#to do conflict resolution with like one of my best friends trying like hell to be strong in having any sense of self preservation

[weedpicnic]

god damnit life is so close to fully ruining against me! For me but they will not WIN but like how can I possibly have so many negative memories associated with one band and still listen to them on purpose.

[norcumii]

your name came up in one of the discord screenshots about the flamethrower drama, i didn't want to ask until i saw your tag comments but it was about useing your goodname to weigh in on this situation. Honestly i don't know the truth of what happened other than the alleged abuse matches personal experiences from completely different irl people

This is fascinating. Now, maybe I missed a post in all the drama – gods know I’ve tried to keep clear of a lot since I cannot with much of anything lately (see the recent lack of regular posting), but I honestly don’t know how many discord screenshots ARE running around in the first place, let alone which ones you’re referencing. The one post I do know about, I couldn’t find my name ANYWHERE in there until in the actual text down near the bottom of a very large image. Hell, I don’t think I even spoke up in any of those screenshots. 

So I have no idea if this is actually in good faith or not, but let’s proceed as if it is just in case, given I have no idea what’s actually being asked in the first place. Here’s my best guess!

Look, I’ll be honest. I don’t know what went down – I wasn’t there when shit happened. In 2016, I was getting out of my own terrible relationship, and spending several years focused ENTIRELY on trying to become functional again while trying not to watch Agent Orange burn down the White House. It was still a really stressful time, even out of that relationship.

Here’s what I do know. I’ve been chatting with Flamethrower pretty consistently over roughly 8 years. The only times I’ve EVER heard anything about phoenixes, aliens, gods, demons, and/or angels has solely been in the realm of discussing fic. I don’t recall reincarnation even coming up once in any context. I’d like to think we’re pretty good friends, so one would think if that was a significant part of her identity there’d be SOME kind of segue when we were talking about related elements over eight years.

It would be some pretty impressive compartmentalization to keep me entirely ignorant about that. Certainly not impossible, but impressive given how our conversations tend to wander. And even if that IS the case, even if she does believe any of the more out there things, consider this: I’ve been talking with her for eight years, and not once has this come up. If she does buy into anything about phoenixes, aliens, gods, demons, and/or angels, then for the last eight years she’s respected my boundaries and interest and/or lack thereof regarding theology and mysticism to never even get into it. Seriously, any time that part of the accusations shows up, THAT part is the one that leaves me gaping and gesturing in vague and useless circles because it comes entirely out of left field. If she does believe it, she sure as shit isn’t working to spread that doctrine. 

I visited Flamethrower and her family somewhere in...*squints* 2015? Early 2016? I don’t know offhand, just somewhere in the last year or so of my hell relationship, but before their housemate moved in. And I spent a delightful long weekend with her and her family. The kids were incredibly sweet and one even lent me their room for that time so I’d have a cat free place to sleep – I’m wildly allergic to cats, to the point where I tend to travel with my own air filter nowadays because unfortunately, so many of my friends also have cats.

The atmosphere was thoroughly comfortable – I do know for a fact that during that time and for several years afterwards, I was hypervigilant to interpersonal stress and friction (the first few times my parents had tiffs and disagreements after I moved back in with them were WILDLY stressful and I was freaked out WELL out of proportion to their grumpiness with each other). I think there wasn’t 100% smooth sailing – there was something about a meal not going as planned, I think? And the kids had a few disagreements – but it was all settled pretty quick and gave off the vibe that these are folks who know how to conflict resolution. Sure I got a little twitchy - I still do when watching interpersonal conflict on tv. It cleared out very quickly, and far moreso than when my folks have had disagreements. 

(For the record, the kid who lent me their room never seemed grumpy or resentful about the fact, and both kids seemed to be happy to have a guest over. The biggest issue seemed to be that I tended to slip and addressing them as ‘kiddos’ which they were very kind in continuing to correct me to not do that.)

Even the cats were wildly friendly – even moreso than the usual “ah, new human I see you are allergic PET ME THAT WILL MAKE EVERYTHING BETTER” shenanigans I tend to get from random animals. I recall that at one point I was sitting on a couch, poking my laptop while chatting with folks, and one of the cats decided it was the perfect time to cuddle up in my lap for pettings. I screeched and tried to levitate; the cat kept going right OVER my legs and had to be corralled by one of the humans.

I don’t understand how in a high conflict environment the cats could be THAT comfortable not just around a new stranger, but also to go running TO their humans for protection.

I did not see ANY evidence of violence, unusual levels of strife, or controlling behavior. I have no freaking idea what went down in a household I wasn’t in. I remember during 2016 to 2018 there were chat conversations about strained interactions; very occasionally annoying neighbors; NEVER anything about any sort of demons or demonic possessions. Really, to my knowledge all we have is the claims of one person against the other, and when it comes to the claims I’ve been hearing against Flamethrower?

I just know that the math doesn’t seem to add up.

[the-bau-quinjet]

heyyy. I know you’ve been doing marvel a lot, but if you could do one with morgan and the reader? Based on amplification and it’s the reader who gets sick instead. thanks!

Finally

Warnings: some mentions of being sick (cause... you know... anthrax), angst and fluff :)

Word Count: 2735

a/n: My first Morgan fic!! I love him so much! This one took me a while because 1) I feel like I'm not that good at rewriting episodes, and 2) I wanted to get Derek's character right. Hopefully it's not too terrible! I hope you enjoy!! :)

Masterlist

"Rossi, Prentiss head to his office. Morgan, get Reid and L/N from the hospital and check out his house." Hotch instructed as soon as Dr. Nichols was deemed a reasonable suspect.

It wasn't long before you, Reid, and Morgan were pulling up outside of Dr. Nichols house.

"It's clear so far. I'll let you know when we're done checking." One of the CDC techs said through a walkie.

"We should look around a bit." Reid started down the driveway, gesturing for you and Morgan to follow.

"Ow!" You flinched away from the rose bush, shaking your hand in an attempt to lessen the pain.

"You good?" Morgan eyed you, overly concerned about a small scrape.

"I'm fine. Promise." You winked, walking past him and Reid to check for anything out of the ordinary in the backyard.

"I don't understand why you haven't asked her out yet." Reid looked between you and Morgan. Unfortunately, Morgan was saved from answering by the sound of his phone ringing.

"Hey, princess what do you have?" Morgan greeted Garcia, glaring at Reid.

You continued to explore while Derek and Reid talked to Garcia. It wasn't until after you entered the shed-like building that you thought maybe the CDC should check for anthrax out here too.

By then it was too late.

"L/N?" You could hear Morgan calling you. "Y/N!" It was clear him and Reid were approaching the door you just walked through.

You ran back to the sliding glass door, slamming it shut and locking it before either of them could stop you.

"What's wrong?" He frantically ran up to the door.

"Get back! No, don't come any closer." Your eyes flitted between the two agents, landing solely on Derek when you muttered, "I'm sorry."

"Y/N, open the door..." Derek's typically powerful voice nearly broke as he watched you shake your head.

"I can't. I- I'm already exposed." You shook your head resolutely, convincing yourself this was the right move. "I'll look for anything that could help in here. It's the best move."

"Y/N, you need to go to the hospital." Derek put more power behind his words with hopes of convincing you.

"The hospital won't do anything for me. Nichols could've made a cure, and if he did it's probably in here." You tore your eyes from Derek, hoping Spencer would help you convince him. "Reid, tell him I'm right."

He looked conflicted, eyes flitting between you and Derek.

"She's right. The cipro isn't working on anyone infected. Her best chance is to stay in there and find something useful." Reid looked reluctantly at Derek.

"Then you better find a cure in there." Derek whispered, eyes lingering on you before he finally turned away to call Hotch.

-

"Morgan, Reid. How's L/N?" Hotch questioned immediately, forgoing any greeting.

"White powder all over the room and the air was blasting." Morgan responded quickly. He made brief eye contact with Hotch before turning to walk back to the door.

The general barked out instructions for a decontamination team and cordoning off the area.

"Get her in the ambulance." Hotch directed Morgan and Reid.

"She won't." Morgan felt his heart rate increase at the thought of you staying in there any longer. "Said she's more helpful inside than in the hospital."

"Nichols is dead, looks to be about 2-3 days." Reid added on.

Just then Hotch's phone rang.

"L/N?" He answered on speaker.

"I really messed up this time." You let out a dry laugh.

"You need to get to the hospital." Hotch tried to argue.

"I know Morgan and Reid already told you I won't go. There could be answers in here." Your stubbornness was showing. "I need to figure out who killed Nichols."

"Y/N-" You cut Morgan off before he could try to convince you to leave.

"I think he had a partner." You decided to refocus the conversation on the case rather than yourself.

"I'll get Rossi and Prentiss to ask at his office." Hotch sighed in resignation.

"Good, I'll keep looking at everything in here."

You hung up before anyone could argue further. You shoved your phone into your pocket, immediately going back to look through papers and lab equipment around the room.

As you worked inside, you could hear the CDC team setting up outside.

Watching through the windows as people in full hazmat suits prepared to enter the room you were in made everything feel more real.

You pulled your phone swiftly out of your pocket dialling the number you knew by heart.

"Hi." Garcia's voice was quiet when she answered the phone.

"No funky greeting? I'm feeling a little jipped." You tried to joke with her, but it fell flat.

"I can't be my normal, bubbly self when you are where you are." Again, her voice was quiet.

"Garcia, can you do something for me?" Your voice was steady, masking the emotion about to pour out of you.

"What? Tell me what to do and I'll do it." She frantically moved around her desk, ready to do anything you requested.

"You know how a few weeks ago, you were joking about my crush on Morgan?" You asked slowly.

"The one you swore didn't exist? I remember." Her voice was laced with confusion at your topic change.

"Well, um, do you think you could record a message for him?" Your breaths were unsteady as you thought about saying goodbye.

"But you're gonna be fine." She spoke with authority, as if saying it made it true.

"I know, but, um... just in case. I want him to hear it at least once." Your voice broke.

"Okay. Um, whenever you're ready." She listened as you spoke to Derek.

"Hi Derek. Um, I kind of have a secret to tell you, but first I want you to know this isn't your fault. I'm the idiot who walked into the lab. It's on me. I guess I just want to make sure you hear this from me at least once." You cleared your throat, thick from emotion.

"I, uh, I think I'm maybe, just a little bit, um... in love with you." You felt the tears fall from your cheeks. "You're my best friend. You've always been there for me when cases hit a little too close to home or even if I'm just having a bad day. You never fail to make me smile, no matter how hard I'm trying not to."

You wiped at your cheeks roughly, trying to focus on the message.

"I've wanted to tell you for a while, but I never knew how. I guess I'm glad I walked in here for one reason. It finally pushed me to tell you how I feel."

You chuckled again, but there was no humor in it.

"I'm, ah, I'm really sorry if this is goodbye." You paused, unsure if you had anything left to say.

"Y/N?" Garcia questioned if you were still on the line.

"Prep the victim for transfer." You could hear Dr. Kimura entering the room, preparing to begin treating you.

"I've got to go." You hung up without another word, trying to rid your face of any evidence of the tears before facing the doctor.

"How are you feeling?" She questioned once you were in view.

"I'm actually feeling okay." You nodded, trying to convince yourself it was true. She eyed you like she didn't believe you, but nodded with you anyway.

"Alright, how can I help?"

You spent the next few minutes explaining Dr. Nichols profile. Dr. Kimura set off to look for the cure while you continued trying to figure out who killed Nichols.

-

"L/N, stick with me." Morgan's voice sounded through your phone, drawing your attention away from the stack of papers in your hand. "Prentiss and Rossi don't think the partner is from work."

"Okay, um..." You went back to the bigger desk. "He's got course syllabi and outlines dating back to the 80s." You glanced around the room, eyes catching on the other desk.

"A student..." You trailed off, mind moving a mile a minute.

"Talk to me." Morgan drew your attention again.

"Derek, I think it's a student. There's two desks, different organization on both. The smaller one has what looks like a dissertation that Nichols could've been grading. He wouldn't open his lab to a scientist, but he might for educational purposes." You prattled on, more and more information fitting the theory.

"I'll get Garcia to look at science students." Morgan gestured for Hotch to call Garcia. He was about to hang up when you corrected him.

"Wait! The paper, it's more about social policies surrounding an anthrax attack, not the actual science of it." You spoke quickly, trying to hold in an impending cough.

"Okay, political science and social studies majors then." Morgan trailed off, waiting for your response.

"Good. That's good." You coughed slightly, listening to the sound of his breathing.

"Garcia's got a match." Hotch nodded to Morgan before heading toward the SUVs.

"Y/N, you got everything you could in there. Now get the hell out." He practically begged.

"Sure thing, Derek. Bye." You hung up right as Dr. Kimura walked back toward you.

"His inhaler! It could have the cure, right?" She looked to you for approval.

-

"They're checking out Brown's house." Derek watched as they hosed you down.

"Go help them." You coughed slightly, wincing at the cool water.

"They've got plenty of help. I'm staying with you." His eyes never left yours.

"Please." You looked him in the eye. "They're about to strip me naked and hose me down. As much as I know that's something you want to see, I don't think I look my best right now." You joked, watching the way he averted his eyes slightly.

"Y/N, I-" You cut him off again.

"I know." You smiled softly, gesturing for him to go. "Now go help catch him." You kept your eyes on him until he was out of sight.

Turning back to the conversation happening in front of you, you watched as Dr. Kimura instructed another hazmat team member to get the inhaler tested for the cure.

"It makes sense for the inhaler to have the cure." Your mind felt fuzzy as you thought it over. You moved to grab your head, something catching the attention of the doctor.

"Agent L/N, did you cut your hand?" You glanced at your hand, remembering the rose bush outside. You nodded, eyes widening ever so slightly at the now blistering cut on your hand.

"Let's move." You were quickly cleaned of any lingering traces of anthrax before she directed you into the waiting ambulance. "Are you still feeling fine?" She questioned while taking your vitals.

"I'm doing great. I flea foon. I fill fon." You muttered, eyes rolling back in your head.

"Driver, faster!" She called to the front of the ambulance as you started coughing blood.

-

"Are you eating my jello?" You cleared your throat as you eyed Derek sitting next to your bed.

"Yes I am." He stared directly into your eyes as he ate another spoonful.

"Well, is there more?" You pouted, eyes still lingering on the cup in Derek's hands. He laughed in response.

"What happened?" You slowly moved to sit up, eyes flitting around the various machines in your room.

"The cure was in the inhaler. The other patients are in recovery, and you are going to be just fine." The way he smiled when he said 'just fine' had your heart aching. He just looked so relieved.

"Brown?" You continued your line of questioning.

"We got him. It's over." Derek's soft smile remained, eyes flitting around your body as if he were making sure you were actually okay.

"Well, that's a relief." You took a deep breath. "There's actually something I want to tell you."

He raised a brow, a small smirk playing at the edges of his mouth.

"Oh, yeah? Does Garcia know anything about this?"

You felt the blood rush to your cheeks, eyes widening in horror that he had already heard the message. "Oh, um, I mean, technically yes. I didn't- I wouldn't have told her before you if I didn't think I might die!" Your voice was rising in pitch, panic surging through your body.

"Woah, babygirl, slow down." His previous smirk shifted into another look of concern, although he still let out a small chuckle. "She just told me to ask you about a message. That's all."

"Oh." Your mouth stayed in the 'o' shape for longer than necessary, your body's way of stalling what you were about to say. "You haven't heard the message?"

"Nope." He said with a pop. "Care to enlighten me?"

"Well, I guess I have to since you brought it up." You rolled your eyes, messing with him.

"Hey, now! You started it." He clearly had you beat, so you just blurted it out.

"I think I love you!" You threw your hands over your mouth, eyes wide now that you'd confessed to your best friend that you're in love with him.

"That's what the message said. I thought- I mean there was a strong possibility that I was going to die. I didn't want that to happen without me having told you how I actually feel."

Your eyes were focused on the edges of the hospital blanket where your fingers were twisting a loose thread.

"Can I hear it?" His question confused you, causing you to look at him with a furrowed brow. "The message I mean?"

You nodded slowly, texting Garcia to see if she could send it to you. The chime of a text coming in happened almost instantly. You didn't hesitate to hit play on the recording.

"Hi Derek. Um, I kind of have a secret to tell you, but first I want you to know this isn't your fault. I'm the idiot who walked into the lab. It's on me. I guess I just want to make sure you hear this from me at least once.

I, uh, I think I'm maybe, just a little bit, um... in love with you. You're my best friend. You've always been there for me when cases hit a little too close to home or even if I'm just having a bad day. You never fail to make me smile, no matter how hard I'm trying not to.

I've wanted to tell you for a while, but I never knew how. I guess I'm glad I walked in here for one reason. It finally pushed me to tell you how I feel.

I'm, ah, I'm really sorry if this is goodbye."

The message cut off abruptly at that point.

You could feel your heart pounding as if it were trying to escape your chest.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize it sounded so sad." You smiled, though your eyes were watery. "I mean, I guess it makes sense since I thought you would only hear it if I died." You continued rambling, eyes looking anywhere but at Derek.

"Y/N?" He prevented you from muttering any other embarrassing words.

"Yeah?" You winced, trying to prepare yourself for his rejection.

"I love you too."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said any-" You abruptly stopped, the words you heard finally catching up with your brain.

"You- you love me too?" You whispered, eyes finally meeting his.

"I do." His smile was wider than you've ever seen, and so, so pure.

"Oh." Your mind was having a hard time comprehending the gravity of what just happened. Luckily for you, Derek knew exactly what was going on when he leaned in to kiss you.

It took a second for your body to respond, but as soon as it did you could feel the butterflies swarming in your stomach.

Despite how new it was, everything felt right in the world when you were kissing Derek Morgan.

He only pulled back when you gently pushed him away, a wide smile on your face as you sucked in deep breaths of air. The two of you stared at each other lovingly, just enjoying the presence of one another.

The sound of a throat clearing coming from the doorway shocked you out of your trance. Reid stood leaning against the doorframe, a smirk on his face. He uttered one word, perfectly encapsulating your own feelings on the situation.

"Finally."

permanent taglist:

@averyhotchner @jesuswasnotawhiteman @madewithsebstan @sebastnstn

Criminal Minds tag list:

@mac99martin @goldeng1rl8 @measure-in-pain

[larkawolfgirl]

Two Way Street (Promptio)

Rating: General Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: M/M Fandom: Final Fantasy XV Relationship: Gladiolus Amicitia/Prompto Argentum Characters: Gladiolus Amicitia, Prompto Argentum, Ignis Scientia,Noctis Lucis Caelum

Summary:  Gladio does not think it's smart to begin a relationship with Prompto, but Ignis begs to differ.

Read on ao3

A shield has one duty: to protect their king. A shield does not have time for love if that love stands in the way of their duty.

Gladio knew this. Knew this like propaganda riddled into his subconscious. And yet, he couldn’t pretend that Noctis’ best friend hadn’t wormed his way into his heart, whether he liked it or not. It helped that the gunner was quick and could fight from a distance, so the chances of him being caught in the line of fire was less than someone like Ignis who got close and personal. Still, Gladio knew that he shouldn’t pursue a relationship. It wasn’t smart, given their situation. Not when Noct was in potential danger every moment of every day.

He was ready to hold himself back. He figured he had enough willpower to do so as long as he managed to bunk with Ignis every night. Even he couldn’t withstand that test of endurance. Ignis, being Ignis, easily saw through him, though. He sent Noctis and Prompto to fetch ingredients for the morning’s breakfast. He made the excuse that he wanted to stay in the hotel room to go over battle plans with Gladio, but they both knew that was a lie.

“Is there a reason you are so keen on sleeping next to me as of late?” He raised a perfectly curved eyebrow at him. He knew that Gladio knew that he knew but wanted to hear him admit it.

“Tired of princess hogging all the blankets.”

“Is that all? We do have one more companion, you know?”

Gladio plopped down roughly on the edge of one of the beds. “You know I can’t share a bed with him.”

Ignis nonchalantly folded one of his shirts and tucked it away in the dresser. “And why is that?”

“Because I won’t be able to pretend there’s nothing there if I do.”

“Would that be such a horrible thing?” He picked up another shirt.

“You know as well as I do that Noct has to come first.”

“Of course.”

“Well, then, what the hell am I supposed to do on the battlefield? I can’t watch out for Noct if I’m trying to keep an eye on Prom as well.”

Ignis placed the second shirt in the drawer and met Gladio’s eyes with a resolute stare. “Then look both ways.”

He made it sound so simple. “That’s easier said than done.”

Ignis smiled. “I’m sure you can figure it out. What point is there denying your feelings if they are already there? Do you mean to tell me that as of right now, you wouldn’t be conflicted if both Noctis and Prompto were in danger?”

“No, but--”

Ignis held up a hand. “‘If I get closer to him I’ll make it worse’, right?” He shook his head. “Gladio, we are living on the edge. Any of us could be in mortal danger at any time. I say this because I’m your friend. I do not think it the best choice to deny yourself just because of a potential problem. Besides, you forget that I am here as well. You are not the only one looking out for our prince. Would it help if I assured you that if the situation arises, I would give my life to protect him so that you could do so for Prompto?”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“You wouldn’t have to.”

