts on Hope

After I did Noah, you should’ve known I was doing Hope next. Frankly, she is my second favorite girl from that season (After Chelsea). I know a lot of people don’t like her, but let me give my thoughts about her.

At First:

It was obvious she was playing the game at first. She went straight for Noah without asking anyone to step forward, slept with him after Priya came in so that she couldn’t turn his head, inserted herself as the leader of the girls, and was lowkey performing with Noah in the first week. Remember how defensive she got during the Mean Tweets challenge even though Priya/MC gets the majority of votes for who is playing the game? But I always wondered why she was playing the game at first. Like, what could her reason be? Then I remembered a conversation she had with MC.

On Day 10, when MC goes to talk to Hope, she reveals that growing up her family didn’t have a lot of money and so she’s proud of her accomplishments because of that. That would also explain why she focused so much on Lucas’s money and why that comment about her having more money than Noah came out. Would it be right to say that she is financially insecure, I don’t know? But money might mean a lot to her because it gives her a form of security, not physically, but emotionally. It makes her feel important, accomplished, and confident. But she isn’t someone who will beg for money, no, she is someone who will get it on her own.

I also remember on one of the later days, she says that she wants to become the CEO of her own toy company and it costs a lot of money to start your own business. That could be part of the reason why she was playing the game. She splits the money when she and Noah wins and that’s for a multitude of reasons. Number one, that would be a heartless and selfish thing to do and she’s not that kind of person. Number two, she actually does have feelings for Noah and wasn’t going to hurt him like that. Number three, the public would dislike her if she did, which could cause problems for future endeavors.

Actually, I want to talk about the first reason, because I’ve noticed some people acting like Hope is some big, bad villain and I need to defend her.

Her Personality:

Hope is someone who naturally takes the lead. I don’t think she has a problem with control like Lottie does, but if no one else speaks up she’ll do so. I don’t know if I’m remembering wrong, but when MC takes over, she doesn’t interrupt her or downplay it. In fact, she agrees with MC and kind of stands by her. Yes, she does overdo it a bit in the beginning, but she loosens up a bit by the end.

Also, she’s not someone that likes drama. We see her try to calm things down on Day Five and on that stupid Girl’s Day Trip. Even when Operation Nope happens, she doesn’t drag it out like Lottie did with Marisol and Rocco. She even tries to act like nothing’s wrong in the few days following until something comes up, like finding out Noah had an ex named Priya. However, sometimes she does act a bit irrational.

The first instance that comes to mind is Day Ten. When she feels herself getting closer to Noah, the two end up arguing. Hope is upset because of the money comment and when MC calls her out on it sounding stupid, only then does she relax. This isn’t the first time either. The next day when she is in the lounge when MC gives her the hot chocolate, she says that Noah said she was upset with Priya because of her pride and it clearly affects her. And during Casa Amor, after the girls see the video, she starts stressing about Noah again, and only when MC gives her a reality check (If she didn’t participate in Operation Nope) does she come to her senses a bit. Hope gets in her head a lot and she needs someone who can call her out on it (Like Lucas), and that’s one of the reasons why she and Noah could never work. When she gets in her head, that’s when she gets a bit annoying to be around, but what she needs is a reality check.

Now. I have to talk about them. I’m going to focus on Hope and how people keep making her the villain though.

Nope:

They were never a good couple. Besides the fact that Hope was playing the game, they just didn’t mesh well. A lot of people say that Hope was keeping Noah on a leash and I do agree, to an extent. In the beginning, before Casa Amor, she definitely was. For example, she locked Noah in quickly when Priya came in but also didn’t bother to hide her excitement when Lucas came in. Remember when she was talking about them on Day Six and then MC says something about Noah being available and she gets upset? Or better yet, on Day Seven after Mr. Love Island. The girls are talking about the guys in the dressing room and when all the girls say that Noah saying that Hope is the only one he wants to date, she tells them to “Look, but don’t touch”. Or if MC takes Noah on a date on Day Nine, Hope feels the need to talk about how it doesn’t bother her. We all have to remember that is only the first week and that everyone is still getting to know each other, but she stops Noah from getting to know the girls while simultaneously letting herself interact with Lucas and Jakub.

Before the update, during the shower argument in Operation Nope, Hope had shamed Noah for not fighting for their relationship. They’ve changed it now to have her say “If you’re going to pie me off, I’d rather know about it before the entire villa” (Along those lines). But prior to that, that really shows her keeping him on a leash. She practically guilts him for not fighting for their relationship, only to then dump him the next day when Jakub picks her. I think it’s a mixture of two things. One, her playing the game and wanting to win and getting nervous when she sees how big of a risk MC/Priya is. Two, her actually developing feelings for Noah and not wanting to let him go. And remember that she gets in her head a lot and starts acting irrationally. All of this combined, caused her to say those words (Not justifying it, just explaining it).

But we also have to remember that Noah isn’t a saint either. After Operation Nope (If MC doesn’t participate), when he says that Hope was more upset at Priya because of her pride when Priya literally tried to kiss him earlier that day? She was actively trying to steal him away from Hope after going on about how cute of a couple they were just a few days ago, in front of Hope at that. And then not taking the blame for his part when he could’ve shut it down. If he had made it clear that he wanted to be with Hope to both of them, then Priya would’ve probably backed off. If he had said that he wanted to try things on with Priya to both of them, Hope would’ve been upset but she would’ve let him be. And if MC did participate in Operation Nope, then it’s just worse, but I already spoke about this on his post.

After Casa Amor, and I’m going to use it if MC didn’t participate in ON, she and Noah are kind of on a weird page. The two of them are saved by Lottie and Bobby, solely so they could get back together. I think both of them felt pressured to get back together after that since it seemed like everyone else was rooting for them to get back together. Once they do, we see that Hope is worried because she doesn’t want kids but Noah does. What I find interesting is that on Day Twenty-Six, Hope reveals that Noah would always talk about how he wanted a big family and it seemed he just assumed Hope did as well because he had these kinds of expectations about her. Like her being too much of a lady to get drunk at a waterpark. And during the Baby Boom episode, she starts getting in her head when she sees how much fun Noah is having with the doll baby and Noah gives in to calm her down and make her comfortable. It’s like, they both have feelings for each other, but they’re slowly realizing that they’re not a compatible couple, but they’re staying together because of the pressure of the show.

Her And The Girls:

I already know that she and Lottie don’t talk after the show. But I need to talk about her and Priya because I feel like Hope considered Priya a friend while Priya didn’t. She even tells Priya on Day Twelve that she was ready to be friends again if she backed off. But there are moments prior to that. I noticed that Hope and Priya hung around each other a lot. Like on Day Four, Hope went to check on Priya. On Day Six, the two were talking about Rocco and Marisol in the dressing room. On Day Seven, they were hanging around each other before Rocco showed up. Which makes ON worse for Hope because someone she considered a friend betrayed her.

As for her and Marisol, I never noticed the little moments between them until I had her hate my MC. On Day Eleven, Marisol talks with Hope if MC doesn’t give her the hot chocolate. During Casa Amor, it hints that she and Marisol have spoken to each other about something. Even in the first week, there were moments where Hope was doing Marisol’s hair and I don’t think I saw the other girls doing that. I think the reason why they meshed was probably that Hope tends to get in her head a lot and Marisol, with her psychoanalyzing skills, puts a bit of ease to Hope’s mind. Not to mention that Marisol doesn’t have much tact and would probably call her out when she starts acting that way.

Now, she and MC. No matter what I do, they always end up being close. The only time where they weren’t was during my second playthrough of Operation Nope. I’ve said before that she appreciates when MC calls her out on being irrational and is honest. She also applauds MC when she helps keep the peace in the group. Even during Operation Nope, as long as you stay loyal to Noah and are honest with your feelings, she won’t be that upset with you. I think she had a lot of respect for MC and her opinions on things. 

Final Thoughts:

Hope is a flawed character, but she’s not a villain like some people have painted her out to be. Her and Noah weren’t a good couple at all and because of the pressure of the show and her wanting to win, it got worse the longer they stayed together. After this, I’m debating about doing one of the guys. But it might not be who you expect.

