#the author asks thinking she's funny af

[readinglatenights]

I saw your looking for Spencer Reid fanfic reccomendations, can you share ones you’ve enjoyed I’m also looking for some recs? 😊

yessssss!!!! idk what specific fics you're into/what you've read, so i'm going to give basic but VERY necessary reads + my reviews off the top of my headd

Wlid nights, wild nights by persephonesgrace on Wattpad > JUST FINISHED READING THIS!! has jumped to my FAVORITE fanfic because of just how immersive and true to the characters it is. The story is something out of a real angsty romantic novel that you'd find at a book store. reader (Y/N) is an imperfect character that you just can't help but root for, and Spencer is written so perfectly. ALL OCS ARE ALSO VERY WELL WRITTEN AND COOL AF. You'll be left wanting more in the best way possible after finishing it.

Here to Misbehave by @imagining-in-the-margins on Ao3 (and tumblr) > age gap, but genuinely if you don't vibe with it, i highly reccomend this author!! such a great piece with a happy ending. also silly goofy meeting due to said age gap which i find funny af

Annoyance by Marli13 on Ao3 > SLOW BURN. ENEMIES TO LOVERS. HAPPY ENDING. I'M CRYING!!!!!!!!!!! She Has Found Me by dontkissthewriter on Ao3 > shorter fic that still sticks in my brain because I love the mutual pining. super sweet and spicy all at once that makes me kick my feet. some authors on tumblr i highly reccomend! - @reiderwriter - LOVED THEIR KINKTOBER - @golden1u5t - @fortheloveofwonderland - @reidsdaisies - @strawbeerossi - (their current story, August, is killing me.) - @reidmotif okay i can't think if any others right now... if you need more please ask me!!

[mayhemories]

reader x Neteyam not established (or Lo’ak) where reader jokes about finding Jake hot and Neteyam changes his hair to look more like his father 🤪 they goofy enough to take it too literally for REAL

Like Father, Like Son

Ok so, I know this was probs supposed to be goofy, funny, ha-ha (would've been goofy, funny ha-ha if it was Lo'ak vers.) but I can't write Neteyam without it being sweet bc he's just a sweet boy!! Hope this is still okay for you Nonnie <3 Also! I wrote this in the airport waiting for my flight jet lagged af with 2 hours of sleep

Pairing: Neteyam Sully x Reader (James Cameron’s Avatar) 

Requested: Yes | No

Warnings: none, just fluff. Kinda cringe and spicy if you squint

Words: 2.2k

Author’s Notes: 

Neteyam is 21, reader is 21. Lo’ak and Kiri are roughly 20ish. I’m gonna estimate Tuk is 7 or 8?

Please note that the reader utilises she/her pronouns. If you’d prefer male or gender-neutral pronouns in fic I’m more than happy to repost a male or gn version of the story, otherwise include any pronoun preferences in the request box!

Read Below the Cut:

“Hi kids!” Dr Max greeted you all, reaching for a fist pump with Lo’ak and Neteyam. Kiri made her ‘hello’s’ rather quick, as she rushed to Dr Augastine’s canister. Kiri found the time with her mother sacred, which you could understand. You often wished you had something physical of your own mother left, rather than just the Tree of Voices, but you knew Eywa had blessed the Na’vi in giving them that. And, you were happy for your best friend that she could watch her mother’s video logs. Although, sometimes you worried that Kiri would talk back to them, that she pretended to have a conversation with Grace with the same recordings. 

“Lo’ak, Neteyam, check it out, kids!” Norm said as he walked over to the three of you, a screen in his hand. “I’ve dug up some of Jake’s old footage and memories we extracted during the avatar program.”  Lo’ak snatched the screen from Norm’s tiny human hands. Flicking through the photos and videos of Toruk Macto, Olo’eyktan Jake Sully. Some of him in his old Sky Person skin, others in his avatar. Which you supposed is his body now. But he looked so very different, so young and carefree and if you were honest with yourself, pretty. Especially with his hair loose, small braids framing his face, and baby hairs resting around his forehead. 

“Oh, Dad was so sweet looking!” Kiri joked from behind the three of you, the new photos piqued her interest. Norm and Max shared a laugh. 

“Yep! Quite a looker! Had many a lady chasing after him.” Max joked with the kids, small chuckles rippled out of all of Jake’s kids. 

Lo’ak flipped the screen around, facing you, with a smirk he asked: “What do you think (y/n)? Think my dad is super hot?” You knew Lo’ak was only teasing you, only joking. But you could not help the violent, deep blush from rising to your face. Lo’ak laughed right in your face upon noticing it, making the whole thing so much worse for you. “Oh my god! You do!” He exclaimed.

You shook your head trying to divert attention, but the lack of your voice confirmed everyone’s suspicions. Kiri began poking you in the shoulder, “(y/n)! You can’t think of my dad like that!” 

“No, I don’t” You began the fruitless battle of denial. 

“Admit it! Admit it you find this photo of my dad hot!” Lo’ak nearly screamed, thrusting the screen closer to your face. All it did was make you blush more. 

It wasn’t that you found the photos of young Jake hot, per se. Obviously, he was, and still is an attractive male. There was no doubt about that. What had made you so obviously hot and bothered was the resemblance you saw in Neteyam. You always thought of Neteyam taking Neytiri’s features, and Lo’ak being more like Jake. But in this light, with this photo, Neteyam was as ripped, as sweet, and as attractive as this young photo of his father. More so. 

Thoughts of Neteyam made you hot and bothered on the regular, and this connection you had made in your head made it so much worse. 

“Well go on, (y/n), do you think my father was an attractive young man?” Neteyam asked, a slight smile but his teasing was not as cruel as his siblings. With a sigh of defeat and your head hung down, you would do anything Neteyam would tell you to. 

“Obviously I do.” You mumbled, covering your face in your slender hands in embarrassment, wishing you had not accompanied the Sully’s just this once.

The door to the lab flung open, little Tuk ran in, her braids bouncing as she did so, with a big smile the young girl cleaved the tension in the room in half. 

“Kiri! Kiri, Kiri, Kiri and (y/n)! Grandmother is looking for you two!” Tuk grabbed your’s and Kiri’s wrists, pulling you forward, “C’mon, hurry up! She said you guys are late for lessons.” You let Tuk drag you away from the conversation you wanted to wilt from, silently praising Eywa for her interruption. Kiri complained as usual. 

“Ugh, Tuk! Leave us alone!” 

Tuktirey did not leave either of you alone, instead marching you both to the T’sahik, like her little life depended on it. 

“Hey Norm,” Neteyam started as the two boys got up to leave the lab. “Can I take that tablet, with the photos of dad?” 

“Of course kiddo!” Norm said, handing the tablet to Neteyam, smiling as he did so. Norm often felt so lucky to have Jake, like a brother. And in turn, be an uncle to his beautiful kids. 

“C’mon bro, you’re so slow!” Lo’ak nagged on the walk back to the Sully residence. Neteyam walked slowly, which was unlike him. As he flicked through the young photos of his father. He would’ve been not all that much older than Neteyam in these photos. Neteyam felt himself get all hot and cold on the inside, like the acid in his stomach began to burn him. Neteyam was always jealous of Lo’ak for inheriting more of their father’s features. Neteyam knew he looked more like his mother. He also knew that Neytiri was extremely beautiful, as well as strong. And, he certainly did not think he was ugly. But he couldn’t help but wish he looked more like Jake. 

Especially now, knowing that you found these photos of his father…hot. Neteyam wanted to pluck his own eyes out and force them into his ears. He was already insecure when it came to you. He wanted nothing more than to be your lover, your mate, and the father of your children. He just never had the courage to really broach the topic with you. 

“Neteyam, what is wrong my beautiful baby boy?” Neytiri asked, running a hand over his head to cup his cheek. Since returning home from the lab this afternoon, Neteyam’s air was wrong, he was hurting.

“Mother, can you do my hair?” Neteyam asked, looking up at her through his eyelashes. He always did that, Neytiri mused. Since he was a baby, he would only ever ask for things looking up through his lashes. And how could she ever say no? 

“My Neteyam, your hair is already braided, it is already done.” Neytiri decided to push the topic further, there was no way Neteyam was this distressed over such a trivial thing. He has never cared what his hair looked like before. 

“No, not like this mother.” Neteyam reached out for a tablet laying beside him on the floor, firing it up he swiped until he found the young photo of Jake. “Like this.” 

Neytiri smiled, softly. She remembered taking that photo all those years ago. Jake had just taught her how to use the camera. She hated it, she hated most things the Sky People bought here. But she liked the camera, it allowed her to capture all of her loved ones forever. 

“Okay.” 

Neytiri set to work unbraiding her eldest son’s hair. 

“Anyway, so I definitely saw him talk to her, but I don’t think it was like that. He’s just not game enough.” Kiri was ranting about Neteyam, as the two of you worked grinding herbs into paste, and packing that paste into leaves to save them from spoiling. More specifically, Kiri ranted about how you and Neteyam haven’t gotten together yet, which you constantly had to remind her, will never happen. 

“Kiri, he is allowed to talk to whoever he pleases, whenever he pleases, however he pleases.” You said with a huff. 

“I’m just saying that if the two of you stopped pussyfooting around-” 

“Enough,” Mo’at said, entering the tent. Your stomach dropped as the T’sahik walked past, watching over the work you and Kiri had done. Kiri did not have the same fear of Mo’at as you did, you supposed that was granddaughter privilege. “And, I agree with my granddaughter, (y/n). You would make the perfect T’sahik to Neteyam’s Olo’eyktan.” Mo’at’s words made you blush. But also sweat. Sweat to the point you wanted to vomit to feel some kind of relief. 

This family, you swear to Eywa, will be the death of you.

“Grandmother, I have a question regarding the ceremony-” Neteyam walked in, bow across his shoulders, full warrior dress had been donned. You think Neteyam smiled at you, though you’re not sure, you think he said hello to Kiri and Tuk and the other healers in the tent but you did not hear him. 

You could not. 

Not when he looked like that. 

Neteyam’s hair had been redone, mirroring the photo of Jake you saw a few hours prior. Albeit a little longer than Jake’s had been, but the same style nonetheless. He looked beautiful, he looked just like Jake, but with the finesse of Neytiri’s finer features. 

You were speechless. 

That was not your Neteyam. What had he done with all of his gorgeous braids? One of your favourite things about Neteyam was how his braids swayed when he was angry, or how the beads clinked together when he was laughing. And, that they were Neteyam’s. 

“Your hair…” You stuttered, embarrassed that anything had come out of your mouth at all. Especially in front of Mo’at. 

Neteyam bit his lip nervously, one of his hands finding the back of his neck in anticipation. 

“Do you like it?” Neteyam knew the blood was pooling in his cheeks, causing a lilac tint to run across his nose and ears. 

“Oh, yes. Yes! I do like it, of course!” You said, falling all over your words. His evident blush making your blush more prominent. With all the people in the room, Neteyam had to fucking ask you with all these people in the room! What was he, insane? “But..but do you like it, Neteyam?” Now that you started, you could not stop, all the people in the room faded out of your mind. It was only you and Neteyam. 

“I, uh think it is different and makes me look more like my father,” Neteyam replied, sheepishly. He did not like the hairstyle all that much, but Neteyam knew his fatal flaw was wanting to be as close to Jake as he could. You hummed in agreement, it did make him look like his father.

“I like it better when you look like you, Neteyam.” Your pale eyes caught his bold ones, and you hoped and prayed that he could understand everything you did not say. You broke the eye contact, feeling as if he would undress you with his stare. But with confidence, you pushed through and said: 

“You are much more handsome than your father, Neteyam.” 

The smile that threatened to split Neteyam’s face in half was worth the anxious butterflies that had erupted in your stomach. You came crashing back down from your adrenaline high, and you noticed Mo’at had cleared the room out. It was just the two of you. 

“Thank you, my (y/n). That means a lot considering your flustered state earlier.” He teased you, and you let him. Poking your tongue out as Tuk taught you, as Neteyam made his way over to where you were sitting. He sat closer than what was friendly, but left a whisper of a space between you. Thighs almost touching. Your tail betrayed you, swaying back and forth anxiously.

“Can I tell you a secret, Neteyam?” You whispered as you tried to busy your hands with the mortar and pestle. 

“I would want nothing more.” Neteyam whispered back, trying to catch your eye. 

“I was so embarrassed earlier because I realised how much Jake looks like you. Or, I guess, how much you look like Jake.” You had the tendency to edit your stream of consciousness thoughts when you were nervous. Neteyam chuckled lightly, if it was not for his proximity you would have missed it. And, you decided in that moment, you never wanted to miss it. “I was embarrassed to finally be caught having those thoughts about you, Neteyam.” 

Neteyam felt as if he had been stuck by lightning, all of his blood fried by it, and confidence laid in his veins, instead. “Ugh, fuck it.” Neteyam cursed. He turned quickly, picking you up with ease and setting you down on his lap, your thighs straddling him. Naturally your hands found the hair at the nape of his neck, your thumbs moving to rub circles, massaging his tense jaw. Neteyam rested his forehead on yours, eye to eye, nose to nose. You giggled and the sound inflated Neteyam like no other. 

“Be my T’sahik. My grandmother is right.” Neteyam spoke softly, but it was deep, serious. No joke or trick to even be considered in the spaces between his words.

“I would want nothing more, my Olo’eyktan.” You sealed your promise with a searing kiss, you felt Neteyam’s whole body tense underneath you, as he tried to deepen it. You pulled away, desperate for air. 

“Will you fix my hair?” He asked softly. Despite what the two of you had just done, the position you were in, he felt bashful. No one except his mother has ever touched his hair. 

“Of course, my Neteyam.”

[kordyceps]

OK I mean obviously I'm reading your steter stuff on AO3 but I'd love to know if you have an all time favourite? Either your fave of your own work, or fave of another author's that you rec/reread/still think about a million years later (or both lol)

Oh man, okay, sorry for taking so long to reply to this ask! But it's such a good one and I unfortunately have the memory of a gold fish, so I needed to do Research™ (aka reread all my favs again lmao) so I could answer it properly. 😂

I only have one Steter fic of my own atm, so I guess that's my de facto personal fav for now…

But as for other folks' work, god, there are sooooo many great Steter fics out there!! So these are just a handful of my top favs, and definitely not a comprehensive list!

Five Times Peter and Stiles Troll the Pack by taylorpotato Rating: M | 2.5k | requires an AO3 account to read Stiles and Peter yell at each other in Polish, misleading the pack into think they're fighting, when in reality it's all just like completely fuckin' filthy dirty talk lmao. Short, but very funny, and such a perfect capture of their mischievous dynamic. 10/10, would recommend!

The Devil You Know by Twisted_Mind Rating: E | 11.6k Peter is there for Stiles when no one else is, and uses that to slowly manipulate his way into earning Stiles' explicit trust. And ooooh boy, is it so delicious and spicy. God damn! Cards on the table: this fic definitely won't be for everyone since it wades into some darker waters. But oh my god do I love love LOVE Peter's characterization in it. God, I feel like I could write a whole damn essay about this fic, but then I'd just end up spoiling the whole thing LOL. Just--if you like darker, manipulative Peter and enjoy your sweetness just a wee bit twisted, then 10/10 would recommend!

The Prince and the Pease by luulapants Rating: E | 47k | requires an AO3 account to read Medieval/Royalty AU where Peter is forced to cede his claim to the throne and become a "guest" of King Deucalion's as part of a peace treaty between the two kingdoms. Stiles, who is suspiciously far too mouthy for your average servant, is gifted to Peter as a bedwarmer. This one does such an incredible, masterful job at translating the characters into its setting and time period. The sass, the wit, the wordplay! You can definitely tell the author knows their shit, and my god is it fantastic. The plot itself is also so satisfying -- lots of great ups and downs, and, ugh, just so good! (Be sure to read p2 for the full ending btw!) Needless to say, 10/10, would recommend!

Keeping him (It's all about intent) by sittinginmytincan Rating: M (& E for oneshot sequel) | 121k Stiles winds up slingshotted into his own future, where it turns out he's married to Peter Hale of all people. His only way back is with Lydia's help, but she's gone mysteriously missing somewhere on the east coast while investigating some strange disappearances. Man, this fic….. I feel like the writer for this one must have received a checklist of things I'm into and decided to mark nearly every single one of them lol. Time travel, woke up married, magical theory, an enthralling af plotline -- and it's so thorough. Like, everything is so incredibly well thought out, the characterization is on point, and the development of Stiles and Peter's relationship is just chef kiss. Definitely 10/10, would recommend!

The Striking Complication by aurevell Rating: T | 118k I don't even want to write a summary up for this one because the mystery of it all and peeling back what's happening piece by piece is, imo, the best way to experience it. This story is intense as fuck, near relentlessly oppressive, and impossible to put down. It keeps you constantly at the edge of your seat as you try to figure out what is going on and how Peter and Stiles will survive it, with these heart-wrenchingly sweet breather moments sprinkled throughout. If you enjoy time loop stories, this one is an absolute must read! 10/10, would recommend!

build-a-beau by veterization Rating: E | 41.5k Tired of his dad always worrying about him being single, Stiles decides to pay for a fake boyfriend service so he can finally get his pops off his back about it. It goes about as well as one can expect a fake texting boyfriend you accidentally catch real feelings for can go lmao. This fic is wonderfully witty, with really fantastic banter between the two of them, and it's just so very fun getting to watch the pretend part of their exchanges slip more and more into something genuine. 10/10, would recommend!

Under the Songbird's Wing by mia6363 Raing: E | 87k Stiles is captured and held in captivity alongside Peter, Deucalion, and Satomi Ito. To survive, Stiles runs through lacrosse drills and tells stories, eventually persuading his fellow cellmates out of their shells and establishing a profound, unbreakable bond between them. This one is HEAVY, folks. Like, heavy heavy. But, god, it's also such a beautiful exploration of the characters and the bonds they develop through shared captivity. I don't even know what more to say, really, it's just haunting and lovely and awful and wonderful all at once. In the mood for something that hurts? Then 10/10, would recommend!

[little-mouse-adventures]

I haven’t been able to make much project in my reread courtesy of coursework, but your tags about your own reread and thoughts was really cool so… how has your reread been, which has been your favorite to reread so far, and what are some of your thoughts? I always enjoy seeing them!

😈okay so i have about a million thoughts, all the time, about the Artemis Fowl series.

but this reread - which has been going great, thanks for asking!! - has really reminded me how much of a comedy the whole series is. Not just the deliberate snappy one-liners, but the whole premise of a lot of the books is inherently funny. Like...I'm just over halfway through TAC right now, so most of what's in my head is from the latter half of the series, but the entirety of TTP with Little Artemis being the worlds most irritating ten-year-old and Older Artemis recognizing that, and then doing the bare minimum to change the way he interacts with people is hysterical. (The reason the St. Bart's authorities wouldn't let Butler on the grounds is because they are hoping that if someone tosses Artemis into a trash can for being a smarmy little monster, he might learn something, but no one will be brave enough to do so with Butler hanging around.)

Also, No1. He's probably my favourite character to read about this go, he's just so sweet and lovely, but I noticed this time around that he's apparently around 14. The same age as Artemis. And despite TLC introducing us to Minerva in an attempt to show 'look how far Artemis has come from being nothing but a young genius interested in his own gains!' (which she does, don't get me wrong), the book also shows that a literal demon warlock from another dimension is still so much more of Just Some Guy than Artemis is. Fourteen-year-old Artemis is wondering how he's going to get away with lying to his parents about his various criminal enterprises, and No1 is just thinking "I don't like school, and I wish I had more friends :("

In terms of straight up style of the books, I do find the shift at about TLC from a mostly action-focused series to a more introspective POV fascinating. The first four books are very much written in a sense of "Here is the narrator, telling you that Action A happened, and then Action B. Character A thought X about Action C while it happened." whereas the latter books are lot more stream-of-conciousness of the characters through third-person limited POV, rotating between the main cast. For example, in TAC, when Butler is off in Mexico to rescue Juliet, the entire section about him finding and entering the wrestling ring is written as though we are riding around in his head:

Around the back, he decided. The story of my life....How old do I have to be? he wondered. Come to think of it, with all the time travel and fairy healings, I'm not even sure how old I actually am anymore.

Compare that to AF, when Butler is getting Juliet out of Holly's holding cell and winds up trapped in the foyer of the Manor:

And on any other day, Butler would have moved. He would've been halfway up the stairway before his brain had time for second thoughts. But today he had his baby sister over his shoulder spouting gibberish, and the last thing he wanted to do was expose her to murderous assault fire.

While both are past-tense, and both give us insight into Butler's thought process and desires, the change in perspective from essentially looking in on Butler's thoughts in AF as opposed to the more personal and direct communication of those thoughts in TAC is wild. We really get a lot more sense of the characters as individuals, and I applaud Colfer for handling such a broad cast with different personalities so well in the latter style! It's hard to get different character voices, and when you are trying to really get inside their head, as opposed to just note down what they say, it's a huge accomplishment to do so well.

[madaboutmunson]

A Friend in Need's a Friend Indeed

I Think I Could Have Been Someone - Chapter 4

Ao3 Link

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Link to fic overview and all parts

Chapter Summary: Steve POV of the aftermath of meeting Eddie for the first time

Author Notes: This is a mature story, definitely 18+ only. Note specifically for this chapter: Don't Panic lol :D

Tags/Warnings: rockstar!AU; band; touring; music industry; alternate universe; drug usage; alcohol abuse; performing; enemies to lovers; road trip; stobin; platonic stobin; platonic with a capital P;

Word Count: 4.5K

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Fuck! Steve's mind screams. He finally got what he wanted and then proceeded to gradually fuck it up over their meeting. He just wasn't expecting him to look like that. It completely threw him.

Steve had worked with photographers before, models too, and had been a model himself, so he's been around the handsome and the hot more times than he would care to remember. He could just look in the mirror. There was no denying this Munson was attractive, like smokin’ hot, but he was also other things. Cute, funny, vulnerable, intriguing, and so different.