His eyes were hard-cut steel. Gladio had to suck in a breath just meeting his gaze. He wasn’t entirely sure how to read that expression, but what he did know is that Ignis was completely serious that he had no qualms giving up his own life to save Noctis.

“Alright.”

“Alright, you will confess to Prompto?”

“Yeah, okay.”

Ignis closed his eyes for a second, and when they reopened they had transformed into something whimsical. “And you will do so upon their return?”

“Uh,” Gladio held up his hands as if to protect himself, “now hold on. I haven’t had time to prepare myself yet.”

“Is that so?” Ignis turned back to the clothes he was arranging and let the conversation drop.

“We’re back!” Prompto hollered when they returned.

“Welcome back,” Gladio said, smiling at the blonde fondly.

Ignis, looked up from his notes, “Good. There is something that we must discuss.”

He wouldn’t. “Now hold on--”

Ignis looked at him as he continued, “Gladio has something to tell you.”

Gladio groaned and ran his hand over his face.

“Huh?” Prompto went over to him. “Is something wrong?”

“That’s low, Iggy.”

“What’s this about?” Noctis asked, going over to lay lazily on the other bed.

“Can’t believe you’re gonna make me do this in front of you two,” Gladio muttered.

Prompto was getting nervous at this point, hovering over him with jittery energy. Gladio took hold of his wrist to calm him. Prompto met his gaze with wide eyes.

“Prom, ya know, I wasn’t sure what to think of you at first. You were just some high school kid that liked games and never stopped talking. But the more time I spent with you, I got to see that you were more than that. You’re as loyal as a dog and the most considerate person I know and you try your damnedest even if you know you can’t succeed. You’re fun and bubbly and make any room shine.”

Noctis sat up, staring over at them with interest. Ignis was leaning back in his chair as he watched the spectacle. The only one of them that seemed to have not fully grasped the situation was Prompto, who was red-faced and flighty. He was messing with the wristband right above where Gladio was holding and shifting his weight from foot-to-foot as if ready to flee as soon as Gladio loosened his grip.

“Instead of just enjoying spending time with you, I’ve come up with excuses to spend more time together. I can’t get enough.”

“I, uh, enjoy spending time with you too, big guy.” Prompto wasn’t meeting his eyes anymore.

“Prom,” Gladio covered Prompto’s fidgeting hand with his, “I like you.”

“Uh, thanks. Yeah, I like you too. We’re friends, right?” He gave a nervous laugh. It was clear that he was uncomfortable.

Gladio frowned and let him go. Prompto wasted no time doubling back a step or two. “That’s not what I mean.”

“Oh.” There was a moment of silence. Then Prompto said louder, “Oh.”

Gladio folded his hands in his lap and looked down at them, not ready to see what must be rejection on Prompto’s face. He kind of hoped he would just leave the room rather than voice that rejection. Maybe if he left and never answered they could just pretend this never happened. After he strangled Ignis for putting him into this situation, that is.

Prompto didn’t leave. He crouched down on the floor by Gladio’s feet so they were eye level and gently put his hands over Gladio’s. “I…” He paused looking even more nervous than before. “I like you too. I didn’t know how to tell you and I didn’t know if I was allowed to, you know?” He gave a nervous laugh. “I still don’t really understand all this royal stuff and everything.”

Gladio gave a short laugh of his own. “Technically, we can and we can’t.”

“Huh?”

“Well, we have to continue the Amicitia line, so it’s not like they can forbid us from having a relationship, but that relationship can’t stand in the way of duty. And normally, you wouldn’t have your lover with you during the heat of battle.”

“Oh.” Prompto looked much too serious, and Gladio moved a hand up to his cheek.

“It’s okay, though. Iggy says I just gotta look both ways.”

Noctis laughed. “Gonna grow another pair of eyes?”

Gladio shot him a glare. “You don’t want me to?”

“Hey,” he shrugged, “never said that. I’m happy for you. Just saying that it doesn’t exactly sound plausible in the worst case scenario.”

“It does not,” assented Ignis. “That is why I will be your second line of defense.

Noctis shrugged again. “Doesn’t matter to me. Like I’ve said before, it’s not like I want any of you to die protecting me anyway.”

“Better step it up then, princess.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Training bright and early?”

“Sure, whatever.” Noctis laid back down, clearly content to fall asleep like that, fully clothed and on top of the covers.

Ignis sighed and rolled his eyes. As he got up to remove the prince’s shoes, Gladio returned his focus to Prompto who was biting his lip.

“What’s the matter, sunshine.”

Prompto looked really happy at the use of the nickname. “So, uh, does this mean we’re boyfriends now?”

“Do you want to be?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Then we are.”

The smile that came over Prompto’s face was probably the prettiest thing Gladio had ever seen. His hand was still on Prompto’s check and he used it to pull him forward into their first kiss.

“You’re welcome,” Gladio could hear Ignis say right before he turned off the overhead light, but Gladio was too focused on kissing Prompto to respond.

When they had finished, they climbed into the bed together and Gladio was all-too-happy to cuddle Prompto close to his chest.

He could thank Ignis in the morning.

[peggyrose19]

Speak Now

This is a purely self-indulgent fic cause apparently that’s how I process emotions. So do with that what you will. But anyways. 

It's been months since the last time Sirius and Remus saw each other. But in a week they leave for college on opposite sides of the country. They reunite one last time, to say goodbye and confess some secrets.

THURSDAY

Sirius (8:52pm): hey when do you leave for school?

Remus (8:55pm): The 26th, why?

Sirius (8:55pm): oh good i leave the 25th

Sirius (8:56pm): i’m trying to see everyone before i leave. wanna hang out this week?

Remus stared down at his phone for a long moment. He and Sirius hadn’t seen each other since graduation, since Sirius had left the week after, traveling across the country to visit family against his will. They hadn’t talked much since then, and Remus couldn't figure out why. But he missed him.

The fact that he was also in love with him was unrelated, of course.

Remus (8:58pm): Sure

***

They set plans for that Saturday evening, at Remus' house in the country. His parents were away, up the coast for a friend's wedding. Secretly, Remus was glad they wouldn't be there; it guaranteed fewer questions. Plus, he liked having the house to himself every once in a while and, after all summer with his mom working from home, he was glad for a little peace and quiet. Not that Sirius Black could ever be described as peaceful or quiet.

The knock on the door came far too soon. With a deep breath, Remus steeled himself and opened the door.

Sirius stood before him, very much real and not just a figment of his imagination.

"Remus!" he exclaimed, and hugged him tightly. "I've missed you."

"Missed you too," Remus muttered into Sirius' shoulder, subtly breathing in the familiar smell of fresh air, leather, and his mother's perfume.

Sirius pulled back with a wide grin, and Remus was frozen all over again. He'd thought it would be easier this time, that time and space would have lessened the want in his heart. But it only seemed to make it worse, as he asked how Sirius was and he immediately launched into a story.

It was like no time had passed at all. Sirius talked and suddenly Remus was 16 again, realizing he was in love with his best friend and not knowing what to do about it. It wasn't easier at all, it was harder. It was so much harder. But he pasted on that mask, pasted on a smile, and pretended he wasn't falling apart inside.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Remus demanded some time later, watching Sirius trying to start a fire, and completely butchering it in the process.

Sirius looked up from his pile of sticks with a guilty smile. "Starting a fire?"

"That is so not how you do that."

"Okay then Mr. Expert, how do you start a fire then?"

"I'll show you," Remus snipped, and he snatched the matches from Sirius' hand, fighting back a fond smile. The banter always had come easy to them.

Carefully, Remus cleared the fire pit of ashes and coals before grabbing a few newspapers from the nearby pile.

"You have to shake them out and then crumple 'em back up," he murmured, demonstrating. Sirius watched, smiling. Once the newspapers were crumpled, Remus set them in the middle of the pit, the taking a few small sticks from Sirius' hand. "Now you use the kindling." He began laying it down across the paper. "And create a pyramid. Once you have that done, you can add some bigger pieces." Sirius readily handed over a few larger sticks, and Remus placed them next, careful not the knock the whole thing over.

"Can I light it?" Sirius asked eagerly.

"Sure. Make sure to light the paper."

Sirius gave him a nod. "Yes sir."

Remus just rolled his eyes. But Sirius did as instructed, and soon they had a crackling fire going. Once the wood had caught, Remus added a few logs to keep it going and sat back down beside Sirius.

"How'd you learn to do that?" Sirius asked. The night was quiet around them, save the pops from the fire and the hum of insects.

"My dad taught me when I was little."

Sirius seemed to hear the sadness tinging his voice. "D'you miss him a lot?" he asked. Grief wasn't something Sirius was familiar with, not this kind. He didn't care about his family. Not that Remus could blame him. But still, he'd done everything right when Remus' father had passed six years before.

"Yeah," Remus admitted, voice soft. "I wish he was here. Big things happening, y'know?"

"Yeah. I can't believe we're leaving."

"Part of me wasn't sure we'd ever make it."

"I'm gonna miss you."

Remus looked over at Sirius. He stared resolutely at the fire, shadows dancing across his face. "Me too."

"Remus," Sirius started, "I need you to know something."

"Okay?"

"Okay." Sirius took a deep breath. He didn't look away from the fire. "You remember I had a girlfriend last summer?"

Remus frowned. "Yeah?"

"Right. Well. That was fake. I'm actually gay."

"Oh." Remus had not expected that. Although, in truth, he'd suspected for a while. One did not look at Sirius Black and think "straight", generally speaking, of course. But Sirius didn't need to know that. "Well. That's great, Sirius. Thanks for telling me."

Sirius just swallowed. "Right. Yup. That's not what I need to tell you."

Now Remus was getting concerned. Sirius never acted like this; the last time he'd been this squirrely, Remus had found out his mother abused him. He tried not to panic. They may not have talked in months before this but he'd never stopped caring.

"Sirius, what's going on?"

"I like you," he blurted. Then, "Shit."

"Oh."

It was all Remus could think to say. He'd imagined this happening many times, imagined what he'd say, what Sirius would say. He'd thought up a hundred different scenarios. But none of them had prepared them for his fantasies becoming real.

"I'm not expecting anything else back, obviously," Sirius rambled. "I just wanted you to know. Clear the air. I-"

"Sirius, stop."

He shut his mouth with a snap.

"I'm not upset at you." It was all he could think to say. Sirius didn't say anything. Remus swallowed. "And I... I like you, too. A lot."

Sirius stared at him. "That's not funny."

Remus felt his heart begin to shatter. "It's not a joke."

"That's not funny?" His voice broke.

"C'mere."

Conflicting emotions flashed across Sirius' face, but he stood and walked over. Wordlessly, Remus opened his arms and Sirius sank into them.

"I'm not kidding, love," he whispered. "I've liked you for like, three years now. I was just too scared to say anything."

Sirius pulled back and looked Remus in the eye. He didn't say anything for a long time, just looked. Remus couldn't look away, mesmerized by the emotion in those grey eyes. But after a while, Sirius leaned forward again and kissed him.  

It felt as though the whole world stopped and started again in a single instant. It felt like fireworks went off. It felt like everything had righted itself.

The kiss was by no means perfect; it was messy and wet and awkward. But Sirius tasted like smoke and vanilla, and he was holding Remus close. And when he kissed Remus a second time, more sure this time, it was even better.

Remus didn't know long they spent like that, kissing in the fading daylight, the fire crackling along beside them. All he knew was that Sirius was warm on his lap, and his mouth soft and sure. He didn't ever want to stop. Luckily for him, Sirius didn't seem to want that either.

"Stay tonight?" Remus asked in a whisper, and Sirius just nodded.

***

MONDAY

Remus (10:21am): You left your sweater here

Sirius (10:21am): oh no whatever shall i do

Remus (10:22am): I guess you'll just have to swing by and pick it up

Remus (10:22am): Wouldn't want to forget it when you leave

Sirius (10:23am): no we certainly can't have that

Remus (10:23am): hmmmm

Sirius (10:24am): you're wearing it aren't you

Remus (10:24am): It's quite comfortable, I have to say

Sirius (10:24am): keep it then

Remus (10:25am): *pouty face*

Sirius (10:25am): nooo why the pouty face

Remus (10:26am): Guess I just won't get to see you today then, if you don't want it back

Sirius (10:26am): ahh i see

Sirius (10:26am): i'll have to stop by for one of your sweaters

Remus (10:27am): *smiley face*

Sirius (10:27am): see you soon <3

[wildernessuntothemselves]

Prey for You | Part 4

Genre: Smut, angst, and some fluff this time

Word Count: 4.4k

Summary:  It has come to this. After your landlord kicks you out, you’re at Chan’s mercy. Turns out, he might not be as bad as you thought he was.

Warnings: enemies to lovers, switch!reader, switch!chan, wolf!hybrid chan, fox!hybrid reader, thigh riding, really unheathly dynamics

A/N: this part is like the opposite of a tootsie roll soft on the outside hard on the inside

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 Part 5, Part 6

“This is just for a short while.” You say, swallowing the bile that has risen up in your throat as you look at the smug wolf sitting in front of you on his couch.

“Sure.” He shrugs nonchalant, but the cocky arch of his brow says otherwise and you have to squash down your pride with everything you’ve got not to jump on him. Like it or not, you’re at his mercy now that your landlord has officially evicted you. Without his gracious help, you’d now be on the streets. “I’ll find another place as soon as I can.”

“You can take all the time you need.” He opens his arms wide, going for a welcoming vibe but the stupid grin on his face counteracts it.

“No. I’ll be out of here soon.” You deadpan, not wanting to owe him more than you already do. God knows he’ll hold his over your head forever.  "And I don't feel comfortable living here for free so from now on until I leave, I'll be taking care of things around the house."

“Oh, how domestic.” He chirps sweetly.

"More like a live-in maid." You mutter under your breath but he easily hears it, the stupid grin finally dropping from his face as he sits forward and looks at you sincerely. "Don't say that. I meant what I said. You’re here as a friend."

"Yeah, sure." You snort. “You’re basically high from gloating.”

A smile tickles his lips again as he leans back. “I always enjoy the chance to one-up you, but that doesn’t mean I’m lying.”

“Wow, you really are a saint.” You jeer, grabbing your bag and heading towards the room that is to be yours.  

_________________

To your great surprise, living with Chan was actually kind of nice. Aside from the obvious perk of living in such a comfortable, beautiful house that had everything you could ever need. Chan himself was proving himself to be a quiet congenial roommate. Most importantly, he left you the hell alone for the most part, staying cooped up in his studio the majority of the day so that you barely even saw him. And despite your agreement that you’d take care of things around the house, he still did most of his things himself, picking up after himself and washing his clothes before you got the chance to. He fed himself too as indicated by the boxes of takeout from every possible fast food place filling out the trash. So you were barely wasting any time on taking care of the house, and spending most of your days following up on your studies like you so sorely needed. 

All in all, this whole arrangement was working out positively in your favor. Too positively, that you have to wonder what he was getting out of this. He can’t possibly really be doing this out of the goodness of his heart, especially since no one is even aware of this kind deed for him to gain any morality points off of it. He hasn’t even made a move on you for the whole three weeks you’d been here, seeming content to just coexist with you that you were starting to feel like you were taking advantage of him somehow. Even though this whole thing was his idea. 

Maybe that, your momentary self-doubt, is what prompted you to do what you did next. 

“Hmm, something smells nice.” Chan remarks, walking into the kitchen where you were making yourself some food. He stands behind you to take a look at what you were cooking, and you feel your heart skipping a beat at the now familiar scent of him filling your nostrils and his body being so close to you. And when he speaks, his voice deep and calm next to your ear, it makes your skin tingle. “Looks tasty too.” 

And like a teenager who had the great fortune of being noticed by the popular jock, you twist your head around to look at him, dewy-eyed as the words stumble out of your mouth before you can think them over. “Would you like to have dinner with me today?”

He pauses, looking at you curiously and you turn back to the food and continue nervously, “I mean, that junk food you eat everyday can’t be good for you.” 

“Aw, are you worried about me?” He asks cheekily, and your shoulders tense. “Never mind.” 

“No, no, I’ll have dinner with you.” He rushes to say, plopping down on a seat resolutely. “No take backsies.”

“Idiot.” You mutter, finding yourself wearing an involuntary smile because of him once again.

__________________________________ 

You’re not the best cook, you’ll be the first to admit it, but Chan praises your food like you are a world class chef. 

“Fuck off, Chan. It’s not that good.” You protest awkwardly, not really used to being complimented. But he insists, mouth full of food, “It is! It’s sublime.” 

You look down at your food to avoid eye contact with him and put on your best snooty voice. “Poor thing. Your habit of eating exclusively junk food must’ve ruined your palate to the point where you think my cooking is anything but decent.” 

“You sell yourself short. These hands--” He suddenly grabs your hands suddenly, startling you as he kisses them. “They’re magic.” 

You yank them back to your lap, flustered, the adrenaline pushing your poor fluttering heart into overdrive and making you panic. You quickly grab your fork and shove some food into your mouth trying to distract yourself from the conflicting emotions clashing in your chest, and regretting it almost immediately as your nausea swells up. 

“Is that how you woo prey?” You snark, taking a big gulp of your wine to wash down the piece of food you barely chewed. “Blatantly lie to them about their cooking skills?” 

The atmosphere fully changes as Chan drops his cheery attitude.  “Can we not talk about… that? It’s just you and me here. We don’t have to let the outside world in, do we?”

You still, your sense of danger rising up exponentially at his suggestion, and once again you find yourself wondering why he was doing this. What was his endgame here? Was he just messing with you? He puts on an honorable performance but you’ve seen him slip before. It must get tiring for him. Maybe he wants to see you hurt; it’s in his nature and he’s been repressing it for so long. You’d be the perfect victim too. No one even knows you’re here, and even if they did, they’d never believe your word over his. 

Or he could be genuine. Maybe he’s as nice as he tries to be. But that just scares you more, because how do you deal with that? You’ve never had a relationship with someone that was open and trusting. You’ve always hid behind your games. They kept you safe. No one has ever truly hurt you because you’ve never allowed someone to get close enough. But if you trust Chan, if you let him in and he betrays you… you don’t know how you’d even recover from that. 

You want to believe though. Everyone always says how much of a good person he is, how loyal, how selfless, how supportive. They can’t all be blind, right? And you’ve seen it too, in the way he always strived to protect his friends from you. He wanted the best for them. Maybe he could want the best for you too.

“Okay.” You answer in a small voice, heart pounding. 

His answering smile is bright and big, but it does nothing to assuage your fears so you settle for taking another sip of your wine. That’s what it’s made for, right?

“So, what do you actually do? I never asked.” Chan makes conversation as he gets back to his food.

You clear your throat. “I’m a waitress.” 

“Oh, and… um, is that what you want to be doing?” He asks unsurely. 

You roll your eyes at him, feeling a little at ease at his naivety. “No. Nobody wants to work in the service industry. It’s basically slavery and all your costumers are either rude or crazy. I hate it.” 

He pauses, looking like he’s thinking very hard for a moment, before he asks, perplexed. “So why do you do it?”

“To eat?” 

“Oh. Right. Of course.” His ears turn red and it’s his turn to take a big gulp of his drink. “I’m, uh, apparently an idiot. Yes, people work to afford living. Of course.” 

“I guess you’ve never had to think about that.” You note, surprised that you don’t feel any bitterness as you say it. 

“No.” He stares at the food on his plate. “I’m sorry.” 

“What are you sorry for? It’s not your fault.”

“Yeah but--”

“But I don’t have money so you feel sorry having money in front of me?” You grin, tone light, and he smiles back, face flushed as he obviously chastises himself in his head. 

“So…” He starts again, and it’s a little endearing how nervous he is. “What do you really wanna do?” 

You regard him for a second, wondering if you should really cross that line and let him in. Well, here goes nothing. 

“I’m studying to be a doctor.” 

His jaw drops to the floor. “You?”

“Yeah, shocking right?” You quip, taking another sip from your glass.

“I mean, yeah.” You would take offense at his words if it weren’t for the--you begrudgingly admit--endearing confused frown on his face. “Isn’t that a traditionally prey profession? Don’t you get, like, weird looks or something?”

“Yeah.” You snort, feeling the bitterness rise to the surface. “I get more than just weird looks. People feel the need to tell me every moment of every day how I’ll never be a good doctor. How no one will trust a fox with their life. How I should just quit and get into business or law or whatever other profession that can use my no-doubt nefarious skills.”

“That sucks.” He says then immediately cringes at his lame comment.

“Yeah, no shit. And guess who says it the most? Prey hybrids.” 

A light bulb suddenly clicks above his head. “Is that why you dislike them? They’re really not all like that--”

You interrupt him sharply, already knowing where he was going with this. “They’re not like that to you because you’re powerful and rich and you could do whatever you want, but they’re ruthless to me. They’ve always been. So yeah excuse me if I don’t care too much for your prey apologism. It’s pretty infuriating actually.”

“I really think you should--”

“What about you?” You ask pointedly, clearly wanting to change the subject. “I mean, I know that you’re a producer. I suppose this is what you’ve always wanted to be doing.” 

“Ah, yes.” He coughs, straightening in his seat as he reels back from the change of topic. “I’ve loved it since I was an angsty teen listening to hip hop and pretending like I’m so cool and gangsta.” 