[recurring-polynya]

I have to say I knew that at one point renji, ikkaku, yumichika and iba were in the same squad with kenpachi but good god you managed to paint a beautiful picture for me. I simply assumed that for them it was simply party time all the time along with a few bald jokes but this is much better. Emotionally healthy squad 11 which still love fighting more than anything. I always cringed when someone would just describe them as hooligans that do nothing but fighting. I mean they do that too but I love the idea that they are all emotionally healthy and mature, a loving and supportive family to their own - in their own wakka doodoo kind of way thats endearing - and of course they are in my opinion they single capable force against sexisim. Because they don't care about anything else - gendere, sexuality, gender performances, race, mentality or anything - other than if you fight good you respectable and if you fight good in squad 11 you family. ( like when kenpachi just became captain he made yachiru his lieutenant and no one was against it no one thought it was beneath them, sure thru nag at her sometimes but that's mostly in a banter like way because she call them stupid nicknames but no one hates her for being unrightfully their superior. One day they got a new captain and a new lieutenant that's a child and they just went with it.) I admit their disdain and disrespect to squad 4 is still frowned upon but I do believe some squad 4s can handle their own, it's just that we saw the really peaceful ones. Anyways sorry for ranting. Just wanted to say that yeah, I really like how the past squad 11 with iba and renji in it was a great place in general. I think if they found out some one was being sexist - for whatever reason - they would be there right next to nanao - or iba's mom protesting. Kenpachi and yachiru as well. And that makes me want to be squad 11 ,despite not being much for fighting, so bad.

So, for starters, thanks! I try to have fun whenever I write Squad 11, and I’m glad you enjoy my take on them.

My Squad 11 is just... really not very canon, though. Canon Squad 11 is actually pretty gross and sexist. Yumichika is transphobic, Kenpachi makes homophobic remarks about Yumichika, they bully Squad 4, there’s a filler episode devoted to a guy that Ikkaku bullied for, like 100 years because the guy lost his reiatsu saving Ikkaku’s dumb ass.

When you write fanfic, you occasionally run into these more problematic aspects of the source media, and you can choose to dig in and analyze them, or just... remake them in your own way. Take for example, Gin. If you read fanfic about Gin, there are some people who will peel away the layers of him and his fears and insecurities and still make him be a horrible gremlin, and it’s really stellar writing. Other people prefer to write him in an AU where maybe less bad stuff happened to him, and he’s more mischievous than sociopathic, and this is a less meaty interpretation, but it’s also more fun. Sometimes fanfic is a meal and sometimes it’s candy. It fulfills different needs and different fantasies and all of it is welcome.

Yumichika, who for me is the fulcrum of Squad 11, presents this problem. I really don’t like the way his “appreciation for beauty” plays out in canon. He doesn’t actually appreciate beauty, he just likes telling other people they’re ugly. I don’t think he’s ever pointed out beauty in anyone else aside from himself or his zanpakutou. I remember the first time I watched his fight with Charlotte and it struck me as so off -- why wouldn’t he find her beautiful? I mean, I know it’s a transmysogynistic joke, that’s why, men dressed as women is funny, hurr hurr, but Yumichika is gender nonconforming himself. This was an opportunity to make a cool character point, and Kubo took the cheap laughs road instead. Going back to what I said last paragraph, a skilled writer could, in theory, write about his insecurities and his brittleness and meanness and write a pretty compelling story, but a) Kubo certainly doesn’t, and I have never actually found a Yumichika-centric fanfic of this nature, and b) this doesn’t fit the role I need him to play in my stories. I am rarely really interested in writing about Squad 11 for its own sake. I like to write them as a backdrop for the period of Renji’s afterlife where he hit absolute rock bottom and bounced back up again. We already know the role Ikkaku played in this, except that Ikkaku is a complete moron in terms of mental health, and I really, really felt like this is where Yumichika needed to come in.

I like to massage Yumichika’s character a bit, but I do want to keep the flavor of some of his character flaws-- he’s still shallow and mean and judgy, and I love that for him, but I like to add in a positive side to his appreciation for beauty. Having Yumichika make fun of Izuru’s pores is funny but it’s even funnier if he’s just given Renji a compliment on his hair first. The idea that a Yumichika compliment is attainable makes all his drags the more vicious. Yumichika also judged people by their beauty instead of their moral character, which is humorous to me. He dislikes Byakuya as a person, but is obsessed with his haircare regime. I like to have him treat Rangiku as an equal, beauty-wise, and a person whose opinion he respects based on her aesthetic. Rangiku is actually a pretty savvy and very emotionally intelligent person whom many people write off because she likes to present herself as a lazy airhead, so in an extremely convoluted way, this all works out. I like to think that Yumichika’s ideas of beauty are also caught up in boldness and risk-taking and having one’s outward presentation ring true to their inner self. To me, this is the core of why he loves Ikkaku. To him, Ikkaku’s devotion to doing the most Ikkaku thing at all times, no matter how stupid, is irresistibly sexy. 

Aside: At some point, I decided that the fact that a lot of people in Bleach have colorful marks on their faces and elaborate hairstyle and accessory games implied that make-up in Soul Society is gender neutral. I like to think there is actually more of a divide between the nobility, who like their make-up to follow rules and be classy, and, well, Squad 11, who like to get make-up ideas from Jem and the Holograms. I don’t even wear makeup (I don’t know how and it’s expensive and I am ashamed of myself, we can talk about my own gender presentation later) but I like to write about both my male and female characters wearing make-up. I don’t actually know how my readers feel about it, but it just falls under the “Is that what people want?”/“It’s what we do” philosophy of all my writing.

I think one of the theses of my writing is that middle management is more important to the character of a squad than the person at the top. Captains sort of act as ideals to strive for, but they are generally unapproachable for one reason or another. Yachiru is more like her captain in this respect (which makes sense, since she is, in fact part of her captain). Ikkaku and Yumichika present this dual idea that 1) strength is awesome, fighting and being the best is awesome, and 2) part of strength is presenting yourself to the world in a bold and confrontational way. (The fact that both of them are hiding huge parts of themselves is laughably ironic). Kenpachi and Yachiru are shining examples of Do Whatever You Want and Be So Strong That No One Can Stop You. 

What really makes this work is that you need someone one layer down-- does anyone actually subscribe to this nonsense, and that’s why Iba - Abarai Squad 11 is Best Squad 11. I really, really enjoy the genre of Reddit posts where a total bro will find out that his girlfriend is trans and react by becoming a vehement advocate for trans rights. I love the bodybuilders typing encouragement to each other meme. Our world is flooded with disingenuous messages from concern trolls trying to tell us why being kind and inclusive to one another is bad or that you should reject help because struggle makes you stronger and the idea of a Himbo looking at something like that and saying “that seems dumb" is delightful to me.

I actually feel like there are a lot of awful people with bad ideas in Squad 11, it’s just that Renji and Iba don’t put up with their shit, and over time, that becomes the culture of Squad 11. I think that Squad 11 has incredibly turnover, but the ones who stay are the ones who subscribe to the ideas you mentioned-- fighting is what matters, if you wanna go argue about shit, go join Squad 5. In the IkkaYumi story I wrote, which happens shortly after Zaraki takes over, a ton of people leave. The Bount Arc (which I know a lot of people skipped) features a dude who was extremely pissed off because he had liked the old Kenpachi and thought Zaraki sucked and was so mad about it that he betrayed Soul Society. You might think that this arc would feature Zaraki caring about this in some way shape or form, but he really didn’t. So, I think there are a lot of Soul Reapers that took issue with serving under a little girl as a vice captain, they just aren’t in Squad 11 anymore.

Oh, one last note on Iba’s mom. I am of an age where a number of my friends have mothers who were Second Wave Feminists. The moms in question are a real mixed bag, because they Came From a Different Time, and on one hand, you have to respect what they went through, and on the other hand, they are very difficult to get along with. I liked the idea that Iba has always chafed against his mom and her big personality, and then Renji comes in, and is like, “hey, your mom is strong as hell and she has a lot of ideas that I never thought of but they make sense” and Iba realizes that, even though she’s still a huge pain in his ass, his mom is the person who made him who he is. Moms are complex.

Uhhhh, I have definitely lost the thread of wherever I was going with this post. Thank you for enjoying my Squad 11, which is nothing like canon Squad 11. Hopefully maybe this year, I will actually finish my Squad 11 Self Care story, where Renji stops being a drunk disaster person after Yumichika teaches him how to fill his brows; I got stuck on a part where Rangiku gives Renji a talk on ethical sluttery.

[fishylife]

Guess who caved and read all 66 chapters of Painter of the Night? I don’t normally like to read comics that are still ongoing because I don’t like losing momentum while waiting for updates but here I am 🤡🤡

Spoilers.

 I typed this while distracted so sorry for any muddled thoughts.

Story

I am glad that I read up to Chapter 66 because a huge misunderstanding was cleared up (the fact that Nakyum legitimately did not run away this time). I would’ve been pulling my hair out if the misunderstanding went on further (I HATE misunderstanding/miscommunication as a plot device).

A lot of people on the subreddit theorized that this was a huge turning point in the story. For the first time, we’re seeing Seungho show legitimate remorse and sadness over Nakyum’s suffering. Hopefully we’re going to see change his behaviour and act more reasonably towards Nakyum, and be more communicative about why he’s doing what he’s doing.