He pulls out a chair from the table, drops down into it and bows his head forward, cradling the back of his head in his hands and tries to take a few deep breaths.

The truth of the matter was he didn't know this guy, he didn't remember him, and all he had to go on was his work, not even his socials, that Steve almost religiously stalked before they took his ability to do that. But not even they showed his face, just his work.

And what a face.

Those huge brown eyes, long lashes, perfect jawline, pretty pillowy pout. It was like he's manifested this whole situation way too hard, and now it’s gonna be a problem.

Steve gets up from the chair and races up the stairs to the windows that look out onto the driveway. He can see the car being loaded, and one of Buckley's team is talking to him. Eddie shakes his head, and those dark, wild curls and waves bounce around his face as a huge, toothy smile appears. Wow, he was pretty.

"Everything ok, Mr. H?" Buckley asks stoically, and Steve nearly jumps out of his skin.

"Fuck, you scared the shit outta me!" Buckley just smiles in response, and Steve can't resist a smile and soft laugh back, "Suppose that's what makes you so good at your job." He looks out of the window. Eddie is frantically typing on his phone, then back to her. "I'm gonna head up to my room. Wanna join me?" He asks carefully, looking around.

The glance she returns is knowing, "I thought you might need my assistance."

She removes one of her walkies and hands it to her nearest minion, "Here, you're in charge until I'm back. Only contact me in an emergency!"

They make their way to the lift and ride it in silence until they reach the top floor and then walk down the long, ornately decorated corridor until they reach the small set of spiral stairs going up to Steve's actual bedroom.

Once on the other side of the door, Buckley turns on some loud music. Steve sits on the four-poster bed and begins undoing some of the drapes, so they fall closed. Eventually, they both disappear inside.

"So whaddya think?" Steve says, removing his shirt and throwing it out of the drapes.

"Think of what?" She says, her nose crinkled in annoyance, as she undoes her protective vest and belt and tosses them onto the floor on the other side of the bed.

Steve rolls his eyes, "Of the photographer. Munson. Eddie," the heavy dose of swoon on the last version of his name is accompanied by a sigh from Steve and an eye roll from Buckley as he kicks off his trousers through the draped fabric.

"Isn't it enough that he's finally here?" She says, a little exasperated, kicking off her boots to the floor, "OK?" She says, gesturing to herself, and Steve shakes his head.

"Probably the hat and shirt too." A bit fed up, he says, "Sorry,” he gives a half-awkward smile and averts his eyes, “Just after the other morning in the party room with that blonde guy, they've been on my case again." 

"I swear to god, Steve, you owe me big time for this. If this leaked, my girlfriend would be mortified." Robin complains.

"Yeah, well, it's not gonna leak, is it? Because you're head of security. Also, she knows you've got no interest in guys." He says quickly as he leans back on the bed, hands clasped behind his head.

"And if it leaks, Steve, and if my girlfriend is embarrassed because everyone has seen her lesbian partner disappear into bed with Steve Harrington, you know what happens next. I get dumped, or she will expose you, maybe both." She looks at Steve seriously, matching how he lies back on the bed, “I guess it's the full theatrics then?” she grimaces.

" ’Fraid so,” he sighs and blinks up at the canopy, “Maybe things would be better that way. This 24/7 performance is fucking killing me." He checks his watch and lets out a loud, fake moan. Robin matches his volume but with a loud pretend giggle of her own. "Who am I kidding? There is too much riding on this. If I fuck up, people could suffer." He shakes his head, "I hope the residency is gonna be easier. A lot of people say Vegas knows how to keep a secret."

"That very much depends on your secrets staying in Vegas after the fact, though, doesn't it?" She purses her lips and ruffles up her hair.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Steve says, folding his arms and frowning.

"Eddie." She baby talks as she overdramatically flutters her eyelashes at him.

"Oh, yeah," a huge smile creeps across his face.

"See!" she points at him accusingly with widened eyes, but the creases at the corners of them let him know she’s enjoying ribbing him as much as she is protecting him.

"Well, I've managed to fuck that up anyway. Not that there's anything I can pursue, but in Vegas, maybe I stood a chance?" Steve sighs and puts the backs of his hands over his eyes in embarrassment, "I always go too far."

"Steve, you can pursue whatever you want, but you know the price. I only protect slash distract you from making a mistake you've explicitly told me you didn't want to make. I'll stick by you no matter what. Regarding the guy from yesterday, you definitely can't be doing that, not with that many people around and-" Robin begins lecturing him on his mistake. He knows she’s correct as usual, but sometimes, he thinks, maybe he wants the compulsion to take over him, to destroy everything for a taste of that forbidden fruit for longer than an opportunistic five minutes here or there.

"I know…I know! I just had a moment of weakness." Steve assures.

"And this guy is another one of those?" Robin asks.

Steve turns over on his side to face her as he reaches to hold her hand, "Have you ever been struck like that, by beauty? Stopped in your steps? Breath taken away? A full-on stall?"

"I think maybe you're just a little high, Steve." Robin tells him, but he shakes his head, "I gotta be honest, I'm not even sure this guy likes you all that much."

"What d'you mean?" Steve's eyebrows furrow in complete confusion. "What, like, he doesn't find me attractive? Really? No!” He says, waving his hands in front of him and shaking his head, “No way! I’m adorable.” He pauses thoughtfully, “Or probably doesn't like me for my performance downstairs?"

"All of the above, maybe before that? I dunno. Weird vibes. Whether they are into you or not, who would rather pay to stay in a hotel than stay here for free? That's just weird. What kind of guy turns down requests, personal ones, I might add from The Steve Harrington, over the years?"

"He was busy! Also, only call the machine Harrington, ok? You know I don't like it when you use my name like that." 

"You know you say he was busy, but Munson Photography hasn't posted anything in years. His personal socials are all private. Like he got famous and disappeared."

"Maybe fame wasn't something he wanted? Maybe he's an artiste? A tortured genius?" Steve flourishes his hand in the air above them, making them both giggle.

"Jesus Christ, are you writing his backstory?" Robin laughs, checks her watch and oversells a groan.

Steve sits up, looks at her wide-eyed and laughs quietly, "Would that be so bad if I did?" He sighs and lies back again.

"Yes, actually, that would be pretty bad. Building up a stranger, to your own weird fantasy standards, to pine over a man of your own creation for two whole weeks, only to then try and work with him in a professional setting for a further two weeks, only to realise he's not who you thought at all. He breaks your heart without even realising it was his to hold. Then I have to deal with you on yet another bender for god knows how long, getting over someone you only made eyes at? Yes, Steve, it would be bad!"

"I wasn't making eyes at him!"

"Could have fooled me. You gave me the signal!"

"Making eyes and those signals are completely different things!"

"And yet they inevitably end up in the same place, don't they?" Robin grumbles.

"I mean, I try not to end up in exactly the same way," he says with flirtatious nostalgia.

"You are so disgusting sometimes!" She laughs, pulling a repulsed face, checking her watch again, and reaches over to ruffle up Steve's hair, to crazy pointing in different direction standards, "Times up."

Steve feels himself shrink. These moments with Robin were all that he had here to forget all the things that were weighing him down, the pressures of fame, or being the centrepiece that keeps things going, but at the same time, knowing if he did break, if he did falter, the label wouldn't be there to catch him, they'd simply replace him. 

He put a foot out of line a few times these last few years, and he could see the new signees or people due for a comeback being warmed up on the sidelines.

He had the money. More than enough. He was lucky enough to come from wealth, so when he signed up for all this, he'd been protected by family financial advisors. That's how he had ended up with his own stash of cash and not at the mercy of the label. Not in that respect, at least. 

New artists hardly ever hid their sexuality these days, but they hadn’t hit the big time when Steve did. It would be career-ending to announce himself as bisexual, and, to be fair, he didn't realise that was something he could be at the time. That only happened in X-rated movies and was usually only the women indulging in both. And porn wasn’t really a reliable source of reality anyway.

 He wasn’t the only big-time artist playing the game like this. Some of them weren’t even bi. They were gay guys painted as the forever bachelors and photographed with the right women at the correct times. That wasn’t even just idle gossip either, unless you count said guys choking on his dick in the bathroom of a party, idle gossip.

The problem was that the fallout would be immense if he did announce it one day. He had his fake wife and her not-boyfriend to consider. The label cutting ties with him, as they had threatened to do over this numerous times, meant he wouldn’t have their support. Sure, it was a foundation built on dry sand, but they had power. Then there was everyone that worked for him. It was all such a confusing jumble of reasons, and all because his fans had been sold a version of him he wasn’t. They’d leave him. Just like everyone does when he doesn’t meet their expectations. When he fails to make the grade.

And sometimes, when Robin wasn’t around, his fans were all he had, but as the label told him repeatedly. They weren't his friends. They didn't care about him as a human being. He was a product to them, something to consume. Something they had bought into, and if Steve started changing the t’s and c’s, he couldn't expect them to stay with him. Not once he’d exposed himself as a liar. Not after they all found out he’d tricked them. He always found that odd language for the people at the label to use. He hadn’t tricked anyone. He was just figuring things out, but the fame machine was already in motion and by the time he realised he had something to tell, he was warned not to.

Steve had pointed out all the other artists that were out and proud, and he was patronisingly smiled at, “Steve, we get it, and you are free to do as you please, but we’re a business. We’ve got mouths to feed and people to keep in jobs. You aren't gonna sell to the liberal market. You’re too old now.” They didn’t even mean that regarding his age as a human being. It was more like his age as a product. Like he’d been in the chiller of the public eye for so long, he was old to them, a well-known figure, but if he stepped out of their gaze for too long or labelled himself differently, he’d spoil and be worthless to everyone.

Steve did not need to sell. He had enough money.

But he did not have enough love. 

Even if it wasn’t real, being in front of those people, feeling their eyes on him as they screamed his name and sang his heartfelt words back, sure felt as close as Steve had ever been to anything like reciprocated love. 

It was too big of a risk. He couldn’t lose that. He was already so vacant.

Steve and Robin exit the curtained bed and get dressed again.

"Where is it today?" Steve asks, trying up the front of his pants.

"I left it in your en-suite. Do not do anything stupid, Steve. I mean it!" Robin warns.

"I'm just gonna do some snooping." He smiles to himself as Robin turns down the music.

"Get a shower. Give me five minutes so I can loop the recording. That should give you ten minutes of snooping. The photo should come through quickly, but any more than that is gonna be weird," She says with a sigh, "Leave it in the basement. I know you're gonna end up there later again anyway."

"Thank you," he says genuinely, forgoing his shirt and heading to the shower as she leaves.

Giving her some time to get to the security office, he strips down and observes himself in the full-length mirror, the white and gold-flecked marble wall behind him as a backdrop. 

He takes his jaw in hand and moves it this way and that. Still handsome. What's not to like?

He runs his hands over his body, still toned, just more lithe, his face not as full, his muscles not as rounded. Robin must be wrong. Surely, Eddie at least finds him attractive. Steve's been the world's sexiest man many times over the years. Maybe he's shy. This was their first official meeting, after all. Yeah, most likely a little starstruck and acting out of sorts.

There was a time when his skin would be warmer and sunkissed, and the gold in the walls around him would amplify that, but now he's beginning to pale. He's more like the flat, cold expanse of white in between. Not that he had to worry they'd probably throw him in a tanning booth or spray tan him before the shows. Another layer of pretend is a small price to pay to appease the eyes of thousands.

He couldn't wait to be on stage again, a couple of hours of peace a night from his brain, where he could just let go. Sing loud, play loud, be loud. Wave that flag proudly like he’s confessing to them night after night. Surrounded mainly by a room full of people that adored him. Paid to see him. That's how much they wanted him. Thousands of them chanting his name, singing his songs back to him, reaching out to touch him. Not like in the lame excuse of a tomb for a home, where he either had to pay people to spend time with him or people just like him would gather here because Harrington's was a playground. For everyone except himself, of course.

He felt very much like a double agent. The people around him were as hollow and worn down as he was. He'd welcome them into his home and give them evenings of freedom, and initially, it had been a kindness until he realised none of them actually liked him, and they would falsely praise his music that they'd never even listen to. He wasn't a real musician, just a pretty face, leaving him empty again. However, with enough drink or drugs, he could forget that. Enough of the right stuff; he could blame that on his inability to physically rise out of himself. He'd busy himself with the girls in other ways, which gained him a positive reputation, or he could just sit and watch. Not that one cared what he did once they were all in that playroom. They were all too busy deep in their own vices to even notice him. He was simply the ticket in and might as well have faded into the nothingness he felt spreading throughout him. Implode on himself. Disappear into a blip of light. 

He’d thought at one point, with that level of privacy and potential blackmail material at his fingertips, it should be more than easy for Steve to indulge his other side. To have the feel of hard edges instead of soft curves, stubble in place of smooth skin, grunts in place of giggles, rigidity and firmness in place of something pliable and pillowy accommodating. But the label had built a brand, which depended on Steve being the all-American golden rock god that knocked back US whiskey and fucked star-spangled women only.

He'd pushed against it more than a few times initially and again after discovering nothing around him was real. He finally had fame and a little money. It tasted like freedom, but as it transpired, it was merely artificial flavouring that left a sour taste on his tongue. 

A rumour started, and they took him aside. Explained that his behaviour didn't just have an impact on him. People could lose their jobs, people he talked to daily, people with families, people with bills to pay. At that point, that had been enough. He behaved.

Then time went on, and the void left from hiding part of himself away started getting deeper, widening its reach until it began to eat away at him, touching things it shouldn't, and people started noticing.

Why is it when people gain success, they decide to release some whiney trash? What happened to my Rock n Roll Harrington?

Saw Steve Harrington at lunch today tried to take a selfie with him, and he just pulled his hat down and left the restaurant.

Did anyone think Steve seemed really out of it in that interview today? 

So they gave him a planted love interest, which helped for a time because he was stupid enough to think she was as real as she felt.

Rockstar Steve Harrington spotted in undercover rendezvous with Bombshell Tajana.

She's washed up and is just riding his coattails of success!

Another gold-digger!

You know I totally hated Tajana at first but Steve seems so happy these days.

Wow, do the bottle Tajana because Steve looks better than he has in years!

He shakes his head rapidly and locks eyes with himself in the mirror. We don't go down there Steve. He glares back at his reflection, warning it, as he steps into the rainfall shower, stands there letting the water fall over him, as he slowly increases the pressure until it's pelting down onto his flesh like hail. All in the vain hope it will be hard enough to slough off the ugly skin he was living in, but all it can do is wash away his most recent train of thought. His outer shell clung to him like a fungus, slowly spreading over and digging its roots through him until maybe there would be none of him left at all. Then, finally, maybe all this pain would stop, and either he would stop caring, or he would become a fully poseable action figure of Harrington.

He feels the pressure of his secrets. Feels the weight of if only. The vignette of a life that has always been out of his reach. A hair's breadth from his fingertips. 

He thumps the wall, presses his forehead against it and allows himself to let the tears fall where no one can see. Where it was impossible to tell the difference between the pain spilling out of him and that which was cleansing him. It's been so long since he let himself feel, the tears burn on their way out. But right now, he needs it. Eddie has stirred something within him, twisting around inside, half soft petals, half barbed thorns. He needs to know if there was something there or if it was just drugs-based amorousness.

Munson was gay, or at least queer in some way, of this, he was absolutely certain and had almost banked on him agreeing as much, but he'd denied him the confirmation. How nervous he was around Heidi and then himself. There was a shift when he'd asked him to point out the picture and the slightly effeminate way Munson had done so. He knew he was on the money with this. He had an innate sense for these things.

Steve had been so wrong about so many things in his life, but feeling the pull between himself and others like him, he'd never misjudged. That's how he'd picked Buckley after demanding a new bodyguard. He'd picked her, hoping he would at least have someone to understand, maybe to even talk to. What he hadn't banked on was having someone who did actually care about him, who gave him some slack but not too much. He hadn't banked on making a friend, someone who had his back, but he knew if the higher-ups got wind of it, she'd be gone for good. So they made it look like his relationships with everyone, business, and some false lust was thrown in there to keep it interesting, too. They both loved that Whitney Houston movie. And when they'd done enough for the powers that be to leave him alone for a while, they'd disappear for a weekend to somewhere. Steve might disappear with someone in passing at an exclusive party for a quick tryst of some kind, and Robin would usually set up nearby with some headphones. Close enough to break a limb if she needed to, but far away enough to not be traumatised for life.

She'd also helped him reduce his usage of recreational substances. She wasn't happy about enabling him, but if she was monitoring, at least he had no chance of making a mistake that could bring everything crashing down.

He didn't know anyone could care for him like Robin did, but he supposed it was her job to keep him safe.  He’d let her in more if he could if they had more than these occasional private moments. She already could see him at a much higher resolution than everyone else.

He steps out of the shower, wraps a towel around his waist and reaches behind the toilet cistern until his fingers find it. A small old phone, good enough to browse social media, not much else. He reclines on the chaise lounge, logs in, and goes directly to his profile. Today, he's HarringtonHound69, a fake profile he'd set up years ago, but he had found his way into the inner circles of his own fandom.

A message alert appears. It's a photo of Eddie outside the mansion, just getting into the car outside his house. He downloads it quickly. Goes back to his profile, and slyly starts the proceedings.

Guys, anyone know who this girl is? 

He attaches the file and hits send.

If anyone was going to find out about the new object of his affection, it was gonna be the internet.

He has another few minutes, so he finds Munson Photography, and just like Robin said, the posts had stopped here some time ago. Years ago. He takes a look through some intimate portrait work, where you can see almost every eyelash and fine line of the subject. The lighting is minimal, like it was too much to capture the person entirely at this level of granularity, but part of them was enough to convey the emotion captured in the picture. Some live-action shots, performers leaping through the air, smashing instruments, stage diving, explosions of colour and vibrancy. Then there is a set of black and white photographs, all backstage or travel in between shows, mostly candids but some fun naturally staged shots, like peace signs or huge grins. No one was trying to sell anything here or look cool, but they all had this friendly family energy to them.

Steve notices that it's these black and white ones he has posted the most. They must be his favourites because they tend to get the least likes, but he still posted them for a time. Steve was no social media whizz kid, and even he could see it. That made him like him even more. Presented with an evident trend, he continued to post what he loved most.

He scrolls through again. There is no picture of Eddie, but there is an older man here in one of the portrait shots. Only half in the light, a cigarette in hand, the smoke trails visible, but he is laughing, tears in his eyes from so much joy, and he's looking just above the lens. He must have been laughing at Eddie, and that makes Steve's heart leap. If he could work with this guy, maybe he could get a picture like this. He grabs a robe, hides the phone in its pocket, and goes down to the basement again. Before he hides the phone, he takes one last look at the picture of the older man, and he holds it up in his eyeline in front of his life-size print. He looks at his own wild grin and joyless eyes next to the sparkling eyes of the gentleman he holds in his hand. This wasn't a lover or someone Eddie had made laugh to capture a snap. There was a bond here. It must be his father, the fondness in his eyes. He's laughing, but half his smile hitches higher than the other. It's playful and warm. The exact opposite of his own father.

Maybe if Steve played all his cards right and was more honey and less trap, Eddie's camera could capture a different Steve. A Steve that when he looks at Eddie, his smile reaches not just his eyes but his soul too.

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Songs for this chapter if that's your thing?

[lavenderangeline]

She who holds the spirits

Chapter 5 Drunk Pals

TW: NSFW! Fluff, drunk af yamato

“Are you sure about that Tenzo?” Yamatos heart skips a beat as he hears his senpai behind him. He stammers something, ends the bandage with a knot and hears Annas laugh. She kinda sounds like a kettle on the stove. It sounds funny, no wonder the others are joining in. ”Kakashi Sensei! I fought against Anna-San, it was sooo cool!” “You call me breaking your rib cool…?”, Anna´s question sounded appalled. Naruto looked at her, silently laughthing, scratching the back of his back. Waving his hand at her he says, “Eh- ehehe… didn´t count that in. It just shows how strong you are!” Both, Yamato and Kakashi looked at Anna. Kakashi seemed not happy that she broke the bones of his student. Anna panics “I´m sorry that happend! I immideatly healed him! He´s okay again!!” Kakashi sighed, “Well… As long as Naruto is alright…” He squatted down beside Yamato. While Naruto was talking loudly with Anna, who watched the young boy with concern, Kakashi whispered towards Tenzo. “Can you tell me what happend?” “I uhm- might tell you on the way to the hokage” Yamato crackles. “Oh also…”, Kakashis face gave Yamato the shivers, “I saw you doing things that you shouldn´t do young man-” “Aha… ahahahaha….”, Yamatos nervous laugh made Anna look at him. “Everything okay you two?” They nod very fast. She shrugs, turning back to Naruto. ”Show her how to control his chakra and then let´s go!”, Kakashi mumbles. Yamato nods.

Anna goes and follows Yamato, listen to him closely and tries to concentrate. It´s pretty hard when your brain tries to get it´s own thoughts through. What did they mumble just a few minutes ago? Yamato looked terrified. Also she couldn´t hear because Naruto was talking so freaking loud. Well- she sighs into herself, now she got a different thing to do and Anna was sure Yamato would tell her if she asks. She sat down in the middle of the wooden columns. The young man with the chestnut brown hair still explaining, she looked up, fascinated that he created this place. She did something like that before… but that was a long time ago when she was little and just got merged with the spirit. “Did you understand everything?” “Yes Captain Yamato!”, she replied, very proud of herself. He smiled, “Then show me please.” Anna nodded strongly, taking a deep breath in and out, closing her eyes, concentrating on her chakra and surroundings. As she opened them again her vision changed, she saw the flow of every energy around her. That wasn´t something new, she was used to it. Yamato seemed surprised as she looked up at him, before looking forward. Her eyes changed into those she had as a dragon, ice cold, thin and long pupils and glowing. Some of her blue chakra started to flame up around her body, not much, just barley visible. “You´re using too much chakra”, Yamatos voice is strict. Anna sighs annoyed, holding her finger sign, : “I´m not… that´s normal when i do these kinds of jutsus. I can´t help it. Also feeling into me i have the right amount.” Almost pouting she gazes up into his eyes. He examinged her up and down, eyebrows still in this strict, angry way. His arms are crossed. She sees him the first time that way- the way that just screams authority. She looks forward again. The young man sighs, slightly dramatic -”Fine… Just… look after yourself- okay?” Why did he sound worried now? Anna grinned like a winner of a race- “Trust me- I will!” “Okay, Kakashi and me trying to be back in time. Just- be careful you two…” It almost seemed like he was afraid leaving Annaisha and Naruto alone- Well… considering what happend and the amount of energy this boy has it is in fact worrying. But Anna is sure she can handle it. Thinking to herself that she was in much worse situations so this is kindergarten shit. Kakashi came to the rescue, touched the shoulder of his friend, telling him to go. “She can handle that. Otherwise Tsunade wouldn´t brought her into the team.”