The thought of little rich boy Chan swearing it up and down and acting like a thug brings an involuntary and sincere laugh out of you. It doesn’t bother Chan though. If anything, he looks content to have made you laugh. 

“Did you…” He begins after your laughter dies down, fiddling with the stem of his glass as he looks at you from under his lashes, “Have you ever listened to any of my tracks?”

“No.” You scoff, the word coming out automatically. I mean, why would you? It’s not like you like the guy. 

His face falls at your flippant answer. “Ah. Of course.” He says flatly, bringing his glass to his mouth. 

You feel a pang of guilt in your chest. Logically, you know you have no reason to feel bad. You two were never on the best of terms and you have no obligation to listen to his songs. And yet, as you look at his crestfallen face, the guilt still eats at you. 

“How about you show me some after dinner?” You find yourself suggesting and his face immediately brightens up. “Yeah! I mean… you don’t have to if you don’t want to.” He interjects quickly, even though he clearly wants you to. 

“I want to.” You say firmly, and he smiles. ___________________________________

“I’m a nice guy who just has a lot of money?” You wheeze, cracking up and face flushed from the intoxication. You were somehow on Chan’s lap as the night progressed from him showing you his proudest works to his most regrettable ones.

“I know. I know. What was I thinking, right?” He laughs along with you despite his obvious embarrassment. 

You lean in close to his face, humming, "I think it's endearing." You kiss him. 

"You just like embarrassing me." He protests weakly, mouth opening against your lips. 

“Guilty.” You pull away to take his shirt off. Caressing his exposed muscles, you grin, “Hmm...yummy.” 

He bursts out laughing, “You like it?”

You shrug, “It’s not what I usually go for but I can get used to it.” 

He scoffs at that, and pulls your own shirt over your head. Tugging your bra over your breasts, he cups them in his hands and murmurs against your skin, “Well, I don’t need to get used to these.” before his mouth latches onto them. He sucks marks onto the sensitive flesh while his hands grope and knead your breasts. 

Looking up at you, he pushes your breasts together and laps his tongue over the nipples. Your arousal spikes as your gaze locks with his challenging one, and you start rocking yourself over his thigh. 

"Fuck that's hot." He mumbles, lightly tugging on your nipple with his teeth as he pulls away, making you moan out and your hips swivel down to push your core harder against his thigh. 

"Wait, wait," He pulls you to your feet, and you whine, protesting the loss. 

“Hush, baby girl.” He soothes, yanking your pants down your legs along with your underwear before he slips his hand between your legs to drag a finger up your slit, hissing when he feels your wetness. "That's what I want." He groans, pulling you back down on his thigh and using his grip on your hips to make you move over his thigh again. "Want you to ruin my pants with your cum, baby girl. Show me how much you need me."

"But I don't need you." You retort, though your hips don’t slow down. 

“Are you sure about that, my little fox?” He flexes his thigh under you, pushing it up more against your core. 

“Uh-huh.” You breathe, squeezing your eyes shut and throwing your head back. He takes the opportunity to get back to sucking on your breasts, which only makes your movements more frantic. 

“Come on, baby, tell me how good I am and I’ll help you.” He gasps between kisses. You tug on his hair, almost bouncing on his thigh now. “Why don’t you beg for it, pup?”

“Unbelievable.” He growls, pulling your head down. “You’re still so prideful even as you hump my leg like bitch.” 

Whatever stinging remark you would’ve hurled at him is muffled against his lips as he pulls you into a hungry kiss. You let him push his tongue into your mouth, taking him in and caressing it with your own before you put your hands to his chest and push him back. 

“You really want it? Want me to say how good you are for me? How wet you make me?"

He nods eagerly. 

“What a sweet pup.” You praise, “Striving so hard to please me. You’re doing so well, baby. You’ll make me cum real soon.” 

“Do it, please. I wanna see what you look like cumming up close.” 

“Keep tensing your leg like that and you’ll have me cumming in no time, puppy.” You bite your lip, small but needy moans flowing out of you. “What a good boy you are, so good.” 

“Please,” He whispers, his hands helping you move faster on his thigh. “Please, please.”

“So close---ah---oh god, so close...baby!” You gasp, grabbing onto him tightly as you finally cum, the orgasm surprisingly potent. He beams up at you, soaking up every little moan and shudder you let out. “So pretty.”

Gradually, your panting breaths turn into airy giggles as you get down from your high. You give his lips a peck before your hands fall between you and starts pulling his dick out from his sweatpants. You grin against his lips, feeling giddy. "I can’t believe I’m gonna let you fuck me in your studio. How cliche.”

His answering chuckles are punctuated with little moans as you glide your hand up and down his hard dick. “If it--ahh-- makes you feel any better, t-this is the--ahh, yeah like that, baby-- the first time I fuck anyone here.” 

You giggles increase in pitch, “You’re so full of shit, Chan.”

“I’m serious.” He whines, leaning up into your touch as you swipe your palm over the leaking head of his cock. “This is kind of a... sacred place for me."

“Yeah, right.” You roll your eyes, “It can’t be that special if you’re here with me now.”

“It is.” He insists with a pout, and continues casually as if it was nothing, “Because you’re special.” 

Your hand stills on his cock, your face turning to stone as you try and make sense of what he just said.  He's messing with you. He has to be.

Fear and uncertainty makes your stomach churn and your skin loses all color, your face getting cold and sweaty as the bile rises up in your throat. You thought you could handle this but you can’t. You’re too much of a coward to risk it and your sense of self-preservation rears its deformed head once again. 

Standing up abruptly, you croak through your suddenly dry mouth,  "I think I’m gonna go. I need to lie down" 

Chan gets up too, not letting you go. "Oh, is everything okay? Are you sick?". 

"I’m fine. I’m just..." You explain weakly, wriggling yourself out of his grip as quickly as you can in your intoxicated state. "I gotta go."

“Hey, wait!” Chan calls after you, but doesn’t try to stop you. You hear him curse out just before you get out of earshot.

____________________

You wake up with a huge headache and an even bigger feeling of dread. The events of last night coming back like a bullet shot through your chest, and you’re even more confused now with the hangover shattering any hope of a coherent thought forming in your head. 

You stumble out of bed and head to the door, resolving to get some water and some painkiller so you’d maybe start to feel like your head wasn’t likely to explode at any moment. But as you slide the door open, you hear bickering voices just outside in the living room.

"Chan, what the hell are you doing man?" You hear a familiar voice ask but your brain is too scattered to pinpoint the owner of it right now. Luckily, you don’t need to as Chan speaks up in reply, "It's fine, Jisung. It’s all under control."

"No, it's not. Isn’t that what you used to tell me? That no matter how much she makes it seem like she cares, she could flip the table on me at any moment and that I shouldn’t trust her. That’s what you said!”

You quickly pick up that they’re talking about you despite how much you don’t want to believe it. But that’s the kind of language that has always been directed at you, there is no mistaking it. Yet, against all reason, you hope it’s not true. Or at least, you hope Chan would deny it. 

He doesn’t, of course. They never do.

“I know what I said!” 

“And? Do you trust her now?” Jisung asks incredulously. 

“Of course not.” Chan vehemently denies, the resoluteness in his voice piercing straight through your heart. 

Of course not. Of course he doesn’t trust you. What a ridiculous question.  

“Jisung is right, Chan.” A new voice adds and you focus on the sound of it, trying not to break down just yet. “You’re letting her sleep under your roof, man, and you didn’t even think to tell us. Has she been messing with your head?”

They are talking about you like you are some kind of monster, some wild beast that would pounce on you the second you turned your back to it. You’d find it amusing coming from anyone else, but not from Chan, because for once in your life you wanted to believe that someone could see you as something other than what the world thought you were. You blame yourself for this one. 

“My head is fine.” Chan retorts angrily, letting out a forced sigh. “I’m just.... She was in trouble and I had to help her.” 

“Oh, you had to?” The new guy interjects mockingly, “Tell me, would she have helped you if you were in her position?”

“That’s irrelevant.” Chan protests. 

“No, it’s not. She would’ve let you suffer and laughed about it. She’s bad news, man.” 

“I think you guys are being a little harsh.” Another voice speaks up, deeper than the rest. “Maybe she’s not as bad as you think. I’m sure Chan has a good reason for trusting her.” 

“Yeah, I’m sure his dick does.” Jisung scoffs, “You know, I can’t believe you’d do this after preaching to me for hours about how I need to stay away from her and how stupid I am for letting her get to me. But hey, I’m just a stupid squirrel hybrid, right?” 

You’ve heard enough. Pushing the door the rest of the way open, you plaster a smile on your face and step into the living room, the four boys’ head snapping around to look at you. 

“Chan, you didn’t tell me we had guests.” You ponder theatrically, ignoring Chan’s dismayed exclamation of your name. "Oh hey, Sungie. I knew you'd be back for more." You wink at him and he immediately ducks behind the dark-haired stranger. 

“Please go back to your room.” Chan asks, equal measure pale and tense.

“But aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends?” Your eyes flit over the three guys, stopping when you get to the blonde, freckled one. “Especially this one. What’s your name, pretty boy?”

The boy blushes at the unexpected flirtation but extends his hand out to you nonetheless. "I'm Felix." He greets you unexpectedly cheerily, and you’re even more surprised to find out that he’s the one with the deep voice.

But before you can take his hand, Chan steps between the two of you. 

"I need to talk to you." He grits, pulling you to your room and shutting the door behind you. “What are you doing?”

You shrug, feigning ignorance. “Saying hi to the guests?” 

“Now is not the time for your games.” Chan rakes his hand through his hair, stressed out, but you keep up your innocent facade and he sighs in defeat. “You know what? Just stay in your room until they leave and then we’ll talk.”

“No, we’ll talk now. Are you ashamed of me or something?" You wonder, cocking your head to the side. “I thought you said I was special to you? But apparently you say a lot of things.”

“Baby--”

“Why, Chan?” You finally let your facade drop, letting the full extent of your disappointment and sadness break through. “If you don’t want me here then why did you offer in the first place?”

“I do want you here. I just wasn’t planning on anyone finding out about this.”

You laugh in disdain, “How do you always know what to say, Chan?” 

“I’m sorry but you have to realize how bad this looks for me. I worked fucking hard to get to where I am today. There are so many people waiting for me to make the slightest mistake so they can watch me fall. And here you are… well, you don’t exactly have the best reputation. If people find out about us then--”

“Wow, you really are an angel, aren’t you?” You bite, venom lacing your every word.

He laughs cruelly. “Oh, yes, and the judgement comes out. You’re such a fucking hypocrite. You can judge everyone and treat them like shit, but as soon as someone does the same to you you’re suddenly the poor misunderstood victim that everyone bullies.”

You reel back at the harshness of his tone and words. He’s never spoken to you like that before, no matter how much he was upset at you. It was jarring. “Stop it.”  

“Why? It’s what you’re best at, darling.” He sneers, continuing to ruthlessly attack you. “You judged me before you even knew me and went about treating me like a feeble predator because that’s what you decided that I am. And now you want me to take responsibility for your actions and stand up for you when other people treat you the way you’ve been treating them? But here’s the thing, baby; maybe if you had actually been a decent person and treated others with respect, you wouldn’t be in this situation right now. Hell if you'd been a decent person, you wouldn't be having such a hard time anywhere, not with me, not with school, not--" 

"No, fuck you, chan. Don't you dare tell me this is all my fault. You know nothing about my life! I can't believe I actually--never mind.”

“No say it. You actually what? Liked me? Cared for me? Don’t make me laugh, fox. You don't give a shit about me. Every time I try to get close to you, you pull back like I make you sick. If it weren’t for me offering you a place to stay, you wouldn’t even be talking to me right now. You only care now because I have something to give you, but the second you’re done with me, you’ll throw me in the trash like you do everyone else. And I’m not going to sacrifice all that I’ve worked for to entertain you until you’re bored.”  

“You may be right. I may be as awful as you all say I am.” You smile, tears falling down your face. “But at least I'm honest with myself. You on the other hand? Under all your pretense, you're just as fucked up as I am. And one day, everyone will see you for how ugly you really are. ” 

_______________________________

A/N: sorry guys she (me) had to do it to you. leave your feedback uwu

[noelleification]

I wrote an essay about she-ra supremacy and i want to share it with you

For context, my English teacher and I have been in an elaborate pissing contest for the past year. He said fan fiction was bad, so I wrote a sonnet about Banana Fish. He said you couldn't write about death using bright language and colorful metaphors, so I wrote a flash fiction piece about it.

One thing that he's done this year that we disagreed on was making us read The Plague by Albert Camus during a global pandemic. So, my most recent attempt at fucking with my teacher was writing an essay about why She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018) is better than The Plague.

So, here is my essay. :)

"Recently I was asked, “What is the job of a novelist, and did Albert Camus accomplish this when he wrote The Plague?” While most of my classmates answered yes, I was less taken with the novel than they seemed to be.

The question “What is the job of a novelist?” is difficult to answer. Quite simply, art means different things to different people, and giving a yes or no answer to such a complex question seems impossible. Still, while The Plague definitely has something interesting to say, its message isn’t profound when compared to other, “lower” forms of art. It’s easy to assume value in The Plague because of it’s status, but after reading the novel, I was somewhat unimpressed with the one-note characterizations that served to deliver an ultimately average message.

In contrast, I have repeatedly been overwhelmingly impressed with She-Ra and the Princesses of Power, a 2018 remake of a He-Man spinoff cartoon from the 80s. The new She-Ra broke boundaries in terms of representation, and the show’s resolution was made meaningful by the well-developed characters and important themes. Due to its complex characters, important messages, and groundbreaking representation, She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018) is a more important and influential piece of art than The Plague by Albert Camus.

The complex characters in She-Ra are much more rich and well-developed,than those in The Plague. Characters in The Plague are flat and one-dimensional—instead of real, relatable human beings, these characters come across as ideas. They represent something, but they’re not flawed, multi-faceted characters in their own right. On the other hand, She-Ra’s characters—from its heroes to its villains to its side characters—are infinitely complex and well-developed.

The most prominent example of this is Catra. Catra, the deuteragonist of the series, is the childhood best friend of the protagonist, Adora. In order to understand the complex role that Catra fulfills in She-Ra, it is important to understand the background of the show.

She-Ra and the Princesses of Power takes place in the fantasy world of Etheria, in which women with magical powers, called ‘princesses’, rule and protect the land. The central conflict takes place between the Rebellion and the Evil Horde. The Horde, ruled by Hordak, is an army dedicated to wiping out the princesses and taking control of Etheria.

Catra and Adora are two child soldiers raised by the Horde. They grew up together and are best friends. However, when Adora finds a magical sword inside the forest and discovers that she is the legendary warrior She-Ra, she defects from the Horde and joins the Rebellion. Alongside two new friends, Bow and Princess Glimmer, Adora fights to defend Etheria from the Horde.

Catra, however, feels betrayed when Adora joins the Rebellion. While Adora’s arc is quickly established as a redemption arc, Catra spirals into a corruption arc for many seasons. Because of her pain and betrayal, she becomes the right-hand woman of Hordak. She lashes out at those closest to her, makes it her life’s mission to stop Adora, and hurts dozens of people on her way to the top.

Still, Catra is not a one-note villain. Her pain and betrayal is explored deeply throughout the series. Even at her worst moments, Catra is sympathetic. Flashbacks of her childhood show her deep emotional bond with Adora and the physical and emotional abuse she suffered at the hands of the Horde. She is shown breaking down multiple times throughout the series, and her relationships with characters like Scorpia show her humanity, even when she is hell-bent on destroying the Rebellion. Despite Catra’s actions, she is a deeply sympathetic character.

Catra is a complex villain, but she is an even more complex protagonist. In season five of the series, after a series of events lead her to reflect on her actions, Catra betrays the Horde to save Adora. This is not an easy decision for her to make. Catra is emotionally tormented—betrayed by those closest to her and held captive by the same force she once swore to serve, Catra saves Glimmer’s life in a last-ditch attempt to do “one good thing” in her life. Catra believes she will be killed for her actions, and in what she thinks are her last moments, she cries, “Adora, I’m sorry. For everything.”

Of course, Adora is not content to let Catra die. She saves her childhood friend, but when Catra is rescued by the Rebellion, she does not immediately change sides. Catra is shown to be bitter and cruel to Adora, Bow, and Glimmer as she struggles with her own internal conflict. Catra continues to lash out at those who are trying to help her, and it is only when Catra begins to face the consequences of her actions by apologizing to a friend she betrayed that she is able to start on the road to redemption. Her redemption is complex, and it is an arc that continues for most of season five. Catra does not flip a switch that takes her from “evil” to “good”—it is a grueling process that is only made possible by the forgiveness of those around her.

Catra is not the only character with a complex arc. Despite being the protagonist, Adora is a deeply flawed character who has to learn and grow over the course of the series. Season four sees Glimmer betraying her friends and falling deeper into a spiral of fear and hatred after the death of her mother. Even Shadow Weaver, Catra and Adora’s abusive parent figure, is not easily classified as “good” or “evil.” Shadow Weaver is a morally grey enigma who serves whatever side she believes will win and, in the end, makes the ultimate sacrifice by dying to save Catra.

It is worth noting that this is not a full redemption of Shadow Weaver’s character. Unlike Catra, Shadow Weaver has a ‘death redemption’—instead of truly facing the consequences of her actions, she sacrifices her life, which almost seems like taking the easy way out. This form of redemption arc is less satisfying to viewers, especially because many believe Shadow Weaver died for Adora’s sake, not Catra’s. Noelle Stevenson, the show’s creator, has confirmed that Shadow Weaver is not meant to be a fully redeemed character. However, this incomplete redemption once again displays the complexity of She-Ra’s characters. They are not good or evil—instead, they are every shade in between. Contrast this with the static, one-dimensional characters of The Plague, and it is clear that She-Ra’s characters are far more well-developed.

In evaluating the value in a piece of art, it is important to look at the message and theme. The Plague does, in fact, have multiple important themes that it discusses. It centers around love, mortality, religion, humanity, and ethics, all of which are important philosophical topics that force the reader to think. I will not make the claim that these issues are not important, because they absolutely are.

However, it would be irresponsible to dismiss the important messages that She-Ra contains just because it is a show made for children. She-Ra explores a number of complex and thought-provoking themes, such as love, loyalty, justice, grief, forgiveness, and redemption. It does this through its rich characterizations and complex relationships. Despite She-Ra’s PG rating, it nevertheless discusses colonialism, unhealthy and abusive relationships, environmentalism, psychological trauma, and self-worth.

Once again, a fascinating example of these themes comes from Catra and Adora. Catra and Adora were emotionally and physically abused by their parent figure, Shadow Weaver, from a young age. Catra in particular was told she is worthless, and this goes on to drive every one of Catra’s actions for the first four seasons of the show. She-Ra does not shy away from the aftermath of Catra’s abuse. It shows in detail the resentment she holds for those around her, including Adora, for their perceived wrongdoings. Her breakdowns are vivid and heartbreaking.

Despite all of her trauma, Catra craves Shadow Weaver’s love deeply. Some of her most horrific actions in the show are driven by her feelings of heartbreak and betrayal inspired by Shadow Weaver.

However, the abuse that Adora suffers is just as insidious, if less obvious. Adora was raised to believe that she had to be perfect and that the well-being of those she cares about is solely on her shoulders. This message deeply affects Adora’s character throughout the series and plays into some of her most profound flaws. Adora is prone to wanting to face everything alone. She doesn’t want to burden her friends, so she hurts and burdens herself. She blames herself when her friends get hurt, and she ultimately ends up seeing her life as worthless. Adora’s struggles with her self-image are directly tied to the abuse she suffered at Shadow Weaver’s hands. In the final episodes of the show, Adora is willing to sacrifice herself for the good of others.

Shadow Weaver’s influence is to directly to blame. She is present as part of the Rebellion during the fifth and final season, and she is the character who plants the idea in Adora’s head of sacrificing herself for the world. Even when Catra stands up to her on Adora’s behalf, Adora is unable to see her own worth. This results in a number of heartbreaking scenes where Catra pleads with Adora to think about what she wants, not what is expected of her. In the penultimate episode, a character finally tells Adora that “[she] is worth more than what [she] can give other people. [She deserves] love, too.”

Dismissing the messages of She-Ra as being “lesser” or “childish” is, in many ways, a straight, white, male perspective. Privileged groups are able to easily grasp their own worth, as they are never taught that they are worthless. It might seem more valuable to talk about more philosophical concepts if messages like those in She-Ra are seen as a given. But for many, self-worth is not an expectation. LGBT people are considered lucky to be accepted by their families, and they still face homophobia or transphobia on an almost daily basis. Their identity is seen as something to be ashamed of. It takes years of un-learning these patterns that a cisgender, heterosexual individual might never have learned in the first place. The same goes for other marginalized groups as well—women are often seen as less intelligent, and this idea is enforced through constant dismissal and belittlement of their thoughts and ideas. Individuals of color face daily prejudice and have been excluded from these conversations for centuries. Therefore, it is equally important for art like She-Ra to reinforce these messages that marginalized communities might never have been taught.