Though I think Nakyum is still a bit confused about his feelings for Seungho, he’s past the point of hating Seungho and wanting to leave. He said that he’d tried to run away before but he had nowhere to run to. He acknowledges that Seungho is a constant in his life, a protector and an indirect caregiver. But he’s still struggling with his feelings for Seungho.

In that way, Seungho and Nakyum are sort of opposite. Seungho recognized his romantic love for Nakyum first, but he couldn’t see how he was hurting him. As for Nakyum, he figured out how he could make Seungho happy early on, but he’s still struggling a bit with regards to how he feels about Seungho, likely because a part of his heart is still with Inhun. Again, he definitely recognizes Seungho as his protector (he’d instinctively called out to Seungho for help when he was kidnapped), but he’s still struggling over whether he’s in love with him.

This week we’re getting a continuation to the spinoff story so we won’t see the story pick up again until next week.

I do think the spinoff story is interesting. Currently, Seungho holds a lot of power over Nakyum, both in terms of political/administrative power, and physical power. But with Seungho as a peasant and Nakyum as a son of a noble family, Nakyum holds the social power over Seungho and it evens up their power dynamics a bit, which I do like. It feels safer for Nakyum lmao.

In terms of the style of story telling, it’s mostly angst, I’ll be honest. And it is rather melodramatic because miscommunication tends to be something the author uses quite a bit as a storytelling technique. Luckily, they’re not dragged out for too long.

Art

The art is pretty nice. It’s all in full colour, which surprised me. The art is extremely detailed. I wonder how the artist can do so much in a week lol. I hope they’re not overworked.

Seungho

Both Seungho and Nakyum have had their share of past trauma, but my thinking is that they’ve manifested in different ways.

It’s implied that Seungho’s father knew about his sexuality from a young age and tried to treat it through medical means and then by locking him up, which effectively stopped his education, despite him having been a bright student. Seungho then lived out his young adult days in debauchery. Early on, he implied that he was just living by his father’s principles, or something along those lines. My guess is that his dad left him behind so he could debauch in isolation without affecting the rest of the family.

So Seungho grew up without many close friends. He was surrounded by servants and yes men (like Jihwa) who would not call him out on his bullshit. So I think that’s how he developed his extremely bossy and abusive behaviour.

Why Nakyum was different for Seungho was that initially, he didn’t have power over Nakyum. He would tell him to do things, but Nakyum would not necessarily heed his commands, not painting, or trying to run away. His heart was still fully loyal to Inhun. So I think that was why Nakyum elicited extra violent behaviour from Seungho. Seungho had never been defied like this.

But I think Seungho was also intrigued by Nakyum. Nakyum was a contradiction because he drew smut but was always super embarrassed when faced with sexual situations irl. Seungho should've felt better when Inhun was sent away and Nakyum became submissive during sex and yet that’s when Seungho felt like something was wrong. Nakyum just kept eliciting unexpected emotions from Seungho. I definitely think Seungho saw him as a plaything at first, but came to care for him after he got to know more about him and his personal life.

Nakyum

Nakyum also came from a tough background. He was an orphan, and was raised along kisaeng ladies. Inhun was the first authority figure whom he’d had a positive impression of, and he latched on to him. He admired Inhun so much that he tried his best to listen to him when he told him not to draw erotic art anymore.

Inhun unfortunately didn’t see their relationship the same way. He showed a kind face to most of his students but he looked down on their lowly statuses. Only when he saw Nakyum as a pawn, did he give him attention. But he never hid his emotions, visibly expressing his anger when Nakyum wasn’t being a good spy, brushing off Nakyum’s confession of love.

Nakyum’s love for Inhun was so extremely pure and all-consuming. I cried when he was so swiftly rejected and condescended upon by Inhun T_T Because I knew how much courage it took for Nakyum to confess, how he wanted nothing but for Inhun to have good things, and Inhun cared not for any of that because it wasn’t want he wanted. Nakyum wasn’t helping him in the way he needed, and he cared far more for ambition than romantic love (not to mention romantic love from a lowly peasant).

After the rejection, Nakyum internalized Inhun’s words when he called him a prostitute. A part of him still loved Inhun and if he said that, Nakyum figured he must’ve been right. The other part of him decided that acting submissively to Seungho was the only way to survive.

Basically, Nakyum’s going through a huge emotional journey because his hero Inhun has kind of abandoned him (though he hasn’t forgotten him completely), but Nakyum hasn’t found a worthy person to give his heart to.

Seungho & Nakyum

I’m still thinking about their relationship and why we ship them despite the shit they’ve done (mostly the shit that Seungho’s done to Nakyum).

For Seungho, I think Nakyum was the first person he met who had a different way of expressing love. He’d never met someone like Nakyum who would stuff he despised just to help out Inhun. Even when Inhun didn’t show an inkling of appreciation. Perhaps Seungho felt that he didn’t know what love was until he met Nakyum.

As for Nakyum, he theorized that he was only desperate for affection and that was why he felt himself drawn to Seungho. I think that is technically true. But more than that, I think Seungho has arguably shown more levels of care to Nakyum than Inhun has. Yeah, Seungho has done horrendous stuff to Nakyum, but he’s also shown more affection to Nakyum. That includes physical affection, but Seungho also bought him warm clothes, called on a doctor to care for his health, etc. Again, all of the care absolutely does NOT cancel out the abusive behaviour on Seungho’s side, but that’s how I think Nakyum found himself feeling more and more comfortable with Seungho. Loving someone is about showing your bad sides as well as your good sides.

I think both Seungho and Nakyum are finding affection/care in forms that they’d never experienced before, and that’s why they are drawn to each other.

Problematic?

I had a feeling that this would be a story that a lot of people would consider problematic. It’s probably because I’m older now, but it doesn’t really bother me. I obviously know that there is toxic behaviour shown by the characters and I would never want that in real life, but it’s really not difficult for me to separate what works in fiction vs. what works in reality.

This was a different time period, when rich and powerful people could just do whatever they wanted. Not excusing problematic behaviour, just explaining the entitled behaviour of some of the elites.

Seungho for sure shows extremely toxic behaviour. I think the point is that he is a problematic man who has trouble expressing emotions the normal way, and it ends up hurting those around him and those he cares about. He’s definitely an imperfect person who’s unpleasant to be around, but I think one thing the author wanted to show is that bad people are still capable of having emotions. By no means do I excuse his toxic behaviour. But I am all for showing that flawed people are still worthy of attention. We are still interested in what Seungho does in spite of his poor behaviour because we recognize that he is still a person.

I also recognize that Nakyum is woobified a lot. He’s constantly put in situations where he is the victim and he doesn’t/can’t fight back. In the latest event with Jihwa ordering Nakyum’s kidnapping/murder, the Nameless one had threatened Nakyum’s life so that he wouldn’t reveal the fact that he’d kidnapped him, and that caused all of Seungho’s meanness in the past few chapters. I recognize that whump is a popular trope, but usually because it ends in comfort. (I specifically can’t enjoy whump if it doesn’t end in comfort) It sets up a situation in which it feels reasonable for the victim to receive comfort. Again, this is stuff that I only enjoy in fiction. I recognize that in real life, people shouldn’t have to get hurt to be worthy of love and care. But I can see why people may say that Nakyum being the victim might be a problem.

Other

I thought Jihwa & the Nameless one were going to be a side pairing from the moment I saw the Nameless one’s jaw lmao. It was angular and I was like, that’s a handsome man’s jaw. I’m glad that Jihwa realized before hurting Nakyum that he couldn’t possibly fix his relationship with Seungho anymore. He recognized that even with Nakyum out of the picture, Seungho wouldn’t want to come to him. Seungho’s mind would always be filled with Nakyum, and if Seungho had found out that he was behind the murder, he’d hate Jihwa even more. Like Nameless one, despite the despicable things that Jihwa had done, I did pity him. He was in love with Seungho for a long time, and thought that giving him everything he wanted (including letting him have sexual relations with others) would endear himself to Seungho. But they were just not meant to be.

But Min implied that Jihwa had crossed the line already this time by kidnapping Nakyum. After the happenings of Chapter 66, Seungho’s going to have a field day with Jihwa and I’m not sure how he’s going to get out of that one. Not sure if Nameless one can do anything to help.

I don’t know how long this manhwa is supposed to be, but there are several story lines other than Seungho x Nakyum that haven’t been addressed yet. Like I said, I think we’re going to see Jihwa x Nameless one expanded upon a bit. There’s some stuff going on with the Yoon family, since Seungho’s brother keeps coming over. I wonder if Seungho’s going to try starting a career (this isn’t based on anything, I’m just wondering). And I also have a feeling that Inhun might return, which will likely force Nakyum to choose between Inhun or Seungho once and for all.