It took a little while, but now the Joinin are going down the street toward the hokages abode. Being far enough away Kakashi begins to speak. “What the hell did make you think it is okay to sleep in one bed with her?” He sounded kind of angry, it made Yamato nearly jump out of his pants. “I- uhm- eh jusnmhndng….” “What did you just said?”, Kakashi holding his ear towards him like an old man. Yamato murmurs something again, kakashi doesn´t understand. “Ugh… if you keep doing shit like that without fucking her in the end you´re going to have a sad sad life-” “WE DIDN´T FUCK WE JUST LAID IN ONE BED AND CUDDLED BECAUSE I WASN´T SLEEPING WELL!”, Yamatos yelling made some people look at him, his face flushes and he apologizes. Kakashi looks him dead in the eye. “Ahhh he can TALK- so if you can TALK now we can discuss that you firstly looked at her badonkers”, he makes a movement with his hands, as if he would lift his own tits, all color fades out of Yamatos face, “Secondly you got so fucking horny only by this woman being around you-” Yamato just wanted to fade away- no wait… he IS fading away right now- bit by bit. “that your long john just got it´s peak in like… months?!” “I- IT WAS-”, Yamato clears his throat, trying to calm himself down, “ It wasn´t like that…” Kakashi slided his hands into the pockets of his pants. “Yeah for sure- that was why she noticed it immediatly what you have in your pants as you got up that night. OH- AND ALSO-” , Kakashi laughed while Yamato watched and listend to him in horror, “she FELT it while you two slept in one bed. While you just slept in instantly she was awake for a while, red as a tomato, holding her hands over her face. It got even worse after you hugged her. She seemed like beeing in bed with her over one year crush.”

Kakashi looks up, scratching his cheek. Yamato stays behind a little being a pudding on the ground. Stopping the white haired man turns around, “Oh don´t be so dramatic Tenzo. It´s okay to be attracted to her… as long as you two are taking your time and be serious with each other- eeeverything is going to be fine.” He picks his comrad up from the ground and drags the young man with him. “She has an interesting tattoo on her back, that´s what i can say- ohhh almost forgot- the badonkers you looked at are-” “KAKASHI - STOP. TALKING!”, Yamato yells, clearly out of breath, not wanting to hear what this stalker of a man witnessed.

While the two man sharing their dark secrets which happend last night and reporting to Tsunade, the training with Naruto goes well. Anna can fully focus on what Yamato told her, it´s almost like second nature to her to control Narutos chakra so he can train in peace. Both, the young woman and the boy are fully focused on what they´re doing, until Anna hears someone approaching behind her. “So you´re the new girl right?”, a light voice says. Not turning around, still concentrating on the tasks Anna nods. “Ineed i am.” A slight annoyed huff behind her makes Anna frow her eyebrows down. The person behind her steps forward, directly in front of her. “It´s not nice not looking towards the person you´re talking to you know.”, a young girl, Anna guesses in her teenage years like Naruto- with light pink hair, green eyes and an red kind of dress looks down on her. “I´m just doing my job- you know.”, the annoyed answer coming from the red haired woman seems to make the girl slightly furious. Anna looks up for a second then focuses her gaze towards naruto who still tries to split the waterfall in two. “Sorry. I´m just busy. Captain Yamato is not here so i´m responsible for controlling Narutos chakra while he trains.” “Ohhh i see-” She turns around looking at her teammate before going back to Anna, squatting down beside her. “I´m Sakura Haruno. Very glad to finally meet you.” It felt like her smile was fake. Was it really that wrong to not look on her and focus on the task that is given to her? Normally it was the other way around for Anna- she got scolding because she CAN`T concentrate on what she´s doing. If Anna could she would bow down slightly, being polite is what she can do best afterall-

“Annaisha Akiharu. Very nice to meet you too.” It gets silent for a moment before Sakura begins to speak again. “Sooo how did you came here? Or better question is- what brought you to Konohagakure?”, her voice sounds interested but at the same time sharp like a knife. “Good question.”, Anna calmly gives back, trying to change the beginning of the conversation into more positive vibes, “mostly because i want to learn more about medicine. I was very surprised as Lady Tsunade directly wanted me as her student… i hope i also might go into the craft of a midwife later, but that is a different thing.” She chuckles a little. Sakura on the other hand watches her closely, Anna wished her to get away- her chakra seemingly going into a different direction, as if the blue flame that she caused flowed with the wind. She didn´t liked the vibe Sakura gave her. It was almost eerie. How was this girl Tsunades student? She didn´t felt warm just… obsessed with something- or someone.

“A midwife. Interesting. So you like kids?” “I wouldn´t be here if i wouldn´t like kids- from my own experience i didn´t liked it but it´s a fact that you teens are still kids-”, Anna joked a little badly, only to see how Sakura reacts. The pink haired girl weighted her head from side to side. “You´re not wrong there…” It took a little while until Sakura picked up the conversation again. “Do you have a boyfriend?” Why did this question HAS to come from her? “Uhh no. Only if you count fictional men and woman in-”, grinning widely Anna looked at the younger teen. She looked quiet shocked- “You like men and woman?!” she gasped. “Why? Is that in some kind important to you?”, the redhead lifted an eyebrow, “As far as i´m concerned it doesn´t make me more weird. The people that are important to me love me no matter who I love.” “No- ahaha- i think that´s fine. As long you´re happy-”, it seemed like Sakura was uncomfortable with that kind of information. Good. As long as she doesn´t continue asking about her love life- “How old are you? Maybe you could be the first one that romances Sensei Kakashi!” What the hell did this girl ate to breakfast? A clown? If yes, it wasn´t a good one. “Listen girlie-”, Anna began to get quiet annoyed, “i just know you for like 20 minutes- stop asking me questions like we´re friends. I don´t know you, you don´t really know me. We can talk about it someday but not when i need to concentrate on something really important. I understand you´re curious, i am too- but this is not the best situation to ask those things-” The sound of the waterfall silenced Sakuras indignant grunt, she stomend away and placed herself under the tree right next to the columns. Anna sighed. “What a bitch.”, she mumbled so silent only she could hear.

It was the late evening as Yamato, Kakashi and Anna walked down town to the bar. Anna clearly wasn´t in the mood for a drink, even tho the adults would say at this point that they needed one. The only thing which was clear to her at this certain moment was that she HATED Sakura Haruno. And the worst thing was that she not only stayed in a team with her the next few months, nooooo- it was even more evil than just that: she had to work with her because she was the first student of lady Tsunade. The only reason why she´s going with the two men is that she was happy to see Yamato again. Also Kakashi- because she wanted to know him better. Maybe he can also tell Anna a little something about his students- why Sakura is the way she is when she talks with Anna and it wasn´t even a full day with her! Feeling down and just wanting to roll into bed she just looked down while walking. Nibbling on the long sleeves of her shirt. Because she got kind of cold earlier, Yamato gave her his Shinobi west. Focusing on the good her lips formed into a gentle smile.

Feeling a hand on her head, she looks up towards Kakashi. He and Yamato seemed to communicated without words, just with wild gestures and looks while Anna was in her head thinking. “What's wrong? Something that bothers you?”, Kakashi asked and Anna could swear she noticed a soft smile behind his dark mask.

The woman breathed in, stopped and let out a loud sigh. Looking away, caressing her upper arm to feel maybe more comfortable. “I don't know if I and Sakura are going to get along with each other. Something just feels…odd when I'm talking with her. She was annoyed so fast. Also she directly asked my about my love life which isn't something I like doing when I just met a person. It's no problem when you get to the topic naturally but that - it felt forced.” Kakashi listens, Yamato too. While Yamato clearly wasn't happy about what Sakura did, Kakashi was more neutral about it. “Sakura can be a bit harsh. She is more reserved than you might think-”, the white haired man stop in the middle of his explanation. Seeing that Anna knows more than she might say at the moment. Giving a short look to Yamato, he then says: “I'm going to talk with her about it. Now heads up pumpkin head, let's go and have some fun” Anna looked up to him- “Are you serious? Pumpkin head?” She begins to laugh a little. “Thank you Kashi, I appreciate it.”

They continued walking down the busy street, Anna walking more in the front of the young men. “Kashi?”, Yamato looked at him amused. Kakashi grinned under his mask, “I got a nickname ~ not like you -” Yamato looked at him with wide eyes, “But it's a cute nickname better than “pumpkin head” you old troll.”

“Iiii got a nickname ~”, Kakashi whispered in a melodic way to Yamato. “Yeah Yeah… “, Yamatos annoyance made Kakashi giggle.

They sat down in the bar the men liked to go the most. They got their usual while Anna just got herself an mocktail. Alcohol just tasted like straight piss to her. Also almost smells like it. In her childhood it was nothing she ever worried about, even tho her smell was always really good, it got more intense after the ritual, the morphing. She sat beside Yamato, also that she still wore his jacket helped not directly taking in the smell of the adult milk. Kakashi directly began to spill the tea beside reading his icha icha book. Anna guessed it is the fourth book in the collection. Not listening she let her gaze wander around the bar. Some other Shinobi sitting by the bar, civilians having a fun time- another one seemed to celebrate their birthday with friends. The atmosphere was euphoric. Still she wished herself some time in her room, even tho she felt better after talking with Kakashi.

Yamato turned towards her. “Don't you wanna take the jacket off?” Anna shook her head ”no-” She began to joke and grin “It's mine now.” The man sitting next to her blushes. Thankfully the drinks came around, so he didn't had to answer anymore.

As the night went on the more drunk the men beside Anna get. Especially Yamato seems to get drunk easily and with that more talkative than usual. Kakashi seemed to stay the same, only his voice changed sounding more like a babble. It's always interesting watching the drunk people. Especially how their behavior changed.

Yamato got more touchy with Anna, leaning more towards her, bringing her into the conversation and touching her on her hand by “accident”. Anna was full in observation mode. Her emotional battery was fully booked out today and now the only thing that she could do was to observe. She also catches Yamato looking at her boobs. He mostly cleared his throat after he looked, that's how she knows.

Kakashi notices her behavior and Yamatos of course. Just thinking to himself “Oh Tenzo- you got a very attentive young woman by your side. Hopefully he knows what he's getting himself into.”

After a while Anna leaned her head onto Tenzo's shoulder. Too tired to keep up with the conversations. Still, she stayed alert if one of the drunk pals needed help.

The man Anna leaned on was way to drunk to really get that flustered. He found himself thinking how cute she is and how she wears his jacket the whole evening. Beside the Alcohol warming him, a different warm feeling came from his heart. She wasn't only beautiful to him, she was gorgeous, maybe even out of his league. His drunk brain circled around many things. But mostly about how he wants to stay close to her. He had to admit that he looked way too much on her boob's, or thighs, even if he considered himself more of a butt person, she had more curves than that. It wasn't a secret her body showed how strong she was. He could swear she could crush his skull with her thighs. The black sporty shorts that she wears gave enough space to show off her muscles. He was kind of impressed by it. Well- he was the whole day impressed by her strength. Breaking Narutos ribs - thinking about it she could've done more damage than that but she still hold back, even tho she panicked saying she did too much.

“I'd let her break my ribs too…” his brain dropped randomly. A shiver rolled down his spine. Why was he so turned on by the fact she could just flip him around like it was nothing, forcing him into submission. His cock twitched a little. The sake was too strong today. “Yamato I won't let you go home alone, drunk like you are-”, Anna's voice snaps him out if his thoughts, remembering they were in a conversation about who goes there- at least that's what he did remember.

“No no no no- I walk YOU home.” he laughed dumbly. Anna sighed, looking at Kakashi who shrugged his shoulders. “Good, then walk ME home my white knight.” Yamatos smile looked cunning and silly at the same time. Standing up he trembled backwards, Annaisha catching him by his sides made him blush. “Who's the white night now Tenzo?”, Kakashi laughed. “It- it's Ya-”The captain needed a bit, “Yamato!” With a giggle Anna leads him, still holding onto his sides, to the door of the bar. Yamato still tries to talk back to Kakashi but the girl has no nerve to deal with that so she tells him kindly to shut up, to the white haired mans surprise Tenzo really stops talking, normally that never works. Mhm- How practical it can be, having a new woman in the group. He asks himsepf if he will keep shut if he says: “USE PROTECTION! I DON´T WANNA BE A GODFATHER SOON!” All the people turn- first towards Kakashi then to the young “couple”. Madly Anna turns around, grabs an ashtray by the entrance and throws it towards Kashi. Panicked he ducks and as he gets up, just a few centimeters beside his face, the ashtary is stuck inside the wall- Actually Yamato wanted to freeze because his comrad caught him off guard, blushing, being ashamed and go- but now he kind of gets scared now by Anna´s explosive reaction. “C´mon- we go!”, Anna pushes the poor Yamato out of the door. As it closes, all people suddenly look at the white haired guy.

On the way Yamato asks: “Why did you throw that ashtray at him?” “Because he didn´t had to scream that through the room. I am going to apologize to him tomorrow.” They get silent for a second. Anna silently takes Yamatos hand, interwines their fingers, blushing. “Where do you live?” Yamato´s heart beats in a tact he never knew- “W- Why do you wanna know that?” She takes his Hand in both of hers, while they walk beside each other. “Because you should get some rest after drinking so much.” “Uh- So i… b- but i wanted to walk you home…”, sounding a bit sad as he pouts. Anna swore that her heart jumped seeing him doing that- it was too cute. ”But i won´t let you go alone. Sorry but i don´t trust you while you´re drunk- ehm well… i doubt your sense for diraction.”, she chuckles. Yamato stops, looking down at her. The streetlight gives him a dim vision of the woman beside him. He shyly begins to speak: “And what if…”, leaning down a bit to her, “i stay at your place again?” Just another baby step and their noses would touch. Both feel their heart almost jumping out of their chest.

Thinking Anna stares into his eyes. She can see how drunk he is. His cheeks and nosetip flushed, eyes half open and his smirk is bit silly and crooked. She blushes so intensely, that it could shine like the midday sun. Being very lucky that Yamatos state of mind doesn´t notice that she is in fact red as an tomato. Noticing that he´s coming closer she instantly reacts and stammers: “W- Well we can go- eh to my place… no problem!” It seems like that shakes him out of his thoughts. “Let´s go then-” His smile is warm as they begin to go again. Still holding hands.

Tenzo get´s shushed as they go upstairs towards Anna´s room. She seems very careful with him, watching every step he takes. He´s a grown up ass man but this woman protects him in a situation he doesn´t even need protection. But… somehow she does it in such a wholesome way that he doesn´t mind. Sneaking down the hallway, Mel meows her hello, Anna pats her tiny head before the cat runs into the womans room. With the cat leading the way they both arrive in Annaishas room. The red haired woman puts on a saltlamp on her bookshelve, the soft yellowish light brightens the room. It feels even more cozy in her with it. Mel already waits on Anna´s bed. “Even Mel says it´s bedtime now.”, Anna chuckles. Yamato has to smile, she´s so cute. As the captain stumbles, Anna catches him and sets him on her bedsite- almost like yesterday, he thinks to himself. Drunk thought he pats Mel, who loves the attention, leaning into his scratches and purring very loud. He didn´t even notice Anna going out and back into the room, placing a little bucket on the bedside, a glass with water and painkillers. “You might need that-”, Anna smiles and caresses his cheek. Yamato is kind of blown away by the situation and just- stares. He watching her kneeling down, opening his shoes, getting him out of it and putting them aside. “You don´t need to-”, the young man murmurs. She shakes her head, then stands up. “Let me help.”, her voice is soft, silent, almost whispering and he adores the way she said it. Getting few steps closer, touching his headprotector, lifting it up and laying it aside on the table. The metal clinks onto the wood. “You´re beautiful Annaisha.” Turning to him, she can´t believe he just said that. “Wha- Thank you… Yamato.”, she smiles shy. The look in Yamatos eyes changed from drunk to “I found the best thing in the whole universe and i love it”. She still wears his west- it was too big for her, even tho they are kind of the same size- Yamato is more buff than her, he never thought to find a woman (or man) this cute, wearing his own shinobi west. Silent, Anna decides to lifts Yamatos shirt a little, she stops and blushes. “Is it okay if i help you with your shirt?” Being too nervous Yamato nods. “Okay, lift your arms up please-” He does just as she told him to.

Carefully she pulls it over his head, seeing some of his scars more clear in this intense moment. As the shirt blops off, his hair seems more fluffy than usual. As she folds his shirt she could swear seeing a little buldge in his crotch while the dim light of the salt lamp shines on him. “You smell like lavender.”, Tenzo suddenly says- “Oh. You noticed? It´s calming, mostly what i need for my rushing thoughts.”, Anna explains to him, hanging his longsleeve shirt over her desk chair. He kindly smirks: “How could i not notice after spending over a day with a beautiful woman like you.” She giggles, “Don´t get ahead of yourself Yamato Senpai. It seems like you get more cunning after a while of being drunk.” He gets up, stepts towards her, pulling her close by the zipper of his west. The Aura changes as he looks down to her, whispering in an dark tone: “Maybe i am indeed becoming too cunning- but with you i wanna risk it.” Anna feels lightheaded, high from being so close to him. She smelled pine and a little bit of alcohol which didn´t even bothered her at this point.

Time slowed down as their faces came closer to each other. All thinking simply wiped away as their noses touched, lips brushing against the other. Looking deeply into each others eyes before closing them, giving in into the kiss, into each other. The kiss was soft, but felt so intense at the same time. Feeling how their blood runs faster through their veins and the heart pumps faster. After Yamato slowly slides down the green west off Anna´s shoulders he pulls her even closer, continuing to kiss her. Nobody noticed that Mel jumped down the bed, looked at them and then silently walked out of the room as if she knows what´s going on. Seemingly approves Yamatos presence this time.

Slowly stepping backwards towards Anna´s bed, Tenzo sits down, pulling the woman on his lap. They´re both breathless, looking at each other. Anna wrapped her arms around his neck, one hand in his hair. He caresses her cheek with his thumb before pulling her in again. The feeling of his cock while she sat on him made Anna feel dizzy. She got wet by all the sweet kisses of his. Feeling him being like this makes her want to grind against him, making her pussyjuice soak through her pants, leaving a wet spot on his. But he was drunk and this was also way to early to fuck with him in any kind of way. Still- his kisses got more intense but Annaisha didn´t stopped him in his rythm. Enjoying every second of these moments with him. They end up brushing their lips together. For a while they just sit there as their thoughts slowly come back while staying in their high. Through half lided eyes they gaze into each other. Yamatos big hands resting on her hips. Her´s wandered down, touching his broad chest. “We- we should go to bed.”, Anna whispers. Yamato gives her a kiss, like a feather touching her lips. “May i help to red rid of your clothes too then?”, he waits patiently for her answer. She can see in his eyes that he asks with the kind of respect for her, which says it is okay if she doesn´t want to. A simple nod makes him smile. Anna blushes.

The man with the chestnut brown hair follows his own movements. Wandering his hands under her white longsleeve, feeling her stomach, her abs that show then she breaths out. He does it really slow, wanting to feel every inch of her body, leaving nothing untouched. He wants to guess what´s under this piece of fabric. Feeling some scars, a bigger on on her sidebelly, which he follows with his finger up to her back. The little whimper Anna gives him makes his dick twitch. Fuck. This is better than his dream. As he feels that she has a sports bra on, he lifts the shirt, pulling it over her head, dropping it on the floor. He looks down on her. Leaving a kiss on her shoulder, giving her a beautiful little shiver. He doesn´t even dare touching her breast without her permission. Even while drunk. Looking into her eyes again he asks: “Should i undress your bra?” His eyes remind her of a cute cat.

“Will you even remember this night?”

“What if i do remember?”

“I hope you are going to remember this night…”

Anna´s murmuring voice made Yamato smile. “Me too.”

Without a warning Anna pulled her bra up, over her head. That was the moment Yamato freezed. He was sure the alcohol subsided because of his reaction. Anna got red as an tomato. “I hope this wasn´t too sudden for you…” He stammers, “N- n-no! It isn´t… i just- wow-” Anna giggles, giving him a kiss on the forehead. “M- may i?” “Mhm~” The woman nods. Careassing Yamato lets run his fingers over her chest. Her nipples perked up, giving everything the perfect shape. He kissed between both boobs, up to her neck. Sweet and caring. That is what he wanted to be for her.

A giver, not someone who takes from her. She was too prescious to him, even in this short amount of time. It was something to begin with.

Finally, after some minutes of hugging and sweet kisses they got to bed. Lights out. Curling up into two spoons they slept in.