The messages in She-Ra might not be as philosophical as those in The Plague, but they are doubtlessly more emotional. Driven by the lovable characters and relatable issues, She-Ra made audiences feel in ways that I doubt The Plague ever has.

While The Plague is important from an ethical and philosophical standpoint, She-Ra is important from a much more human one. LGBT people are much more likely to be abused, mentally ill, and impoverished. These are some of the same issues faced by the characters in She-Ra. Given that the audience of She-Ra is largely LGBT, seeing these messages reaffirmed on-screen is deeply moving. A high-brow message is important, but if one doesn’t have the basics of self-respect and self-love, these conversations cannot be had.

It is possible that some might dismiss She-Ra and it’s messages compared to The Plague because it is a modern-day animated show instead of a classic novel. Here, we get into another interesting conversation: high art vs low art.

High art is renowned. It is old and has stood the test of time. People see it as beautiful, historical, and fundamentally important, despite the fact that they don’t rock the boat. Van Gogh paintings and Roman statues are examples of high art: priceless pieces with recognized worth. The Plague is another example of high art.

Low art, on the other hand, is art ‘of the people.’ Anybody can make low art. Current music, literature, art, and television is seen as less worthy or important than older pieces with more widely recognized importance. Some “instant classics” can almost immediately be placed into the realm of high art, but for the most part, newer things are always seen as less important than older ones. Low art is comic books, Taylor Swift, graffiti, and yes, She-Ra. They might be just as artistic and valuable as older pieces of art, but they will not be valued the same.

Here’s the thing, though: high art almost always starts out as low art. Modern day romance novels are seen as trashy even though Jane Austen’s novels are renowned. The Beatles are now seen as one of the best bands of all time, but during their peak, they were dismissed due to their primarily female fan base. Most famous painters didn’t become popular until after their deaths, because before then, their pieces were “low art.” Dismissing She-Ra because it’s low art is biased and, ultimately, ignorant.

Moreover, low art is more likely to be queer, female, poor, and PoC. Anybody can make low art, but art by privileged creators is more likely to be seen as ‘valuable’ in the long run. While underprivileged creators can and have gained notoriety and acclaim for their art, there are more road blocks in their path that keep them from ever being on equal footing with other artists. Dismissing all low art as less valuable is dismissing the perspective of those from marginalized communities.

I will not make the claim that She-Ra is a better piece of art than The Plague. The Plague is a piece of literature that has withstood the test of time and remains relevant to this day. Given that She-Ra is still fairly recent, it’s impossible to tell what it’s legacy will be, and in the end, it is a cartoon aimed at a less mature audience. Even more than that, though, art is subjective. What speaks to one person might not connect with another, and calling one piece of art “better” than another is impossible.

However, I do believe that She-Ra is more important than The Plague. The distinction here is that She-Ra did something that has never been done before. The message of The Plague speaks deeply to people, but it is not breaking any glass ceilings.

She-Ra, on the other hand, is revolutionary. The representation is She-Ra is truly remarkable. Not only is the cast mostly comprised of female characters—which, in a world of male-dominated entertainment, is a rarity—She-Ra also embraces diversity of all types. The majority of the main cast with the exception of Adora is nonwhite, and characters of all different body types are featured. While women are typically forced into a cookie-cutter mold of beauty, She-Ra characters are treated as beautiful no matter what their size or ethnicity. This is a message that young people, especially young girls, need to see.

She-Ra also pushes back against toxic masculinity. Many of the main male characters in the show reject gender roles—for example, Bow is almost always seen wearing a crop top with a heart on it, and Sea Hawk has an undeniably flamboyant presentation. King Micah cross-dresses in the final season. Despite this, the male characters are never made fun of for their feminine traits, and instead, their presentation is embraced. They are also not stereotyped as gay for refusing to fit into traditionally masculine roles. All three characters listed above have female love interests.

The most groundbreaking part of She-Ra, however, is the LGBT representation. She-Ra features multiple loving LGBT characters and couples, and the main characters of the series were confirmed to be in a loving sapphic relationship. They said “I love you” and shared an on-screen kiss. She-Ra even features an important non-binary character who uses they/them pronouns, and their identity is always treated with respect.

Furthermore, the entire story centers around the relationship between Catra and Adora. Their romance is not a throwaway side story; instead, their love is the driving force of the entire narrative. Finding LGBT representation is hard, and finding sapphic representation is harder—but what truly sets She-Ra apart is that this was in a children’s TV show. In a world where many believe that LGBT relationships are not “appropriate” for children, She-Ra made history by teaching kids that it’s okay to love who you love and be who you are. She-Ra made people feel something. Audiences were crying during the series finale, and the show has amassed a cult following of LGBT viewers well into adulthood who have never seen their identity represented in such a meaningful way before.

The Plague is undoubtedly a valued piece of high art, but its messages nevertheless do little to progress society. For this reason, She-Ra and the Princesses of Power is a more important and influential piece of art than the Plague."

[macgyvertape]

Castlevania kinda had a pacing problem

spoilers for all of Netflix’s Castlevania. I haven’t seen much analysis for the show on tumblr, im honestly curious if discussions I had with irl friends mirror what fandom talks about

tldr: Castlevania seems inconsistently paced from season to season, and within season as well, leads to a lot of characters motivations feeling unclear so characters repeatedly explain why they are doing something while they’re doing it

overview of the seasons:

S1 I know somewhat of a test for Netflix but it has good main trio character establishment and sets the scale of the conflict

s2: pretty complete emotional arc for most characters and resolves the plot of killing Dracula while setting up additional characters to continue the story. Isaac, Hector, Carmilla all established with the audience as characters whose story would continue

honestly I would bet this is the most popular season

S3: s2 did a bit of worldbuilding, but this season really fleshed out the world with both a wide range of locations and exploring the question of “what now, Dracula is dead but vampires and night creatures remain”.

There were basically 4 plot threads: 1) Sypha/Trevor investigating the cult & Saint Germain; 2) Hector & Carmilla (also introducing Lenore, Striga, Morana); 3) Isaac’s journey of revenge & self discovery; 4) Alucard sits around the castle and is betrayed.

overall characters roughly feel like they are in the same place if not worse. A big criticism I saw at the time, which hold up after rewatching this before s4 is nothing felt resolved for the main characters

I would say this season is where the pacing issues start to become apparent, juggling 4 plot threads that lack a central theme or even mutual character connection. If there was a central theme it would be “humans are awful to each other”. The Judge doing Hot Fuzz style murders, The Wizard in the tower, Sumi & Taka

S4: it starts with the same 4 plot threads, though upfront it is made clear that the plot theme is “people are trying to resurrect Dracula”, and the progression of the plot works to resolve unrelated plot threads until the main trio reunites for the boss fights. To me and my friends watching it was obvious that the show would reunite the main trio, the question was how and how far into the run time.

Season 4 is why I’m writing this essay, for the past 2 days I’ve been like, yeah that character sure explained their motives repeatedly maybe with some philosophical discussion, but it’s just such a weird place considering where they were in s3

Alucard’s arc:

Where he was left in season 3, it was after killing people he had trusted in self defense and impaling their corpses. It was clearly meant to parallel Dracula’s dislike of humanity. However overall his character lacked a proactive motivating force.

Honestly the most interesting thing I found in s3 was Alucard clearly misses Sypha and Trevor, however they don’t miss him or refer to him

One reason Sumi & Taka betray Alucard is for the secrets and power of Castlevania. After inviting the village including St Germain who Alucard was warned of into the Castle, Alucard makes 0 effort to secure anything, not even his personal childhood room. Guess he really learned nothing

Discussing St Germain, I think it’s funny that they had a several minute flashback sequence for his lost girlfriend (who doesn’t have a name or a voice actor), to remind the viewer of who he is, and to justify how he’s suddenly back and down for murder.

In s4 there is the call to help the village, and the walk back to the castle is a montage of Alucard opening up to Greta and becoming friendly literally overnight. He laughs off the impaling, and basically all of the darker things he went through in season 3, which has me asking what was the point of his season 3 arc then? 

Honestly writing this I realize the biggest parallel he has with Dracula is the call to action from a bold woman with a dramatic entrance speech which then leads to a romance

Isaac’s arc:

in s3, with all the other themes of “humanity sucks” I was always unsure if the townspeople were meant to appear irrational while attacking a larger force instead of letting him pass through an leave, or him not caring about how he’s provoking them is meant to show his insanity

ive seen the discussion elsewhere, curious about the Discourse here

is s4 Isaac has the whole monologue about how he now has agency but him gaining that agency was his s3 arc. In s4 he’s already at the point of accepting it. By the end of s4 he’s one of those who comes the furthest from his first character appearance to his last.

s4e5 where of Isaac attacking Carmilla in Isaac’s 2nd appearance had him resolving like 4 plot threads at once (Carmilla, Striga& Morana, Hector, and Isaac himself).

but i do wonder if Trevor, Sypha, or Alucard even know any of these people exist. I think not

I was honestly confused if I missed a scene from his dialogue about building something and what is inherent nature, to “My plan has evolved, my plan is now conquest” because he only conquests the one castle and the rest is left unclear

Upon rewatch the connection there is “killing [the wizard] felt just ... I liked that feeling”, so the show says that Isaac in the end attacked Carmilla for the sake of justice and not revenge.

Isaac in his last conversation expresses the theme of s4 “build something new on these old bones, where people can live for the future”

however, his arc honestly feel scenes were cut, and then dialogue was written around it. He’s the only living character who doesn’t show up in the epilogue and the sentient night creature “what if I could empty hell” dialogue was some of the most interesting worldbuilding. Night creatures with sentience and possibility of regaining memories!!!!

The Council of Sisters & Hector’s arc:

oh I’ve already seen s4 discourse about Lenore/Hector while searching for character analysis, a chunk of it seems to be rationalizing the absolute difference between how s3 ended with these characters and s4. It was extremely confusing for me and my friends; wondering if 1) was Hector showing more emotional intelligence than before and putting on a facade to cover up hatred? Nope 2) did more time pass than 6 weeks for there to be some kind stockholm syndrome? No, Hector seems fine to let Lenore kill herself

The slave control ring: played up in the climax of s3 and easily solved s4. s3 Lenore says if he tries to harm them, flee, or take it off it would cause crippling pain, in s4 Hector just easily cuts off his own finger.

for a control ring that they take time to show a version being on the Rebus, it doesn’t do much controlling of Hector

also guess the definition of “do harm” just refers to direct action

Lenore in s4: has no purpose in conquest, has that useless remarked on by multiple characters, is imprisoned, then kills herself after a genre aware philosophical discussion. This essay is long enough, but what the fuck happened to this character who ended s3 clearly physically and sexually abusive? Seriously this was one of the biggest writing changes to the point where she was treating Hector as an equal. Compare her last words in s3 “shh the real people [vampires] are talking”. The change in the relationship is actually something I would have taken being shown, or atleast told of what exactly caused this change other than the vague “you adopted him”

Striga&Morana get the best arc of the Council. 3 scenes: the tent argument, Daybreak armor fight & argument resolution, declaration of feelings and turning away. You could argue Castlevania is plot to be connective tissue between fight scenes, but for all the dialogue about human resistance in different seasons it was nice to see it. Overall the scenes were short but had a lot of showing what their relationship is not just telling,

unlike Carmilla. For as much hyping up as they did with her, and as much power as she had, she only appeared in 2 episodes and no other group except Isaac knew about her military conquest.

the map scene where she states her motive for conquest of wanting to take things from old men is the key example of how characterization became tell not show. How interesting was that monologue compared to the past seasons flashback to her murmuring the old vampire lord, or all her repeated insults of men/man-children that shows how she judges people??

That monologue had to carry the weight of justifying the Sisterhood bonds falling apart as well as why her motivation changed from building a human pen from Styria to Braila to world conquest. I think it did so poorly

Sypha & Trevor

really Sypha & Trevor have the main plot in the show. I checked and post season 1 the only episode they don’t appear in is s4e6, which is entirely devoted to the Isaac, Hector, and Council of Sisterhood arc. Their partnership and adventures are the main plot of the show.

Its easy to see what Trevor’s arc was over the show: coming to peace with the deaths of his family, taking up the mantle of being a Belmont, and starting a new family with Sypha.

With Sypha I actually had to scroll through tv tropes for what is her character arc, and I guess hers is disillusionment from adventure and life outside the speakers? My friends joke that Sypha’s magic is what the plot demands to look cool in a fight, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing.

Tangent: the ending of their arc was easy to guess: as soon as Trevor went to fight the final boss alone I literally said “oh i bet Sypha’s pregnant, Trevor’s doing a heroic sacrifice, theyll use the unexplained magical dagger mcguffin, and 60/40 odds that he goes through an infinite corridor to outright come back vs just the implication he might come back”

I guess my final thought of the show, was overall the SUPER Final Boss got my by surprise. It was a good twist I enjoyed. Not that Death appeared, I had guessed that from the heavy foreshadowing, but I was surprised by who it was, because I had thought I thought the characters involved feeling shoehorned into the plot was just more bad writing. The Alchemist who put St Germain on the path or murder for no discernible motive for helping? Sure gotta move the plot along. New Dracula court member Varney who has a whole introduction with almost every character he meets and banter about his smell? Sure thats basically how all characters talk with a snarky and acerbic voice.

[thebadchoicemachine]

Despair Suits Ultimate Run-Through

Okay this has been sitting in my drafts for months I’m just posting it because all my drafts are stressing me out.

Wilbur - Ultimate “Guitarist” / Ultimate Distortion (despair) 

- He’s the least true despair oriented out of the family. He loves messing with other people but doesn’t enjoy despair himself, something nobody including himself really realizes until Tommy is dead and he’s pissed because it’s not fun when HE’s the one mourning.

- He works with twisting perceptions and rules against people, there is no true good and all that. You do something nice? Well actually you see it’s cause so much more despair here etc etc.. 

Tommy - Ultimate “Playmate” / Ultimate Pawn (despair) 

- Really just a brainwashed kid hyped up on death and despair because it’s what his family is built off of. He holds it to a religious degree and takes it very seriously.

- He’s the most like Junko out of the despair family, the rules of the game are sacred to him otherwise it’s no fun. He really does his own thing so long as it’s within the goals others have set for him to accomplish. His role is mostly fulfilling other’s plans. He simultaneously has the most and least freedom out of the despair grip, being able to function however pleases so long as he fulfills his task but he is completely obligated to fulfill all and any such tasks.

Tubbo - Ultimate Hazard / Ultimate Hope

- Much like Tommy he’s really just a brain washed kid who is drunk on despair because it’s what his friends do and it’s all he’s ever known.

- Helps him realize the reaason he stuck it out so long was becuase he already had jope, belief and drive that things would be better

Ranboo - Ultimate Journalist (main character) 

- He is a journalist. He tries bis very hardest to be objective while still remaining compassionate and driven.Honestlyy he never intended to become a journalist. He started keeping notes to help himself and ended up submitting one for a school project he procrastinated on. Turns out he’s an excellent story teller as well as truthful, it won a contest and was featured in a paper and before he knew it he was writing for big news full time.

- He doesn’t even accept a lot of pay. His main and constant condition is, so long as everything is factual, his words not he twisted.

Niki - Ultimate “Baker” / Ultimate Agent 

- She was already in the habit of not being upfront with her ultimite so as to be able to just get to know people first. She can work much easier when people don’t think they’re being worked at, if they knew they were going against an ultimate they become eager to prove it wrong so she went by “Ultimate Baker” for most of her life.

- As the Ultimate Agent she is extremely good at conflict resolution and always able to get some kind of goodness through her advocating. Ever since she was a child she found herself to be the only one who stood up for victims. She is very multi-talanted as it takes different things to get different people to listen. The skills she’s built up include a BS detector that’s off the charts, being genuinely one of the friendliest people you’ll ever meet, and being able to kick your ass seven ways to sunday. 

Puffy - Ultimate Pirate 

Schlatt - Ultimate Tycoon 

- Tubbo convinces Puffy Schlatt is going to kill him. Schlatt has actually been very kind and mentor-y to Tubbo. He’s a good fit because his gruff additude isn’t too jarring for despair-washed child to dismiss but he is genuinely helpful at heart. He wants everyone to be safe.

- Tubbo is unerved by this shift in views happening to him and half-truthfully vents his feelings of unsafeness to Puffy, who posiosn him.

Hannah - Ultimate Florist 

- Famous for growing the best flower garden in the whole country alll by herself, she has a strict rule about anyone else interfering with her plants. Also, generally a plant expert. Knows a lot more than just flowers. She’s strong as hell (maintaining one of the most revered gardens in the whole world by yourself involves a lot of running and lifting) and can also find the perfect blend of colors, smells, and meanings 

Jackstanifold - Ultimate Determination 

- I love the idea of more abstract talents! Like, “Ultimate Moral Compass” sounds really unique but he was actually more like “Ultimate Hall Monitor.”

- He got picked on by adults and other kids alike for not having an “applicable” talent. Determination isn’t like being a Ultimate Baseball Star or Ultimate 

Fundy - Ultimate Game Designer 

- Has several popular games under his belt. 

Sam - Ultimate Guard 

- Actually, he hates his ultimate. He’s strong and scary and can keep people in check sure but he’s also hella fucking smart as well kind and just wants people to be safe and happy. He wished people didn’t focus so much on his enforcement and more on his protecting.

Purpled - Ultimate Astronomer 

- Actually spends most of his time playing sports, he’s very athletic and wanted to play something professionally but his knack for the stars kind of dragged him away. He doesn’t mind too much though, he really does love space!

Quackity- Ultimate Rogue

- It’s like he’s trying to be a Troublemaker™ (like Celest) but ends up more a Fuyuhiko. Albeit without the depressing jumpstart to his turn into genuinely wanting to help.  It’s more of a slow burn. 

Charlie - Ultimate Forensic Chemist 

- Acts as their detective/doctor character 

- He’s in like an uncanny valley of a mad scientist and just some friendly dude. Sure, he experiments plenty (to the point it’s questioned why he’s forensic specifically or chemist specifically) but his speciality as an actual successful sciencest is in forensics chemist. 

Karl - Ultimate Astrologer 

- Sort of works like Angie but less... awful. He’s more genuine and happy and understands other’s opinions and skepticism. 

- Honestly he more psychoanalyzes people and sort of personalizes some therapy then he does fret about their starsigns. 

Sapnap - Ultimate Arsonist 

- He is very proud of his flame abilities. He holds a “No one gets hurt unless I want them too.” Attitude about his fires. He knows just how to make a flame worse or better and was consulted in several forms be it weapons, demolition, or prevention. Basically, dude knows everything about fire. 

George - Ultimate Model 

- Not necessarily a model for his looks, rather his appeal. He just has a face people apparently love. Companies would play vast sums of money for him to pose with their product as it seems whatever he was attached to would sell like hot cakes. Even when he was a child his school made him sit alone in front of their stand as a mascot instead of working with everyone else.

Eret - Ultimate Aspirant 

- Kind of the other side to Jack’s coin. He earned his ultimate title because  no matter what he was put in he worked his hardest in and improves tremendously, not always beyond others of course but he himself gets better than he was. He as a mind and a drive for success.  

Dream - Ultimate Prey 

- Ultimate prey. Governments from all over the world would drag him into their battlefields to test their powers. He’d been shot several times actually but no one ever managed to catch him.

[seasonsofeverlark]

Memories in Winter

Author: @hutchhitched​

Prompt: I would love an Everlark fic based on the Pentatonix song “Coldest Winter”. Any rating. [submitted by anonymous]

Rating: M

Summary: Peeta’s alone with only memories to warm him on a cold winter night. Until the phone rings.

Author’s Note: Welcome to your holiday dose of angst. Sorry about that. The lyrics for the song on which this is based is under the cut. Happy holidays!

____________

On lonely nights I start to fade

Her love’s a thousand miles away

Memories made in the coldest winter

Goodbye my friend will I ever love again

Memories made in the coldest winter

It’s 4 am and I can’t sleep

Her love is all that I can see

Memories made in the coldest winter

Goodbye my friend will I ever love again

Memories made in the coldest winter

Goodbye my friend will I ever love again

If spring can take the snow away

(If spring can take the snow away)

Can it melt away all of our mistakes

(Can it melt away all of our mistakes)

Memories made in the coldest winter

Goodbye my friend (goodbye my friend)

Will I ever love again

Memories made in the coldest winter

Goodbye my friend I won’t ever love again

Memories made in the coldest winter

Peeta Mellark pressed his forehead to the window and watched as it fogged over from the warm breath escaping his nose and mouth. It was cold outside. It always was in December in the mountains in West Virginia, but this year the temps had hovered in the teens for two weeks even though there were still ten days left till Christmas.

He couldn’t sleep. It didn’t matter that it was four am or that he had to be at the bakery he helped his father run in an hour. His mind wouldn’t allow him to shut down earlier, so he’d lain awake for hours sifting through memories and missing her so much his insides hurt. He knows she feels the same whenever she has time to remember him.

Katniss Everdeen was his best friend for years before they decided to take their relationship to the next level. They’d been so, so young and naïve and stupid as hell, but they’d also been head over heels for each other as they basked in the throes of young love and few responsibilities. He should have known better. He really should have. He’d had a built-in safety net—a job at the family business—while Katniss struggled to make her way in the world. She’d worried about her career and financial status until she’d finally enlisted in the military to ensure a solid future.