To be completely honest, I don’t want this manhwa to drag out for too long. For selfish reasons because again I don’t like waiting for ongoing comic chapters. I don’t know how long the manhwa is intended to be, but based on my paragraph above, it’d still take a lot of time for all of those loose ends to be wrapped up. But considering the fact that Seungho and Nakyum’s relationship is probably finally going to get better, hopefully we’re over half way through? Just me being hopeful.

Final

I didn’t write a full review for this on my Dreamwidth because, like, this comic isn’t even done yet. But as you can see, I enjoyed reading it. I feel like I’m missing a hundred things that crossed my mind while reading this. And there are a lot of interesting analysis posts on Tumblr and Reddit that are opening my mind to other interpretations too.

I had a BL manga phase when I was a teenager and now I’m like “...is it time to get back into it?” Lol. In any case, it’s interesting reading BL as an adult now because like I said, it’s so much easier to separate the fiction from the reality now. I can read BL purely as fiction while recognizing what tropes are not healthy, and they don’t diminish the story. It’s melodramatic because it’s exactly that: melodrama.

[icecreamkink]

so i watched cobra kai all in two days and i have so many -

this show has so many cool and smart angles to it, but the same time.... its so stupid oh my god everyone is so dumb literally mr miyagi held all of the braincells in this whole universe 

like i am but at the same time i am not surprised it was made like this, bc in hindsight of course there were hordes of ppl simping over johnny lawrence ....  but it still amuses me that this is like... an Actual Official Thing

ok this will get long so cut it is

how much fun this cast has is super visible and i love it

i rly enjoy how the world was expanded ! i did grow up watching the karate kid movies, so watching how they progressed the world of the movies so organically was pretty cool. it rly feels like its the same universe

i fucking LOVE stories that are largely about a Thing. dancing ,skating, sports its just so thrilling to experience this all consuming relationship people can have with this type of activity? and martial arts are just that much more intense, so yeah, grown ass men kicking each other around at the lightest provocation and a war veteran caring so much abt teen karate is Ridiculous.... but i love it all because thats the intensity i find so thrilling

was kinda surprised with how much im missing mr. miyagi. first because, like everyone is so unhinged jesus christo, it just really throws into relief how much his character grounded the narrative of the movies. but also hes just a really great character

and on that note it rly Gets Me that the show itself aknowledges that and plays that into daniels angst and all the little ways they sorta weave myiagisms into the whole show........ im not getting emotional over this dumb karate dads show OK

related - i really miss hearing ‘daniel-san’ 🥺🥺

ACE DEGENERATE oh god oh no

they really went down the down and out johnny lawrence route huh. like i was always kinda bummed we see kreese choking him and then we never see him again in the movies, and while i love dumpster fire problematic trash himbo ck johnny, its like......................... actually really sad that his life turned out like this fjngn

everytime i hear ‘babes’ and ‘pussy’ i die a little inside. i know thats the point but i am a v cringe easy person, have mercy (ehe)

loved the way they are constantly drawing parallels between johnny and mr. myiagi of all people. hes the handy man of his building that has a bullied kid asking for help and eventually steps up to teach them karate, beats up a bunch of bullies for him, creates a friendship with said kid, estranged from family, drinks his sorrows away, surprisingly one of the least quick to anger characters (which says more about everyone else really but.... Well.), no schemes or ulterior motives hes just tryna vibe here.... oh and ofc magically heals miguel of is asthma apparently. the true disciple.. meanwhile daniel is his usual messy petty self even tho he wants to be mr myiagi so bad 

also interesting about that is how miguels character is a parallel of both johnny and daniel at the same time

overall the parallels in ck are done really well, drawing comparisons and also subverting them constantly. theyre well thought out

THE PARALELOGRAMS

fr tho, the angle being explicitly the cycle of trauma and its effects and how trumatized adults in turn traumatize kids, maliciously or not, is so interesting

but! on the flip side of that, it feels like the writers are getting in their own way @ letting the characters grow. especially this last season. theres only so many times you can do "johnny and daniel are getting along but 5mins later they are (literally) fighting over some dumbass random issue" or "johnny puts in 20% of effort with robby and then gives up" before it gets on your nerves yknow?

i see daniel no longer talks like macchio ingested 15 shots of espresso before every take and idk how to feel about that tbh

interesting tension in daniel, as in, in tkk mr miyagi was there and daniel was frankly, kind of a lil shit, this messy petty spitfire hot tempered sassy kid,(johnny lawrence voice: just... stop being so annoying) but now hes the adult, and he wants to be mr. miyagi... but hes just not, and never will be to his very core and it shakes him and in a way hes trying to find who he is now that he sees himself in a position to be a not! cobra kai figure. i kinda really like that 

plus how that relates to his cobra kai trauma. idk if the writers thought abt it Like That, i think so, but in any case, its interesting bc it seems like daniel has told everyone whod listen about johnny lawrence his Pretty Boy Karate Rival and high school and 84 cobra kai... But. no one seems to know what went on in 85 (or 86? idk) which was just so much worse

like ye og cobras were shitheads, but tkk iii is just two hours of daniel being emotionally and physically tortured. 

like, the third movie is.............chaotic, to put it nicely, and many people ignore it, but the writers clearly didnt. daniels actions are, in a way, responding so much more to the events of tkk iii than to the first movie ie. johnny himself, AND. daniel doesnt rly seem to have dealt with that trauma? he never told sam? doesnt feel like hes ever told amanda? he doesnt even say terrys name out loud? freaks Out over kreese ? the way he reacts to robbys deceit? his FACE when he walks past the new "fear does not exist in this dojo" paint or kreeses photo? hmMm i sense Pain

his fashion tho........... disappointing. where are the flower shirts daniel huh we had one (1) shirt what a tragedy STOP WEARING SUITS ALL THE TIME . also the band ts/grunge bi are a look for johnny but part of me longs for the preppy lovable 80s bully chic johnny lawrence getups

weird that they never used that last moment of karate kid where johnny kinda... snaps out of his anger and hands daniel the trophy almost in tears. like “youre alright larusso, good match” “thanks a lot”  that being their last direct interection seems like itd be perfect fruit for cobra kai but... they just dont. weird. 

especially when, the FIRST SCENE they see each other, suposedly in 30+ years, the first thing to come out of daniels mouth is QUOTE "u still got those golden locks huh?" WHO SAYS SHIT LIKE THAT DANIEL FUCKING SAN 

also amandas immediate reaction "your pretty boy rival?" like. can we talk about the fact that daniel had to have imparted to his wife the very important information that his high school bully/karate rival was like Really Cute and Fucking Hot Actually

 the writers Knew exactly what they were doing and honestly.............. power to them

tkk director voice: and billy was just so cute  

also I was thinking that daniel sounded strangely fond in that first scene, and i wonder if he developed a weird affection for johnny on the grounds that of all of his Karate Rivals johnny was actually the only one who didn’t actively tried to literally kill him

i was actually delightedly surprised with how great the chemistry between them is, like from the get go i am Invested. their rl friendship totally bleeds through and its fantastic

. granted, idiots enemies to lovers friends is my Thing so i am biased  

johnny lawrence: i am down in the dumps, i fucked up my whole life and my sons probably, largely in light of the trauma that the father figure sensei and the philosophy of my karate inflicted on me and all my friends. u know what i should do, as a traumatized, unreliable mess of an adult? teach that same philosophy to some other kids! what could go wrong! 

but really i enjoy the setup of it. i kinda like that i watched it late because, season 1 was johnny setting himself up for failure in a way and it was exciting to watch it all go to shit sjfn

Like. his heart might be in the right place, but theres just.... not a way to teach something like ‘strike hard, no mercy’ and not have it fuck up a kid 

case and point: aisha, miguel and hawk become annoying as all hell over that bullshit in the end of s1, even before shit gets truly fucked up

billys subtle panicked eyes when he sees hawk and miguel fighting dirty in the all valley was SO GOOD especially in parallel with the panic that is so visible in his face in the movie when kreese tells bobby to injure daniel and in the sweep the leg scene 

seen people question wether kreese should have returned and i absolutely think he needed to. johnny needed to realize that cobra kais fundamentals are flawed, at the root, beyond kreese himself being a toxic piece of shit 

also who are we kidding? we are here to see the tkk characters play on new playgrounds!

i get what they're doing abt kreeses backstory, ( also. cobra kai. pq eles caem nas cobras djjs sorry) but did it need to take up that much time? feels like they couldve  done it in half the run time and developed some other stories better 

martin kove has such an evil eye. i love it

love that we get a good follow up to kreese breaks johnnys trophy and tries to CHOKE HIM in the parking lot, which happened in the movie and then....................... was never mentioned again