[kitakashi]

yea turns out he was an arrancar so 😃 but then again something told me it wasn’t real.. his “performance” was off putting and I’m glad rukia didn’t let her guard down completely. she was half and half. I knew it was too good to be true. as for the spoiler it wasn’t something that I needed more investigation on bc if I keep watching I know it will get answered or mentioned… but the spoiler was a certain someone and his family are related to the shibas ��

NOOOO but hold up… I’m currently like on episode 164 and I wanna talk about it.. so by the looks of it ulquiora technically killed ichigo right? like he’s dead but if it wasn’t for grimmjow breaking orhime out to turn time back and revive him then it would have ended with our MC dead. that’s what I want your opinion on. that he died. that’s what it looked like to me. a certain show I’m watching has the same thing that the mc died but gets revived by a miracle.

as for the orhime ask i do hope this arc turns out the way I’m imagining it. if if doesn’t you’ll hear it from me again haha. also I was totally unaware of how the fandom treats her. she has a huge hate club and I was so surprised. they call her all kind of names and I was like wait hold up I’m bout to fight everyone on her behalf, orhime get behind me!! lol like the men mostly don’t like her and I’m like?? that’s a first bc y’all usually ogle over the women’s figure and stuff, but it also made me realize that at the end of the day that’s all they see. a fucking object. they don’t respect the person. it’s like for them it’s “damn she’s fine af, but fuck her i can’t stand her ass. she’s so useless” and that gets me fucking mad. I’d like to punch them through the screen if I could 😒

Kaien being absorbed and technically still existing but not sentient… it awful but at the same time a good guy like him would waste away with guilt had he been aware of what the hollow was doing. It gave Rukia some closure tho.

I mean 🤷‍♀️ Ichigo technically dies a lot? The hollow protects his mind in a way while Hime heals his body. If he wasn’t the main character I’d be concerned.

Shōnen anime doesn’t typically have a lot of strong female characters. Hime isnt alone. Sakura from Naruto. Lucy from Fairy Tail. Noelle from Black Clover. Nobara from Jujutsu Kaisen. Anzu/Tea from Yugioh. The list goes on and on. The leading female partner always receives hate. The funny part is, if you read interviews with the authors they say the FMC they created is their dream girl. I think a lot of people are unintentionally misogynistic. And others are simply jealous.

Another reason I don’t participate in fandom discussions. Too much hate. Don’t like a character? Scream to your bff if you have to and then just leave it alone.

Also, the anime typically cuts a lot especially in older animes and where do they cut it? First from the FMC. So people who only watch the anime are missing so much of the story. Maybe not plot wise but the actual depth of the characters. I’m stopping myself from ranting about how the Naruto anime ruined Sakura. And Yugioh anime making Anzu so useless. 😤

[aettuddae]

hiiii 😁

ive never rlly read an interactive fic b4 so im very interested to see how this plays out 😭😭 also the love interest being karina AND kazuha…war flashbacks

ALSO OMG WAYV MEMBERS 🫶🫶 i have never seen anyone put them in a fic b4 (and the fact one of them is xiaojun my bias made me more excited lol)

i thought the kyuin introduction was VERY creative and i loved it 🤭 what a very funny way to show the personality of a character, just have them go back n forth with the author! when i read her bio i was like hmm thats a paramore title…👀 (turns out she likes paramore! kyuin queen alr)

ngl this grouplore is kinda alr more interesting than heaven just because they are villains, i dont think i know any groups where they are all the villains in the story (even tho they prob give more antihero with the whole aspect of the chips failing and stuff) the group probably has really cool looking music videos too! one of the picture u added kinda reminded me of tlc no scrub music video! i like that mv visuals!!!

BLESS ME ACHOO 🤧🤧SIMON SAYS BE COOL 😎😎 DONT BE SUCH A FOOL 😳😳 SIMON SAYS URIN REAL VIBE KILLA KILLA KILLA KILLA

i feel like you know alot of groups 😭😭if u dont mind me asking which ones do u like stan vs casually listen to?

also dont worry, as long as u keep making karina crazy and delusional af, spidy anon aint leaving anytime soon 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

good luck at work today aettuddae!

-🕷️

hello anon !!!

i hope i can pull it out well and that you guys understand what the premise is, and we can create a good story. i really like names that start with ka.. karina, kazuha.. (iykyk), welcome back hole in one !

we got the chinese gays on this story !! scratching from the few male idols i like, but i love ten and xiaojun so much

super glad you liked the idea, i was nervous because i thought people would think it was corny 😭 for me it was fun, so i'm happy to read this. kyuinie breaking the aettuddae character stereotype of being a swiftie, let's go !!

yeah, their lore might be the most interesting one of all the olympia groups. as you say, antihero-like, and the battle between good and evil, what makes a human good, etc. i kinda link it to hunger games when peeta was brainwashed to hate katniss, but he ends up fighting it back. and aesthetically is cyber since they're machines, sound a little nct sounding, but with 2nd gen vibes. the tlc scrub video is definitely in the vision !!

simon says supremacy 🗣🗣🗣

yep i've been in kpop for quite a while so i'm aware of the existence of MANY groups lol even if i don't stan them i know they exist. i stan a lot of groups, i guess, i've say already my ults are dreamcatcher, snsd and aespa, but i'm a huge exo, red velvet and shinee stan, and i had a heavy f(x) era too.. a pink blood basically 😅 i also stan blackpink, fromis_9, le sserafim, loona and wjsn, and iu..

i'm sounding a little obsessive 😭

i listen casually to itzy, nct, tvxq, mamamoo, ateez and almost anything really. but i'm familiar with idols personalities a lot, idk how to explain why

i just consume a lot of kpop 😅 you anon? who do you listen to? who do you stan?

thanks for staying here, spidy anon

[feuqueerfire]

Infernal Affairs (2002) Live Blogging

Watched The Worst of Evil in like 24 hours and that was full of excitement and adrenaline, so I feel empty now. Finished that this morning and it's almost 10pm and thinking of starting this show because of this post which mentions Junmo seems to think he's in Infernal Affairs. Is it a good idea to start a new gangster infiltration movie right after I watched Worst of Evil? Who knows. Hope it goes well

June 22, 2024

wait what? He's a gang member who infiltrated the police academy to be a cop implant but he got expelled?

and the other kid is a police academy kid who's being planted in the gang

the editing is kinda killing me, why does it remind me of Bollywood a little bit, though not as dramatic as the Indian serials

20 years pass by with them in the gang, which is interesting/funny because lmao Seungho climbed the ranks fast as well in The Worst of Evil

bruh okay I'm watching these on random sites lol so at first when I started watching I was like... why do the mouths not match but seems like that one was dubbed, so I found the original on a different site. Wish I knew the difference between Mandarin vs Cantonese to tell but I think the first one was Mandarin dub while this is Canto original purely based on this being a Hong Kong movie

oh, wait the kid who got "expelled" from police academy is gang implant?

and it's been almost 10 years

okay yeah this is def not Mandarin, it's so unfamiliar to me. the audio that i first started with was def familiar to me since I've watched a bunch of Taiwanese stuff and some mainland Chinese stuff too and that was probably Mandaring

only one guy now knows this man's identity as a cop, that's scary af like what if he dies?

and the cop actually works for the gang right?

i'm confused about what the fake-cop did with the Triad member, like did he get genuine info from him and give it to the cops? Did he get secret info from him that he didn't give to cops? Is the location not genuine/will he give a heads up?

ah, they Triads are doing a drug trade while the cops are trying to catch them and the mole on each side is trying to (inconspicuously) help the other side lmfao

so does this fake-gangster actually have to do coke, that sucks for him :(

so they cop and fake-gangster-mole communicating in morse code through fingers right? so the finger is tapping the mic to make morse code sounds? and the fake-cop has caught onto his supervisor doing it?

ahh the gang leader trying to figure out who the mole is

the fake-cop and fake-gangster's meeting and they seem to take notice of each other but... do they recognize the other?

The gang leader and cop leader having a tense but funny conversation about how they each have a mole in the other's midst and they both know it. [TODO: how does the kidney patients and the cards story end?]

so is she the fake-cop's gf? very pretty. i also like their physicality together

the fake-gangster also likes his therapist? each male lead has a love interest, the women won't die right...

please why is he telling his therapist that he's a cop T.T couldn't she be threatened and spill the beans

the cops want the mole-cop to investigate the mole-cop lmfaoo good luck

the moles almost saw each other's faces since fake-cop met the gang leader while fake-gangster was keeping an eye on the gang leader maybe

and the gang leader also trusts fake-gangster the most lmfao pls they're both very good at their jobs ig

fake-gangster: Yan. fake-cop: Lau

fake-cop and his fiance are really cute oh man

and also she's an author and she's asking how the story should end because her main guy is a good guy who has done many bad things loll

omg... that's not his kid, is it? because the mother said the daughter is 5 but daughter corrected her saying she's 6... and the two of them haven't met in "6 to 7 years" girl... this fake-gangster cop has a child he doesn't know about bc the mother doesn't wanna get mixed in with gangs?

damn, the gangs really cornered the cop and fake-gangster. hope cop Wong doesn't die bc uh how will Yan then be known as a cop and be able to get out and stuff. his file is still in the cop folder though

oh damn, sad ending for cop Wong

damn, this side character gang guy also got shot

hm Lau is taking responsibility for Wong’s death and apparently tracking him before that

oh, the file is password-protected and so they don’t know who their mole is

oh, cooperation? what is Lau planning now that he has access to the mole but the mole doesn’t know Lau himself is also the mole

they’re framing the guy who died while driving as the cop mole?

Is Lau actually gonna help Yan? Does he feel ambivalent toward the gang now after seeing Wong die?

Lau kills the gang boss just like that ong

omg Yan found out that Lau was the mole then Lau found out Yan knows and deleted his fucking file?!

Should I care about this romance what i’m nervous about what is gonna happen to Yan

oh, Yan’s got voice recordings of Lau communicating with gang leader Sam

dang, so this guy is a cop who is also a spy for the gang and he fucking

shot and killed Yan omg

and was telling Lau that he’ll follow him now etc assuming he’s still on the gang side but Lau also ended up shooting him dead

so Wong is dead, Yan is dead, Lau continues to be the cop without anybody knowing he used to be mole

Overall:

This is a movie that I think I'd like to rewatch and would be able to follow it more on the rewatch. I'm not super used to older movies or crime/gangster movies, so I think a second watch would be beneficial.

It's fast-paced, fairly short (100 minutes), lean, and straight to the point but full of subtlety and quite philosophical in a way. The main characters have both been cosplaying for a decade and their lives have been shaped by their current lives, so despite technically being a cop and a gangster, are they still now more like their mole identities?

Infernal means like relating to hell, so these events in the show are hellish and they make references to hell at the beginning and end of the movie. Yan was a cop but nobody other than himself and Wong knew it, so after a decade, what difference does it even make that he's a cop? The thought of the little girl being his daughter is so tragic because he met the woman while he was a gangster and because of that he never got to pursue a love or a family the way other people can. In the end, what did his mission even accomplish, Wong and him both died (and Yan so close to the end too) while Lau is the while who shot Sam and is lauded with praises for it and also catching the police mole. What a tragic life he's lead.

On the other hand, Lau has always wanted to be Yan. At the Academy when he was getting kicked out because I guess he wanted to be with the gang, not spying as a cop and at the end because now Yan's dead but is laid to rest with respect while Lau is now always paranoid that somebody will find out about his previous affiliations and also the guilt of never having faced consequences. Lau's fiance's story about whether the man who was good or bad was also an interesting thread. And though Lau got the chance to have a romance unlike Yan, he lost that when Mary (?) found out that he's part of the gang.

It's a tragic ending where Wong and Yan both die while Lau is praised for killing Sam and the other cop mole without being found out as the real mole who was working with the gang for 10 years, I appreciate its bleakness. Then again, it's a movie where you don't even necessarily want Lau to face retribution because you can see him want to become better and abandon being a mole for the gang.

I liked this comment about the film discussing its philosophies/why the way it ended mattered.

Rating: 7/10

[weirdo-2000]

I posted 252 times in 2022

That's 214 more posts than 2021!

79 posts created (31%)

173 posts reblogged (69%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@zzoupz

@randompurplepanthergorl

@gayalienlover

@pastel-skies

@punkhomerkin

I tagged 53 of my posts in 2022

#waylon smithers - 5 posts

#the simpsons - 5 posts

#smiling friends - 3 posts

#roblox - 2 posts

#smoe - 2 posts

#degenerate artist problems :\ - 1 post

#pokemon - 1 post

#the internet fucking sucks i hate it - 1 post

#weirdo-2000 - 1 post

#why me - 1 post

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#even then a lot of adults don’t respect that and figure that just because they have authority over me means they can call me whatever they

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

ive said this before but i feel like i need to say it again…….

do NOT interact with me if youre a burnsmithers shipper.

why the fuck do you guys ship burnsmithers lol?? its weird and abusive. burns is canonically 104 fucking years old and smithers is in his early 40s. and if you even pay attention to the episodes then youll see the way that burns treats smithers. burns is a narcissist and constantly looks down on smithers, always telling him off for doing whatever. imagine if you were in a relationship and your significant other always talked down on you. that would feel like shit.

the art that people make of them is super weird too. like you cant even casually look up their names without seeing some weird af fetish art of them in maid outfits spanking eachother or some shit. burnsmithers is fetishized to the MAX for no reason. fr, you have hundreds, maybe even THOUSANDS of simpsons characters out there and yet you decide to ruin burns and smithers for everyone.

i see burns and smithers as funny little old men running a tiny little nuclear power plant, not as this gay couple who want to grind on them eachother. fucking weird as fuck.

if you ship this, get off ALL MY PAGES NOW. i dont want you and your simpsons fetish porn anywhere around me. and maybe consider seeing a psychiatrist.

maybe also consider shipping something ACTUALLY healthy such as smoe or something. just please for the sake of your sanity don’t ship burnsmithers.

that’s all i had to say. if you ship that, fuck you.

6 notes - Posted June 16, 2022

#4

the weirdo-2000 blog!

hey there, i'm addy! welcome to weirdo-2000, a blog that was created with no purpose at all. my pronouns are she\her, biological female at birth. please try your best to respect my pronouns because i try so hard to be feminine and everytime i get misgendered it really hurts and i think about it for months on end. the content of this blog depends on my fixations atm. my current fixation is smiling friends. i usually post stuff related to simpsons or other kinds of adult animation, but you'll mostly see other random shit too. got any questions? you can ask me in my askbox. got a submission? submit it! please note that i am NOT AN ADULT (under 18) and if i recieve any NSFW chats, asks or submissions i will block you, report you, and get the police involved. do NOT take any chances. i will not be telling anybody my personal info because i would like to keep it private. you can check out my other profiles at stuckinchernobyl.carrd.co if you're interested. i also have a sideblog dedicated to my webcomic if you wanna check it out inaplacebeyondfromhere.tumblr.com thanks so much for checking out my blog. a follow, repost or like will be much appreciated! hope you like what i post ╮(￣▽￣)╭

6 notes - Posted February 17, 2022

#3

most likely one of the best videos i've ever made. i plan to abuse smithers in lots of other fun ways soon 😈

9 notes - Posted January 29, 2022

#2

we were at the park because my siblings wanted to go sledding, and they had these snowmen that some local schools decorated and we spotted…kenneth. this is so cool lol

12 notes - Posted January 23, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

you guys. charlie is LITERALLY that kinda person who sits on a couch in his underwear, watches trash tv and eats an entire tub of ice cream. alone. by himself. at 2 in the morning.

86 notes - Posted April 8, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[greenninjagal-blog]

Deja Vu pt 7

Hey guys. Been a hot minute. If it makes you feel any better this was supposed to be a short chapter and it ended up being 25 pages long. :) If you’re new to the story, you can check out the first chapter [here] or if you need a refresher check out the previous chapter [here]!

Summary: Dee takes on The Prince in a fight, and Remus takes on the Prince’s sidekick.

Word Count: 12029

TW: temporary character death, blood, teargas, guns,

Read on Ao3 || Hero Worship Series || My General Writing Masterlist

Remus is twenty-one and he doesn’t think he’s ever been as terrified before in his life as he is the second he sees Dee launch across the stage. 

He’s been scared before though: scared from the moment he saw Roman hit the asphalt at eight years old and there was so much blood outside his body and Mom wouldn’t stop cradling the body even when the EMTs were trying to help; scared from the moment he stood in the gas station bathroom miles and miles from what he’d thought had been his home and trying to tell himself that that was going to be the last time he chose to look at a future where he tossed himself into the jaws of death; scared from the moment when he was laying in Dee’s lap with a million lies stuffed in his throat and still was choosing to tell him the truth about this stupid ability of his that only ever ended with him alone and forgotten and not missed at all. 

Remus has been scared out of his mind, scared in his mind, scared far beyond the way that he thinks that any other living person could understand. He’s been walking with one foot in the grave since he was eight years old and eleven minutes younger than Roman and people still-- since that was still-- since the first time it started mattering to him at all.

He’s been scared.

It’s still nothing compared to the horror that grips his heart in an icy fist as Dee throws himself mindlessly into a fight Remus can’t see the end of.

It’s stupid and Remus doesn’t quite know how it got to this point even though he had been listening so hard to what Dee was saying. Dee is smart. He’s brilliant. He’s the type of kid that grew up excelling in everything he touched and he liked touching everything. He does math in his head like the numbers work for him, he speaks French like his tongue had never known another language, he lies and steals and uses people without them ever knowing they were puppets in his show.

Dee is a genius among idiots.

And somehow Remus is still watching him pitch himself into a physical fight with The Prince despite how he spent the previous three days saying that physical fights weren’t his forte and that their best bet was to humiliate and discredit the man on stage instead.

The Prince is smart and fast and most likely expecting the attack, but even he doesn’t have a chance to dodge against the agility of Dee aided by a surplus of invisible animal speed traits. Dee is moving for less than a second and--

--his claws are morphing right there in front of Remus’s eyes, too slow to make out, too fast to miss and Remus is beyond time and space as he stands there feeling more stuck than he’s ever been before. Dee’s nails are sharp with hatred, with protectiveness, with a selfish defense that Remus had only ever seen in spurts before. The Prince’s throat is soft and fleshy and weak.

One hit would take him out, permanently. One hit could have him covered in his own red blood, one hit could remove him forever and Remus would be in love with a murderer.

Dee lunges for The Princes throat, but at the last second he dips down and aims for an upsweep of his claws, cutting clean through that sash, shallow, painful, but not deadly because Janus is not a murderer.--

--One hit would take him out, permanently. One hit could have him covered in his own red blood, one hit could remove him forever and Remus would be in love with a murderer.

Dee lunges for The Princes throat, but at the last second he dips down and aims for an upsweep of his claws, cutting clean through that sash, shallow, painful, but not deadly because Janus is not a murderer?--

--shallow, painful, but not deadly because Dee is not a murderer.--

--Dee is moving for less than a second, but The Prince is expecting an attack and raises his arm in a flash of green light, and rolls to the side. Dee’s fist misses his face by inches, but it’s enough for the superhero to stumble off the stage which is not right, which is not what Remus saw, not what is supposed to be happening. 

His head is screaming so loudly he can’t piece together a single thought. His stomach lurches up his esophagus, leaving him choking on something that might or might nor be real while Dee fights up on that stage. 

The police bodyguards nearest to the shapeshifter swing into action, with guns or tasers or whatever-- it doesn’t matter because Dee’s body turns to a golden jelly like substance and absorbs the bullets and negates the electrical charge with a near maniac grin.

((And god, is it alluring to see Dee go absolutely feral even when Remus thinks that his own body is trying to kill him. He’s always so posh, so sophisticated, so in control. This is the side of Dee that he hides under a pleasant smile, the part that matches the scales and the fangs and the claws, the part that is half animal and doesn’t care about empty words.))

The crowd screams, chaotic and messy and dangerous and it turns the atmosphere into a thick soup of confusion and desperation. Remus feels one of those stupid fucking signs crash into his shoulder blade as someone gets shoved or hit or slammed or run over-- Remus isn’t sure because his focus is only on Dee, only on The Prince, only on the absolute anarchy that is playing out on stage like a theater production.

Remus remembers suddenly that he’s never made it through the intermission of a theater show, never made it to the second act and never made it to see the lead actors take their bows. Remus always left early.

He can’t leave early now. 

He doesn’t even want to, not really, not in any way that matters. Remus’s lungs are burning and his heart is slamming against his ribcage like it’s trying to break out and taste the world for itself. He grips the crowd control fence, so hard he’s not sure anything short of a nuclear bomb can get him off of it-- there’s a cold feeling stroking his spine, a voice in his head that tells him he needs to go and go now or he’s going to end up in one of those futures he promised his seventeen year old self that he’d never go through with. 

He can’t move.

Call him a captive audience but Remus is on the edge of his seat, off his seat, one breath away from joining the actors on stage and ruining everything. 

Dee lunges forward at the police line while The Prince crawls back up to his feet in a stupid daze, too slow, too dumb, too much like someone who couldn’t actually believe this was happening and too thick-headed to keep up with the actions. 

Dee never told Remus that he was an acrobat, that he was as flexible as an Olympic Gymnast, that he could twist in the air and remove his own bones and make use of every breath between him and his enemy. Remus thinks of every time he’d counted the feet, inches, centimeters, between the two of them and for the first time he thinks that Dee might have been counting them too, thinking of every way in which he might be able to use that space as leverage to pin Remus up against the wall--

Dee said he wasn’t good at fighting. But Remus watches him grow claws that slice right through bullet proof armor and then flip in the turbulent air and drive his heel into the soft of someone’s neck. A bullet misses him by a hair’s breadth and Remus catches sight of his fangs dripping with blood or venom or something as he hisses at the unfortunate soul who shot at him, missed, and lost a bullet to the dissonant crowd.

The techie with the bright purple hair stumbles back to the van pressing his hands to his headphones and squeezing his eyes closed like he can make all the bad things go away if he pretends hard enough. Remus wants to laugh at him; can’t he see this is too real to be fake? 

Someone barrels into the side of him, knocking Remus nearly through the crowd barrier. His head rings at the collision, sending sparks of stars shattering over his vision that he thinks match the pattern of tire treads on an eighteen wheeler that once ran him over.

Someone with another ability lets it loose and there’s an explosion from down the street, sending more people running towards the stage and the battle up there. The winds twist unnaturally, ripping the confetti papers into the air again and throwing them straight up into the air along with any loose accessories not pinned down. 

