#But also I have been fucked around by Social Services something fucking AWFUL

[obaewankenope]

Be a foster carer they said, it's a good thing they said.

DON'T PAY ME ANYTHING FOR OVER SIX MONTHS AND STILL GIVE ME ANOTJER SIX WEEKS AVERAGE WAIT BEFORE I'LL SEE A PENNY BUT HEY HO KEEP CARING FOR THE CHILD (wh you love, so yeah you're gonna do this) ENJOY BEING IN DEBT AND ARREARS AND HAVING AN OVERDRAFT AND LITERALLY HAVING £50 TO LAST A MONTH WITH £30+ IN BILLS STILL TO COME OUT OF YOUR ACCOI T HAHAAJAJSHSH

So.

Yeah, things are going great for me.

[shina913]

The Boyfriend Experience | KTH

The Boyfriend Experience: Taehyung

The BFE: Masterlist

Pairing: Escort!Taehyung x Fem!Reader

Rating: M🔞

Genre: sex!workAU; exes to something; smut; some fluff; hint of angst

Warnings: legal sex work (in this AU); sex for hire; cussing; explicit sexual conversations; alcohol consumption; dirty talk; Tae and OC have filthy mouths; hair pulling; fingering; clit play; breast play; oral (F-receiving); heavy petting; protected sex; multiple orgasms; stamina!

Word count: 7,023 words

Summary: 💬 If I can hire a massage therapist to help relieve my back pain, a hairdresser to cut my hair, a mechanic to service my car and a handyman to replace a broken door, I should be able to legally hire a man to have sex with me.

A/N: Yes, yes, a couple days later than promised but...life happened! Anyway, I try to make each experience relatively unique but I am one person and sometimes, I find myself drifting towards the same themes. But hopefully each one is unique enough where it would still be entertaining! Thanks to my sis, @internetjunkdrawer for looking this over 😘

Your boyfriend of over two years turned to you one day and said that he didn’t want to be in a long-term relationship any longer. You’d been living together in the last year and things seemed perfect.

But at some point, he claims to have had an epiphany and expressed his desire to travel more, experience new things, and ‘find himself’. It sounded like an awful cliché and you were understandably crushed. What else could you do? You loved him but you were not going to beg him to stay.

He moved out shortly after breaking the news to you. You still followed each other on social media and saw glimpses of his new life–traveling around, drinking champagne on a boat off the coast of some paradise.

He looked so carefree, happy…you were envious of it all. You would also love to leave everything behind and go soul-searching. You would also love to just yell out, ‘fuck it all’ and jet off to some random island and live off the sea.

But other responsibilities were calling your name. As quickly as you’d shred those bills and toss them up carelessly in midair, you’d be waiting to catch each piece of paper before they hit the ground, taping them all together to settle them.

Instead of spending your days doom-scrolling through Taehyung’s exciting new life without you, you just dealt with the breakup in the best way you knew how–throwing yourself into work.

Pretty soon, a year passes. You worked a fast-paced office job and for a while, that worked as a distraction. But at the end of the day, it didn’t do much to get your mind off your loneliness.

You’ve always been a relationship girl and you thought that Taehyung was going to be “the one,” until he wasn’t. At this point in your life, the prospect of casually dating seemed so daunting. You wondered how your peers kept up with it. Just thinking about the logistics was excruciating, but you still wanted to give it a try.

You weren’t itching to jump into a relationship again but you certainly craved some fun and excitement. Although, let’s be real…you craved for sex. You needed hot, sweaty, skin-on-skin contact and that familiar rush of flirting just because.

You thought that it’s been more than enough time since your breakup and you were ready for it!

Well, it turned out that casual dating was nothing short of a disaster.

Some of your prospects seemed more comfortable with being flirty text-buddies but they ghosted you as soon as you pressed them to meet. What the fuck was deal with that?

Some of those who did turn up looked nowhere near close to their profile photo. And then there were just some whom you felt that you had absolutely zero sexual chemistry with.

These apps only caused you distress and the thought of one-night stands were hardly worth the morning-after awkwardness.

Was it too much to ask the universe to have a time period dedicated to you, having the time of your life, followed by receiving a good dicking-down from a man whom you found attractive and was solely focused on pleasuring you at the drop of a hat?

For a while, that seemed like an impossible ask.

Until one day, during a particularly heated bitching session at happy hour, your friend Yuriko, hinted at this ‘very exclusive’ dating service that she just joined. To you, ‘exclusive’ was synonymous to ‘expensive’ and you didn’t want to pay more than what you had put into these other dating apps.

But…after a series of frustrating dates and equally disappointing sexual partners, you prod her about it.

The Boyfriend Experience.