“the gang is all back together again” aaaa u piece of SHIT 

also. terry silver is definetely appearing ha ha ha PAIN i cant wait

seen ppl say kreese was too much of a cartoon villain like..........................oh......... sweetie........... u dont even Know

interested how johnny will fit into that bc kreese was simping rly hard for johnny here. like i did not expect him to be so adamant to have him with cobra kai ... under his control, sure, but he really wants johnny by his side despite already having control of the dojo and how will terry silver self appointed jon kreeses forever simp going to feel abt that? 

like bitchs dropping by every episode like ‘joooooohnny ..... come bacc to me joooonny......... this ur last warning! for real this time johnny! i wont say it again! watch me ! im leaving johnny! im rly leaving ! im dragging a chair” and johnny is just like. dont let the door hit ya bitch it was so funny pls

and on that subject oof, johnny! doesnt! Know! he doesnt get that side of daniels cobra kai trauma. and i kind of.............. cannot wait for ck 2021 johnny lawrence to meet terry silver like. what a shit show i need a front row seat and popcorn (imagine terry tries some greasy charm and johnny just roundhouse kicks him in the teeth bc he just doest Not Have the Patience for This. glorious)

feels like we, as a society, should acknowledge that cobra kai will never die................ bc their sense of design is just chefs kiss. their name is COBRA KAI. they have sexie sleeveless black gis. theyve sneks. colorful leather jackets with embroided naja insignia, the get ppl thru the aesthetics. evil geniuses

the flashback cuts : masterpiece behavior

the other takes!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! of the movie!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! the differente angles!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! of the FIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THE CLOSE UP ON JOHNNYS FACE AT THE KICK 

that scene of daniel and johnny vibing to 80s music in the car. just. oh my god. the fan wish fullfilment. no thoughts head empty.

the new characters! theyre .... good. but. idk. i really like miguel (save for the annoying phase mid s1 - end s2) and amanda, who is a damn riot and has some functioning braincells, but everyone else is       

like dont get me wrong, i dont hate anyone,its not a jane and rafael from jtv situation,  and i am interested and invested in their arcs, but i wouldnt say i like   Like them, as in, personality wise 

like, sams grappling with ptsd was rly gutting and i enjoyed that plus her slight rage issues, 

which nicely parallel torys rage issues. torys background is all over the place tho so im pretty on the fence abt her so far

robby deserves better in every way, and i like how smart and cunning and surprisingly sweet he is

hawk............... is there i guess,

 demetri is annoying in the best way possible,

 carmen is sweet but. i just feel like her character is blunted to make the johnny relationship easier. like when shes furious with him after miguels injury but then forgives him like an episode later? and then convinces him to fight for the tournament bc she had a karate epiphany off screen even tho she was always against it? meh. feels like with the plot thiccening she was swallowed and now shes like a crutch for johnny mora than anything, which is disappointing.

aisha was cool and im kinda mad she wasnt in s3, especially bc a storyline with her tory and sam was like RIGHT THERE , but also... cant say i was super super fond of her... doesnt feel like we ever spent enough time on her

moon the bi icon, 

overall its a good cast but the main draw for me remains the og cast 

the tory/sam miguel/robby Thing. enjoy how theyre Narrative Foils and i like how their stories were so dramatically entangled but oh god give me a break with the teenage love square for the love of god. if u gonna put us through that at least have the decency to not make it so straight

and honestly some sam/tory        miguel/robby romantic tension would even make more sense. just saying! 

also im not sure how i feel abt the cobra kai: red miyagi do: blue theyre going with since some of daniels most iconic looks in tkk are also red. like it was a color they (johnny and him) sorta shared. i get it, opposite but complementary but idk... a little too fire nation and water tribe for me .

 and like the cobra kai kids are so funny abt it bc their outifts grow progressively more ridiculously coordinated. its like do they group chat every morning before leaving their houses? 

robby still sticks out like that tho. he went thru an athleisure/daniel san tsleeves phase and now hes back in the bandts grunge, but his color scheme doesnt fully blend with the other cobra kais. hmmmm.

LOVED LOVED LOVED both the okinawa episode and the cobra kais easy rider episode just such good good heart aching fun

bobby is an icon. he was in tkk and he is now ck hope appears more and more

 tommy is like the most iconic background character. all his lines, freaking gold then and now. sigh :( 

the framing in the okinawa trip was so good everything was so good

i stand by the fact that kumiko was the love interest daniel had the most chemistry with and shes is overall such a joy to watch, loved to see her again, idola, fashion icon

also tkk ii is good u guys are just mean

also really enjoyed chozens role in the episode, his evolution; i love that they introduced the pressure points (ty lee the blueprint) and! the honk + karate! cousins! absolutely iconic

when kumiko reads mr miyagis letters........ oh my god, my eyes FILLED with tears, it was so heart wrenching :(( tamlyns delivery was so emotional and lovely and its so obvious everyone involved in ck has so much love and respect for pat morita and mr miyagi as character, and i adore that it exists like this electric current through the show

when we were watching i told my sister i thought that ali would be miguels big shot surgeon and ngl i am so disappointed that didnt happen. hire me cobra kai writers

also the johnny ali daniel amanda chemistry? off the charts

AND the sassy retconning of daniel and alis breakup! LMAO ‘I HOPE U DIDNT TELL MR MIYAGI IT WAS MY FAULT’ HFDJJGNKFKSD

i am preeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeetty sure back injuries dont work like that    but oke

daniel and johnny are so good together whenever, like they never actually help the kids or get shit done and end up fighting anyway but its just so much fun when theyre hanging

JOHNNY LAWRENCE AND DANIEL LARUSSO FIGHTING TOGETHER

daniels “plan” on how to get robby to juvie was so stupid. literally were u TRYING to make him hate you. dumbass

parents at those hearing rly brave for ppl that did not do ANYTHING as their kids got involved in a karate gang war until now

“bullshit i heard u were the real bully!” i mightve screeched

this s3 ending was SO DRAMATIC omg

everyone is such a MESS go to THERAPY u unhinged motherfckers

also im sorry but uh. a richass neighborhood in california doesnt have some type of neighborhood watch? the larussos rly dont have any security at all? neighbors wont hear the sound of a damn karate brawl happening next door??? also wasnt tory all like ooo i cant go to juvie, my mom yada yada yet shes always running around town getting into fights even at the rich girls house she was kicked out of school for fighting??   ?  ??    ??        ?                ?    ?          ??                  ?    ? girl??

stop destroying the larussos house, its so pretty :((((

sam finding her center looking at mr miyagis picture...  uwu maybe

robby yelling ‘U ARE WEAAK’@  johnny \as he is easily blocking him is like.... so funny and so sad to me. sweetheart. 

also i know it was meant as ‘oh johnny pushes him and HURTS HIM’ but it just looks like robby runs himself into the lockers and IM SO SORRY I FEEL SO BAD BUT IT WAS SO FUNNY 

i like that he and tory are the cobra kai kids now. we need ppl we care abt there to not revert to a good vs evil schtick, and this is the most engaging it could be... tho it hurts that these kids cant catch a break

ah yes "lets bet some real shit on the result of this teen karate tournament bc that is always a great idea" is BACK

so daniel saves johnny from kreese..... maybe johnny will save him from terry 🧐

and dojos unite ohohoho. lets SEE how that’ll work out 

miguels face of Despair when the ck defectors and the md kids are bickering like 'this is never gonna work' : gold

also. Johnny Lawrence is gonna learn some myiagi-do karate AHAAHSJAKDFH

 ive been waiting for this moment all my lifeeee oh lawrd 

final thoughts! there are def things i hope the writers will improve on the next season, but i am very excited for it either way AND i feel like it has made me enjoy the movies even more and that is a win for a reboot/sequel to me!!

[nalyria]

God Michael! 🤣🤣 I finished playing Shadows of Saintsfour about two days ago during the Freeplay event and my LI was Michael.

I played SOS awhile ago but didn't get pass season 1 because I thought the series was super predictable which made it boring, but WOW DID IT PICK UP IN SEASON 2, esp 3!!! I can't believe it got better within those 2 seasons. I thought the story would be dragging on for no reason, but was pleasantly surprised that season 3 and season 2 were tied together with 1. And they existed in one cohesive story! I can't believe that I would have never, and I mean NEVER, would have touched this story again if it wasn't for the Freeplay event. I completely underestimated this story... I would have missed out this gem. Now I see why this is one of the more well-liked and popular book of the app now.

That being said, I love Michael. No not love, I ADORE him. Seriously.

I never screencap game moments but I had to for Michael. I never felt so much adoration for a character that made me want to do this 🤣🤣. I love the romantic scenes between MC and Michael and the conflict that was presented in season 2. And his asshole-douchery flaw....