A girl screams right in his ear, an arm jostles into her throat to make her stop and Remus isn’t entirely sure it’s not his arm. Her face is gone in the shifting crowd before Remus can even figure out what she looked like. People shove and jostle and move and tear apart so quickly that Remus can’t keep track of it. 

There’s so much noise Remus can’t think. Gunshots, screams, the screech of metal and whirl of the wind-- it’s so much and Remus is so small against it. He feels the world moving around him, feels the time breathing through his skin, detaching him from reality and yanking him into something else, somewhere else, somewhen else. He’s not breathing, his heart isn’t beating, he’s not moving and his vision is flickering, flashing, fleeting: there and then it’s not and he can’t stop any of it. He can’t figure out what to do, what he needs to do, what’s supposed to be--

There’s a coin in Remus’s hand, pressed in his palm cutting into this numbed skin and he clings to it like a lifeline. There’s a Barney in his hand, the Barney from the night he met Dee, the Barney that means nothing to Dee and everything to Remus, the Barney that represents a decision Remus made when he caught it in the air three days ago.

Who gives a fuck about what’s suppposed to happen? Remus stopped Roman from dying thirteen years ago and the universe is going to have to live with it because Remus is not going to get Dee die, either.

He’s somewhere in the crowd, coming into his body, unsure when he left it, and there’s something thick in his throat he swallows away before he figures out what it tastes like. An arm is in his gut, a body slams into his shoulder. The force of the crowd is tearing him back from the fight, and Remus can’t go against it.

The sky is tinged with a low hanging cloud; something grey green and the screams are largest near it, the people shoving vigorously forward and away as it sweeps over--

--them like a wispy wave. Remus feels it pass over him too, a force that he’s barely aware of for a second because it's so quick and then nothing happens at all. It's hard to see anything, hard to hear, hard to focus. Why are they screaming?

Remus opens his mouth and it’s a mistake, a mistake, a mistake. It smells like vinegar, sharp and pungent and it fights its way down Remus’s throat when he breathes it in. His skin burns and itches and smolders where the smoke touches, where it seeps into his clothes, where it floods over his eyes. He screams as his lungs warp and twist in on themselves, tight, tight, tight and he can’t breathe through it.

He’s dying, he’s dying again, he’s dying and he doesn’t know what he did--

--them like a wispy wave. Remus feels it pass over him too, a force that he’s barely aware of for a second because it's so quick and then nothing happens at all. It's hard to see anything, hard to hear, hard to focus. The gas is everywhere and Remus can’t see where he’s going and if he stops whoever is behind him will run him over.

He shoves forward burying his mouth and nose in his sleeve, but it's not enough. His heart is exploding in his chest splattering across, bursting so hard it shatters his ribs but not enough to break his skin. He claws at his chest certain there’s blood there even though he can’t see it. He dead and dying and he can’t even gasp an apology to Dee he’s sorry Dee please he’s sorrysorrysorry--

--them like a wispy wave. Remus feels it pass over him too, a force that he’s barely aware of for a second because it's so quick and then nothing happens at all. It's hard to see anything, hard to hear, hard to focus. He’s trapped, caught in a gaseous net of tear gas that lives up to its name because he’s sobbing at the burn that he’s sure is the worst death to have survived. He doubles over, and he’s gone and done and dead because he can’t do it a third time. 

He doesn’t have enough sense to brace himself before there’s someone else’s panicked foot on the small of his back. Remus curls on himself covering his head in the chaos to protect himself, but the agony over his body is shredding his insides like razor blades that could pass through anything.

He can’t breathe. He can’t think. His eyes flicker trying to catch an understanding of anything around him, but his tears make it hard to make out anything up close and the smoke obscures the world he knows is past that.

Someone is screaming something, but Remus can’t make out the words.

This is the exact thing Dee did not want to happen, he thinks as his body convulses, as a guy with horns trips over him and several more people without powers descend on him with signs and fists and whatever else they have. Remus’s tears are streaking down his face and he weakly raises an arm towards them like he can help anyone when his own body feels like it’s dying. This is the exact thing they were trying to avoid.

It doesn’t make sense, Remus curses as someone steps on his ankle and he feels the bone do something it probably shouldn’t and his throat cremates the air in his lungs. It doesn’t make sense. Dee is smart. He’s brilliant. He’s clever and witty and always seven steps ahead.

Dee was the one who said a fight would cause a riot in the crowd and it would make everything bad. A fight was the opposite of what they wanted. Dee had even said that if he couldn’t get The Prince to agree with him, he’d back off and find another way. 

“It’s not so much for The Prince,” Dee had said. “It’s about getting the message to the people.”

And Remus is twenty one years old and can’t think of what Dee was expecting to happen when he launched across the stage like that when his own head just got kicked again and his lungs are a birthday candle away from engulfing him in flames.

What The Prince was saying was stupid, but it wasn’t something that Dee would have let get on his nerves. Dee was better than that-- Remus had seen him be better than that. Remus had said things that were more annoying, more irksome, more cutthroat than The Pitiful Prince could have thought to say. Dee had been shot half a million times in futures that didn’t happen and Remus had plucked him from the jaws of death every time.

Dee trusted Remus to keep him safe and informed. Even against The Prince.

Dee shouldn’t have been attacking at that point. 

Someone kicks his stomach again, and Remus tastes the dregs of Dee’s latte wander back into his mouth with a burn that reminds him of his worst nights except this is worse than all that. He feels like he’s one open flame away from igniting which doesn’t make sense because fire needs oxygen and he’s not getting any. Something happened to Dee, something wasn’t right-- Dee wouldn’t have attacked unless The Prince did something to him. 

Remus thinks that if he gets up he’s going to put The Prince in the ground, permanently. His earpiece sings with noises from the fight: Dee’s grunts, his huffs, his ha’s. Remus latches on to the sound of them, of Dee being alive, of Dee being completely in the moment rather than his usual twenty steps ahead of it. He’s not sure if the terror is from the shoe that slams into his spine at that moment, the ache of being unable to help, the fear that the teargas is going to kill him, or the idea that whatever The Prince did to Dee is still happening.

He tries to sit up, but someone jumps over him just poorly enough to kick him in the side of the head as they go. Remus feels the sting of wet concrete at 3 AM shock through his body again, stupidly. His brain screams something about windshields and rain and Remus tells it to shut up because Dee was in trouble and Remus had made him a promise to stick around all those lifetimes ago in that Casino where they’d met, on the balcony when he’d been stuck rather than gone, when he was laying in Dee’s lap in their hotel room saying all the words he’d never told anyone else ever before.

There’s wind. Remus blinks hard, choking on a sob that claws through his esophagus far more effectively than glass from a windshield ever did. There’s wind and it’s moving like a storm front, a physical force, direct, and purposefully. The wind is twisting through the crowd and catching the greenish tear gas in its invisible hands; Remus watches in delirious disbelief as it funnels upwards with the remains of confetti and signs, hats and papers, trash and abandoned items, upwards and out of his lungs, upwards and saving his life.

He breathes in a breath that feels like his ribs are going straight through his lungs, and desperately scrubs the memories of things that he swore weren’t going to happen from his mind. Another foot slams down inches from his face, and loose gravel sprays up into this face.

“HEY!” a voice yells. There are hands on him, Remus realizes in the next second, someone helping move him out from under the current of people that are in too much of a panic to help him. “HEY!--

-- “Are you okay?” the person says, and Remus has to squint to make him out against the tears in his eyes. At first glance Remus thinks he looks like someone important, someone familiar: a teacher he had once, a youth pastor from a church that his family only went to on holidays, someone in the community that all the other kids flocked too, except that they had to be the same age, so Remus’s marks that as his brain spewing nonsense again. He’s got glasses with smudges on the lenses, freckles that dance across his cheeks like a dot-to-dot for adults, and a smile that looks increasingly stupid compared to the background setting.

“You’re going to be okay, sir!” the man chirps right as another round of gunshots go off to their left as the armed guard fires one someone in the crowd and the winds shrivel up and die in response. “We’re going to be okay!”--

 --“Are you okay?” the person says, and Remus has to squint to make him out as his eyes ache and burn and he can’t scrub them. At second glance Remus thinks he looks like someone inconsequential, someone familiar: a college student who came here to follow the rules and trust his government, a guy who is in over his head, a kid who doesn’t know what he’s doing, and Remus hasn’t seen any sign of a power at all. He’s got a blue polo on speckled with dust, and bruises and scratches up his arms, a solid footprint on his abdomen that Remus doesn’t need two guesses to figure out where he got it from.

“You’re going to be okay, sir!” the man chirps, but Remus is busy spinning around just in time to see the armed guard fire at a civilian in the crowd and the winds overhead shrivel up and die because they lose whoever was telling them to move in the first place. “We’re going to be okay!”--

-- “Are you--OOP!” the person says as Remus throws himself up and bonelessly tackles that guard before he can fire his weapon. His throat is ragged and strangled and the noise that comes out of his is not even remotely human. His eyes are flashing with the futures he doesn’t want to see and he thinks for a moment if he stops moving he’ll forget which future is the present.

Dee should not have attacked. But he did, and every death that happens now is going to be pinned on him, on them, on anyone who isn’t the government and every plan Dee made will settle into ashes and fall through his fingertips.

Remus is twenty one and knows all too well that he can’t change the past. But he’s going to save the future, their future. His and Dee’s future.

The gun goes skidding across the ground and under the crowd barrier out of reach and out of touch and Remus’s head spins trying to orientate himself. Blood drips down his chin and spatters on the visor shield of the man under him, the would-be murderer, the all-to-willing homicidal maniac. Remus’s heart pounds in his throat, making its way to his mouth, until he’s not sure if he’s biting down on his tongue or the pulsating mass that keeps him alive and the tang of vinegar won’t leave him alone.

People stumble around the both of them, tripping over Remus’s legs, and someone stomps on his captive police guard's wrist so hard Remus feels it snap more than he hears it. The man lets out a yowl, as his eyes roll back and he gives in to the pain of it. 

The guy who does not look familiar in any way that Remus cares about is just a step behind them, grabbing Remus’s armpit as if to pick him up, but his focus is on the person in the crowd controlling the winds. Confetti screws through the air, a sign slams into the face of someone who gets too close to them and the two kids crouching behind them. They’re making a barrier. It’s for protection. They saved everyone who hadn’t been able to to get away from the teargas.

((They’re beautiful, Remus thinks, almost deliriously. The power and control and the fierceness. It’s like watching dancing, like watching pure strength, like seeing a miracle in first person. Remus never thought about other people with powers before, never thought about powers being a good thing when his ruined his life, but now he’s staring at this stranger with burning eyes and one foot in the grave, this stranger who is half wind and all power, this stranger who makes him think he might understand why Dee is so passionate about mutants like them.))

Remus is twenty one years old when he sees out of the corner of his eye, the man in the blue polo’s face screws up in concentration as he throws an arm out at the person controlling the winds and pale white light flickers from his fingers right next to Remus’s face. 

There’s a moment between Remus’s heartbeats where the sound disappears and Remus doesn’t need to breathe and time doesn’t pass at all. There’s a moment where Remus is frozen in place, half standing, half on the ground with his blood making him want to vomit. There’s a moment where he’s staring at the man right next to him and he thinks don’t you fucking dare--

But then the moment is over and Remus is watching the winds drop everything they’re carrying: the accessories, confetti, all of it that had been between them and the armed guard, falls to the ground and Remus watches the surrounding crowd descend on them like a pack of wild animals. His head rings with words that don’t make sense and he thinks that the smile the man gives him has a cold edge to it when he turns back to Remus like he’s expecting a thank you.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Remus jerks the man’s hand down, rasping where the words grate on his sandpaper throat and shoving him away. “What is wrong with you?”

He blinks and tilts his head at Remus like he’s not sure where the question is coming from, why Remus is asking, like he didn’t see what just happened right there at all. “Let’s get you somewhere safe, okay? I think you might have hit your head a little hard.” He says, “Wait… Do I know you fr--?”

Something soars overhead, and Remus rolls to the side and hunkers down as Dee’s draconic form sweeps over the crowd and nearly decapitates everyone still standing. Piercing screams echo in the crowd so loud Remus doesn’t hear whatever else the man says.

The man who helped him up, the man who looks like no one to remember, the man who just did something to that other person that made them not use their power, that man shoves both his hands into the air toward where--

--Dee is and Remus watches in horror as Dee’s fierce expression flips to a confused one. His glorious golden wings flap, once, twice, and then they vanish without a trace.

He’s been confused before, he’s been terrified before, he’s been scared. He’s seen Dee get shot, get run over, get hit until he bleeds. He’s seen Dee laugh at broken bones, seen him choke on his own body fluids, seen his eyes good dark and empty and lifeless. Remus has been scared, but that’s nothing compared to his feelings when he watches Dee drop like a stone through the air.

Remus knows what that fall feels like, he knows how his stomach swoops at the sudden empty air, how the air feels like daggers, how dreadterrorregret fills his lungs until he can’t even take that last breath. He doesn’t want Dee to know. Please, he can’t know, please Remus needs to stop this, fix it, please pleasepleaseplease--

--Dee is and Remus moves before he even knows what he’s doing. His blood is pumping so hard he thinks it's amazing that all his blood vessels don’t pop on him. He swings his elbow back with everything that he has in him, everything he can spare and then the stuff he can’t, because that was Dee and Remus would do anything for him. The man’s glasses shatter under Remus’s attack and he stumbles backwards several steps in shock. Remus follows him with a kick to his stomach that throws the stranger who can take away the only thing protecting Dee at the moment to the ground.

“DEE!” Remus shouts, glancing up because he has to make sure that he’s still in the air.

“You!” The man chokes on his own breath, looking up at Remus with something that might have been betrayal. “You’re with him!” 

And then--

--from behind him something sticks into his back, barbed enough to go right into his jacket and pinches there touching his skin. Remus inhales just as he realizes what it could be and then there’s white hot electricity coursing through his flesh. Remus feels every joint he has lock up, feels pain wrack through his body and ricochet around his bones like the worst game of pingpong, feels the tortured scream carve out of his lungs as he falls forward and his skin bubbles and melts around the prongs of the taser that does not have a safety setting engaged.

He head hits the asphalt and his vision fades and Janus is screaming his name in the worst way possible--

--from behind him something sticks into his back, barbed enough to go right into his jacket and pinches, hooking on his skin, and Remus lunges away, but he’s not fast enough. There’s white hot electricity coursing through his flesh. Remus hears the crackling of violent arcs break through his skin, hears the way that his scream terrorizes the air far worse than that time he dropped a toaster into the bathtub with himself, hears the way that Dee screams his name and lands on the ground next to them.

He head hits the asphalt and his vision fades and Dee wrapping his arms around him in the last embrace he’s going to get--

--from behind him and Remus twists to the side before something sticks into his back, barbed enough to go right into his jacket and stick there. He wants to vomit, but he’s more focused on throwing his body forward and tackling the police officer who just killed him twice and will not get the satisfaction of doing it again. Remus snarls as the man tries to bat him away. 

Remus might not have any intensive training, but he spent four years homeless, learning about the world from the streets of it. He spent more than his fair share of nights sleeping in alleys before he realized that he could use his power to find an empty hotel room for the night, a sucker that would give him money, an odd job that would get him off the street. 

He’s been in fights. This is nothing compared to those fights. 

He feels woozy, flighty: like his bones were replaced with helium and lead at the same time. He doesn’t dare let that stop him. He survived a 3 AM that never ended and he’ll survive this too. He didn’t need to see the future for that.

His knuckles hit the bullet proof padding, hard enough to send jolts through both of them. The officer swings an arm out, but Remus ducks under it and kicks his foot around the man’s ankle. There’s blood on his chin, screaming in his ears, the scent of burning flesh in his nose, and Remus grins as he shoves his palm into the officer’s face. Before the guy knows what is happening he’s on the ground again and Remus is slamming his heel into that visor so hard it shatters. 

He thinks he might be laughing, wheezing, as the blood welds up over the man’s nose and his eyes roll back. Remus brings a shaking palm up to his mouth and smears away his blood as much as he can, because it feels like he’s choking on it again. His eyes are searing and he’s almost surprised he’s not bleeding from them too.

Dee uses a brick wall of a building as a launch board to throw himself back at The Prince in the middle of the blocked off area. He flips mid flight, and whips his tail out of nowhere to land a blow that Remus can’t see if it hits or not.

“Motherfuck--” Dee’s shouts through that earpiece Remus forgot he’d been wearing. He hisses, with a stinging edge that matches pitch to the ringing in Remus’s head. “Do you know what this suit cost, you ingrate!”

Remus can’t breathe and is breathing too fast at the same time. He spins around searching through the chaos for something, someone, he doesn’t know-- what does Dee need from him? What is he supposed to do here? The man in the blue polo is gone and Remus can’t find him which means that he can’t see, not that he can see regularly, not that people aren’t still running around, screaming, the water pipes in a building didn’t burst and the metal of a few lamp posts isn’t warping, there aren’t trampled bodies everywhere he looks.

“Dee,” Remus coughs, choking on ragged words. “Hold on a moment. Let me get somewhere…. where I can... fucking see. Fuck!”

“That would be lovely dear,” Dee says although it sounds like he just ate asphalt and didn’t really hear what Remus said. “The Prince is being disagreeable.”

“I can’t...imagine why,” Remus says. “Personally, I love getting my... throat torn out.”

“We’re going to have a lovely conversation about your masochism, darling,” Dee says, and spits out whatever else is in his mouth and then grunts and swears again. There’s the startling sound of metal on asphalt and Remus’s brain tries and fails to configure the scene playing out where they are.

“It might be a pain kink at this point,” Remus says as he dodges between unfamiliar and panicking strangers he can barely see. He’s afraid if he wipes the tears from his eyes he’ll get whatever of the gas that’s in his jacket in them again. He can’t let that happen, not now, not when Dee needs him, and he knows that he can’t stifle the panic if he does. He sends a kick to the back of another armed policeman in the middle of aiming a taser at someone else.

Dee growls something at The Prince. Distantly, Remus hears what sounds like someone or something slamming into a car, and he thinks he sees the roof of the news van jostle along with the new round of screaming. 

“I would love to know all your kinks,” Dee manages after another second. “Fuck-- how is he doing this?”

Remus ducks out of the way of a blue post office mail box sailing through the air, missing him by inches, but taking out a police officer he hadn’t noticed before. He doesn’t get to see who threw it, but he thanks them, whoever they are. 

He needs to be closer to the fight again, closer to that eye of the hurricane that’s blocked off with crowd controlling barriers, closer than he is now so that he can do something. He jumps over a body, nearly tripping on an abandoned purse. A large shadow sweeps the area again, and Remus catches sight of Dee in the air, with his arm at a terrible unnatural angle. Remus thinks he feels his blood catch in his body freezing all at once despite the rapid pace of his throat bound heart.

Dee doesn’t seem to see him at all, his gaze is stuck solely on where Remus assumes The Perfect Punchable Prince is. There’s a shattering sound of gunshots from somewhere that echoes off of the walls of the surrounding buildings, but Dee remains in the air alright and fine and holding his shattered arm carefully.

His expression is contorted into something awful, something bad enough that even from the ground Remus can make it out perfectly and hates the sight of it-- the amount of pain he must be in, the pain that he never should have felt, the pain that Remus would take on wholeheartedly without a hesitation if he had the ability to sap it away from Dee. But before he can say anything Dee’s arm warps, twists, snaps back into place, and Dee snarls as he rolls his neck and flexes his fingers again.

“Did you just heal yourself?” Remus asks breathlessly, almost certain that his itching eyes are playing a trick on him. 

“Surely this came up in one of your futures before, darling,” Dee says without taking his gaze off his opponent.

Remus doesn’t say that in all of his futures Dee is too dead to show off, dead before Remus can get to him, dead before there’s even a hope for him to think about healing himself, dead, dead, dead. He doesn’t think it matters. There’s a feeling in his chest that blossoms and blooms and fills him like helium in a balloon threatening to take off with him. Dee’s wings flap powerfully to keep him in the air and Remus wonders how they would feel under his fingertips. Leathery, maybe? Somewhere between vinyl and bare skin maybe-- Remus doesn’t know enough about birds, bats, wings in general to know the answer. 

“Serpent!” The Prince shouts from somewhere on the ground. Remus thinks for a moment he can see the man through the crowd, but it's too much of a blur. There’s smoke in the air now, a fire from a nearby building, and Remus feels it burn acridly in his throat, heavy flumes of it sweeping through the crowd and obscuring the ground around them. Remus can almost hear the sirens in the background.

“I hope you aren’t referring to me, Prince,” Dee says with a bit of a hiss.

“Don’t you see what your actions have caused?” The Prince yells and Remus thinks the sound of his voice is grating. His knuckles crave to jam themselves down the superhero’s throat and rip out his voice box, just to make sure he stops talking forever.

“Me?” Dee says. “You are the one who wanted a crowd and a ceremony and a fight. I shouldn’t be surprised. One can’t pretend to be a hero without making someone else the villain!”

“You started this fight, Wyvern,” The Prince shouts back. “Crashing onto the stage and then attempting to kill me.”

“If you’re going to call names like a child, use my actual name,” Dee says, “Basilisk.”

The name sends shivers down Remus’s spine, and he isn’t sure if it's the good kind or the bad kind. His blood is pumping so heavily he thinks it should have drowned out all the other noise. 

Basilisk. Like the Casino where they had met. Like the mythical animal that could kill with a glance. Like a warning and a threat and a challenge. Remus swells with an emotion that’s so bright he’s not sure he can put a name to it, he just knows that he’s never felt it before: so proud, so happy, so thrilled. Dee chose his name and the rest of the world will know it.

((Part of Remus wonders how long he’s had it picked out, how long had he whispered it under his breath when Remus wasn’t there to hear it, how long Dee had thought about having his name up there in the lights outshining The Prince’s.))

“Basilisk,” The Prince snarls. “What type of person answers to the call of a monster’s name?!”

“The King of Serpents,” Dee shoots back. “The killer of foolish knights, and even stupider princes.”

“Now who’s name-calling like a child?!”  The Prince yells. 