Peeta hated her deployment, despised an economy that extended so few options for employment that his best friend, the woman he loved, had no other options than to sign over her body and service and ship out to another continent. He couldn’t even think about the possibility that she was in danger on top of it all.

It’d been 16 months since he’d seen her in person. Sixteen long months since he’d held her in his arms and felt her body pressed against his. Too long since she’d sighed his name as she welcomed him inside her, since he poured his love into her, since they were together and united and blissfully happy.

He didn’t know why he kept waiting, wasn’t sure why he believed it would ever end. He wasn’t this strong. He needed her, and he needed them, and he’d made mistakes, and she’d done things that hurt him. How could they ever overcome any of it, let alone make all the wrongs right?

He didn’t deserve her. He wasn’t sure he deserved anyone after some of the things he’d done, but he wanted her, needed love like he needed air. Man could not live by bread alone. Peeta could feel that truth in his very bones.

Snow whirled outside, coating the trees and scampering along the window panes. Clouds obscured the moon and stars, so only weak light from the streetlamps shone. The effect was apocalyptic, turning the world around him a sickly yellow with a reddish hue. Maybe that’s how his life would be from now on. Perhaps he deserved a life of despair. How could she ever forgive him, and was it possible for him to accept her after what she’d one to him?

Conflict resolution should be taught in schools. Instead of teaching to a test, teachers should pit students against each other and force them to fight fair through words and sharing feelings and healthy debate. He’d been too passive, too willing to take what was offered instead of what he needed and to give what didn’t help her. If he’d only listened more, he could have been part of the solution instead of the problem.

His forehead was freezing, but he didn’t move. He needed the chill to thaw the numbness. It didn’t make sense, but neither did the way he loved someone he couldn’t have. He knew she cared about him, but sometimes love just isn’t enough.

His phone rang, and he jumped at the sound penetrating the calm and quiet. He only had a few minutes before he needed to head to work, but a 4:30 am phone call wasn’t normal. He stared at the phone screen, considered the blocked number, and felt his heart thump twice in his chest.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Peeta. Merry Christmas.”

“Katniss,” he sighed. His body relaxed, his eyes pricked with tears, and he sank into the couch on unsteady legs.

“I miss you. I love you. I can’t wait to see you again.”

Her words were balm to his wounds and a salve to his soul. Her voice lilted like music as it escaped her lips, and he felt it wrap around him, binding him up, making him whole. He gripped his phone, his knuckles white, as he clung to his lifeline.

“I miss you, too. Love you, too. Please come home soon.”

“I miss the cold. It’s so hot here. I miss curling up with you. I miss the hot chocolate, and I miss the way you kept me warm when we were stranded that one time.”

He remembers it so clearly it’s like a movie reel plays in his head. Car trouble on a back road. Their frosty breath as they kissed. The way her chilled skin grew heated as they moved together. The way she moaned as he moved inside her. The euphoria of their climaxes. The sound of his name on her lips. Those three words binding them together. The wash of headlights on the trees when their rescue arrived.

“You still love me. Real or not real?” he asked, his voice husky with remorse and longing.

“Real. It’s always real, Peeta.”

“You’re still trying to protect me.”

“I’m trying to protect everyone. That’s what the military’s supposed to do.”

He closed his eyes. He could barely block it out, but he tried. He really did. He wanted to believe her, needed to know he wasn’t alone in this.

“When will I ever see you again?”

It was a plaintive cry, but she didn’t scoff. Instead, she told him what he’d been dying to hear.

“I’ll be home in the spring. I have to go, Peeta. We’re moving out. I love you.”

“I love you. Stay safe, Katniss.”

He wasn’t sure she heard him before the call disconnected. He only knew she’d given him what he’d been waiting for. She’d be home in the spring. They’d reconnect when the earth was reborn. He’d make her a crown of dandelions and ask her to be queen of his heart. Until then, it was winter, the coldest he could remember. Only memories of her could keep him warm.

[slytherinbarnes]

Sub Rosa [96]

xii. the stranger

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: angst, fighting, violence, blood, language.

Summary: faced with the aftermath of bellamy’s betrayal, you finally get a chance to talk to him, only to discover that he may be too far gone.

a/n: i do not know what to say in these notes right now bc i just know yall are cussing me out with every update lmao the taglist for this series is open! I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!!!

previous chapter // season masterlist // series masterlist

You sit on the flimsy mattress beside your twin, your hand held tight in her own, both of your expressions contemplative as you try to figure out what the hell is going on. Across from you, Octavia sits on her own bed, looking at you both, a soft laugh slipping from her mouth. You and Clarke lift your gazes to her in tandem, and Clarke looks at Octavia with mild annoyance. “Something funny? Because I don't see anything humorous about this.”

“I’m laughing because I’m realizing just how much I missed the Twinadoes. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you both together.”

Clarke’s expression softens, her curiosity causing her to ask, “How long were you on Penance?”

“We call it Skyring. 10 years, good ones.”

You smile, remembering some of your better memories from Skyring. Cooking with Gabriel, chess with Orlando, braiding flowers into Echo and Hope’s hair. You whisper, “They were.”

Clarke turns to look at you in confusion, unaware of how long you’ve been apart. “You were there?”

“Not with Octavia, Diyoza, and Hope. We came later, the four of us: me, Gabriel, Echo, and Hope.”

“How long were you there?”

“Five years.”

Her jaw drops in shock, “It’s been five years for you?”

You nod and you see tears in her eyes. She drops your hand to pull you in a hug, and you're grateful for it, grateful to be back with your twin, even if it is in a jail cell. “Oh my god, la lune. I’m so sorry, we had no idea or we would have come sooner.”

You shake your head, pulling away to smile at her. “It’s not your fault, Clarke. It was only a few days for you, there’s no way you could have known.”

She looks at you, and you can tell she wants to know more, but she hesitates, not wanting to push you. You read her mind and look between her and Octavia. “It was hard at first. Really hard. The first few months...all I could think about was saving Bellamy and Octavia, and getting back to you and Madi. But over time, Gabriel, Echo, Hope, and Orlando wore me down. I started to warm up to them, and then one day I woke up and I realized that I hadn’t worried about the time at all the day before. I felt guilty about that at first, but once I stopped religiously counting down the days, time went faster after that. It wasn’t so bad in the end. We had peace, and we became a family, sharing meals and stories. And even though I missed both of you, and Bellamy, and Madi and the rest of our family, I was happy.”

Octavia and Clarke can sense that you have more to say, and Clarke reaches out to grab your hand again, prepared to console you. “And then we got here, to Bardo, and it was worse than I could have imagined. Because in the five years it took for us to play house on Skyring, Bellamy was killed here. I let myself relax too much, and he ended up dead. All those years of training...for nothing.”

Clarke squeezes your hand, and you glance at her before looking away, tears welling up in your eyes as you remember the loss you felt three months ago. “I lost it when I found out, which is why I can’t blame Echo for nearly crystallizing us all. She knew how hard all of this has been on us, and she tried to do what she thought was best to make things right again. She went about it the wrong way, but her heart was in the right place. Anyways, I do believe there are good people on this planet, but I know that Cadogan is not one of them. I want nothing more than to get the hell off Bardo. Nothing good has happened to me here, besides reuniting with all of you, and I just want to escape.”

“Me too.”

“Too bad my brother betrayed us to a man he just met.” Octavia sighs, turning her gaze to Clarke. “You know, I was just starting to understand you, but I guess it doesn't matter anymore. We’ll probably be dead soon anyways.”

Clarke’s brows pull together as she looks at Octavia, “Really? How so?”

“You have Madi, I have Hope. I'd do anything to keep her safe.” She scoffs a little, tears welling up in her eyes, and you and Clarke both look at her with concern. “What’s wrong?”

“A couple of days ago, she was just our little girl. Now she's messed up like the rest of us.”

You and Clarke both stand from your bed and move over to Octavia’s, splitting apart to sit on either side of her. Octavia takes one of your hands and one of Clarke’s, and the three of you sit together in silence, sorrow hanging over all of you as you think of the tragedies you’ve all experienced. And as the three of you sit together, the door to your cell slides open and Bellamy steps inside, looking different from the last time you saw him. His hair is cut and his beard is gone, his face clean shaven for the first time in a long time. It reminds you of the Bellamy you first met on the Ark, in more ways than one. Because this Bellamy is just as much of a stranger to you as that Bellamy was.

Bellamy walks inside the room, his white robes flowing, flanked by two guards on either side of him. You look at him in shock and cock your head to the side, masking your hurt with your anger. “You need back up to talk to us now?”

He turns to glance at the guards behind him, waving them out of the room. “It’s okay.”

As they step out of the room and the door slides shut behind them, the three most important women in Bellamy Blake’s life stand, a wall of strength and anger as they look at him. You are the first to break the silence, looking at your fiance in disbelief. “It’s about time. Bellamy, what the hell was that?”

Before he can answer, Clarke adds, “I have been racking my brain, trying to figure out how you telling Cadogan the truth about the Flame helps us. You know what I've come up with? It doesn't.”

Bellamy’s voice is soft, sounding conflicted as he shakes his head slightly. “I couldn't lie to him.”

Octavia snaps, “Really? Why not?”

He glances over at her, then Clarke, then you, relaying his reasoning on his change in behavior. “I had an experience, something that changed me to my core, something that explains why we're still here and where we're going. It came to me in a vision. Mom was there.”

Octavia gives him a weird look, unconvinced, and he continues, “The Shepherd led me to her, and there was a light, and it was beautiful and warm and peaceful, and I chose it. And when I opened my eyes, the storm had passed, just like that.”

You, Clarke, and Octavia share a bewildered look, and you look at your fiance, your anger softening a little as you take in his hurt expression. “Bellamy, I love you, you know that, but this sounds...crazy.”

He turns to you, his eyes widening slightly as he takes in your confused expression. “Natshana, I know how this sounds, but it’s real.”

You flinch a little when he uses the nickname, your brain struggling to see the man you love in the disciple in white that stands before you. He sees you flinch, and a look of hurt passes over his face before he turns to look at all of you again. “A war is coming, the Last War we will ever fight. Win it, and we become the light.”

Clarke snaps, “Is that what the cult leader told you?”

She turns and starts to pace, as Octavia steps forwards and adds, “Did he tell you what happens if we lose?”

“We won't.”

Octavia shakes her head, telling him anyways. “We turn into crystal, wiped out like Medusa, turning people into stone. It's the end of everything.”

“Not everything, just us.” 

“Just us?” You look at him in confusion. “Bellamy, everything we have done, we have done to survive. To help our people survive. And now you’re willing to risk everything on Cadogan’s insistence that we’ll win the Last War?”

He gives you a conflicted look, giving you a flash of hope that maybe he isn't gone forever. But then he pushes it away and looks over all of you, his voice growing louder and more insistent as he tries to convince all of you that him following Cadogan is not as weird as you think it is. “If I told you the AI that destroyed the Earth was storing our minds in the City of Light, would that be any more believable? What about a group of astronauts turning themselves into gods by transferring their minds into the bodies of their own followers in order to live forever?”

Exasperated, Clarke sighs, stopping her pacing to turn to Bellamy and throw her hands up in frustration. “Okay, yes! We've seen our share of crazy, but that doesn't change the fact that fighting some war to become the light is as ridiculous as the clothes you're wearing.”

He pulls a face, hurt by her comment on his clothes, but he pushes past it. “There's one way to find out: tell me where the Flame is.”

Clarke’s denial is firm and resolute. “No.”

“Clarke, yesterday, you were offering it up in exchange for safe passage.”

“Yesterday, I was bluffing! I made a deal to save my twin and my friends, knowing damn well I had no intention of following through with it. Today, I'm standing in front of my best friend, who I thought was dead, and I don't even recognize him.”

His expression is hurt, tears springing into his eyes as he steps closer to all of you, his gaze locked on Clarke. “I am the same person who helped bring you back from the dead, who refused to give up on you. There is so much more at stake here than you know.”

He turns to you, making his final, teary eyed plea to you. “I know you don't believe in transcendence, but I'm telling you it's real, and I am asking you to believe in me.”

You glance at Clarke and Octavia, their expressions letting you know that believing in Bellamy means believing in Cadogan. Something the three of you are determined not to do. Because even though you love Bellamy with all that you are, and you want to believe him, you know that this isn’t right. He betrayed all of you in the blink of an eye for a man that he thought was crazy back on Earth, and you’re worried just how far his devotion to Cadogan will go. You can tell something happened to Bellamy, something changed him, and you’re willing to listen to him to find out what that is, but you’re not willing to support Cadogan.

Which is why you turn back to Bellamy, trying to ignore the tears in his eyes, your voice sounding soft, but regretful. “Even if you're right, even if everything you're saying is true, we will not help that man start his war.”

He looks from you to Clarke to Octavia, seeing if they agree with you. When they make no move towards him, or say nothing to dispute your claim, he shakes his head and looks down at his feet. You can see him visibly recompose himself before he looks back up at Clarke. “Tell me where the Flame is.”

Octavia locks eyes with her brother, asking, “Or what?”

“I’m trying to save you! All of you, but if you don't tell me where it is, they will execute all of you. Please let me help.”

Your eyes widen at the word execute. It's one thing for the three of you to speculate that you're facing death, it’s another to have Bellamy confirm that they're ready to kill all of you if you won’t give them what they want. And despite the shaky intake of breath that you hear Clarke take, her answer to Bellamy’s request is unwavering. “Go float yourself.”

You turn and step back towards Clarke, the sadness in the room shifting to anger again. Octavia gives Bellamy a disappointed look before she turns towards you and Clarke, all of you turning your backs on Bellamy, standing together and comforting each other, waiting for him to leave. But instead of leaving, he sighs and calls out, “Guards.”

The three of you hesitantly turn towards the door, watching as four guards step into the room. Bellamy looks them all over before motioning towards Clarke. “Take this one to M-Cap.”

Clarke gives him an incredulous look, “What?!”

The guards close in on Clarke, and the two of you exchange a panicked look as they grab her arm and start to pull her towards the door. You jump towards her, trying to grab the hand that is reaching out for you. You’re all too familiar with the pain of M-Cap, and it’s not a pain that you want Clarke to experience. “La lune!”

“Clarke!”

As your hand closes around hers, you are pulled backwards by your other arm, one of the other guards in the room stopping you. You turn and punch him, getting him off of you, trying again to run after Clarke. As she is pulled out of the door, you hear Octavia protesting, but she is stopped in place by her brother. You run after your twin, barely making it past Bellamy before you are grabbed from behind and yanked backwards, onto the ground. One of the guards pins your arms to the floor while the other grabs you by the front of your shirt and punches you, pain exploding behind your left eye and cheekbone. They hit you again, blood blooming across your tongue as you accidentally bite down from the force. A third punch smashes your nose, and you're sure you can feel blood trickling down to your mouth, though it’s hard to think much past the pain. 

You can hear Octavia yelling at her brother and Bellamy yelling commands at the guards, but your brain doesn't process them, too focused on the pain in your face. You feel your wrists being released, the weight of someone’s body leaving you, your body now free to roll onto your hands and knees and spit black blood onto the stone floor. You feel a hand on your shoulder and you flinch before Octavia’s soft voice whispers, “La lune, are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” You spit again, pulling yourself to your feet, your anger flaring white hot as you turn towards Bellamy, your earlier sympathy now gone. “What the hell was that?”

He looks over your face, at the blood dripping from your nose, the bruise blooming along your skin, and you can see a flash of worry cross his features as he urges, “You shouldn’t fight them, the Shepherd authorized them to-”

You cut him off, your voice loud, “I don’t care! Bellamy, what are you doing? Letting guards beat me up, sending Clarke to be tortured? This isn’t you!”

He shakes his head, another hurt look on his face. Five minutes ago, you wanted to comfort him through his conflict, hear about what he went through. But right now, your mind thinking of your twin in danger, a danger he sent her to, you want to hit him. You want to punch those puppy dog eyes until they swell shut. But you keep your cool and control your anger as he shakes his head. “It’s not torture.”

You let out a short laugh, pushing your hair out of the way to show him the scar on the right side of your face that runs beneath your level two symbols and into your hairline. “It is if you fight it, and you know damn well she will.”

“All she has to do is tell us where the Flame is, and we’ll let her go. We’ll let you go.”

“No way in hell are we going to give Cadogan what he wants. The Bellamy I love would be right beside me, opposed to doing anything for the crazed cult leader that’s so determined to start a war.”

Bellamy shakes his head, “He’s not a cult leader, and he doesn’t want to start a war. He wants us to transcend, to have real peace.”

“Do you hear yourself? War has never brought us peace, Bellamy. Only death and pain. But let’s say that Cadogan is right, and we do win this war and transcend. Torturing your friends, your family, people you love, watching us be locked up and potentially executed is not the way to do it. Doing the right thing the wrong way isn’t doing the right thing. You know that.”

“I’m trying to save all of you.”

You shake your head at him, in disbelief that the two of you are on opposite sides. After everything with Pike, you were sure that you’d never be on opposite sides again, especially not for something this big, yet here you are. You don't have the energy to argue with him right now, because he clearly believes in Cadogan, or wants to believe in Cadogan, and you’re sure that nothing you say will change his mind. So you turn away from him, shaking your head in disappointment, angrily swiping blood from your nose before muttering, “Get out.”

“La lune, please-”

You spin around and cut him off, your voice loud. “Don’t call me that! My family calls me la lune, and as long as you’re wearing those robes and worshipping the Shepherd, you are not my family, you are my enemy.”

You wait for his face to fall before you snap, “Now get out!”

This time, he obliges, turning away from you quickly, knocking on the door to alert the guards on the other side. As soon as he’s out of your cell and the door is closed, you collapse onto your flimsy mattress, your anger finally giving way to your tears. Octavia crosses the room and sits down beside you, the two of you wrapping your arms around each other and crying as you try to come to terms with who Bellamy is now.

-

A few hours after Clarke is dragged from the cell, your door opens again. You and Octavia stand, expecting it to be her, but instead it is a group of disciples, all of them pointing weapons at you as they demand, “Back against the wall, hands out in front of you!”

You and Octavia do as they say, stepping backwards and pressing your backs to the wall as you hold out your hands. A guard walks over to you and slips a pair of cuffs onto your wrists, a thick metal bar holding your arms apart, before they grab your arm and drag you to the door. You and Octavia are dragged through the halls of Bardo and led to the Stone Room, much to your surprise. As the doors open, you see that your friends are already here, lined up against the wall. Everyone looks at you in surprise, now more injured than the last time they saw you, but you shake off their worry, letting them know you’re okay. 

Octavia is led towards the end of the line, pushed between Hope and Niylah, while you are stopped at the opposite end, pushed between Gabriel and Jordan. Another disciple walks over and places a helmet at your feet before taking one down to Octavia, all of you now standing in a row with disciple helmets nearby, waiting for what’s next. Two disciples stand near the stone, and two more stand near the door, everyone waiting in silence, but Gabriel can't resist the urge to whisper, “Are you okay?”

“Looks worse than it is.” You smirk at him, trying to ease his tension, and he smiles back, right before one of the disciples snaps, “No talking!”

Less than a minute later, the doors to the room slide open. Two disciples stop just outside the door as two more walk inside, taking up their posts. Behind them is Cadogan, followed by Bellamy and the man that is likely replacing Anders, whose name you don't know. Behind them is Clarke, unrestrained, her eyes searching the line of prisoners until her eyes lock with you. Her expression drops at the sight of all of you restrained, but it drops further when she sees the bruise already darkening around your eye. “Why are they still restrained? We had a deal.”

You look at her, your eyes glancing at Cadogan, who has taken up a spot in front of the stone. “Clarke, what is this? What deal?”

“He releases all of us, and I take him to the Flame.”

Bill turns around, his gaze falling to Clarke. “You'll forgive me if I have trust issues where you're concerned.”

He turns to look at the man replacing Anders. “Remove the restraints one at a time. Any violence will be met with lethal force.”

Bellamy looks at you, his expression a warning as he addresses your group. “No one is getting violent. It's a good thing, you're being released.”

The man moves down to Miller first, slipping off his restraints before motioning down to the helmet on the floor. “Helmet on to protect your memory.”

Miller leans down and grabs the helmet, turning to look at Clarke as the Anomaly powers up beside him. “You good with this?”  

She nods, and he pulls the helmet on and allows himself to be led into the Anomaly. All down the line the others are unrestrained and led into the green glow behind Miller: Hope, then Octavia, Niylah. The man skips over Raven, who gives him a strange look, and moves on to Echo, freeing the former spy with a guarded look. “Sending the fighters first, is that it?”

He shrugs a little, “Can't be too careful.”

After Echo is Jordan, and you put your hands out after him, waiting your turn, but the man in front of you steps back, leaving you, Gabriel, and Raven behind, still restrained. Cadogan moves over to the stone and types in a code, the Anomaly closing behind Jordan, leaving the rest of you behind. You glance over at Clarke in confusion, wondering if this was part of the plan, and she gives you a look of worry, letting you know that it’s not. She steps towards Cadogan, a glare on her face. “What are you doing?”

“Ensuring you keep your part of the deal.”