In his next line, he says he's worried about you. He's just worried, but still Michael, no need to bring your girlfriend's friend down. ESPECIALLY WHEN THAT FRIEND HAS BEEN WITH HER THROUGH THE THICK AND THIN THAN YOU DID IN SEASON 2 and 1!!! (ofc Michael saved MC's life in season 1, but Derek has been sticking with MC when Michael hasn't, which is alot)

However, his sweetness towards MC is altogether too much. I wish he had more interaction with her friends tbh. But now I present the last line (I think) and perhaps the best from Michael...

So sweet 💕. Gosh he is still fallen head over heels for us 😳😭 like the first time. The sex scene with him was also so sweet... the line said everytging about him is familiar, yet there is something new to discover. 🥺I love how protective he is of MC and how absolutely loyal he is to her. He runs away with her FFS!!!! He leaves a gang and family with an equally traumatized brother just to be with her. He leaves everything for MC and if that doesn't scream Bae material, I don't know what else. He is the epitome of a ride or die partner and I cannot, I don't think, can feel the same attachment to the other LI's in this book. Probably John though lol.

I was super anxious during the train station scene because I thought I didn't have enough points with Michael for him to run away with me and the writers made it seem so, so I tapped pretty fast, half reading the lines in trepidation. When I read that he actually came and then we held hands as the train departed... my heart... 😭💔💔💔💔 RC don't play with my heart like that 🤣🤣🤣

That aside, I wish Michael had a bigger role in season 1, 2, and 3. He did in season 1, but he stopped appearing frequently, esp in 2 and 3. I thought he would appear more often because he's MC's bf. And it would make more sense for both of them to search together. Even unromanced, it would still make sense for Michael to hang with MC's group because they're the only ones who are really actively looking for Bobby. This would have led to more dynamics and interest in MC's friend group..alas, this didn't happen. A missed opportunity IMO but I suppose his absence could be explained by this: he has his own life. Lol. Or a different way of doing things. Still doesn't really make sense to me, but oh well. I still very enjoy his route and his development nonetheless.

I also wish other LI's had more moments with MC. I heard Stephanie was sidelined, not sure though because it was as though the main love interests would only appear around the time our chosen love interest appears. Not sure how much that is true since in season 1 I didn't romance her. Strange how she barely appeared in my route though. I thought she would help us more or become part of the gang, but she didn't. Disappointed because I would have def liked another best friend besides Candy and again, more layer to the friend group. Her interaction with Michael would have def be interesting.

I also wish that non-romanced main love interests appeared more than the Black dragons. To me, I don't think their role fit with the story very well if you think about it. Luke and Stephanie def would. Stephanie's grandma is acquainted with Mrs. Hill and is a witch; Luke's family's hold over the cursed painting. I wish the black dragons' appearances were at least shared with the non-romanced ones. Like I wish I knew what Luke and Stephanie were up to in detail. It was seriously strange for Luke to not be around when Bobby was missing and that he never tried contacting us. In both seasons 2 and 3, I couldn't stop wondering what they were up to and missed them (although Luke drugged us lol).

So imo, the black dragons' role should def be less than Luke and Stephanie. Definitely weird, but it is what it is.

Speaking of the Black Dragon's, Aaron is a hot daddy. Like GOD DAMN. I couldn't help but flirt and kiss with him although I was scared that it might ruin my relationship with Michael 🤣🤣🤣. Cherry.. i would like cherry if he was drawn better. At first, I couldn't like him because of his sprite but his personality is ahh, so mischievous, I love it. I would have picked Aaron over cherry though LOL.

I would replay season 3 to romance them again, but the scenes are very few and I already played most of them. I'm just missing their final sex scenes really, so it's not really worth it to replay the entire season just to get their ending and final sex scene lol.

I can't bear to cheat on Michael with Aaron or cherry, I can't do him dirty like that. Like for FFS, Aaron married Luke's sister and we never, at least imo, build the same heart wrenching connection we do with Michael compared to them. And the fact that he freaking left everything in his life for 10 years to be with us!! Like nooo I can't!! 🤣🤣 there aren't enough scenes with the side characters to justify the cheating 🤣🤣 Michael is too gentle and sweet for the hurt.... but i did cheat on him with Derek HAHHAHA mostly because 1996 Michael wasn't available so I thought something happened so I was like ALRIGHT GUESS WE FUCKIN'. I was tempted to choose Derek over Michael because Derek has been with us more than Michael has. Not to mention, he really cares for MC. Wish there was a 3p ending with both of them 😭😭 they're both super loyal to MC and would lay their life down for her.

The same thing with John too. I can't bear to see Michael grieving over MC and MC picking John over him... can you imagine Michael dying and finally seeing his dearly desired dead gf in DreamWorld but only to see her gettin' it down with some guy who tried to kill everyone in the past? 🤣🤣🤣 nah man I can't do him dirty, especially when Michael saved us from the Faun. Speaking of that event, it was weird that there wasn't a conversation/consequence from Michael who saw John kiss us LOL. And he definitely heard us talking about the intimate moments we shared HAHAHAHA. Though, John's short route is terribly cute. I really enjoyed it tbh. Surprised that we didn't have any repercussions for cheating on Michael with him. Moving on, I watched his ending on YouTube and it was super bittersweet.😭

I honestly like his route a bit more than Aaron's. Or equally. Can't decide! Aaron's route is basically MC still in love with her old crush who used to intimidate her and was exciting since he's someone you wouldn't acquaint yourself with, especially as a young, inexperienced student. And then coming back as a mature woman, and still knowing that you're in love with him and he is still too, ah so cute. That moment you share with him in the snow on the swings 💕💕. Honestly I feel like that moment MC needed a proper adult figure to comfort her so that scene was a bit weird and made me think, hm, MC is probably crushing on him because he is older, hot, and is sort of providing a parental comfort to her lol. In my HC universe, MC crushes on him, but it quickly dies because she was vulnerable in the moment. I'm happy that that moment didn't escalate any further and that Aaron didn't chase MC unless MC did in the end. It would have been very weird because it would have been a moment where he, as an adult figure, take advantage of MC. Then again, it's fantasy/fiction. To each to their own eh? I still enjoyed it. I honestly could personally relate to the line where Mc says that the experience and age (something like this) provided comfort to her, so that moment felt awfully sweet to me.

In the end, there could only be so much you can push in in a story game app.

I still really enjoyed this story. Despite the flaws I pointed out, I love this story to every bits. I find this much more entertaining than SOTF, so I'm glad that it is written the way it is. Perhaps I should write a post about SOTF in the future since I'm close to finishing it, but I don't think I will since I don't like it much.

[mcheang]

“Your Son deserves better than that Friend of his, Nino.”

This is a draft but you can see my mind plan out how Lila takes action as it bounces from one idea to another. I am sad to say this fic hardly has Lila salt but it does have Adrien salt

We have seen Lila take action against her love rivals, but she has yet to fulfil her promise about Nino.

It’s a shame because Nino has been so helpful to Lila yet she looks down on him as you can see in the picture. (She is not putting on the frown for Gabriel’s sake since her back is to him). It is possible Lila is aware of Nino’s actions as the Bubbler and know he and Gabriel have an antagonistic relationship.

So I am taking a look at how Lila took care of her competitiors to see if there is a pattern and whether it will be the same for Nino.

Kagami: sent a photo of her and Adrien to provoke the fencer, suggesting that Adrien has a close female friend, possibly his crush (it is possible Adrien cleared the air with Kagami)

Chloe: removed her idolization of Ladybug which distances her from Adrien since he loves Ladybug (not that they really bonded over Ladybug before)

Marinette: tried to paint her in a bad light and expel her. (Utter failure. Adrien stood up for Marinette and pressured Lila to reverse her actions)

Basically in respect to the above, Lila has crushed hopes, destroyed common ground, and framed someone. I don’t see a pattern so I have to go with that she will try something new.

Why does Lila dislike Nino? Hard to say. But maybe she hates competition of any kind. She wants to be Adrien’s only confidante.

Mmm. Good luck with that, NOT! Adrien has been acting distant with Lila. Friendly, but distant.

It would be great if Lila could replace Nino, but that would be hard. Most of the class is team Adrienette and the girls won’t want to help Lila get alone time with Adrien.

Nino might be persuaded to switch project partners, but after Oniichan, Lila was doubtful Adrien wanted to have anything more to do with her after school, and Alya was sure to have warned Nino to stop setting up study dates for Adrien unless it was with Marinette.

Yeah, Gabriel wanted the Nino influence gone after Party Crasher, but Lila had been working on framing Marinette then.

Now that Marinette had been declared off limits by Adrien himself, Lila had been told to take care of Nino.

Well, the frame up won’t work twice. Even if she got someone else to the do the accusing, Adrien would suspect her involvement. And the idiotic faculty could possibly be more thorough in their investigation after Marinette’s expulsion had been proven unjust.