It would have been comedic really, if it weren’t for the smoke and the screams and the gunfire. If it weren’t for Remus’s heart beating out of his chest and his mouth tasting like vinegarcopperasphalt and his ankle crying in a pain he can’t afford to actually think about. He thinks about leaving, about running away, about escaping alone but Dee’s life is on the line and Remus needs to make sure he makes it through this because he doesn’t know what he’ll do if Dee dies.

((That’s a lie. Remus does know what he’ll do if Dee dies because he’s seen it a million times before, in a million other places, with a million other feelings and still no one there to mourn whoever he was and whatever he could have been. Remus is twenty one and he knows that if Dee dies there will be no more reasons not to break that promise to his seventeen year old self. He knows, he knows, he knows.))

He’s closer to the fight now, back to where he had been before the riot chaos. Most of the crowd is gone, leaving smokey forms that Remus only semi recognizes from his nightmares. The crowd barriers have been shoved, there are bodies on the ground, the news van is jostled and the crew abandoned it in favor of maybe not ending up with their blood all over the place.

All of them except that techie in purple with the headphones and the face mask. 

“Hey,” Remus says, slamming against the van next to him. The techie stares at him like he’s lost his mind-- and to be honest, that’s fair. He’s got more blood outside of him than inside, and he’s pretty sure the imprint of him is plastered on the side of the car now: a red silhouette to go with the station logo. His eyes are red rimmed, his smile twisted and pained, and it’s only his own inertia that was holding him up. “Don’t mind me.”

The guy is holding a phone peaking, around the corner of the van, dutifully filming Dee barely dodging getting shish kabobbed by The Prince’s rapier and he looks very much like he minds  Remus’s presence within 10,000 feet of him, but is too terrified to move.

Remus doesn’t blame him; where would he go anyway? Into the disassembled crowd where the horror movie screams come with real blood and tear gas was just used on hoards of innocent people for no reason with no warning? Into the arena where The Prince and Dee were taking turns causing massive destruction to public property without a care in the world? Remus doesn’t blame him from hunkering down behind the cover of his news van and praying for this hell to end.

He is a bit curious as to who’s watching this video he’s taking, though. 

Dee twists in the air dodging The Prince’s attacks on his wings, by a hair's breadth. Remus swears for a second that the silver shining rapier slices through Dee entirely, but Dee’s back in the air the next moment, fluttering back out of reach and catching his breath for both of them.

“You fight like a coward!” The Prince yells from the ground, swiping his sword in a motion that is illegal in Fencing. His red mask gleams like blood, but Remus can’t see a speck of it anywhere else on him, not even a scuff from where he fell off the stage moments ago.

((Was it moments? Remus’s head rings with the question. Was it moments? An hour? Days? Lifetimes? He died, Dee died, the strangers in the street died-- how long ago was it that none of that ever happened?))

Dee looks scratched and scarred to high hell by comparison: his suit is in tatters, slices through his left side and his right shoulder, tears in both sleeves where he gave up human hands for scaled claws and sharpened talons, and he was missing a pant leg at the knee, as well as both his shoes that he loved so dearly. Despite his apparent healing abilities blood was trailing from scratches not fully closed up around his elbow, his shoulder, one cheek.

The two of them had to have been fighting this whole time but Remus gets the sinking, sickening, drowning feeling that Dee hasn’t landed a single blow at all.

Which considering the bodies of unconscious police officers piled around them all like lifeless dolls, seems incredibly unreal. Remus saw Dee fight. There’s no way. It’s not possible.

“It’s not fighting like a coward to use your own advantages over your enemies,” Dee says, to The Prince. He steadies himself in the air, his wings and scales glowing gold. “Surely you’re familiar with that idea? You have all the marks of her other training.”

The Prince steadies his stance, shifting his weight around on the toes of his feet like he’s considering the pros and cons of launching himself into the air. Remus hopes he does it just to see Dee catch him by the throat and send him hurling back to the ground hard enough to create a crater he can’t dig his mortal bones out of. 

“If you are trying to suggest something,” The Prince says, “your cryptic theatrics are getting in the way, villain.”

“You think you’re the first Hero she ever trained?” Dee asks. “Think your something special? Going to make all the difference in the world? She’s playing you like a fiddle!”

“You’re one to talk, Janus,” a voice says and Remus swears it comes from everywhere around him. His lungs seize so hard he chokes on the air, the shearing pain in his throat tearing at his vocal chords. The voice sounds like thunder, like a foghorn, like a car alarm at 3AM waking everyone who was previously enjoying their evening.

But Dee doesn’t shift like he heard it at all, and the The Prince doesn’t even look around. Remus’s heart hammers in his chest, stretching his skin, his muscles, his insides as far as they’ll go and the only thing he gets from it is the techie twisting glance at him with a semi raised eyebrow, before he turns back to the standoff in front of them.

Janus. Remus knows that name, doesn’t he? It’s on the tip of his tongue, the edges of his mind, the fog of futures he’s seen and hasn’t seen. He knows that name, he knows who that is, he knows--

--but he doesn’t have a chance to figure it out because Dee is lunging downwards at The Prince, so fast that Remus thinks if he had blinked he might have missed the movement entirely. One moment Dee is in the air, the next his heel is slamming into The Prince’s sword arm shoulder, and from the way that the superhero’s body crumples Remus can bet that his whole foot had shifted into something that was probably lethal. 

The Prince hits the ground with a satisfying smack, letting Dee bounce off him and land another five feet away with a self satisfied, deeply relieved smirk. The Prince cradles his arm, his white outfit soaking with red, his face gnarled with painangerfear as Dee turns around methodically. The hero fruitlessly claws the ground for his rapier but Dee snaps his tail and knocks it out of reach. 

“Give up, Prince,” Dee tells him. “Unlike you, I don’t want a fight. That shoulder needs medical attention and there are people other there that need you.”

“A hero never gives up!” The Prince says and Remus swears that he’s heard that voice before, that tone before, those words before in a way that’s beyond time. They ring in his head, hollow and cold and empty: ghosts made of memories that Remus hated and couldn’t get rid of and that taste like a brother whom Remus once killed.

“She is using you,” Dee says stepping forward until he’s towering over the hero. “Don’t you see that, my prince? You’re worth more than being her puppet.”

“She saved me when I was at my lowest,” The Prince spits back.

“She probably put you there, too,” Dee says, clinically. “Dragana Witchall is not your friend. She’s not a savoir. She’s not a good person, no matter what she’s told you. She doesn’t want what's best for anyone other than herself and the moment you realize that she will do everything in her power to silence you. I’ve seen it happen before.”

There’s a twisted look on The Prince’s face, and Remus’s heart thumps in his chest, near to bursting, his tongue tastes like blood, and his eyes burn with the need to close them and never open them again, but he doesn’t want to miss a second of this.

“She…” 

Dee shakes his head. “Come with us, my Prince,” Dee says oh-so-softly, offering a hand to the Prince. “Shake off her lies and let us save the world before anyone gets hurt anymore. We can do it… together.”

The Prince stares at the hand and Remus, for all that he wants to punch the guy in his teeth, wants to rip out his vocal chords, wants to bury him alive, exhales giddily with Dee when the superhero takes Dee’s hand.--

--but he doesn’t have a chance to figure it out because Dee is lunging downwards at The Prince, so fast that Remus thinks if he hadn’t known it would happen he might have missed the movement entirely. One moment Dee is in the air, the next there’s a flicker of green light and Dee’s fist is--

What the fuck.

Remus hits the side of the news van, choking on blood that’s pouring from his nose and puddling in his throat where oxygen should be. His vision dances with static, buzzing in and out of focus, but he knows what’s going on: Dee’s fist came down on The Prince swinging with a velocity that might have killed a lesser man, but there was a flash of green, a slight side step, and suddenly Dee was on the ground grunting through the pain of a broken hand.

The Prince raises his rapier to Dee’s neck, millimeters from his skin, and Remus’s breathing shallows so sharply it gets clotted up with the blood as well. The Techie inches forward, his hands shaking as he tries to catch every moment of this nightmare. 

“Surrender, villain,” He says. “You cannot continue to heal yourself at this rate.”

Remus feels the scream trapped in his lungs, crushing against his ribs until he’s certain it will shatter outwards. He doesn’t… this isn’t… He didn’t see this. Why didn’t he see this? Why did Dee attack with his fist? How did the Prince know to side step? 

He can’t… It doesn’t make any sense. His palms tingle with the memories of futures that didn’t happen four years ago: shoving a body down the stairs, shattering a snowglobe against a temple, wrapping around a neck and squeezing for so long that his hand print follows Roman to the afterlife. Futures that didn’t happen based on a conversation that had but shouldn’t have. 

Remus’s head pounds, shooting pain from right behind his eyes, that mixes in with the ache from the tear gas. What happened? Why did it… why didn’t it...

“She is using you,” Dee spits up at the hero. “Don’t you see that?”

“You are blinded by your hatred and jealousy--”

“Oh please,” Dee hisses out. “As if I would deign myself to a motivation so cliché.”

“Snake,” The Prince says, but whatever else is drowned out by a strangled yelp when Dee shoves his injured hand up and catches the blade of the sword with enough force to knock it away from his neck. There’s a clattering of scales against metal that Remus thinks he heard once in a movie about slaying a dragon and Dee hisses out in pain as he vaults away to put distance between the two of them again, getting rid of his wings in favor of sharper claws.

“Darling,” Dee says, and it takes Remus a moment to realize he’s the one being addressed. “Enjoying the show?”

“If you aren’t careful... MARVEL is going to be stealing rights for this action sequence from under us,” Remus says, bringing a hand up to clutch at his chest and wondering for a second if it would make sense to tear open his ribcage so that his lungs would have better access to oxygen.

“Disney is a greed based cooperation that’s next on my list to take down, right after the FBE,” Dee says.

The Prince inhales sharply, angrily, offendly. “You would destroy Disney, you monster? I was going to have mercy on you but that’s too far!”

Dee spreads a hand towards the streets around them. “There are people in trouble, possibly dying out there and the thing that makes you upset is Disney?”

The Prince, at least, looks uncomfortable about that. 

“Re,” Dee says, “Lead me.”

The Prince steadies his blade, “I don’t know who you’re talking to but--”

--Remus doesn’t wait for him to finish. “Rush him while he’s talking, go low, and strong arm his legs from under him.”

Dee is moving almost before the words are out of Remus’s mouth and, god, does Remus never get tired of that. Of Dee trusting him, of Dee not hesitating, of Dee believing in Remus. Dee soars across the road, taking The Prince in a razor sharp slice: Dee’s left arm laid out and sweeping under The Prince’s sword to take out his feet. 

The Prince slams forward and hits the ground so hard that Remus thinks his face imprints on the asphalt.

Dee picks up the rapier and lowers it at the hero’s neck just as he rolls over bleeding from every orifice on his face. “It’s over, my Prince. Give up.”--

--Remus doesn’t wait for him to finish. “Rush him while he’s talking, go low, and strong arm his legs from under him.”

Dee is moving almost before the words are out of Remus’s mouth and Remus is so caught up in the jubilee of being heard that he almost misses the flash of green that flickers around The Prince.

“WAIT--!” Remus yells, but The Prince is jumping in the air doing a perfect flip over Dee’s attack that he shouldn’t have ever seen coming and definitely shouldn’t have been able to dodge.

Dee lands with a roll that brings him back to his feet. “Re, what was that?”

“I don’t know,” Remus says, spitting blood from his mouth. “Shit.”

The techie swivels to look at him again, at the blood trailing down Remus’s chin, at the unsteadiness of Remus’s stance. If it weren’t for the headphones the guy would have been able to hear everything already, and Remus isn’t sure if he’d run away screaming, or drop into a dead faint. He wasn’t even thinking about what the guy’s recording was picking up.

That’s a problem for another day. Assuming they make it through this one.

Dee lunges backwards out of the way of The Prince’s next attack, avoiding it without Remus’s help, and part of Remus is grateful for that. He can’t tell which is the terror of Dee being in a fight with The Prince still or the panic of not being able to see what’s happening anymore but he knows he’s drowning in both in a way that’s unhelpful.

Dee rolls under--

--The Prince’s swipe, millimeters away from an unwanted haircut. Remus can hear the heavy huffing of his breath, of the ache of Dee’s bones, the shake in his limbs from exertion. He kicks a foot to force the hero back, but the reprieve is short. The Prince’s charismatic stupid smile is gone replaced with a determination that makes Remus’s teeth grind together.

The Prince lunges forward, blocking Dee from escaping with a motion that swings upwards and across and reminds Remus of how he drew 7’s before his kindergarten teacher verbally humiliated it out of him. Dee’s face snaps to the side glistening with a new cut that digs through his scales and leaves him hissing in pain.--

--The Prince’s swipe and Remus’s mouth is moving as fast as he can: “He’s leaving his right side wide open. If you duck you can get the back of his calf and decrease his range of motion.”

Dee makes a noise that Remus thinks is grateful, hopes is grateful, prays-to-gods-he-doesn’t-believe-in is grateful. Dee is slower than Remus would have wanted him to be, but when The Prince drags his rapier through the air, it sails over Dee’s head and Dee’s claws slice through his calf muscle as Dee slips away.

“Mother of Pearls!” The Prince shouts, stumbling. “How did you…?”

Dee heaves several breaths, flexing his claws dripping with patches of scarlet. “Finally.”

“Villain!” The Prince snarls.

“We’ve been over this, honey. It’s Basilisk,” Dee shows off his fangs. Remus thinks the relief is hysterical, a gulp of fresh air after he’s been underwater for so long. 

The Prince snarls, something animalistic and Remus wishes he could show the whole world it: this is your Prince, this is your fake hero, this is the idiot in charge of everything and look how angry he is over a little cut. Remus has had worse than him and he’s never complained about it!

“ZEAL!” The Prince yells to the open air, “A hand, please!”

“Just one?” A voice responds from across the area, and Remus feels his blood go cold, his knees go weak, his mind go silent in a way it’s definitely not supposed to.

Remus doesn’t know how the man in the blue cardigan who looks like no one at all got all the way over there, but there he is crouching next to a fallen police guard checking for a pulse. He stands up at the call, looking vastly out of place in the scenery.

“Well, if my prince requests it!” He says with his voice drifting like a dream in the chaos. “I’ll give you both of them!”

“Dee, move. Move, NOW!” Remus yells just as the character raises their hands and white lights begin to flicker on the fingertips. They look like stars, like spheres of sunlight, like little harmless rays that probably would feel nice, but Remus can still hear the sound of Dee’s body hitting the ground in a future that he stopped, a future he prevented, a future he does not ever want to see happen again. 

Dee throws himself into a back handspring and twists himself over the beams of light, and Remus can’t catch his breath anyway. 

“Do I want to know what those did, dearest?” Dee puffs out. 

“Bad,” Remus says.

“Delightful,” Dee says, taking another step back, except that he’s sandwiched between the Prince and that guy-- god the partner. Remus can’t believe they forgot about them, the mysterious person only alluded to, and never seen, except that now Remus is seeing him and can’t look away. Of course it would be someone who can take away powers. Of course it would. 

Remus is going to vomit.

 If Dee turns his back to the Prince he won’t see the sword, if he turns his back to the partner, he won’t see the angle of the rays; Remus has a sinking feeling in his… everything all of a sudden.

“I’m running out of patience, Dragon,” The Prince says.

“How hard is it to remember the term Basilisk?” Dee prods.

The Prince sets himself for another attack. “You’re trapped. There’s no way out. Come quietly and we can get you medical attention and discuss whatever it is that you deemed necessary to harm hundreds for.”

“Will that be before or after Dragana Witchall has my head removed from my body?” Dee asks. 

“If you just talk to her--”

“Heh.”

Remus feels the inside of his ears pop from pressure he didn’t know he was experiencing. That voice-- coming from everywhere and nowhere and why doesn’t anyone else hear it? 

“--most of my life actually,” Janus is… no that’s Dee. Remus knows that’s Dee talking. Who is Janus? The pain in his head is sharp, like a nail driving directly into his cranium, like brain surgery without putting him under, like dying but without the death part. He doesn’t know Janus.

Does he?

“She’s not who she says she is,” Dee finishes. “She’s--”

“I’m growing tired of your stubbornness,” The Prince says in an astounding moment of pure irony that twists Remus’s intestines into knots and loops them around his neck like a noose. “Surrender with dignity, snake.”

“We don’t want to hurt you,” the partner, Zeal, adds.

Dee doesn’t say anything to them. Remus focuses on the sound of his breaths, on the movement of his chest, on the phantom feel of Dee’s lips on his own from so long ago. Remus’s brain whispers about rain on a balcony, about fire in a mall, about gunshots in a casino, but he reaches past that, past everything, past the past itself.

His domain is the future. 

“Are you at your limit?” Dee asks him. “I can do this by myself if I must.”

“What’s a limit?” Remus says. “How much blood is a human supposed to have again?” 

“More than that, dumbass,” that voice says, and Remus blinks because Dee’s head tilts and he looks like he heard it too.

“Virgil,” Dee says in a tone Remus can’t describe. “Come to play?”

Remus is vaguely aware of the techie in purple shifting forward, leaning towards the fight, still shaking from every limb. For a moment, he thinks that maybe this mysterious voice is coming from him, but it’s too clear, too loud, too calm to be from someone wearing a face mask and shaking the way this guy is so far away from where Dee is having his standoff.

“You made a friend,” Virgil, whoever he is, from wherever he is, says. 

“I got lonely,” Dee says. “And bored.”

“Bored enough to become public enemy number one?”

“Enough, Basilisk!” The Prince yells, “Give yourself up! You’re surrounded and you have all of this carnage to take responsibility for! Your partner may continue to hide in the shadows, but you can tell him we will find him and bring him to justice as well!”

“Or her! Or them!” Zeal tacks on. “Or xem-- we’re all inclusive here.” 

“Right!” The Prince says, self righteously. He looks a lot like he does on TV and Remus’s fists itch to punch the screen all over again. “Surrender and end this.”

“You know what will happen if you do,” Virgil’s voice says.

“If the peanut gallery could please keep out of this,” Dee hisses. “That would be nice. I’m thinking.”

“Thinking just like you were when you leapt across that stage?” Remus asks. “Or actually thinking this time?”

Dee makes a face that’s vaguely affronted, a dusting of pink over his ears that Remus might have thought was from exertion if he didn’t know better.

“Do you want an apology?” He asks and Remus is only semi thinking about saying yes you motherfucker, when we get out of this I’m going to strangle you myself because somehow you don’t know what you mean to me at all and you just keep dying and cannot handle watching that again, how did I ever do it the first several billion times? 

“I think an apology is a good start,” The Prince says.

“I was not talking to you,” Dee snaps. 

“I’m giving you fifteen more seconds, snake,” The Prince says, anyway. “Put your hands up and get on the ground or I will put you on the ground myself.”--

-- Dee doesn’t answer, still mulling one of his brilliant plans, or maybe waiting for stage directions from Remus who still hates the theater and everything that comes with it. The hero shifts as the seconds tick, inaudible and yet unmissable. Then The Prince sighs in disappointment and levels his rapier. 

“You leave me no choice,” he says. “Zeal.”

The man in the blue polo grins again at the call and flicks his hands towards Dee, with balls of white light dancing on his fingertips. Dee launches into the air with his wings flicking out, but the Prince is behind him in the next instant jumping and plunging his blade through the thin skin layers between the bones. 

Dee lets out a scream as the blade tears down and out of the wing, like a knife through a sail, like scissors through fabric, like an earring being ripped out of an ear. He flings downwards and hits the ground again and before he can think of moving a soft beam of white light hits him. 

Dee convulses, he yelps, he tries to get up, but the Prince’s boot is on his chest pinning him down again and Dee’s out of tricks.--

--Dee doesn’t answer, still mulling one of his brilliant plans, or maybe waiting for stage directions from Remus who still hates the theater and everything that comes with it.

“Zeal is going to shoot a beam, if you take the sky the Prince gets your wing.” Remus says.

Dee nods, and then without giving anyone any warning he launches towards Zeal, who doesn’t loose his stupid smile at all. He raises a hand like he’s going to high five Dee, and those white lights come out and suck away Dee’s transformation immediately. He lands on the ground at Zeal’s feet, with the asphalt tearing through his human flesh like it’s butter. --

--Dee doesn’t answer, still mulling one of his brilliant plans, or maybe waiting for stage directions from Remus who still hates the theater and thinks he hates it even more now. If he ever has to see another theater he’s going to set it on fire.

“Zeal is going to shoot a beam, if you take the sky the Prince gets your wing. Don’t fucking get near Zeal, dumbass.”

Dee nods and then without any sort of warning he lunges at The Prince, who parries him with his blade. The scales meet metal again and Dee hisses like he might spit venom, but the superhero grunts and forces him back with brute strength and not even Remus screaming give him enough time to prevent The Prince from shifting them around so that Zeal’s white beams of light hit Dee’s back.--

-- Dee doesn’t answer the hero.

“Can’t you turn into a beetle or something? Fly out of this,” Remus says. “Please.”

“That hopeless?” Dee asks him. “Okay.” And then he takes a deep breath and his form ripples and waves and pulls in on himself, like the reverse magic trick of pulling a rabbit out of a hat. 

“ZEAL!” The Prince shouts, and the white lights are flying towards him, even as Dee turns into a beetle and takes to the air. Remus screams as Dee is hit, even in such a small form, even at such a far distance, even against those impossible odds.--

--Dee doesn’t answer and Remus feels like throwing up. They need to win this, they need to get out of this, they need to escape, but Dee can’t and Remus can’t make him and… and... 

And there’s a glint of metal in the corner of his vision.

“You leave me no choice,” The Prince says, and Remus barely hears him because he’s staring at a glock of some police guard long lost and long forgotten and long waiting with the safety off already. 

This is a bad idea. Remus knows this is a bad idea. Its a bad idea, bad idea, bad ide--

-- Dee doesn’t answer and Remus is twenty-one years old with nothing to lose if Dee dies.