Raven shifts closer to you, glaring at Cadogan as she moves, her lip curling into a sneer. “He didn't send them to Sanctum.”

“Correct.” He turns to look at her, smiling at her, and you want nothing more than to launch yourself at him and wipe the smile from his face. “And thank you for demonstrating why I didn't send you with them.”

Gabriel clicks his tongue, his gaze shifting to his feet before moving back up to Cadogan. “We know how the stone works.”

“Also correct.” You shake your head, confused, because you don't have knowledge of the stone in the way that Gabriel and Raven do. If anything, Echo and Hope know more about the stone than you, meaning they should be here too. Clarke seems to think the same thing, because she looks over at you before her eyes lock with Cadogan’s. “My twin doesn't know about the stone, so why is she here?”

The realization hits you as you look at her, the worry on her face to have you still among the dangers of Bardo. You shift your gaze to the cult leader and deadpan, “I’m an insurance policy. If you don't get him the Flame, I'm assuming that I'm the first to go.” 

Bill turns his condescending smile to you, confirming your suspicions. “Another correct answer.”

You glare at him, your mind on your friends and not your safety. “Where are they?” 

“They're safe, as I promised they would be. I said nothing about releasing them on Sanctum.”

Clarke turns on Bellamy, her anger radiating off of her in waves. “You knew about this?”

Bellamy looks at her, lost, clearly unaware of Bill’s plans, which the Shepherd confirms. “He doesn't know where they are, only I do. I told you, Clarke, I don't trust you. I do, however, trust the love you have for your friends and your twin, and once I have the Key and the Last War begins, they'll all be freed. At which point, each of you will be welcome to fight alongside us, and if you choose not to, well, we'll save you anyway. That is what we mean when we say, ‘for all mankind’.”

He turns, eyes moving over to the new Anders. “Doucette, please release the others, so we can retrieve the Key.”

Doucette walks over to Raven and pulls off her restraints as Cadogan once again opens the Anomaly, this time to Sanctum. Raven leans down to grab her helmet, and Doucette walks over to you next. You stick out your arms, waiting for your freedom, your brain already contemplating all the ways you’re going to get Clarke and the others out of this, when Bill’s voice calls out, “Not her.”

You look around the disciple to stare at the cult leader in shock. “What?”

“Your restraints will remain on, Miss Griffin. You killed 10 disciples in our oxygen farm, attacked First Disciple Anders before his death, and have assaulted countless guards since arriving on Bardo, two of them earlier today. I trust you even less than I trust Clarke, which is why you will remain restrained and at my side.”

From across the room, Bellamy speaks for the first time since your friends were sent away, his expression concerned as he looks at his leader. “Sir, I don't think that’s really necessary.”

“And I think it is. I’m sure you're aware of what she’s capable of more than any of us.” Bellamy’s expression drops a little, his mind clearly playing through an assortment of memories in which you fight or kill anyone that gets in your way. Cadogan notes his expression, stating with a nod, “That is why I’m keeping her restrained.”

You roll your eyes and drop your hands, accepting that, for now, your restraints will stay on. You're hesitant to push Cadogan in this moment, when everything is so tense and you’re surrounded by a room full of guards. You’re less concerned about your own safety and more concerned about the others, not wanting to do anything that’ll put Clarke or your friends in danger. You glance over at your twin, and you can tell that she wants to argue, but you shake your head at her, telling her you’re fine, you’ll be okay, and that none of this is as bad as it seems. You see her sigh a little before accepting the message, leaning down to pick up her own helmet. 

You grab your helmet as Gabriel is freed, and Cadogan turns and begins to give orders. “Disciples, I want most of you ahead of us. Weapons hot, remain in ghost mode, and take down anyone that is armed. Bellamy and Doucette will go ahead of me and the troublesome twin, and then Gabriel, Raven, and Clarke will bring up the rear, along with the remaining disciples. Is that clear?”

Everyone mumbles their assent and agreement, and you are pushed across the room, over to Cadogan’s side. You glare as you look at him, Bellamy moving past the two of you to stand in front of you, and you shift your glare to the back of his head. Because he barely fought for you. He seems more than content to leave you chained up like an animal. You hope he can feel your anger as Cadogan directs everyone to pull their helmets on, which you do clumsily, thanks to your restraints, and you hope Bellamy can feel your anger when you all step into the Anomaly and come out the other side on Sanctum. 

Except, instead of appearing in Gabriel’s tunnel under his camp, you’re in the palace, surrounded by armed guards. Russell is sitting on a throne made of skulls, wearing Grounder clothes, and you look around in confusion as you reach up to tug your helmet off. Clarke does the same thing, speaking the thought on all of your minds as you look around the room in confusion. “What the hell happened here?”

Murphy, who you didn't notice until this moment, is sitting across from Russell, his hands restrained, a chessboard in front of him. He smiles a little as he takes in the arrival of your group, but it drops at Clarke’s question. He glances briefly at Russell before deadpanning, “Oh, gee. Where to begin.”

You look around the room again, at the chaos that has apparently ensued since your departure, and you glance over at Clarke, wondering if it was like this when she left. But given the expression on her face and the confused look that she turns towards you, it wasn't. Which means your people managed to ruin not just Bardo, but Sanctum too. You can only hope that things here aren't that bad, though as you look towards Russell again, you're not sure that’s the case.

But nothing can be as bad as your time on Bardo, right?

-

next chapter

[fandomwriterstuff]

Traumtänzer (Pt. 9)

Part 8

Part 10

German Translation:

Du sprichst Deutsch - You speak German? Ja - Yes

“ I think we should talk about what Nagel said,” you had a feeling Helmut was speaking Sokovian to butter you up.

You shook your head resolutely, keeping quiet as you stared unblinkingly at your book.

“ I think it’s important that we do,” he insisted, closing his own book and clasping his hands in his lap.

“ He was lying,” you mumbled, still fruitlessly trying to focus on your book.

“ I don’t think he was, Maus,” Helmut sighed, and tried to make eye contact, but you were being stubborn. “ Look at me, Y/N,” he was speaking softly, almost gently, but you didn’t look over until his fingers gripped your chin and turned your head.

“ He can’t have been telling the truth. I would have known if they’d given me the serum,” the topic had you on the verge of tears, but Helmut didn’t let up.

“ And if he was telling the truth? Let’s look at your wounds, shall we?” You blanched. You’d forgotten about the wounds, they didn’t hurt anymore. You pulled down the blanket to expose your thighs and, lo and behold, all that was left was a shiny pink scar and some already dissolving stitches. You gulped.

“ I’ve always had Wolverine-like healing. I just heal fast,” your mouth was dry, but Helmut raised an eyebrow.

“ How do you know about Wolverine?”

“How do you?” You countered.

“ I make it my place to know about powerful mutants,” he shrugged.

“ I met him once when he was in a fight in Berlin. He got a bullet to the skull and it just… popped out and healed,” you shuddered at the mental image.

“ So, what you’re telling me then is that you’re not a super soldier, but a mutant?” he was pushing your buttons, but you wouldn’t get angry.

“ No, I’m not a mutant. But I’m also not a super soldier. I just heal fast,” you were resolute, and Helmut sighed.

“ Come with me,” he held out his hand as he stood, and you took it hesitantly. After throwing some sleeping pants on, Helmut ushered you out of the room and into the great room where the other two men were entertaining themselves.

“We’re going to prove that Maus is not a super soldier,” Helmut announced to the room, and you let go of his hand, backing up and shaking your head. “What, you don’t want to prove that you’re just a regular human?”

“I don’t hate the idea of knowing if you’re a super soldier or not,” Sam commented, and you narrowed your eyes at him. “What? It would be good to have another super soldier with combat training on our side.”

“Fine,” you grumbled. “So, how are we going to do this?”

“You’re going to punch James,” Helmut said matter-of-factly, but you balked at the thought of punching one of your allies. “Fine with me,” James sighed and rolled his shoulders back. “Come at me, kid,” he smirked a little as he stood. You looked back and forth between Helmut and James.

“ Mein Gott, what have I gotten myself into?” you sighed and approached James, who was standing rather relaxed for someone who was about to get hit.

You took on an attacking stance and bounced on the balls of your feet, your limited combat training coming back in pieces.

“If I break my hand, I’m going to kill you,” you directed that at Helmut, who chuckled. Apparently, he was confident you were super strong.

You threw a punch at James, who caught it in his flesh hand.

“You’re not even trying,” James raised an eyebrow. “My grandma hits harder.”

You frowned, rude.

You pulled your arms in, close to your torso, and threw a one-two combo at him, with a little more force.

“I really think it would just be best if you put all of your force behind it. Or else we’ll never know,” James spoke with a smile on his face, though you didn’t share his positive sentiment.

“I feel very weird attacking a man who isn’t attacking me back,” you finally said, and James smirked.

“I can fix that,” he said right before he threw a punch at you, which you thankfully dodged.

“Hey!” you exclaimed, backing up a step as he came at you with another punch. “Rude!” You shouted as he kept throwing punches at you with his flesh arm, always keeping the metal one away from you.

This time, when you dodged his punch, you used your momentum to throw one back at him, which he easily dodged. Fine, you supposed you were just going to spar now. It was a lot of dodging, none of your hits ever met his flesh, but you had a feeling he was having too much fun because he actually surprised you with a punch from his left hand. You knew you weren’t going to be able to dodge it, so you braced yourself and shot out your flat palm and - honestly it was maybe the coolest thing you’ve ever done - you caught his metal fist in your own small hand. There was only a little movement as you adjusted for the weight of his punch.

He gawked at you.

You stared at him with wide eyes.

Everything was quiet.

“Please tell me that was a full-force punch because that was the coolest thing I’ve seen since Spiderman,” Sam finally interrupted, and you let out a nervous giggle.

“Hit me,” James was all serious now. He had put a lot of force behind that punch, and you caught his metal arm with little to no effort.

“I don’t want to hit you,” you countered, and he took on a defensive stance.

“I’m not going to dodge. I want you to hit me in the stomach.”

You bit your lip. You supposed this was all fun and games to them, but it would seriously wreak havoc on your mental state.

You paused, and then with all of the force you could muster, you hit the former Winter Soldier in the stomach. He had rock solid abs, and it hurt, but you were pretty sure it hurt him more than it hurt you because he grunted and stumbled back into the wall behind him.

“Jesus Christ,” he coughed, trying to get his diaphragm to work again after being smashed with a tiny fist.

You froze up, your knees locked and brain whirring a million miles a minute. What if you were a super soldier? What did that mean for you?

“Very interesting,” Helmut commented, and you whirled around to point a finger at him.

“This was your idea,” you accused him, but he stayed infuriatingly calm and raised his hands up in the air placatingly.

“Aren’t you glad you know? You just nearly knocked the Winter Soldier off his feet with one hit,” he looked impressed, but you were sure he was conflicted. He was against super soldiers.

“I think it’s time for us to go look in the city for clues on Karli. Maus would you like to stay here?” Sam finally broke your angry silence and you nodded, you needed some alone time. Maybe you’d be able to sleep.

They left and for a while, you just stood still, unable to move. Finally though, you retreated to the bedroom for a nap. This time when the forest appeared to you, you just wandered amongst the puddles, not going into any of them, and you enjoyed a dreamless sleep.

By the time you woke, the men were still out, so you dressed in some jeans and a long sleeve t-shirt to wander outside and find them.

Unfortunately, you weren’t the only one looking for them.

“Hey,” you greeted as you walked up behind the trio, but there was another voice talking over you. An American.

“Karli Morgenthau is too dangerous for you guys to be pulling this shit,” he spat the words, and you stayed behind Helmut as a man in stars and stripes approached.

“Ugh, how’d you find us now?” James asked, and you couldn’t help but ask the same question. You’d stayed under the radar… Unless the men had caused a scene while you were sleeping.

“Come on,” another American spoke this time. “You really think two Avengers can walk around Latvia without drawing attention?” Okay, that was valid.

“No more keeping us in the dark,” the first man added. “You can start by telling us why you broke him out of prison,” he pointed at Helmut. “And who the hell that is,” this time he pointed at you, and you tried to shield yourself from his view. You were already in a bit of a frazzled mental state, you did not want to deal with this.

“He did that himself technically,” James muttered, and you had to hold back a giggle.

“Oh this better be an unbelievable explanation,” the man shouted, and you were getting tired of him raising his voice.

“Take it easy before it gets weird,” Sam tried to diffuse the situation.

“Who’s this?” the blonde man finally spoke in a regular voice and you stepped out from behind Helmut.

“I go by Maus ,” you started. “I owed Steven Rogers a favor, so I’m helping his friends,” your accented English gave him pause.

“How did you know him?” The other American asked and you winced.

“He sort of destroyed my country,” you shrugged. “But he helped me out afterwards. It evens out I guess,” he chuckled at your answer.

“I know where Karli is,” Helmut interjected and you cut your eyes to him. What? When had he figured that out?

He started walking and the men started their pissing contest, or you supposed it was just a heated conversation, so you followed behind. It would be a long day.

“I’m Lemar,” the second man walked beside you as the others argued.

“Nice to meet you, Lemar,” you responded, eyes wandering around the beautiful city.

“You’re from Sokovia, then?” You nodded. “Not much of a talker, are you?” “I’ve had quite a long few days,” you chuckled and finally looked over at him. He was handsome, probably around your age. “And my English is very out of practice.”

He nodded understandingly.

“I took French and German in high school, but I’m not very good at them,” he commented.

“ Du sprichst Deutsch? ” You asked with a smile, and he returned it.

“ Ja, ” he responded, though you could tell it took him a bit to think up the word.

“I live in Berlin,” you explained. “So I’ve been getting better at German. Having the Baron around is nice though because I haven’t spoken Sokovian in years,” you sighed sadly and Lemar nodded.

“I could see that being nice, even though he is a fugitive and a criminal,” you nodded sagely. What he would think if he had known the situations you’d gotten into with the Baron.

You tuned back into the conversation when Helmut gestured to his ‘associate,’ a little girl waiting for them up ahead. You sighed, you had a very bad feeling about this.

Masterlist

[kisskissbanggang]

What You Don’t Know pt. 3 - The Finale

[25Min Read/7.6K Words - College Au - Jisung x Female Reader - NSFW/Smut, 2/3 Plot - Femdom, Dom/Sub, Finding Kinks, Hair Pulling, Handcuffs, Minor Edging, Minor Cock-Slapping, Mutual Bondage, Bad Conflict Resolution, Drinking Buddies, Talking Things Out, Past Relationships, Friends to Lovers(?)]

1 | 2 | 3 | Bonus | Masterlist | Feedback

“Jisung,” you bristled, “you and I haven’t even agreed to be You and I.”

Jisung impatiently folded his arms. “Say no or come out with me tonight. Stop trying to fuck your way out of this if you actually care about me. This can be our little secret, but I won’t be your little power trip.”

You folded your arms as well, matching him in frustration as you considered what Jisung was proposing. If you went out with him that night, he might push you to confront some feelings you really didn’t want to. If you didn’t go out with him that night, however, you could see your friendship quickly dissolving. “Fine,” you huffed. “I’ll be at the bar tonight.”

What a terrible idea. 

It had completely eluded you that tonight a live band was playing at the bar, and the energy inside was maddening. The guys wanting to go out on a Monday made way more sense all of a sudden. Minho beamed at you as you walked into the bar. 

“My, don’t we look pretty tonight,” he teasingly complimented you, and you grimaced as you shoved him in retaliation. 

“Don’t start,” you grumbled, “I’m not having the best day.”

“You, too? How funny,” Minho grinned as he put a beer in your hand. “Jisung’s been pissy all day.”

“What a coincidence,” you marveled sarcastically as you pulled up a stool at the bar. You didn’t even want to look at Jisung sitting at your usual booth, let alone sit with him. You missed the days when you didn’t feel anything towards him. It would be better than feeling whatever this was. 

“Why do I even try?” Minho laughed in disbelief as he clapped you on the back. He shrugged before he abandoned you to simmer alone. You did watch now as Minho walked over and pointed you out. Whatever Jisung said in return, Minho had the same reaction as he’d had with you, laughing and shaking his head as he left to go actually have fun with everyone else. This was going to be a waiting game, you figured. Jisung would have to make a move if he insisted on you coming out, but you didn’t get much of a chance to see if he’d follow through. The strongest scent of girlish perfume hit your nose and you recoiled as you noticed Stephanie was here, for the first time in a couple weeks, and currently having way too much of a good time as she sauntered up to you. 

“Hey!” She greeted over the music. Her tube top looked obnoxiously good on her. You cracked an inert smile and raised your beer in acknowledgment. “Jisung looks really good tonight,” she gushed as she leaned into your space. “So do you.”

“Thanks,” you nodded stiffly. “What’s up? You never talk to me.”

Stephanie shrugged cutely. “Well I’m talking to you now. Did you and Jisung come here together?”

You regarded her ingratiating smile. “Together? No,” you began carefully. “Why?”

“No reason,” Stephanie shrugged again, “he just looks really good tonight, like I said. And so do you. So I wondered if you came here together. That’s all.”

Her smirk was constructed purely from trouble before she waved and walked away, and right over to Jisung still sulking in the booth. You still couldn’t make out what was being said, but you could clearly see Stephanie point at you as well, and when Jisung leaned in to ask something, she shook her head before helping herself to the booth and sliding in beside him. Jisung looked across the bar at you now, and you were tempted to kill him right there and then as he shrugged at you, looking falsely helpless and clueless as Stephanie instantly leaned into his space. 

You were subjected to watching Jisung get cooed over and pawed at for the next twenty minutes. Stephanie was relentless, really going at him and apparently emboldened by how aloof he was suddenly acting with her. Now you were thrown into a spiral of really wondering what you wanted with Jisung, and any one of those thoughts instantly made you feel queasy, especially as Jisung kept looking at you. She was awful, really — but you knew she really wasn’t, even as she whispered in Jisung’s ear and played with the strings of his hoodie. You knew she was just seeing him as available, and she was only up to her old business. After all, you said it yourself that you didn’t come here together. It still hurt to watch though, and it drove you crazy that you knew exactly why. But you would tough it out. You would sit and watch that jerk get fawned over even if it lasted all night, because he couldn’t be allowed to win this easily. 

Until Stephanie made her move. You could almost hear the conversation play out from across the bar, with her swearing how much she missed him and caressing his knee under the table, promising she’d been thinking of him when she’d really done no such thing. You’d sworn you’d heard it plain as day, so it shouldn’t have surprised you when she kissed him. It surprised Jisung, too, and that was even more inexcusable since he was there contributing to the conversation. 

It was Stephanie’s turn to be shocked as you stalked across the bar, entered the booth from the end she wasn’t occupying, and grabbed his hand to pull his attention away.

“Excuse you,” she balked, but she didn’t even try to interfere. 

“Can we talk?” You asked him bluntly, voice covered in sugar to contrast with your vice grip on Jisung’s hand. He had the audacity to smirk as he excused himself from the table and followed you. You pulled him along to the back door of the bar, back by the bathrooms, and shoved it open to enter the dark alley behind the building. Jisung’s smirk lasted until the moment he was out in the cool of the night, and his hand sharply tugged on yours to wheel you around. You defensively pressed back against the wall. He knew you hated being surprised from behind. You didn’t even like back hugs or taking it from behind. Trust issue or not, Jisung knew better.

“I can’t fucking believe you!” He scoffed.

“I can say the same,” you shot back. 

“What’s not to believe?! We’re not together, remember? But I guess you’re possessive when it’s convenient.”

“And you’re so quiet when it’s convenient,” you snapped. “You definitely seemed to want me while her tongue was in your mouth. You probably would’ve gone home with her if I hadn’t—“

Your ranting was cut short as Jisung kissed you hard against the wall of the alley. His hands gripped your waist tight and wouldn’t let up until you weaved your fingers into his hair and yanked. Jisung’s knees instantly buckled but he fought against it, his lips still on yours until you pulled him off of you. The grossest part of it was how much you instantly wanted him in that moment, even with how hurt you both were. Jisung was pushing this, and you were pulling away, literally so as you clawed your fingers into his hair and got him off of you. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Jisung?” You asked coldly.  

“Don’t accuse me of not wanting you when you won’t even talk this out.” He stared you down in the dark alley, trying hard not to shiver as you craned his head back. You manhandled him around to shove him back against the wall now, and his shocked cry turned into a surprised moan as your other hand took a serious grip on his cock and you kissed him back. 

“You’re being such an ass about this,” you growled, emboldened as you could feel him trying not to tremble. 

“And you’re being so immature about this,” he bit back, and it dug into you in a way you didn’t want to admit. Every time Jisung tried to say something more, you shut him up as you massaged him hard through his jeans. He didn’t stop trying to fight through it, though. “Did I make you upset, ma’am?” Jisung grinned sarcastically against you. His lips tasted of vitriol. “What’s wrong? Isn’t this what you wanted?”

His taunt made you freeze. Suddenly, you could see how this looked: both of you angry, upset, and undeniably wanting each other. You abruptly let him go. All you were doing was trying to stitch together this whole mess with flimsy lust. “You did,” you nodded seriously in an attempt to be open. “You did make me upset. This isn’t as easy as I was wanting.”