She could easily distance Nino from Adrien by encouraging Alya to spend more time with her boyfriend. But Marinette would probably take Nino’s place, and that was not what Lila wanted.

The best thing would be to partner with Adrien first thing. That way none of the girls would be needed or could protest the arrangement. But projects were usually deskmate paired or random draws out of a hat. Too risky.

What if she spread word and made Adrien look bad? That’s an idea.

Felix had already shown how quickly the class could turn on Adrien. What was their reasoning again? Oh yes, he’s friends with Chloe, they don’t know him that well. Only Nino and Marinette stood up for him. Two bird, one stone.

Lila can’t get Adrien to miss parties, not when Marinette makes sure he can attend them.

What can she use? Adrien is naive and obtuse to others’ feelings.

As Lila talks to the girls who gush about Adrienette, Lila sighs about how she hopes Marinette won’t get hurt again. After all Adrien asked her to plan a double date with Kagami. Can you imagine how painful it must have been for Marinette? And Marinette actually threw a party for Chloe of all people, just because Adrien was upset Chloe had left for New York. Didn’t Adrien know Marinette and her parents were on the train that Chloe sabotaged so she could make herself look good, but needed help from Ladybug and Chat Noir? Of course, Marinette would not be happy about the reminder about Queen Bee. She could have died in that train accident.

This instilled doubt in the girls about Adrien and their worry for Marinette.

When Chloe keeps on bullying the class, Lila shakes her head and asks Nino why doesn’t Adrien try reasoning with Chloe. Nino points out that Adrien values Chloe since she is his first Friend. Lila frowns and mutters that he didn’t try hard enough. All Chloe had to do was throw a party and all was forgiven. If Adrien didn’t care about how the rest of them felt, he should at least try to care for Chloe’s character.

Later that day, it was known that Nino and Adrien had a major argument. On the outside they were still friends, but were pretty tense.

Marinette tries to make excuses for Adrien but the girls and Nino point out that Adrien also rained on their parade when Chloe was about to leave for New York. Yes, he could be sad that his Friend left, but that shouldn’t mean Marinette had to feel bad either. All she did was point out the flaws in Chloe’s interview (especially since back then Chloe was only in a hero costume and nearly got people killed). The girls encourage Marinette that it is alright to say no to some of Adrien’s requests, especially if they hurt her.

Marinette was still trying to heal the bridge. Chloe was still friends with Adrien.

Lila no longer had total focus on Nino. She wanted to make sure the whole class isolated the model. (To Lila, she doesn’t need Adrien to be popular at school. She needs him to be popular on media.)

Lila manipulated Chloe once more, reminding her that everyone obviously views Ladybug on a higher standard than Queen Bee. Who could compare with Ladybug after all? Oh wait, Marinette could. She would make a great hero.

Chloe asks Adrien if he thinks Queen Bee should return. He disappoints her heavily when he agrees with Ladybug.

Chloe insults all the heroes in front of class, provoking everyone’s ire. Marinette stands up to Chloe and takes care of the matter.

Nino asks how Adrien could still defend Chloe, but his answer is that Chloe is still hurt by the fact that she can’t be a hero anymore.

When Chloe insults Rena Rouge, Nino steps up to defend his Girlfriend.

After school, Nino and Chloe make a spectacle and demand Adrien choose a side. He can’t. This actually makes them leave him until he can.

Marinette rushes over to Adrien but is stopped by the girls. They agree with Nino and Lila. Marinette has to stop making exceptions for Adrien. The girls literally have to drag Marinette away and keep telling her it’s time she accepted Adrien has flaws.

Marinette is forced to accept that truth but her feelings haven’t changed. She contacts Adrien and reminds him she is still on his side.

Nino feels upset about Adrien’s betrayal and is akumatized once again. He gets defeated.

The next day at school, Marinette acts as a bridge between Nino and Adrien. She admits that Adrien has flaws, but so does everyone. Can we blame him for having a soft spot for Chloe? After all he had been through, that should be understandable. Adrien may not be totally reliable to come to events or stopping Chloe, that’s true. Sure he’s clueless about friendships, that’s why they should set an example for him. After all, nobody can deny that Adrien does try, and he really does want to be friends with everybody. “Let’s not force him to choose between friends.”

To Adrien, Marinette accepts his friendship with Chloe but that is as far she will go. This soothes the class as Marinette is also learning to set up limits regarding Adrien.

Nino apologizes to Adrien for forcing him into that position. Adrien also says he is sorry for not trying to correct Chloe’s behavior.

Chloe had been listening and also decides to forgive Adrien because he was also one of her few friends when her Mother had left her behind.

Lila is upset at her failed plan. She complains to Gabriel that they need to take care of Marinette because she keeps fixing things. Gabriel scoffs that at least Marinette shows potential if Lila cannot even best her a second time, irking Lila but not nearly enough to akumatize her.

Adrien thanks Marinette and asks if she wants to go to eat ice cream at Andre’s. Her lecture that Adrien was not reliable reminded him that he skipped their ice cream meet up before on purpose and he felt bad. He wants to make it up to her and treats her to the ice cream

[maluminspace]

Genre: fluff/light angst

Pairings: Reader/Michael Clifford/Calum Hood

Word Count: 2.5k

Requested: by @trick-r-teeth​ for spooky!sos 2019

Trigger Warnings: haunted house attractions/jump scares/mild panic attack/strong language

A/N: This is my first attempt at writing a polyamorous fic including the reader 🙈 I hope it came out alright! I’m excited to know what you think ❤️

——

The queue for the haunted house attraction was as about as long as you’d expected it to be... ridiculously long.

Luckily for you, one of your two wonderful boyfriends had friends in high, albeit spooky, places.

Boyfriend number one, Michael Clifford, was currently having a long chat with one of his buddies at the ticket kiosk for the attraction, whilst you and the long suffering third party in your triad, Calum Hood, waited on a bench cradling warm cider drinks. 

“What’s taking him so long?” You grumbled, resting your head on Calum’s shoulder. “He’s only meant to be asking if we can go in yet.”

Calum wrapped an arm around you and pecked a kiss to your forehead. “Patience, sweetheart.” Your blue haired boyfriend chuckled. “With any luck, Luke will have changed his mind about letting us in for free and we can go home.” He shrugged.

“I wouldn’t even be mad about it.” You confessed, cuddling closer into Calum’s side. “We could just go home and drink hot chocolate whilst we watch scary movies and make out..”

Chuckling softly, Calum tightened his arm around your shoulders. “There’ll be plenty of time for that later, sunshine.” He promised.

You grinned at the pet name Calum had used for you since the day he’d declared your triad official. He had one for Michael too, one that you’d found yourself adopting too, as time went by. Not that ‘Angel’ seemed all that appropriate for the blonde ball of excitement that you were currently waiting for.

As you say there with Calum, you couldn’t help thinking that the whole ‘being chased around a spooky house’ thing wasn’t really your idea of a perfect date. You’d agreed to it now, though, even if it was only because you wanted to get into the Halloween spirit more this year.

As Michael finally turned to head back to you, he had the biggest smile on his face. It seemed like your vague hope that Luke had changed his mind about letting you in, was slipping away by the second. 

“Luke booked us a slot at eight.” Your eldest boyfriend grinned as he jogged up to the bench and plonked down beside you. “Just enough time for us to finish these ciders!”

Calum passed Michael the cup that was resting on the bench beside him. “Good, maybe this whole thing will be more fun if I’m a little drunk.” 

The blonde man pouted, his impossibly pink bottom lip jutting out like that of a stroppy toddler. “You don’t want to do this?” He asked, a note of genuine disappointment in his voice beneath the sympathy craving whine.

Calum’s expression softened a little as he deliberately brushed his fingers over Michael’s when he passed the cup of cider. “We’ll do it for you, angel.” He replied gently. “It’s only fair that we all choose an activity to share with the other two.”

Nodding, you reach out to hold Michael’s free hand, tangling your fingers with his. “Yeah, I’m gonna make you watch every 80’s slasher movie I can think of.” You grin, excited to share one of your favourite parts of Halloween with your boyfriends for the first time.

“Yeah?” Michael asked, his smile brightening a little when you hummed your confirmation. “We should do that this weekend! I’ll order pizza and Calum can make us some spooky themed cocktails.”

Your youngest boyfriend rolled his eyes fondly as he grabbed Michael’s shoulder to pull him closer.

The blonde man giggled as he snuggled into your side so that the three of you were pressed together as closely as possible. “This is another reason why three is better than two.” You grinned as your boyfriends fixed you with confused glances. “Snuggle piles are even warmer!”