“Take The Prince, he’ll parry, but you’re stronger.” Remus says lunging for the gun on the ground because he’s insane and courting Death as much as he’s courting Dee. He's never held a gun before. It feels bad in his hands, feels weird, and strange and not at all like what he thought it was going to feel like.

Dee nods and lunges towards The Prince and Remus points his new glock at Zeal. The trigger practically pulls itself. Isn't that crazy?

The kickback is a shockwave that flies through Remus’s arm making it numb and the sound explodes just like his heart does in his chest. The shot goes wide, but it’s close enough to Zeal that he lets out a scream and his little rays of white light sail over both Dee and the Prince. Remus slams back into the side of the van out of sight of the heroes while his body shakes and his face pulls into a grin for a reason he can't explain. The techie is on the ground, covering the muffs of his headphones to press them tighter to his head.

“PAT!” The Prince shouts. 

“Was that you?” Dee asks. “What the fuck, Re!”

Remus shoves his hands over his nose, stifling the blood flow as much as he can, teargas be damned. His head is thrumping with pain, and Remus wants to scream. His vision is blotchy and patchy like the world’s worst video game. He can barely breathe between the metallic taste in his mouth and the liquid flowing out his nostrils . It’s like throwing himself at a brick wall and expecting a different outcome; he’s at his limit, that limit that Dee told him not to cross, that limit that he’ll gladly ignore if it means that Dee will get out of this safe and sound and--

And he can see a flicker of green light and Dee gasps right before The Prince manages to get under his distracted guard and haul him up in the air. Then there’s green light flickering, dancing, flashing and fading and Dee’s body hits the ground so hard it forms a crater around him and--

-- The Prince steps forward gracefully, gallantly. He walks like he’s standing on the air, filled with an energy that Remus thought only came from drinking five Five Hour Energies and besting Death at hand to hand combat even with that torn up leg. His rapier sways through the air pointing down at Dee’s body.

“Tell your partner to surrender,” the hero commands. “Now.” 

“I didn’t... expect him to do it either!” Dee says and it’s funny, Remus almost thinks that Dee is mad at him. That can’t be right! 

“Give up, Basilisk.” The Prince says again, “Before someone gets hurt.” 

Dee spits a mouthful of blood on the hero’s shoes. “People are already hurt! You are leading them to be hurt more, Prince! The FBE won’t help anyone!”

The Prince hesitates, maybe even uses that rusty brain in his head. “I…You truly believe that? Why can't you just trust me at my word?”

“What is the worth of your word?” Dee shoots back, scales glittering on the side of his face. “Anyone can go back on their words!”

Remus clings to the side of the van with white knuckles, tasting blood on his tongue and in the back of his mouth and on his lips. The hero is thinking, he’s thinking, and Remus thinks that maybe he can cross the distance quick enough to tackle the hero away from Dee and he’ll have a chance to escape.

“That is true,” the hero says. “Perhaps a sign of trust is then in order, then.”

Remus freezes.

The Prince reaches up slowly, plucking at the mask.

He should look away. Remus can’t look away.

Because he knows…he knows that face. He recognizes it. He’s seen that face a hundred million times before. He knows those lips, those brown eyes, that crinkle between his eyebrows and those unruly curls. He knows those cheekbones, and that jawline and the way that head tilts back when he laughs, and curls forward when he cries. Remus knows that face because he’s seen it every time he’s looked in a mirror, he’s been haunted by it for years now, been terrorized in the nights by that face. He’d seen that face covered in blood, that face gasping for air, that face crying and begging and anything to get him to stop, that face staring at him with a hateful vengeful ugly expression and saying “You can’t see the fut--”--

Remus leaves a bloody handprint on the hood of the news van as he vaults it and the techie in purple. His lungs scream in agony, but Remus can’t hear it at all. His heartbeat is thunderous, yet even that is nothing compared to the bloodlust washing over his mind.

Dee’s head whips up, his mouth moving in some type of exclamation, but it doesn’t matter.

Nothing matters other than the rage in his head, in his body, in his veins that floods his limbs with the need to move.

The Prince hears him coming and his rapier comes up in an offensive attack, that Remus blocks with his left forearm. The blade sinks into his flesh and blood pours down Remus’s elbow and on the asphalt and the only thing he can think is that falling off the balcony, that getting run over on highways, that falling asleep in a motel bathtub with bloody keys in his hands, all hurt a hundred times worse than this itty, bitty little scratch.

He laughs.

"Hey Roman!" Remus says in a parody of a delighted tone, and The Prince stumbles back. "It’s been a while!"

[Chapter Eight]

[pencilofawesomeness]

For the bingo: Mavis, Cana, Freed, and Mirajane

MAVIS

I love how she's perfectly capable of committing war crimes, even before she got cursed.

CANA

She was simultaneously the most sane person in her age group at Fairy Tail and also messed up. She is such an MVP. Would have loved to see her play the Big Sister more.

FREED

This dude obviously has A Backstory, and bits we see are so tantalizing. Alas, he somehow got stuck bouncing between being the responsible bean and being some sort of weird comic relief, Juvia-style. Not to mention he was robbed of a proper arc, even though though it had a great beginning set up.

MIRAJANE

I think about her way too often. She has such a great set-up, even if the execution was befuddling. I want to give her a hug and sit her down for a talk at the same time. It is almost amazing how much time she gets to progress so little.

[p0orbaby]

ok ok how about a pregnant!Wanda x reader where she’s really moody and when we say some dumb stuff her eyes glow red and she tilts her head and WE’RE SCARED AF and try making it up to her after 😭😭😭

Happy Wife, Happy Life

Summary - Maybe you needed to think before you spoke, because grovelling at Wanda’s feet is not a good look.

Warnings - none

Authors note - Sorry for these taking so long to get written and posted. I’m a busy bee rn so please bear with.

Word count - 1.5k

Navigation

Being married to Wanda was great. The two of you had always gotten on like a house on fire. It was a very rare occasion that the two of you would argue. Of course you would fall out every so often, but it was normally something so small that by the time you had made up, you could barely even remember what it was you had bickered about in the first place.

However, the Wanda that was currently staring up at you now was not the Wanda that you married. Oh no, this Wanda had been clouded by hormones and fatigue from growing your child for the past eight months. She was scary and you wanted your sweet wife back.

“I’m sorry baby, I didn’t mean it”

“I don’t care if you didn’t mean it. You still said it”

“It was a joke! I was trying to have a laugh”

“Well I’m not laughing am I?”

This uproar came out of nowhere in your opinion. All you said was that if she had gotten stuck on her back she’d be like a turtle flailing around for help. Normally a comment like that would be met with Wanda throwing her head back and letting out a laugh but no, not anymore.

“You’ve got to admit it was a little funny”

“There’s funny and then there’s just plain mean Y/N”

“Well it’s true, you’re so big now that if I wasn’t around to help you up, you’d probably be stuck on the floor forever”

You held out your hand for her so you could assist her in getting up off of the bathroom floor. Why she had decided to get down on her hands and knees to scrub at the grout you’d never know. And you’d daren't ask at this point, too scared as to what her reaction might be. Nonetheless you offered a helping hand to get her out of the predicament she had gotten herself in.

“What did you just say to me?” say retorted, not bothering to accept your help, opting to use the side of the bath to hoist herself up.

“What now? Wands come on, help me out here”

The tilt of Wanda’s head was enough to let you know you’d fucked up. Even though you didn't exactly know how.

“Did you just call me fat?”

“No! No I would never. I called you big, there’s a difference!” You weren’t helping your situation one little bit.

“If there’s a difference, care to fill me in?”

“I uh, well fat is you know, not what you are and big is, ah-“

“That’s what I thought”

“Wanda wait” your efforts to call her back into the bathroom fell on deaf ears as she slammed the door behind her. The bang of the door against it’s frame echoing off of the now spotless tiled floor.

-

You were never one to grovel, but you really couldn't think of a way to come back from this, so you made your way down the stairs preparing to lose some of your dignity in order to apologise to your wife.

You found wanda at the kitchen sink, appearing to be cleaning the dishes, but the noise of clanking china or running water wasn’t filling the space.

As you approached, you saw that she was not in fact doing the dishes, but eating leftover take out from the night before.

“Let me make you something to eat if you’re hungry” you offered hoping your invitation for a nice meal would be enough to have her forgive you.

“No thank you, I don't need your help” she didn't even turn around to face you but just carried on slurping cold noodles from the container.

“Well at least let me heat it up for you?”

“I prefer them cold” well that was a complete lie. Knowing full well she despised cold food. Now you definitely know she's being stubborn.

“Look, Wanda, I'm sorry. I don't know why I said it but please can you forgive me?”

She finally turned to look at you now. “And why would I do that?”

You knew she was trying to be stern with you, it was commendable really, but the fact that her chin was covered in chow mein sauce made it very hard to take her seriously.

“Because I'm your wife and you love me” it was nie on impossible to try and not laugh at her. How could she not notice she was covered in food? Unfortunately for you she did end up noticing your mouth twitching.

“And now you're laughing at me. You’re digging your own grave, so if I were you I’d make myself scarce before I help you get in it”

So you did, you scurried back upstairs out of her way knowing better than to argue with her further. At least this shunning can help you figure out how to make it up to her.

-

After a while of thinking, you settled on running her a bath. You had been watching her outside in the garden, pottering around in the flower bed so she was bound to be muddy and sweaty. And who doesn’t like a nice hot bath to ease their aching bones. Well, pregnant Wanda apparently.

“I had a shower this morning, I don’t need a bath as well”

“I'm sure you don't need one, but I thought I could pamper you, I’ve put your favourite oil in there, you know, the lavender one”

“I don’t like that one anymore. It makes me feel sick”

“Oh, well let me drain it an run you a fresh-”

“That’s a waste of water Y/N, you just use it” her turning back to what she was doing in the garden was enough to tell you the conversation was over. So you headed to the bathroom to enjoy your afternoon bath.

The hot water was bliss. It seemed to release all the tension in your muscles you didn't realise had appeared there. The cold shoulder your wife was giving you was probably the cause of your increased anxiety, and finding a remedy for it was becoming increasingly difficult. Then an idea popped into your head. An idea that would surely have her excusing you in no time.

-

“What’s all this?” the sound of Wanda's voice from behind you made you jump slightly.

“It was supposed to be a surprise but it’s okay. I thought we could recreate our first date”

You had set up the lounge in a way that closely resembles a cinema. Well as close as you could get it with the resources at hand and approximately twenty minutes of set up time.

“You do know it's not our anniversary for another few months right?”

“Yeah I know, I just wanted to do something nice for you”

“As much as I'd love to sit and watch a movie with you, I'm tired from being in the sun all day. Can we raincheck?

“Uh yeah, sure, is there anything you want me to do? I can help you get ready for bed if that's what you want?

“Sure why not” she responded hesitantly, not really the tone you were hoping for but at least it was a start.

As she made her way up the stairs, you slipped in behind her and placed your hands on her hips. It was the first time since this morning she had let you close enough to touch her and it felt like coming home. You didn’t want to let go so you kept your hands in place until she settled herself on the edge of the bed.

“You go and get yourself sorted and I’ll start getting undressed, you can help me finish when you're done” she instructed. Not wanting to push your luck you did as she suggested, rushing through your nightly routine to get back by her side.

You were just finishing up washing your face when you heard grunting from the other room. Deciding nothing serious was going on, you carried on what you were doing, that was until you heard the noises again, but louder this time.

Curiosity got the better of you so you walked from the bathroom to see what was going on. To your surprise, you found Wanda trying to take off a pair of shoes, trying being the key word.

“I know you’re there, so are you going to help me or not” if her tone wasn’t so soft, you would have definitely thought she was still angry at you.

“Of course I’ll help, did you knot the laces too tight again?”

“More than likely but I can’t bend down far enough to undo them either way. So you were right”

“Right about what my love” you asked, bending down to get a start on undoing her shoes.

“I am big aren’t I? I look more like a beached whale than a turtle”

“Maybe so, but you’re a cute whale nonetheless”

That time you weren’t greeted with a tilt of her head, but a wide smile that made you know she forgave you.

Taglist

@jromanoff @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @diaryoflife @xxromanoffxx

[lostinfantasyworlds]

Can you give me a list of the smuttiest InuKag fics you can think of? It’s, uh, for my friend. 😏

OOOOOH anon you have no idea how excited I was to see this ask in my inbox!! We are truly blessed in this fandom with soooo many talented smut writers, and I feel like I still haven't even read enough to be qualified to give a complete answer, but I will do my best with what I've read so far!

P.S. There are so many stories I adore that have AMAZING smut, but since you specifically asked for the smuttiest, I'm only going to include stories where sex is the main focus of the story. Also, so as to not make this too long, I tried to limit myself to only 5 stories per category, and only one per author (with one exception).

PWP One Shots/Quick Reads (<10k word stories focused almost entirely on the sex)

Lesson by @akitokihojo - (AU. Light BDSM) Akitoki's summary: "After a long night out, tensions begin to build. Kagome gets herself into a little trouble with Inuyasha, and Inuyasha is more than happy to teach her right from wrong." Listen...this fic changed my life. I actually had little to no interest in smut before joining this fandom, but then I decided to read this and it was SO HOT that it unlocked a slutty side of myself I wasn't even aware I had. I have been having SO much fun reading/writing all kinds of smut ever since, and it is in part thanks to this fic!

The One With the Fantasy Type Thing by @shinidamachu - (Canon) Inuyasha and Kagome share their sexual fantasies with each other (and then act on them, of course😏). Words can't describe how much I love this. Sid's writing is phenomenal and I can 100% see this happening in a post-canon world. 100/10 HOT AF 🔥

Heavy Petting by @intoevernightfanfic - (Canon) Kagome discovers that Inuyasha's ears are an erogenous zone. This story was nominated for FC a few quarters back, and I remember being blown away when I read it because of how well written and in-character everything is, and of course how incredible the smut is!

Make Me by @keichanz - (AU) It's extremely hard to pick just one of Heather's stories, because she has SO MANY amazingly smutty fics (she's called the Smut Queen for a reason!!). This is just the most recent one I'd bookmarked, and it is (as usual) stunningly written and sexy as all fuck. But be sure to check out her other NSFW InuKag stories because there is SO much gold there!

Underneath It All by @superpixie42 - (AU) A wonderfully fun and sexy story that also features some incredible NSFW art by @kalcia!! Pixie has a way with words that is just so freaking enjoyable and makes me smile every time I read one of her fics. You'll also definitely be fanning yourself after this one! Again, be sure to check out her other NSFW InuKag stories as well. You won't regret it 😉

There are sooo many PWP one shots out there, and I feel bad because I know I'm leaving some incredible ones out, but I have to stop somewhere. I do need to give a quick shoutout to @lavendertwilight89 though, who has so many fantastic PWP (some with plot) InuKag stories that it was impossible to choose! Also @mamabearcat who has a plethora of amazingly smutty InuKag stories that I just haven't gotten the chance to read all of yet!

Sexy Short Stories (Fun 10 - 40k word stories that have a decent amount of plot but the general vibe is consistently sexy)

Breathless by @witchygirl99 - (AU) Witchy's summary: "Horny Non-Runner Kagome seeks Scowling Adonis Inuyasha who is Equally As Horny. Things happen." My god Witchy's writing brings me so much joy it's unreal. This story is sexy and funny and amazing from start to finish with some of the hottest smut I've ever read to top it all off! You will 100% need a cold shower to cool off from this one 🔥🔥🔥

I Do(n't) by @ninmenkaspeaches - (AU) AHH I love this story!! Not only does it have an amazing plot (best friends to lovers ONE OF MY FAVS), but there is a sexy undercurrent throughout (including Inuyasha's ✨secret occupation✨) and of course some wonderful smut! This author also has a few other smutty InuKag stories which you'll definitely want to check out 😏

Thirst Impressions by @fandomobsessions016 - (College AU) I finally read this the other day and now I am wholeheartedly OBSESSED with this story. The writing is flawless and there's so much fun flirting and sexual tension buildup between Inuyasha and Kagome that progresses so enjoyably and has a very satisfying conclusion 😏. Plus the entire premise is Kagome finding Inuyasha to be ridiculously attractive, which, I mean...same.

Three's Company by @anisaanisa - (AU. Poly InuKagSan at first) If you like the idea of adding Sango into the mix with InuKag (TANDEM👏🏻BLOWJOB👏🏻) then you'll definitely enjoy this story (with endgame InuKag!). The perfect mix of porn and plot, sweet and sexy, this is such an enjoyable read from start to finish. Also be sure to read the follow-up Two for the Show for more glorious InuKag porn that is just 🔥🔥🔥

The Right Wrong Number by @neutronstarchild - (AU) Kagome accidentally texts a random number (which just so happens to be Inuyasha's) a picture of herself in a bikini that was meant for her ex. Inuyasha responds with a picture of his own, leading to a sexy back-and-forth resulting in phone sex (and actual sex, of course!). Such a fun and smutty story that also features some absolutely drool-worthy STUNNING art by @nartista!! We are blessed by these two, I tell you.

Smutty AF Long Format (If you like a healthy dose of plot with your porn. In all of these, a  good chunk of the chapters have smut)

Pennies and Dimes by @witchygirl99 - (College AU. Complete) Kagome is a phone sex operator to help her pay for college. Upon meeting Inuyasha, they begin a hate-fueled sex-only arrangement that slowly turns into friends-with-benefits and then leads to falling in love. I said I was going to limit myself to one story per author, but I had to make an exception here because a list of the smuttiest fics just wouldn't be complete without this story!! I'd had this on my Marked for Later for a while, and made a point to finally read it specifically for compiling this list and I am SO glad I did. SO. MUCH. MAGNIFICENT. SMUT. With a side of adorable feelings. 100/10 🔥

A Worthy Sacrifice by @lemonlushff - (AU. In progress) Lemon's summary: “They call me the ‘Goddess of Death’...but you may call me ‘Mistress’.” This is definitely another one that earns its spot on this list! I just LOVE this story and am so excited to see where it ends up going. Such a cool, creative plot with so much wonderful wonderful smut it's just...*chef's kiss*

Hit the Like Button by @omgitscharlie - (AU. BDSM. In progress) Kagome is an influencer coming out of a painful breakup and Inuyasha is a mechanic who rubs her the wrong way at first. The plot in this is fantastic, and once the smut begins there is plenty of it and it is all wonderfully filthy in the best way! Please heed the tags, as there are heavy BDSM elements and kinks in this story in case that's not your thing. If you're good with that, you will certainly enjoy! This author also has all kinds of insanely hot InuKag stories/one shots (some within this universe, some other AUs, and some canon-based) that will definitely satisfy your smut craving!

Mating Fever by @clearwillow - (Canon divergent. Complete) Carra's summary: "Inuyasha has a problem - it's mating season for youkai - and he's doing everything in his power to ignore the call. When the new moon comes and goes, Inuyasha is faced with two more problems, and they're both eyeing Kagome." An absolute classic in the Inuyasha fandom that I finally read in preparation for compiling this list! Such a fun scenario to imagine (that Carra absolutely knocks out of the park), and the smut is plentiful and incredible (Kagome getting to enjoy sexy times with three versions of Inuyasha...at one point even all at once?!?! HELL👏🏻YES👏🏻)

The Real Me by @fawn-eyed-girl - (AU. In progress) Sexy tatted rockstar Inuyasha finds his mate in equally sexy journalist Kagome. There is sooo much more to this story than just the smut, but since there is an abundance of it and it is all amazing, I had to include it here!! Sex against a wall in semi-public, sex bent over a table, marathon all-night sex, romantic lovemaking, you name it! This story has it all and it is GLORIOUS. Plus a fantastic plot with plenty of romance as well!

-------------

Well there you have it! I encourage anyone who has any other smuttiest InuKag stories to recommend to please add on (going to tag @inukag-archive)! I'm still relatively new to this fandom, so I've only just scratched the surface as far as reading fanfic goes. If I left anyone out, it's most likely just because I haven't gotten around to reading everything I want to read yet, sorry!!

Thank you so much for the opportunity to indulge, anon!! ❤️

[talesandfluff]

pre-wedding Bromtilda moods

they like, literally do not show any animosity towards one another till episode 5 when she calls him out on bullying Ichabod. both of them to some extent were mean to Ichabod but not to one another.

in episode 1, both of them are rude af towards Ichabod at some point "This guy needs help and I hate him" vs "Nevertheless, eff that guy". Brom tries to prank him in the woods by pretending to be the Horseman, Matilda ambiguously tries to poison him, maybe, but messes with his glass either way. parallels!

in episode 2, Brom instantly thinks of going to Matilda for help because he recognizes her as an authority when it comes to magic and death. Matilda, who was being mean to Ichabod prior to this, instantly accepts the mission (partly because it aligns with her goals of opening an occult shop and broadening her magical horizons) once Brom asks.

it may be a funny line, but "The injustices perpetuated by white cisgender men are what shock me. A headless war veteran stuck in limbo does not" "That’s like basically my motto" shows their political values align and they’re both people whose values are close to their heart

Brom defends Matilda when Icky jokes about the skull lol

they both ditch Ichabod at the cemetery to handle the police on his own, absolute icons

that cute ass smile she shares with Ichabod at "Brom wrote butts", and also the fact Brom wrote butts in HER yearbook!!! what was the intent here sir

Brom gives Ichabod the wrong head, and Matilda totally ditches him at the courthouse to handle the shitstorm on his own.

other cute ass smile at Brom’s silly entrance "Why is it that I see you every day?" it contrasts perfectly with Kat being annoyed by him and ignoring him.

I think that when she called him out on being a dick to Ichabod, she was also making the decision for herself that she would be a better friend to Ick, cause up to this point she has also dropped the ball on him several times. "I know how you can make it up to Ichabod: you can help me sort through all these documents" it’s their shared penance for being bullies lol, and also she could have chosen to drop his ass (like she did Ichabod’s, multiple times) but instead actively chooses to include him and push him to just do better.