Jisung scoffed. It was apparently too little too late for you to be vulnerable. “Fine. Allow me to make it easier.” He was rough as he shouldered past you and made his way down the alley. You watched Jisung walk out to the street, silhouetted by streetlights as he made his way back towards the house. 

You were livid as you stormed back into the bar to pay your tab and get the hell out. This whole night had been a terrible idea already and now it was worse as you pushed your way through the crowd to leave out the front, only to run face first into someone opening the door at the same time. You shoved whoever it was back only to find Chan facing you. 

“Hey!” He shouted over the music, his annoyance abruptly turning into concern. “Are you okay?”

“No!” You called back. “I’m going home. I’ll see you, okay?”

Chan quickly turned and followed you as you elbowed past him out the door. He caught up with you on the sidewalk. “Do you want a ride?”

You paused, shifting uncomfortably as you silently nodded. He was handsome in his work clothes, his sleeves rolled up and his tie loosened. The sickening sensation of tears brimming in your eyes was distressing. Thankfully, Chan didn’t ask any questions, instead opting to wordlessly herd you towards and into his car. He sighed as he put the car into drive and headed in the direction of your apartment. “I’m sorry you’re not having a good night,” he offered. 

“It’s fine. It’s stupid anyway,” you grumbled, feeling miserably embarrassed to have your friend see you like this. 

“It’s not stupid, I assure you,” Chan consoled. “Try to calm down, okay? Here.” Chan reached down and slipped his heavy water bottle out of his bag and into your hand. You regarded it thoughtfully as you took a sip, followed by a deep breath. 

“Isn’t this mine?” You asked, looking at the water bottle in your hands, your thumb tracing over the stickers adhered to it and the dents made in it over time. “You still have it?”

“Of course,” Chan chuckled. “You let me keep it, didn’t you?”

The short drive was painfully quiet but you were thankful for it, watching streetlights pass overhead and trying to ease the feeling of apparently hurting Jisung so badly. It felt lonely to approach your apartment, and you were silently grateful as Chan made no rush to get rid of you so he could head back to the bar. He leaned back in his seat and looked at you, almost as if he were checking on you again.

“Thanks,” you began awkwardly, despite gracefully setting a hand on his, “for being here for me.”

“Of course,” he assured you with a humble smile. His hand reassuringly squeezed yours. “You look really good tonight, by the way.”

“You think so?”

“For sure,” he nodded seriously. “When was the last time I saw you in a dress, let alone this dress? It’s my favorite.”

You felt your face heat up in a familiar way, and you couldn’t help but enjoy just hanging out with Chan again. This had been easy, too, before it wasn’t anymore. His hand was warm in yours and it felt good to be around him again. 

“I missed you,” he said quietly. “I miss just hanging out. I’ve been meaning to call you.”

“I know you’re busy,” you reassured him, “but I missed you, too.”

“That’s the thing,” Chan bit at his lip. “I’m not going to be nearly as busy anymore. I’m finally getting my promotion.” 

“You are? That’s great!” You congratulated him, and you truly meant it. Chan has been working like crazy since the day he started at his job. “I can’t wait to actually see you more,” you grinned. 

Chan nodded, and it took a second longer than it should have for you to feel his pause in the stark silence of his car. The second you did, though, Chan had already leaned over the center console, his hand that wasn’t holding yours softly cupping your face as he gently pressed his lips to yours. His kiss was just as filled with muted affection and infatuation as the last he’d shared with you ages ago, but this wasn’t right. You reflexively shoved your hand against his chest, the heel of your palm sliding up until your hand landed on his throat. Chan hummed out a soft groan, misconstruing your defensive move for one of your games you used to play. He was thoroughly confused as you corrected your hand placement and shoved him off. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked, brows furrowed with concern. 

“You jerk,” you laughed miserably as you went to open the door. 

Chan grabbed back onto your hand. “What’s wrong?” He repeated. 

“You don’t get to just swoop in when you’re ready to settle down!” 

“What do you mean?! We’ve been waiting—“

“We?” You asked him, bewildered at his assumption. “We? I stopped when you wanted to back then, but now you’re saying we have been waiting for this? You didn’t even ask me what’s wrong tonight!”

“Fine,” Chan sighed as he sank back into his seat, “you’re right. I wrongly figured you still prefer to divulge that on your own. What do you want to do? You’re in charge.”

“That’s the entire problem!” You lamented. “Jisung keeps saying I just want to be in charge, like I’m actually just exercising some power trip on him, and now I probably chased him off forever.”

“Jisung?” Chan blinked. “What does he have to do with this? Why does he keep saying that?”

“Because it’s a million times easier to just fool around instead of wanting to admit I want anything more,” you grumbled as you buried your face in your hands. “So I’m just using him instead of actually talking to him.”

“Oh jeez,” Chan heaved out a held breath as he finally realized what was going on and pulled you into his arms across the center console, “is that what this is about? Come here.” Chan affectionately rubbed your back as you shoved your forehead into his shoulder. “I’m sorry I kissed you. I’ve been in tunnel vision for—“

“Forever?” The jab may have been rude, but he knew he had it coming. 

“Yes,” he nodded forlornly. “For a pretty long time, at least. How long has this thing with Jisung been going on?”

“Not long,” you admitted, “maybe a month or two.”

“Do you like him?”

“I do,” you grumbled. He nudged you as he finally released you from his embrace. 

“And he feels the same?”

Your sigh multiplied as you nodded. 

“And, let me guess, he wants to make it serious?” Chan nodded as you chewed on your lip in hesitance. “And you’re scared to make that move. I see. That explains why he’s been so off lately.”

“What do I do?” You frowned. Chan patted your hand. 

“Sounds pretty easy to me. You already share feelings. What are you afraid of?”

“I just wanted something easy,” you explained, and you finally heard how whiny that sounded out loud. 

“Doesn’t sound like that,” Chan shook his head. “If you wanted something easy you would’ve laid that line down already. You’re indecisive for once because you don’t want things to change.”

“Am I that obvious?”

“I’m afraid so,” Chan nodded earnestly. 

“I hate this,” you glowered. 

“I know. But it can’t be easy all the time.”

You and Chan both sat in renewed silence before you nodded with determination. Something was pressing in the back of your mind before you could leave, though. “Were you really wanting to try again? You and I?”

“It doesn’t matter now, but yes,” Chan softly smiled. “I’m just sorry I missed my shot, but I’m glad you sound like you know what you’re doing with Jisung.”

Chan sat and took it as you leaned forward to kiss his forehead before you stepped out of the car and onto the sidewalk. You ducked back down to look at him. “It doesn’t matter now, but things might’ve gone differently if you got that promotion a few months ago. Thanks for being there for me tonight.” You watched, still feeling a bit bruised as you waved to Chan driving off back down the street. 

Jisung went back to ignoring you in class the next day, and you knew he would continue to if you didn’t do something fast. You had one plan in place. You had sat with your draft —a piece you were finally getting a chance to write after conceiving it ages ago — and carefully edited the whole thing with Jisung’s corrections and suggestions in mind. It took you the better part of the night, but you had no desire to sleep anyhow. It would have to look markedly different for him to be tempted to leaf through it right away. 

With bated breath, you sat in class, painfully anxious as you added your draft to the pile on its way to the front of the room. It seemed to take forever, passing from row to row until it finally reached Jisung in the front, and he immediately drew out his requisite blue pen to check if he had everyone’s work while the professor continued on with his usual droning. He flicked through papers, and you wanted to scream every time he paused to unstick a page or look for a missing bibliography. This didn’t feel unlike passing notes in high school and you hated it. You were suddenly wondering if he already reached your paper and perhaps you just missed it. 

Except you hadn’t. Jisung very clearly found your draft in his pile, apparent as he set down the whole stack in his hands to flip through the pages once again, but more carefully. He did a double-take, and then another one, and then he looked through the papers and notebooks and pens on his desk as if there was some other reason he found a sticky note stuck to the back of the first page: See me. Jisung easily found your eye in the lecture hall, looking cute in another dress you hadn’t worn in a long time. As opposed to the sweet little skater dress with the knee socks that you donned back at the bar, today you sported a somewhat more mature number, something fitted and flattering with tempting buttons down the front, and he subtly nodded. 

It was hard to tell how Jisung would arrive at your apartment. He could be coming in hot, ready to rail against you again for not opening up to him for so long and blowing your chance. He could be beside himself, or nonchalant, or any number of things as you paced your apartment. It would turn out he would still surprise you, instead looking impressed he even found you, and that was when you realized: Jisung still hadn’t come over since you’d become friends.

“Hey—“ he awkwardly greeted, barely waving before you stepped aside and let him in. He looked annoyingly cute in his lightweight hoodie and jeans. 

“Hey,” you returned. You were unsure if you were happy or relieved or nervous to see him. “I’m glad you came. We need to talk.”

“We do?” Jisung smirked. He shoved his hands in his pockets as he curiously looked around your small apartment. “That’s a first.”

“Come on,” you sighed, “I’m trying here. Let me try, please.”

“I’m not stopping you,” Jisung shrugged, still attempting to look indifferent even as he paused to look at photos or little knickknacks you had sitting around. You decided you would make it easier and step into your bedroom yourself, letting him know it was alright to follow you into your space. It was cute watching him look around and get to know you more just by being allowed inside. You paused as he gently picked up a teddy bear off your dresser with the smallest look of amusement on his face. 

“Something funny?” 

“No,” he grinned as he set the bear back down, “not like that. I was just, er… well, after what we’ve done and from how I’ve known you, your place is so — I have no idea what word I’m looking for — normal?”

“Were you expecting a dungeon?” You giggled as you were caught off guard. 

Jisung finally laughed out loud. “No, if you must know. But this is, well… it’s cute. It’s nice seeing your place.”

“I’m glad you could see it,” you smiled, “only Minho’s been in my room before.”

“Really?” Jisung asked incredulously, even turning more to face you as you sat on the bed. 

“Really,” you nodded earnestly while you leaned under your bedside table to pull out an inconspicuous card box. “And I’m still kinky at home, I just keep my place organized unlike some people.”

“That was uncalled for and I should leave,” Jisung cackled, even as he stepped closer to see. You set the box on your lap and opened it to reveal your toys and restraints, some familiar and some not. He peered inside, smiling playfully as he drew out the cuffs you used on him the week before. “Why are you showing me this? Why did you want to see me?”

“I wanted you to see that I trust you,” you admitted, “even if it’s been really hard for me to start this conversation.”

Jisung seemed to consider this, his eyes drifting from you, your dress, to the cuffs in his hand. You playfully plucked the restraints from him and closed one end around his right wrist. A sideways smile urged him on as he pulled the other set of cuffs from the box and did the same to you. Now you matched. 

“Okay,” he softly relented, still not wanting to meet your eye. “No more running then. And you already started off just fine. Now tell me what changed between then and today.”

“Well, Chan said you’ve been seeming off yesterday—“

“Yesterday? Chan wasn’t there yesterday,” Jisung did look at you now as he asked blankly. 

“What? Oh. He came after you left and gave me a ride home,” you shrugged. 

“He gave you a ride home?” Jisung pressed. “Did anything happen?”

“Not really,” you shrugged awkwardly again, “I mean, if I’m being honest, he kissed me, but—“

“He what?!” Jisung exclaimed. “Oh, that fucking prick, I can’t believe—“ It was surreal to see him so worked up. 

“Jisung, I don’t—“ you attempted as he paced your room in a frenzy, narrowly avoiding you each time you tried to take his hand. “Would you calm down?!”

“I told that asshole it was about a girl at school,” he raved, “because how dare I try to respect that you’re a weird subject with him?!”

“I’m a weird subject with him? Jisung, it’s not like I knew Chan still had feelings—“

“How could you not?! Literally the whole house knows! Like first that dick kisses you and then he gives me a ride to your place today? That antagonistic piece of shit,“ Jisung hummed in simmering discontent as he whipped his phone out and began typing furiously. 

“Jisung, you don’t need to—“

“Look, I get it,” Jisung babbled as you helplessly followed him out into the hall, “he’s stupidly good looking and he has a car and a great job and you’ve been friends for a long time but—“

“Jisung!” You snapped, finally getting a hold of whatever you could, namely the hanging cuff around his wrist, and clicked the open end around your free hand before tugging him close to snatch his phone out of his hand. “If you’d shut up for five seconds then you would know I told Chan about you right after he kissed me, and he had no idea about us and immediately backed off and he felt bad.”

Finally, Jisung was silent as he gawked at you, his wrist still hanging limp where it was connected to your own now. “He didn’t know about us? What did you tell him about us? Or me?”

“What did I— well, I mean, I told him the truth,” you floundered as you reflexively stepped back. 

“What truth?” Jisung prodded. Now he tugged on the chain between you himself, even as you backed away again. He quickly brought up the hanging end of the cuff on his other wrist and snapped it onto you before reeling you in. “Come on, I know you hate leaving things unsaid,” he insisted as he brought you closer again. “You can do this.”

“Fine!” You erupted. “I want to be with you, you jerk! I want to hang out even when we’re not fooling around, and I think about you all the time, and you make me happy even when you annoy the shit out of me… and I would hate if that changed things,” you frowned, even more so as he gave a small, surprised laugh. 

“Is that what this is about?” Jisung asked, his disbelieving shaded with some relief. “All that would change is maybe we would do some couple stuff.”

“Then what’s the point?”

“The point is I want to do couple stuff with you,” Jisung insisted. 

“I do, too,” you readily agreed, only wishing you could sound more sure. “It’s just hard to—“

“You do? You actually want to do that stuff with me?” Jisung cautiously asked. “Then what’re you afraid of?”

You sighed in an attempt to breathe in any confidence you could before you looked down at both your wrists cuffed to his own. “Honestly, as simple as it sounds… I’m afraid of losing what you and I have.” He watched as you drew up your hands and rattled the chains a little to make your point. Jisung’s expression was cryptic: part stunned, part something else you couldn’t quite place before he stepped forward, determined. You backed up with a start, the wall of the hallway pressing against your back as he pulled at his left wrist, your right being pulled along by the cuffs connecting you as he led it back and up the nape of his neck until your fingertips nestled deep into his hair. In your surprise you dropped his phone in your hand, the device landing on the floor with a clatter. The ghost of your tentative breath was nearly a gasp on your lips as his hand closed around yours, guiding you to grip hard onto the follicles at the root. A soft groan emanated from low in his throat as you tugged on his hair, the action familiar by now but the feelings associated with it suddenly feeling more full, more weighty as his knees predictably buckled. He visibly felt that same shiver fall down his spine as it always did. You could do this, he seemed to silently encourage you, you could have this. 

First, though, you needed Jisung to see that you wanted it, that you wanted him. A new energy surged through you, from the pit of your belly and pulsing along your nerves as you now pushed back against the wall of your own volition, releasing your hold on his hair to instead softly cup his face and pull him to you. The chains keeping you together meant the Jisung now gently held onto your wrists as he tried not to fall into you in your silent apartment. He watched, rapt as you shifted gears so suddenly but so smoothly, and he was still just as ready for you to do whatever you wanted to him as you met his gaze. The pause between you was sweet, intrepid, and just the smallest bit nervous as you finally brought him close to kiss his lips. 

Jisung’s eyes fluttered closed as he savored it, almost like he was afraid this was a lapse in judgement on your part until you deepened your kiss and let out the smallest satisfied hum. Now you could do whatever you wanted to him, and he was dying for it. As he glimpsed at you the moment you pulled away from his lips, he was already tipsy, almost drunk on you, his eyelids heavy and his pupils blown out. You tipped him back onto his feet a little before you led his chained wrists to your waist, then your hips, and slowly down under the hem of your dress to your thighs. His fingers thought faster than his brain did as the pads of his fingertips absently soothed over your skin, erupting in goosebumps as he touched you until you yanked back on the cuffs and made him fall into you again. It felt like a return to form as you teased him closer and closer to your panties — until he brazenly pulled at the cuffs himself and dipped his fingers between your legs, over the thin fabric separating him from you. He cracked the most mischievous grin before you jammed down on the cuffs and surprised him into losing his balance and buckling. Jisung groaned as he landed on his knees, just a little dazed but still wearing that same playful smile. 

“What,” you sneered, “you think you can get away with being a brat now?”

“No, ma’am,” Jisung earnestly shook his head despite his smirk, “but I trust you enough to try it out.” 

“Let’s see if that pays off for you,” you taunted as you pulled your panties aside for him. “Now get to work.” To really rub it in, you pushed Jisung back by the forehead as he went to dive straight into you. He swallowed a breath as you looked down at him expectantly. “Words, sweet boy,” you chided, “don’t make this worse for yourself.”

“Yes ma’am,” he nodded when he seemed to suddenly become much more compliant, “thank you, ma’am.” Jisung looked up at you with his big eyes glazed over as he licked you up, nosing aside your panties to get deeper into your folds with a practiced effortlessness. It was your turn for your knees to buckle, the wall pressing into your shoulders as you let out a content sigh. Jisung groaned at your pleasure and grabbed onto your thighs as much as the cuffs would allow for leverage. Your arousal scorched through you from your chest to your fingertips when you realized how good it was to be with Jisung again, and like this it felt even more satisfying as he eagerly laved at you. A familiar head rush took hold and you knew that there was too much you wanted for you to risk losing momentum from an orgasm knocking you out. 

Jisung was barely lucid as you pulled his tongue off you again, still so focused on his task and returning to it until his hands followed yours up your thighs and under the hem of your dress. You took his fingers, placing them on your panties and pushing down until you nodded for him to take them off for you. He helped you step out of them as you leaned down to help him reach with the cuffs still pulling you along, and you pulled him back up to bring your fingers to the top button of your dress. He watched, mesmerized as you led his hands to replace yours again and take care of the rest of the delicate buttons that traced a line down the front of your dress. His fingers were almost careful, his breath measured as he slowly exposed you.

“Perfect, sweet boy,” you breathed. “Your turn now.” You were met with a surprised gasp as you shoved Jisung back onto his ass and followed him down to the floor of your hallway. Your apartment was so small that you were practically in the kitchen and the bathroom and your bedroom from this spot, and Jisung almost braced himself as you knelt between his legs. “Well?” You asked teasingly. “I said it’s your turn.”

Jisung was still confused until you took his hands and placed them on the zip of his hoodie. Of course, with the cuffs on, neither of you would be able to get much more undressed, but a soft rush of excitement still coursed through you as Jisung did as he was told and unzipped his hoodie. 

“Belt, too,” you softly commanded with a nod. 

“Can I get another kiss, first, ma’am?” Jisung smirked. “I really liked that last one.”

“Belt first, sweet boy,” you emphasized. He complied, his slim fingers working his belt free, but not without next grabbing onto your wrist and tugging you close to steal a quick kiss. It was barely anything, and you loved it, but you pushed your hand against his chest to flatten him back out on the floor with a groaned curse. You burned, sort of adoring this new level to your playing. Jisung seemed to love it too as you wrangled him into your grip: one hand in his hair and the other working his jeans open to grab onto his cock. As painfully sentimental as it sounded, you’d missed it.

Jisung cried out as you shifted around to kneel on his chest, one knee on his ribs and the other still on the floor as you began to massage his length to full hardness. The moment he tried to thrust into your hand, you lightly slapped the head of his cock and he hissed out a sharp breath. “Sit still, brat,” you warned. 

“Come on,” Jisung begged, his eyes shut tight as you did it again, “I missed you, it’s so good.”

“What’s so good?” You teased before batting his cock again. “Being such a brat that I keep on slapping your cock? That can be arranged.”

“No no,” Jisung ardently shook his head, “please ma’am, please touch me. I’ll be good, just please touch me again.”

“Say you’re sorry,” you pouted, already poised to slap his cock again. 

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” your incredible, sweet boy immediately replied as he pressed his hips back into the floor. “I’m sorry for acting out, and kissing you without permission, and for not sitting still—“

“Perfect, sweet boy,” you simpered, “that was a good apology.”

Jisung’s head relaxed back onto the floor as you closed your hand around his warm cock again and began stroking it in earnest. His hushed whines and obscenities under his breath were heavenly, perfect notes in your ears after recalling them in frustrating daydreams for the past week. Even in just that short time, you truly realized how much more you wanted Jisung than you had first thought. Looking at Jisung stretched out on the floor of your tiny apartment and doing his best to behave while you massaged his blushing erection, you couldn’t believe it took you so long to admit you wanted to be with him. Jisung’s eyes were shut tight enough to furrow his eyebrows in the sweetest way, so utterly lost in the moment in a way you can’t just will into existence, he had to fall into it, and you would be an absolute fool to not recognize how handsome he was in the midst of it. Your gaze drifted down his heaving chest, down to where the hem of his shirt had ridden up a bit to reveal the soft definition of his abdomen, and ultimately down to his length that was agonizingly dripping, leaking precum, and you couldn’t take the sight anymore; you needed him. 

“What’re you doing—“ Jisung dazedly asked as you let him out of your grasp. Rather than finish his question, however, Jisung gasped in surprise as you swung a leg over his hip to seat yourself on his lap. He was thoroughly trembling by now, and you missed that sensation.  

“Good?��� You checked in on him real quick as you eased the smooth head of his cock against your dripping entrance. 