***

Ten minutes later, the three of you headed over to the ticket kiosk and the guy that Michael had been chatting to earlier grinned mischievously. He was dressed as some sort of ghostly butler, his grey face paint and spooky demeanour making you realise just how much you were going to hate this experience.

The bright smile on Michael’s face as he took the tickets was more than worth a half of hour of something you hate, though. He looked like a kid at Christmas as squealed between you and Calum, taking one hand from each of you. “This is gonna be fun.” He squealed.

“You’re ridiculous...” Calum huffed but the fondness I’m his tone betrayed just how much that spooky dork meant to him. 

You understand Calum’s feelings. Yours are pretty much identical. Both of your boyfriends have their quirks and flaws but you wouldn’t change a single one of them.

It comforted you, to know that Calum was just as apprehensive as you were about this whole experience. At least you had someone to share in your misery.

As the three of you made your way inside the attraction with a bunch of other Halloween enthusiasts, Michael’s growing enthusiasm almost made you forget how much you were destined to hate this.

“This is going to be so much fun!” The blonde grinned, dragging both you and Calum closer to the front of the little crowd. 

You exchanged a sceptical look with Calum before the two of you burst into nervous laughter. 

Luckily, Michael seemed to assume that you were both just as excited as he was for this little adventure.

Some woman dressed a floaty, old-fashioned white nightdress and ghostly make up gave a quick health and safety talk before a heavy wooden door was opened.

Thanks to Michael’s eagerness, you and your two boyfriends were among the very first to enter the dark room. Once everyone had filtered through from the entrance hall, the heavy door swung shut, plunging the entire room into complete darkness. 

After a few seconds there was a seemingly sporadic flash of light that illuminated the open space for a second. You just about managed to make out the shape of some ornate picture frames on the wall and what appeared to be large pieces of furniture covered with dust sheets.

It was only when Michael chuckled that you realised that both you and Calum had subconsciously clung to him, gripping an arm each. 

When the lights flashed again your were aware of faint figures moving erratically around the outskirts of the room, darting behind the large sheet-covered furniture.

Now it was completely official, you fucking hated this.

When the lights flashed for a third time the vague figures had become solid silhouettes. You had to remind yourself that they were only actors... They were just people dressed up and contorting their bodies into grotesque shapes. 

Upon the fourth flash, the actors scattered their ‘victims’ by running at the group, groaning, screeching or laughing maniacally depending upon their character. 

The lights finally stopped strobing after that. Settling into a dim red glow that cast eerie shadows and left far too many dark recesses for your liking.

You clung to both Calum and Michael as if you’re life depended on it. Every time you walked past something that appeared solid, an actor would jump out and it scared you every single time. 

The whole thing seemed far too funny to Michael as he led your little triad into the next room. At first it was pitch black, although you could hear footsteps and other eerie sounds echoing around you. 

When the dim red lights flickered to life you realised that it was a hallway that you’d stumbled into. There were various doors set into the wall as well as more sheet-covered items of furniture. 

Your heart sank as you realised that most of the passageway was too narrow for you and your boyfriends to continue walking side-by-side. The thought of walking through this hallway in single file was almost enough to make you cry. Michael was enjoying himself, though. You knew that this was a small price to pay to make him happy. Calum would agree with you, too, that was a given. 

A little group of giggling friends ran past your little triad, squealing giddily as they scampered down the corridor. You watched as they too, got chased onto the same room as the couple you’d seen a moment ago.

Deciding you just needed to stop being a baby, you straighten up, watching carefully as a couple up ahead of you got chased into one of the rooms by a gory ghost. 

As the three of you stepped forward, Michael took the lead, stretching his hand out behind his back for you to hold. Calum then manoeuvred you in front of him so that you were effectively sandwiched between your boys. 

It felt marginally safer to have a boyfriend to protect you from the and the back but you still couldn’t wait to be out of this fucking hallway. 

As you traipsed through the near-darkness, you tried to remember the exact spot that the actors were hiding in before they chased those other people. It was really hard to tell, but you thought you remembered and were somewhat relieved when you walked passed the little recess without incident. Maybe those actors had some compassion after all. 

Your relief was very short lived, however. As you neared the end of the corridor you noticed that the light was disappearing altogether and the sounds of other people being terrorised by actors were becoming fainter by the second.

“Mike are you sure this is the right way?” You asked cautiously. “Everyone else went into one of those rooms...”

“It’s like a maze in here, babe.” Michael replied. “There’re lots of different ways to get to the end.”

You had no reason not to trust him but you had a terrible feeling that you were going ‘off track’.

When it became clear that your group couldn’t go any further Michael was forced to try the one remaining door set into the wall beside him. You really hated the fact that it had a huge red ‘X’ pained in the centre of it.

You clutched both of your boyfriends’ hands as Michael led the way inside. The room was entirely black. There were no flashing lights or eerie red glow in this one.

“Mike I don’t like this...” you whispered as the door swung closed behind Calum. 

“Yeah, I don’t think this is right, baby.” Calum agreed. “Take us back to where those other people went.”

Michael huffed. “Fine, spoil sports!” He signed as he let go of your hand in order to head back towards the door. 

“We just want to get this over with, okay?” Calum groaned. 

“You two just have no sense of adventure!” Michael whined and you could hear the pout clearly in his voice. 

Calum made a disgruntled sound that also oozed impatience. “Just get us back on the right path, or I’m putting you on a sex ban for a week!”

As Michael made a distressed noise and began arguing why that shouldn’t happen, you heard a scampering sound and a faint giggle. 

“Can you two argue about this later?” You hissed. “I want to get out of here please!”

Your plea went unnoticed as your boyfriends continued to bicker. Before you had chance to ask them again, A faint light sprang to life at the other end of the room. It appeared to be the beam of a touch. 

“See!” Michael huffed. “We can go this way!” He swept off, his pace fast and determined as you scampered after him. 

You’d barley made it five steps when the silence of the room was broken by manic laughter and scurrying footsteps that echoed around the seemingly large open space. 

The torch light was moving now too, as though the person holding it was running away from you.

Even Michael seemed creeped out and broke into a run. You struggled to keep up with him and you hated not having his or Calum’s hand in your own anymore. 

For once, Michael proved too fast for you to keep up with. It was hard enough to see him in the first place, but when he veered off behind a stack of crates, you lost him completely.

Panicking a little, you turned around to try and see Calum but he seemed to have been left behind in your haste to keep up with Michael.

The torch light chose that moment to go out completely, plunging the whole room into total darkness as all the sounds stopped too.

You froze, listening to your own rapid breathing whilst you told yourself not to panic.

Just as you were about to call out to your boyfriends, a tiny voice whispered your name. It had to be Michael or Calum so you followed the sound cautiously. 

“Over here...” the voice hissed. “This is the way out...”

Your scared brain instinctively trusted the disembodied voice. You followed the sound behind a large pile of crates, hoping there’d be a hidden door there. 

“That’s right...” the voice whispered before calling your name again. It definitely wasn’t Michael’s or Calum’s voice, you could hear that now. 

Before you could call out to your boyfriends the torch light reappeared but this time it was right in front of you and it illuminated a distorted face - the gaping mouth, peeling grey skin and manic eyes pulled a loud, terrified scream from you. 

Before you’d even managed to gather your senses enough to run, all of the ceiling lights sprung to life, illuminating the large room fully. 

You were faintly aware of people laughing as you regained your senses. “That was great, Luke!” Michael giggled, appearing from the other side of the crates with a livid looking Calum.

“Thanks, man.” Luke smiled proudly, you guys were amazing subjects.” He laughed glancing between you and Calum. “I wish I could have filmed you.”

“That wasn’t funny, assholes!” Calum hissed angrily. 

“It was, though!” Michael argued, still laughing. If his smiling face wasn’t so beautiful you’d have been tempted to rip it off. 

“Your ban’s just been upped to two weeks, you little shit.” Calum growled, stepping forward to wrap you in a hug. “And I won’t even let you watch us either.”

Michael protested with a sulky noise but Calum silenced him with a look. Fuck, that man was hot when he was stern and/or angry. Luckily, Michael knew when to back to back down.

“Tough luck, mate.” Luke smirked at Michael. “Looks like you’ve got some grovelling to do.”

Calum turned to face Luke, his expression still foreboding. “Don’t even get me started with you, Hemmings!” He huffed. “I’ll find a way to get you back, too!”

Holding his hands up in surrender, Luke’s smile dropped a bit. “It was Michael’s idea...”

Your blonde boyfriend looked terribly guilty as his smile also faltered. “I promise I’ll make it up to you both!”

“Yeah, you can start by driving us home and making us hot chocolates, after that I’ll decide exactly what all of your punishments will be.” Calum sniffed as he pulled you close and lowered his voice so that only you could hear him. “We won’t let him get away with this, baby.” He promised, aiming a cheeky wink at you.

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