Brom immediately took her callout to heart and reflected on his behavior, and when he apologized to Ichabod Matilda was watching him and nodding along to support him.

and then in ep 6 she came up with the idea they’re in love and he came up with the idea he wants to marry her.

and like the opposites attract theme they have going on not just in aesthetic/personalities but like Brom thinking he’s all that and that he’s the hero of this town realizing he’s actually made to devote himself to the ones he loves and take a backseat when needed, and Matilda staying in the shadows as Kat’s best friend obeying her plan, but realizing that she can forge her own path and make her own decisions and she’s not trapped in the role they chose for her.

just a rambling list of little details that pile up, these two didn’t hate each other at all before the wedding, they honestly seemed to like each other quite a bit, they were similar in some ways and went through a path of growth alongside one another and the terrain was ROIPE for them to fall in love eventually. it’s just very realistic two people who’ve known each other forever and like each other, who’ve been through something really scary and painful together would just choose to stick together and make the best of their accidental marriage situation. love conquers all and all that. nice af ship.

[studiojeon]

use me | jjk

this is part of my troubled outsiders series. i think you can read this by itself though :)

| summary | -   Jungkook was not someone to establish relationships and bonds out of interest, you knew that. Or maybe not, truth be told, he was an authentic enigma, so open yet so closed and shielded from others to see through, and that didn’t exclude you.

warnings: language (?), mentions of hook ups and situationships. mentions of emotional trauma.

contents: a compilation of moments that contributed to the growth of their relationship, jungkook is hard to read, jungkook is hard to read, jungkook is hard to read and sus. oc is kinda whipped and scared af. chaeryeong knows who you are and where you live. jk and oc are scared to let each other in. friends to lovers, idol!jungkook x student!oc.

author’s note: i hate this, but i have to get it off my chest. (the narration is off af but if i keep it in my drafts for longer this will never see the light of the day). p.s. thank u so much for the support on the last drabble <3

playlist: rain by trey songz (feat. swae lee). 

words: 4.75k

“JK?” as his broad back faces you, you call out his name timidly, not missing the way he swiftly turns around as soon as he hears his name come from your lips. Hair wet and darker than usual, a very big sweat stain at the center of his hoodie. He had just gotten out of practice, you assumed. 

“___?” he replied with the initials of your name as well, one of his tired grins plastered on his face, he must have been exhausted. You had caught on to him just as he walked out of the practice room in front of the elevator on your way to your office, right when you needed him, but now you weren’t so sure if it was a good idea to pester him. Even so, you didn’t know anyone else you could ask for help, aside from Linh who was currently in her own office doing other tasks you had assigned to her.

“Are you busy right now?” your eyes stare at him shyly, in hopes that he was willing to help you out, because you wanted to be around him, so maybe he could share a bit of his positive energy with you, the past week had been hellish.  “Could use some help returning all those heavy stacks of paper in my office”.

“Of course! Why didn’t you give me a call earlier though? It’s pretty late” he walked by your side and you enter the elevator, beginning your adventure around the company.

Jungkook was fun. Always bubbly and reciprocative, constantly trying his best to make you laugh and make the absolute best of your situation, even if he could be a bit stubborn at times. You liked the spontaneity he provided though, the way he would switch from one topic to another and how he would make silly faces at you whenever you locked eyes. 

He didn’t know, but in pure ignorance, he had just made your day ten times better. 

In the past week, you had received a lot of counterarguments, one by one, on how useless your management tactics were. Granted, you hadn’t expected for your ideas to be welcomed with open arms, but at least you had hoped they would take them into consideration. You had also been assigned a team, in charge of social media management, who worked monotonously and with little to no insertion in the actual target audience… your logic was: how can you advertise products to an audience you don’t even have the mere interest to know? You had designed a strategy, presented it, and no one paid any mind to you. 

But for the most part, you felt lonely. Had no one to talk to, nor go to whenever you needed your spirits to be lifted up.

Chaeryeong was busy busy with group projects and work. To the extent where she would get up at seven in the morning and come back at 12 pm. It wasn’t always like that, so you didn’t worry too much, but the fear she would wear herself off like usual still crowded your mind.

You close your office door with a sigh. Tired from everything, but somehow, your heart a little fuller, knowing that maybe you could use Jungkook in the future to give you a lift. Both figuratively and literally because he had offered to drive you home, being the gentleman he was.

“Why do you look like a sad puppy?” he asked you once you were sitting by his side in his very expensive and luxurious mercedes. Tinted windows and jet black shiny paint covered the outside of his car, the smell of air refresher and pinecone filling the inside. Mans was getting hotter by the minute.

“It’s friday night after the longest week of work. How can I not?” you put on your seat belt and lean back against the leather cushions. He pouts in response to you, with a concerned look on his face. 

For a second you wonder if he did this with most coworkers… being nice to them and offering them drives after having met them just a few times before. Kinda risky behviour, considering his position and squeaky clean reputation. You figure this would only last a bit before he realized he had more important things to be focusing on.

“Do you ever get chased home?” you ask randomly. 

With one hand on the wheel and the other leaned against his door he meditated on his response. “It happened once… And then I moved out, got a new car and everything. Shit was wild” he chuckles and you think that was the first time you had heard him curse, like ever. Jungkook, friendly and everything, wasn’t too big of a talker, but with you he found himself spilling, without giving it much thought. It felt refreshing to hear his voice and listen to his stories and the way he expressed himself. He was more interesting than he seemed, apparently. “Aren’t you hungry, by the way? We can have something to eat before i drop you off”

Traffic was hellish in Seoul everyday at every hour, and choosing to drive through Itaewon on a friday night wasn’t the smartest decision on Jungkook’s behalf, but you didn’t have the heart to tell him that. Considering the demands of his job, he probably didn’t know his way around the city that well. You conclude taking a detour wouldn’t hurt. “I’m starving actually.”

He ends up taking you to a restaurant near your neighborhood you had mentioned being good and not crowded at all, the latter catching his attention immediately. It was a modest but nice place owned by a very funny and loud ahjussi. The man had lost count of how many times you had come down from your apartment at 11 pm and asked him to make you vegetarian tteokguk, but they were enough so that he could memorize your five orders by heart and the amount of saewoo mandu you could down by yourself in five minutes. You were making him rich at that point so the least he could do was comply when you gently asked him to shut the place down for you. Jungkook hadn’t asked you, but you knew how things could get awkward and dangerous quickly if too many people found out about him being there. “Ahjussi, you don’t have to” the boy protested as he noticed that the man had shut the blinds for him.

“It’s okay, boy. _____ has been single handedly paying the remnants of my mortgage for over a year now, I don't mind doing this for her.” he joked in his usual nature. already writing down your order and patiently waiting for Jungkook in front of you to voice out what he wanted for a meal. “And well, you and your friends are making our country proud, it’s the least i can do to thank you”

“Ah, thank you.” Jungkook bows to the older man. Your heart softened in your chest, seeing how considerate he was towards other people. He must be great with parents, you think. “Do you really not get that many people around here?” he asked worriedly once he sat back down on the wooden chair.

“We do! But she’s the one who comes the most often” he nods toward you and Jungkook smiles once he found your gaze, a glint of playfulness in his eyes. 

“Can you recommend me anything, miss?”

“Of course, sir. Yeol-ah, double up my order. Drinks are on me today.” You yell at the man’s son in the kitchen, who was still a bit older than you, but also close to enough to let you order him around shamelessly. You knew him quite well, actually. He was Chaeryeong’s boyfriend after all.

The tall boy pokes his head out of the kitchen door with a very confused expression plastered on his face. “Aren’t we supposed to close in like, an hour?” Chanyeol asks his dad in front of you.

“Just go cook, I'll explain later”.

The two men go back into the kitchen and Jungkook looks at you with an amused expression on his face. “What was that?” he laughs.

“I’m very popular, you know?” it probably wasn’t a good idea to go there, but you felt a little drunk on his voice that night, and you also knew your friend didn’t mind. “In fact, Chaereyong from ITZY is my best friend, who would have guessed?”

“Yeah and my son is her boyfriend, who cares?” Byung-ho yells back at you from the cashier, pulling a hiss from your lips. 

Jungkook still continued to stare at the both of you with confusion and intrigue, you guess he thought you were both joking.

“Wait, really?” he utters after a few seconds with big doe eyes and a pout on his lips, a combination that appeared when he was either confused or lying, which wasn’t the case then.

“Yes, my guy.” you laugh. “That juicy legged shortie is indeed my wife”

Jungkook loved the food, to say the least. It was all vegetarian and korean as fuck, a combination he never throught was possible, but downed like thristy camel. He was a loud eater, which was fitting of him and his politeness, something else you had noticed that night. You were the opposite, and actually despised the sounds of other people eating, yet, looking at him enjoying his meal so much made you feel full yourself. He made you feel like a kid in some ways too, brought back the times when being around others wasn’t so hard, and you still could have a sense of security around you. Talking to him was rather easy, maybe because of his welcoming nature, or because in fact he actually was interested in whatever stupid shit you were saying, something most people around you didn’t do. He also, amongst other things, seemed very interested in your job and the likes, always asking questions and absorbing information like a five year old. You had explained to him the five key steps of process design and the psychological effects on marketing in society to which he always responded with wide gentle eyes and attentive nods, not once looking bored or… annoyed in any way. 

Was he like that, with every girl? Because you weren’t anything special, there were many other girls who worked with him everyday and even if you hadn’t seen him in his work space, you could guess by the way most women in your company look at him whenever he passes by that either they were just as captivated as you by his beauty or that he had fucked them. You wouldn’t be surprised if he was just trying to get into your pants either, it wouldn’t be the first time it happened to you nonetheless.

“I can walk from here, JK” you mention once you found yourselves walking towards the parking lot. A bit sad about the expense you had just made on food, it was your fault for trying to seem cool and rich, neither of which you were. 

“Oh no, I’m not letting you do that, girlie” he unlocks the door and gets in, not even letting you finish or allowing you to fight back.

“My apartment is literally a block away” you protest in the car anyways. You fear you had been too much of a bother, and deep down, didn’t want him to feel like you were seeking his presence unnecessarily.

“Well, good for you. But, you paid for the food, which was a lot, and i don’t want my sugar mommy walking by herself at 12 pm on a friday night” you first freeze, and then burst a very loud giggle.

“Whatever” you slap his bicep and roll your eyes. “ Next time you can pay if it bothers you so much.”

“So there will be a next time?” wide eyes stare back at you. “Count me in. I´ll pick where we will be going, just lemme know when so i can plan ahead” he rambles, a little too excited about your suggestion. 

He drops you off with a smile on his face and hopefulness in his eyes, promising to see you around the company. You, on the other hand, feel a tad confused as you enter your apartment building. What was going on? 

You had overthought things so much your entire life that it suddenly became too tiring to do. During the past few years you had to learn how to detach yourself and just ride the wave sometimes. Once you had turned eighteen, everything started moving at a very fast pace, the pressure of adulthood fell upon you like a brick and everything was so overwhelming that you started to simply let the course of your existence take you wherever it needed to.

That’s how you ended up going out with Jungkook at least once a week for dinner or a drive around the city for more than two months. Without even noticing, he became so engraved in your everyday life that whenever he’d cancel plans because of work, you’d find yourself with a void in your heart and a rush of boredom filling your senses. Even if you found yourself in your living room with the company of your best friend whom you had seen at most four times in the past two months, you were still wishing you could share that intimate space with him instead, willing to let him a bit more into your life, in hopes that maybe he would do the same. Sue you, you were curious over the most intricate details about his personality, how his personal sanctuary looked and if the smell of his room is just as good as his car’s. You could bet a thousand dollars (maybe a little less, considering the unconventionalism that characterizes him) that he also had a few plants that only remembered to water three out of seven days of the week. 

Hopefully life would draw you closer to more people like him.

"How's your boyfriend doing?" Chaeryeong asks you from the kitchen counter, sweet popcorn cooking in you popcorn-maker. 

You sigh. "What boyfriend?"

She was a lot of things but oblivious, and you weren't either, just when you chose to be. "Cut the bullshit, you know who i'm talking about". The fake red head waits for your response as she pours the snack into a big bowl, and you on the other hand take this as an advange to search around the room for answers.

"He's just a friend" you say. "And he's fine, i guess… He doesn't really talk much about himself" you mention, matter of factly.

Chaeryeong nods beside you, understanding what you meant. Then, proceeds to tell a tale about her experience meeting the dark haired boy. "He's literally so quiet, but like, so incredibly kind. Once he tripped over and fucked up some of the decoration at an award show" she grabs a popcorn and continues her story. "He looked so panicked I thought his eyes were about to jump out their sockets — His eyes are huge, by the way." 

"I know" you smile.

"My point is, he started to help the staff put everything back in order again. I think he's the only idol I've ever seen do something like that… i decided i liked him then" her beautiful features light up with mischief. "I bet he fucks great too."

You slap her leg. Hard.

"I'm only telling you this now so you don't get caught of guard when he actually manages to fuck you," her soft hands run through your messy hair, motherly touches easing the fluster in your body. "You know he's a big whore, right?" She adds after a while. 

You didn't. According to Chaeryeong, who seemed to keep tabs on every single colleague of hers, Jungkook had quite the body count, not that you didn't have your suspicions before. Frankly, she only knew of two girls inside her company who had had some sort of situationship with him, but for the same reason, she also knew he had some history with other girls from different groups. "Yikes" you laugh nervously, in admiration of their ability to remain calm and collected without giving anything away to the public.

Thanks to your friend, you had heard lots of tea about other singers in the korean industry before, most of which were not as sweet or kind as they portrayed themselves to be, some even using their social status to get their way with girls. But for some reason, Jungkook had never made his way to your gossipping sessions, nor any other of his band mates (except for Jimin, who, if you remember correctly, used to have some sort of beef with one of Chaeryeong's company members). You guess it was because of his unproblematic nature that people chose to give him a pass for his sexual endeavors, not that they were of anyone's concern either. 

A knock is heard against your office door. "Miss _____?" A girl with a brown bob cut pokes her head through it, the dim lights of your office shining upon her incredibly healthy locks. "Jungkook asked me to deliver this to you" sliding completely into the room, she places a box with a note on it on your desk.

"Thank you so much" you wave her off as she walks right out. 

The package had a strawberry flavored canned tea and a bento box inside. 

"I remember you telling me you'd never tried tofu pancakes before, so I made some for you last night. Hope you enjoy! - JK

P.S. Text me when you're done, maybe we can hang out tonight."

You felt like crying, in all honesty. The pancakes were heavenly, and he even added some slices of avocado and a few scoops of rice for you, despite not being the biggest fan of the fruit himself. With a warm heart and relief washing over your body because you wouldn't have to waste money on lunch that day, you had had half of your meal before said boy gave you a call.

"Did you like them?" He said almost immediately. "My assistant told me she already delivered them to you" he adds in a rush.

"Jesus boy, calm down." You giggle at his excitement. "Let me eat in peace".

"No, tell me right now." he demands with a fake angry voice. Cutie.

"They're alright".

"Figured… you have no sense of taste anyways" the hangs up. A giggle escapes your lips. Boy was something else.

Later that day, the weekend started it's course. Jungkook had offered to drive you to the Han River, careful to mention the fact he prepared a bunch of snacks for you two just about five times during your call. The place was almost empty, given that the rest of the city was doing something else more fun than staring at the night sky while sitting on itchy grass. Yet, you wouldn't change the setting for anything else. Usually, when you and Jungkook were out, he'd be in silent wary of your surroundings and the people who could be watching you. It broke your heart, knowing that most of the time he couldn't frequent places most regular people had the pleasure of enjoying, like the movies, for example, or a food stand in the middle of the street. Still, in that moment, the handsome man in front of you seemed as relaxed as ever, munching on grapes and strawberries as he sat in silence beside you. 

"This blanket is so soft, isn't it?" he commented all of a sudden, caressing the fabric with his hand. The thing was made out of polar fleece, no shit. You just nodded and grabbed a piece of fruit from his container. "One of my friends gifted it to me on my birthday" he adds.

"I know. It was me".

"Well, maybe you do have a sense of taste after all" he complies as he lays down on the surface, eyes facing the night sky above you.

"Says the one who uses toe socks" you say back, poking his weak spot.

Instead of going back and forth with you as he usually would, he just winks and closes his eyes. He looked so peaceful and serene beneath you, features carefully carved on his face and slightly blushed cheeks from the cold wind. Jungkook was like that, randomly over confident and flirty with you, but just as quickly would refrain from even disagreeing with you in the first place, scared that you would snap at him. He hadn't told you this, but the way you saw thoughts hidden in his eyes whenever you made a statement let you know his true intentions, leaving you to wonder where that came from.

"Are you tired?" You ask after a few minutes. Still with his eyes closed, Jungkook denies.

"I just don't want to look at you right now," he turns to the side, back facing you as an offended expression finds its way to your face.

"Yah" you slap his back playfully, not letting him finish.

"Because you look too pretty." he mumbles the remnants of  his statement.

Your breath catches in your throat as a shiver climbs its way down your spine. Why was he like that? He had no right tugging on your heart strings like that (if he was being serious in the first place because you never knew with him). You sigh, the blush his words provoked stinging your cheeks.

"You're supposed to say I'm pretty too" he turns around with a playful smile, expectant.

"You just go around giving compliments so you can get them back?" you hiss. "Why so insecure?"

"I'm not insecure, at all." He sits up again, ready to fight you and anyone who dares question the grandiosity of the confidence he had worked so hard for. "You can ask Linh about that".

To say you looked horrified was an understatement, hopeful that what you thought he meant was not it. "You fucked Linh?"

"Well, that's not for you to know". 

What a gentleman, you think. And at the same time, ouch. He had just slammed a door on your face.

"That would explain the way she looks at you whenever you come by the office" you realize. Frankly, the girl looked a bit too panicked whenever Jungkook decided to barge into your space, usually bored out of his mind during his english lessons, laptop and notebook in hand, or struggling to get the questions right. 

"Well good afternoon to you too" you ironically greeted once he sat in front of you, frustration written on his face. Linh, who stood by your side, suddenly fidgeting with the papers in her hand.

"Not the time, _____" he slammed both hands on your desk, startling you and your friend beside you. "Why the fuck did you make me enroll into this in the first place?" 

"I did not make you do anything, dude. I just gave you an idea" you excused yourself, eyes back on your computer. You didn't miss the way Jungkook's eyes briefly followed Linh out the room, though. 

His eyes looked back at you, leg bouncing impatiently on the floor as he leaned back with a pissed off expression on his face. You'd never seen him this way, so you took that as a cue to enter under paid therapist mode. "What's wrong?" You questioned gently.

"I feel incredibly incompetent right now." His hands roamed across his face with frustration. A sigh escaped his lips as he held tears back. "School's always been this way for me, always trying my best and constantly underachieving" he explained.

He was obsessed with winning, you’d even go as far to say more than he was with his job (which was a lot). It didn’t root from narcissistic behaviour though, but rather out of external pressure to constantly overachieve and exceed expectations. He was mostly good at doing that, but everyone had an achilles heel, yours was reading for example, his was studying and school.

"Jungkook, you passed most of your classes with more than 90%, what are you talking about?" a fact he had brought up to you randomly when you mentioned absolutely nearly failing most of your literature classes.

"Yeah, except for English." he shook his head in the way he would when he'd feel conflicted or insecure. "I don't know what i'm doing wrong".

"Did you fail something?" you tried to get some more insight into the situation, still unsure of where all his worries came from.

"No, there's just this sentence I can't properly put together" he turned his notebook towards you. "Ah, just look"

There were some words he had to conjugate and properly place in order to form a grammatically correct sentence, more than five attempts written in neat penmanship on the page evidenced the boy's battle with the assignment. He missed one very important aspect of it, though. "There's a fucking word that's missing, dude" you explain, grabbing the pen from his hand and showing him where the mistake was. "It's not your fault, it's the teacher's".

Jungkook's serious expression didn't go away though. "Well, damn".

You had some sort of emotional trauma with having people ask you for help, it made you think that they didn’t actually care for you as a person but rather just your skills. That was the way you’d grown up and what your position in society seemed to be as well, the one you could butter up and taste when you got bored. Heart had been broken many times too, whenever you’d realize what you thought to be a genuine connection was merely pure interest. Those thoughts clouded your head when Jungkook would randomly enter your office with a frustrated expression on his face, yet, that occurred less often than it didn’t. 

Jungkook was not someone to establish relationships and bonds out of interest, you knew that. Or maybe not, truth be told, he was an authentic enigma, so open yet so closed and shielded from others to see through, and that didn’t exclude you most of the time, hence your wish for him to let you in a bit more before you could allow yourself to free fall into whatever was going on between you both.

You reach for the fabric of his hoodie, tugging his sleeve with your fingers just because you really liked the color of it, and maybe because you wanted to feel closer to him. He doesn’t react to your touch, just looks at your hands briefly as they play with the edges of his clothing. “Where did you get this from?”

“An online store, I think.” he replies softly, reaching for your hand on his arm, caressing the surface of your nails. “It’s a unisex brand, i can send you their link afterwards.”

“Is it too expensive?” you inquire, not only to keep the moment afloat, but because you genuinely liked most of his pieces of clothing, especially his hoodies and shoes. Jungkook laughs at your question and looks at you with a smile.

“I don’t think i would know, ____. I’m rich.” he says, playfully. And he was right, what was expensive for you might just be cheap as fuck for him, you wonder if when a lot of money is in your hands you start to become very tuned out from what’s affordable or not anymore.

“True.”

“I can buy you one, though. I don’t mind.” he adds. Soft look in his eyes, a pure and genuine offer that you had to deny.

“I didn’t say i wanted one” you lie, only partially, because although you’d not mentioned it, you did actually want it. “I just think it’s pretty” you finally let go of him.

“Or do you think I look pretty in it?” he pushes, a sucker for compliments.

“Yeah, that might be it.” you admit, because there was no point in denying your irrefutable attraction to the man, as much as you hated to be vulnerable, especially in front of him.

“I think it would look prettier on you”.

Don´t copy or repost please. by studiojeon on tumblr.