“Yes ma’am,” he obediently replied as you slowly dipped him into your depths. A sigh erupted from you, instantly revealing how much you’d wanted Jisung back inside of you, and you quickly laced your fingers into his for leverage as you began to roll your hips against his own. You couldn’t believe how much you’d missed fucking Jisung in just a few days. With the right angle, you could grind your soaked clit against him, and your feverish moans electrified him in the cutest way. Jisung writhed under you, coming undone from how much he loved being with you, being used by you while knowing he actually had you. He was keening and sighing and moaning sweetly with each groan and gasp that escaped you as you rode him, your undulating hips almost working him up too fast in combination with how much groundwork you’d already laid out. This realization, however, was unsatisfying for some reason, until you understood why. It was rare, but sometimes you did crave pressure against that little button of nerves inside you instead of directly against your clit, and you couldn’t reach it from this angle. 

Jisung was a mess as you eased off him. “Wait, what’re you—“ he nearly repeated, babbling until you soothed him. 

“Good?” You asked, making him jump as you grabbed back onto his cock to pump his slicked length a few times. He whined at your touch before he could finally give a tepid nod. “Say you’re good,” you implored. 

“Good,” he nodded heartily, even more so as you let a glistening string of saliva fall from your lips onto his hard member and stroked it faster before letting go completely. Jisung threw his head back and cursed at the absence. “Fuck,” he croaked, “more, more—“ You smiled warmly as Jisung sat up as much as he could without pulling you down in the process, and you leaned a hand forward to give him some leverage to see what he would do. Your chest swelled as he leaned up, fervently kissing your jaw before looking up at you with those big eyes. “More, ma’am, please,” he earnestly begged, and you felt he more than earned it now. 

“Jisung,” you called softly to him, getting his attention fast, “you want it?”

“Yes ma’am,” he nodded seriously. He was curious as you helped him sit up more until he was up on his knees with you, enough so that it caught him off guard as you closed your eyes and leaned close to briefly kiss his lips again. He groaned appreciatively into you until you pulled away, but the curiosity resumed as you took one of your cuffed wrists and ducked under it, twisting around until Jisung was bear-hugging you from behind. “Ma’am,” he suddenly piped up behind you, “are you sure?” Even then, he couldn’t resist responding as you ground your ass back against his cock. 

“Jisung,” you groaned wantonly, and let yourself lean forward against the wall, “fuck me.”

“Yes ma’am,” Jisung readily complied. With a little adjusting, you felt the head of his cock nudge back against the sensitive opening of your pussy, and you both let out a renewed sigh of pleasure as you tested this new angle. You were surprised to find that despite any of your misgivings or trepidation, that Jisung’s length fit up inside you almost precisely like this, massaging right against that spot if you arched your back just right. Jisung thrust eagerly into you, the both of you panting for breath and breaking out in a minor sweat as he fucked you from behind in the hallway. With his hands still connected to yours, he held fast onto your arms for leverage but remained as gentle as he always was, still just as doting as he kissed and nuzzled along your shoulders and nape of your neck while he murmured grateful little proclamations into your skin. 

Even with your arms crossed and held down by his own, you still felt safe against Jisung, and it was easy to fall headlong into this spike of arousal contributing to the incredible head rush you were experiencing. The sounds of your combined moans worked in tandem with his thrusts to push you closer and closer to the edge, while Jisung apparently wasn’t far behind with how his fingers squeezed into your arms. You knew he would be too behaved to ever ask for it, though. You leaned your head back against Jisung’s shoulder as he worked his hips against you. 

“You’re doing so good, sweet boy,” you purred. Jisung whimpered as he tried not to jump the gun. “You’re going to make me cum like this. But I can’t—“

“What?” Jisung interrupted, almost crazed. You patiently shushed him in an attempt to soothe him. 

“I can’t cum,” you goaded him, “without telling you the rules first. I won’t cum unless you fill me up when I do.” 

“Oh fuck,” Jisung hissed behind you. “Anything, ma’am, fuck—“

Jisung was a wreck as he worked you over, thrusting and grinding his cock right into your spot as your impassioned moans quickly grew more feverish. “God, Jisung,” you pleaded, “make me cum, you’re going to make me cum—“

“Yes, ma’am,” Jisung panted, “I’m going to —god, fuck—“

Your hands clutched for each other as you both erupted in a cascade of emphatic cries and moans once you climaxed together. The warmth that so instantly filled you made you melt back into Jisung’s embrace, almost like you’d fall right through the floor if he let go. Instead, he held you for a moment to ground himself before he reached for the safety latch on the cuff on your right wrist. It snapped off with a rattle, and even that felt as much like an absence as when he eased his withering length out of you. Jisung was gentle as he helped you to sit and rest back against the wall while he unlatched the other cuff. He lightly massaged both your wrists, even taking a moment to feel out and crack the joint between your thumb and wrist on both hands. His dazed eyes still heavily lidded, he softly kissed both your palms before returning them to your lap and finally took both cuffs off of himself. The cuffs were set on the floor with a soft clatter and you shared a look now, suddenly just a bit bashful in your post-orgasm haze. 

“Good?” You smirked. 

“Good,” Jisung languidly nodded, and accepted your hands on his face, drawing him close for a chaste kiss to his lips before helping him down next to you to snuggle him into your arms. You relaxed on the floor of the short hallway in your tiny apartment, still shoddily half-dressed, half-exposed as the both of you were. Jisung was curious as you leaned over to grab his phone you had originally dropped on the floor. You took a cursory glance at the device, making sure you hadn’t damaged it in all the commotion before you dialed Minho’s number. 

“What’re you doing?” Jisung wondered. 

“What?” Minho’s voice came through on the third ring. 

“Min,” you greeted casually, “when are we going out again? I have things to tell you. There’s something you don’t know.”

“What’s it about?” He asked shortly, apparently unfazed that you were calling from Jisung’s phone. 

“About me and Jisung,” you replied. Jisung was looking up at you now, almost impressed. 

“What about you and Jisung? Is this about what happened with Stephanie the other night?”

Jisung’s eyes widened curiously, possibly matching your own. “No, why? What do you mean?”

“I mean, I set her on her plan to talk to him because I was tired of you two not saying anything; I didn’t think she’d make a total ass of herself.”

You and Jisung stared at each other. “No,” you babbled, “it’s not that. I was just going to say—“

“Hey!” Felix’s voice interrupted. “Is Jisung gonna go to your place more often? I haven’t had the room to myself in ages. Like, I try to give you two space and everything, but—“

“Is that where they are?”

“Yeah, that’s where Chan said he dropped him off—“

“What’s going on?” Chan cut in now. “Are they actually admitting it?”

“Enough!” You announced, attempting not to get distracted with Jisung nearly having a fit of giggles beside you. “Alright. Next time we go out, we’ll explain everything.”

“Are there parts we don’t know?” Minho asked, bemused. 

“You could fill books with what you don’t know,” you laughed, quickly ending the call to get the last word in. Jisung smiled at you affectionately as you carefully got up to your feet and offered him a hand.

“Am I heading home, then?” He asked as he let you help him up.

“Nope,” you shook your head, “bedroom.” Jisung stared at you like he was expecting a punchline. 

“Bedroom? Why the—“

“Bedroom,” you nodded with a grin while you pulled him along, “or else I’m going to fall asleep right here in the hallway.”

Jisung beamed at you as you led the way to your bed. “Yes ma’am.”

[vidalinav]

Hell yes I LOVE hurt, angst, there is some kind of problem/tension fanfics and you are serving up artistic compositions over here.

I want no one to remember Nesta’s birthdays

no one to show up to Nesta’s birthday party besides 1 or 2 people

Cassian to truly see Mor for who she is and reflect on all she’s done to Nesta

I want a Rhys Nesta screaming fight

I want content about how bad of a King and Queen Feyre and Rhysand are and all these people (HIS people) that he has abandoned

God idk what else bc there is so much that we were left missing in the last book, shit we wanna change in the series, &future questions and I’m just super happy you producing this content and can’t wait to read it!

I love angst, but... I really like complicated, drama filled angst. So I would want people to show up to Nesta’s birthday, but I would want them to have the most generic ass gifts wheras Cassian, Emerie, Gwyn, and Azriel are like “Here Nesta, we thought of you when we picked these out.” Like her friends gifts are so thoughtful, and the IC’s gifts ehh... I like the thought of Nesta being civil to them but them really trying harder to be her friend and have her officially join their workforce *cough cough* excuse me, family. But they fail miserably, and instead of thinking “hey it’s our fault” they think “Nesta is avoiding us and she doesn’t want to be around us. what did we do? She thinks were bad people, well... she’s the one who has the bad attitude.” Like give me them misinterpreting everything, because that’s what they do in canon, and Nesta again looking like the bad guy and none of it was there fault. Also, I feel that Nesta would probably only want 1 or 2 people to be at her party, Emerie, Gwyn. BAM, so social interaction and big parties would be the horror story for her. 

I personally want Emerie to be the one who sees Mor as maybe a bit of an ass, but I wrote a post about that before. I just love the thought of a beautiful person getting uglier because of their personality being slowly revealed, but also I have no faith that Cassian would tell Mor anything. He might do it gently or like “Stop! I know you have good intentions and you were protective, but she’s my girl.” I don’t feel he’d be extremely accusatory, because he’s not... I hate it. But Emerie could be, or at least I envision her being petty and I LOVE that.

I do want Rhys and Nesta to have a screaming fight... or maybe a very passive aggressive discussion... yeah (nodding). Almost threatening. Glares and tight words. Everyone looking at Nesta then back to Rhys then back to Nesta. These smiles that they give each other in between insults that don’t sound like insults but are insults. HAHA I would be entertained. 

With the bad High Lord and Lady, I actually have always wanted to write where Feyre is severely disadvantaged in court politics. I don’t know if SJM meant for that to happen, but as evidenced by the book Feyre doesn’t do anything, and now because of the baby situation and not telling her, and the fact that we got a lot of times where Feyre was only called after Rhys had delegated, or Feyre’s decision was only slightly respected, Rhys by god made the whole scenario of the intervention, I really don’t see how she’s equal or how she has a voice as hinted BY THE TEXT. I would really really love that to be a conflict in their mating/ruling, because for fuck’s sake this girl has to actually have a fight with this guy that doesn’t immediately result in sex. Like actually have a conversation where she sees him as a normal person and not like upholding to the love of her life or the savior who rescued her from an abuser and gave her a family. So in that scenario, conflict is made because Feyre does get involved more in court rulings and she does see the problems that have always existed and will always exist because ruling is not easy, but then Rhys is also like why didn’t you tell me you were going to make that decision, and she’s like why?? And he’s not angry but he’s like wtf is happening I thought we were... good? and also now that they have a baby, I want that to be a conflict too. Because two people working is hard enough to have a baby and to be totally involved with the child without having a nanny or daycare. They’re rulers, I’d imagine that’s like having to work full time. So I want them to feel guilty, and for them to immediately lean on the idea that one of them should stay home and raise the baby, and I want this to be a feminist conflict that they’re faced with and I want it to challenge the idea of the equality they think they have, because both of them have biases of what a women’s role is, even if they don’t necessarily agree or uphold them. They exist, and one parent staying home and child rearing is... easier for certain situations. Though ultimately I do want them to be okay with hiring someone to take care of Nyx and to split ruling evenly and just try and make it work the best they can. Feyre being as important with ruling as Rhys. 

I just want complicated narratives. Like I want healing to be an up and down battle. Anger to be an ever present knot in the stomach that spews out of the mouth in the most inconvenient times and never really ebbs away. Sadness to be always lingering, tinging even happy moments with skewed perspectives. I want tension that is not so easily mitigated. Social interactions where no one is ever really right, but someone is more wrong than the other. Because if I have all of this, then the happy moments, the true triumph of people coming together seems so much greater and worked for and earned than just immediately jumping from conflict, resolution, to reward.

ACOSF wasn’t complex enough to be fulfilling for me. So ONE DAY, I will start writing fics again that are what I want to read. But until then... I have my headcanons I suppose.

[antihentaiclub]

i’m rating manga/manhwa i’ve read because i don’t want to do my schoolwork

1. Blood Bank

status: completed

rating: 8.8/10



this was the first one i read and MAN. i like how in the beginning there was no relationship whatsoever but because Shell had power, he was able to use it and see One whenever he felt, at first, Shell was almost like a sugar daddy trying to use that to win One over. but over time, they developed a genuine relationship that was unbreakable and brought them back to each other in the end so they would receive their own happily ever after that they Definitely deserved.

2. bj Alex

status: ongoing (side story)

rating: 8.9/10



the basis of the story was good. i liked the growth of Jiwon throughout the entire story. watching Jiwon accept and move forward from his past trauma was therapeutic and so wholesome. it would probably be my favorite aspect of the series. however, i wanted to punch Dong-gyun Real hard in the beginning because of how he thirsted of Jiwon, but i think that factor is what made him so realistic. he was nearly obsessed with this idea he had of Jiwon and we got to see that idea destroyed and rebuilt multiple times. one another note, i really liked the side story with MD and Chanwoo. it was subtle enough not to overtake the main plot, but present enough o make an impact. now, though, in the side story i want to murder Chanwoo because he’s taking MD for granted. anyways, overall, bj Alex is a very good story. i also quite liked that it was drawn in black and white and the important parts were in color.

3. Make Me Bark

status: completed

rating: 7.5/10



Make Me Bark was very cute. different than my usual tastes, but definitely a good, quick read. i like how Sungjoon was having nothing go his way but Hyo-in kinda swooped in and knocked him off his feet. although, i do wish that we got to know a little more about Hyo-in. i feel like i know so little about him.

4. Well Done!

status: completed

rating: 7/10



i liked the overall concept quite a lot actually. i think the author did a decent job in proving that there doesn’t have to be a good person, or a hero, in a story and that both sides can essentially be villains in their own respect. parts of me wished that Sangwoo and Jaehyun worked out in the end, but i know their relationship didn’t have a solid foundation whatsoever. i don’t want to say the end was fitting for Jaehyun, but he definitely got knocked off his high horse.

5. Walk on Water

status: ongoing

rating: 9.8/10



one of my absolute favorites. this story takes you on so many twists and turns emotionally. the author has beautiful art and an incredible story including growth for both McQueen and Yeowoon. i can’t talk enough about how much i like it. it starts with Ed, who’s later revealed to actually be name Yeowoon, trying to find another source of income to pay off debt that his grandfather accrued. he stumbled upon this gay porn website owned by Glen McQueen and decided to give it a shot, despite not being gay. from then on a shaky string of hookups to hide true feelings ensues until McQueen and Ed finally reveal their real emotions. they begin dating and one would think that’s it, things are fine. but instead, things all start going wrong and Ed and McQueen get in a huge nasty fight in which they both end up regretting but Ed can’t bring himself to be the bigger man and apologize. he starts finding himself in less and less fortunate situations, but currently things are starting to take a turn for the better as he and McQueen have apologized and are talking in hopes of eventually creating a new relationship that will not lead to the hurt they experienced before.

6. BL Motel

status: ongoing

rating: 8.7/10



in this story i liked watching Jinwon and Byul’s relationship grow. you get to see them develop feelings and not tell each other despite how obvious it is. you also get to see Byul struggle with he and his brother’s relationship and how it had been flawed from the beginning. it showed Jinwon helping him and letting him finally resolve the situation so now they are on better terms and healing and finding proper love. i liked that a lot. my one thing that bothers me though, is that a lot of the character designs are similar so i get super confused on who is who. it’s a little disorganized in that sense which can make it a bit hard to read. otherwise, it’s a great story.

7. Dear Door

status: ongoing

rating: 8.6/10



i love the art style for this story. it goes from sophisticated and attractive to cute doodles in seconds and i like the laid back approach to storytelling. in this universe demons can use people as “doors” between the human realm and Hell, which is how Cain, a demon, and Gyeong Joon, a human police officer. Cain begins to use Gyeong Joon as his door and they develop an interesting type of relationship that still has a lot of room for growth. it’s still very early on for this story but i look forward to updates.

8. Love or Hate

status: ongoing

rating: 9.5/10



another favorite of mine. first, the art style is incredible and the character designs are so good. plus, the story is well structured. in this story you witness Haesoo conflicted between two people, his long time hookup Joowon, who he had known for ten years and had immense history with, and Taekyung, a photographer who he met through his job and funny enough, resembles Joowon’s actions. the story shows the damage of toxic relationships and how vulnerable people become when they’re in love with another person and when all they want is them. the characters, Haesoo especially, are so well thought out and complex and it adds so much flavor to the already good story. i heavily anticipate season 3 and know i’m in for a rollercoaster.

9. Back to School

status: completed

rating: 6.8/10



hear me out, by no means am i saying i didn’t like Back to School. what i am saying is i think there was potential for so much more. the ending was abrupt and left me with too many unanswered questions. i also thought the writing was a bit inconsistent towards the end. anyways, the concept was good. Cha Chiwoo left school because of a traumatic event and went back after taking his time off to finish and get his diploma. there he met Ki Kyujin, the class president, who tried befriending him despite the rumors that surrounded him. later on he reconnects with someone from his past, Song Jihyun, his ex best friend and the reason he left school in the first place. now, Jihyun decides to finish school and they’re all in the same class. throughout the story we got to unlock more of Chiwoo and Jihyun’s history, which was a factor i enjoyed. however, at the end, after Jihyun left, i think there should’ve been a point in the future where he comes back and he and Chiwoo actually resolve their last and can healthily move forward. i know it’s not my story, but i think something like that would’ve provided more of a resolution than Chiwoo just confessing his feelings and kissing Kyujin. i also think Jihyun was demonized more than necessary. he already had been falsely arrested for murder, he had multiple settled cases for his violent nature, and he had the major fall out with Chiwoo but in the q&a at the end the author said that Jihyun had raped Chiwoo which i don’t think matches his character. it was clear that everything he did was because he loved Chiwoo and he isn’t stupid enough to do something so cruel, or so i think.

[xxgothchatonxx]

Clarice 1x01 Review/Thoughts

I’m going to keep this non-spoilery as possible.

What I liked

So my biggest fear with this show was that they’d turn Clarice Starling, one of the best strong female characters in modern literature, into a Strong Woman. NOPE! DIDN’T HAPPEN! THANK GOD! Seriously, I love her. I said this recently, Rebecca Breeds is doing one hell of a good Jodie Foster impression while also making Clarice her own. 

There was little to none of that “omg she’s a woman in a male-dominated workforce, let’s keep drawing attention to it!” shit. I said recently that what SOTL (1991) did brilliantly was how it handled this subject subtlety and with dignity. Clarice is similarly doing a good job so far. It’s there, it’s clear, but it’s not beating us over the head with it. Basically, this is not the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Clarice Starling. Thank god. 

SPEAKING OF WHICH... yeah, I was shocked at how much I liked Paul Krendler. Rightio, let’s clarify that - he’s still a dick. But in the Hannibal book and movie he was such a one-dimensional cartoon misogynist, it was just ridiculous. Here.. he’s still a dick but a) his motivation isn’t “wah-wah, I’m a Man therefore I know best so SHUT UP, WOMAN!1!”, b) he’s just complex enough to make him a more three-dimensional character as opposed to “the chauvinist jackass”. If you are going to have an asshole lead character, you need to make sure they’re not too annoying. So, bravo, Clarice writers! You made Paul Krendler... okay not likable but tolerable!

The editing really captures how it feels to be stressed out, and on the verge of having a panic attack. 

What I’m... conflicted on

Honestly, these aren’t really “I’m conflicted” reactions, they’re more “...okay these are cool ideas, but are they actually going to go through with it?” reactions

Ruth Martin is.. definitely on the side of good but her methods are not the most moral. I like that and I appreciate that from a character-standpoint... but I do hope that Clarice calls her out on it in the future. 

I’m so happy to see Ardelia and that she’s still good friends with Clarice. I am hoping that she gets to develop more as a character in this show, as opposed to just being “Clarice’s friend who helps her out”. 

The scene with Catherine Martin was really effectively disturbing and made her extremely sympathetic. So.. here’s hoping to a good resolution that doesn’t end with “and then she died :/” 

What I hate and they need to quit doing

Okay, the Hannibal reference at the start I understand, and that was good. But that’s enough. You want to be seen as your own thing? Then that is all I want to hear about him. No this isn’t me being anti Clannibal. It’s one of my favourite pairings. But I cannot stand it when shows reference characters they won’t (in this case, also can’t) include.. and then go “PLEASE FORGET ABOUT THIS CHARACTER’S EXISTENCE!!” in the press. You put your Easter egg in, now move on. 

The lotion scene was stupid. It was so stupid. 

SLOW. DOWN. THE PACING. The fast editing makes sense when Clarice is bombarded with shit, it is not necessary for everything! Slow down, take a breather. Please. 

You know, the strange thing is, while I didn’t think of Dr. Lecter (aside from that one reference at the start), I kept thinking of the NBC Hannibal show. No, I was not deliberately trying to compare them. I loved Hannibal and I am enjoying Clarice... but there were just some aspects that did remind me of the former show. My opinions really are that simple and can co-exist. (And yes, I have read the books...)

So... overall, a pretty solid pilot episode, and despite my brief rants I am still engaged enough to want to keep watching and find out more! :)