It was an escorting app. You were very skeptical about it but she suggested referring you to the company so you could get in–since it was ‘exclusive’ and all. The price range made you hesitant to jump the gun but she told you that there were no commitments or any other binding contracts with the exception of an NDA. If you weren’t satisfied, you could terminate at any point, and they would give you your money back.

That seemed unusually bold for this type of business to guarantee a refund if you weren’t 100% satisfied.

You were a few drinks in during happy hour and thought, at least there was some assurance that you’d get your money back if your guy turns out to be a terrible lay!

******

Your friend said that you should hear back as to whether the escort service has accepted your referral in about five business days.

But it’s been over a week now and you still haven't received a notification. You thought it was hopeless and decided you’d just get back into the dating pool again.

Later that night, you tucked yourself into bed, vibrator and lube at the ready for yet another exciting Saturday night of solo masturbation. Right before getting into it, you hear a buzz–not from your little toy, but from your phone.

You’d normally ignore it and rather take care of business first but something compelled you to check it.

Welcome to the Boyfriend Experience, YN!

You gasped. Actually gasped. It was like scoring a coveted golden ticket. Except, instead of touring a candy factory, it was…well…a dick factory.

You scrolled through images of escorts they had on their roster. They were all intriguing in their own way. Some photos were professionally taken with the occasional sprinkling of personal selfies–mostly closeups of their abs or gifted crotch areas–trying to prove that they didn’t stuff any rolled socks down their underwear. Some photos included the escort in settings that reflect their personalities–each profile had a list of varied interests and specialties that would fit any client’s needs.

Could you really follow through with this? You’ve considered yourself a bit of a prude. There was that fear of shame that niggled at you from the back of your mind.

Then you thought, men did this all the time! Women also had desires and needs…and currently, that ache between your legs was demanding to be serviced.

Now was the time to push yourself out of your comfort zone, albeit in the wildest way possible!

It was about 9:45PM when you hit send on a message to your chosen escort. He had abs you could grate a slab of granite on. He looked like he had a nice face…if it was actually his. 

While waiting on a response, you fire a text to Yuriko.

[You] 9:50PM: What if these photos weren’t of him? What if it’s fake?

[Yuri] 9:51PM: You can DM them and ask. They’ll send you a photo to confirm 😉

[You] 9:53PM: Girl, what if he’s a murderer?

[Yuri] 9:55PM: Oh, he’s a murderer, alright…a murderer of pussy 💀

“Fucking Christ, Yuri,” you breathed out, laughing.

Forty-five minutes pass and you haven’t heard back. It was a Saturday night–must be busy for him. At this point, you had lost your lady-boner so you decided to just knock out.

******

The next day, you wake up to a response from him. He asked straightforward questions about time, date, and other logistics. He asked if you’d like to take advantage of the half-hour mini-date at the club, which you turned down. You wanted this to be as no-frills as possible.

The exchange felt professional, as if you were booking a spa appointment.

You asked if he could send you a real-time selfie of him holding up a photo of your name. Minutes later, he DM’ed a photo and you exhaled a sigh of relief–it was indeed him.

Looking into how the site vets escorts helped you relax further. He asked you about what kind of fantasies you had in mind, but you told him you’d rather have a drink and get to know each other as ‘normally’ as you could.

Your session was set for next Friday night, he told you what his rate was for two hours. It was a bit steep but…he looked hot and at least Yuri could vouch for their services.

******

You were distracted at work that day with more butterflies than your average Friday feeling. As soon as you got home, you gulped a glass of wine and put on a dress and heels, as if you were going on an actual date. You were a bundle of nerves. A small part of you worried that he’d see you and terminate the date. You read under the terms that they are well within their rights to do that. 

What if he thought you weren’t worth the money you were paying him?

To your surprise, he didn’t run away. He was very punctual and polite. You weren’t sure if those were adjectives you’d ever use to describe an escort but–he was!

Obviously, he was also very attractive. You expressed how nervous you were and he immediately put you at ease. You offered him a glass of wine then casually chatted about your lives, nothing too deep or familiar.

He asked you about your job and how you came to know about the service. It felt very similar to an actual date, except the chemistry felt instantaneous than any other date you’ve been on.

The intimacy happened naturally. It started with a light grazing of your arm, a cheeky touch of your ass while you were putting away some dishes in the sink. There was nothing forced or mechanical about it. It’s as if he mastered the user manual on how to turn you on.

‘Unbelievable’ seemed like such an inadequate way to describe the sex…but it was! It’s like he knew everything your body craved before you did. 

There was a certain level of commitment to your pleasure and your needs that you had never experienced from past lovers before. He didn’t expect you to do anything for him nor did he allow you to try and return the favor.

It was all about you. As he left, you told him his price was selling him seriously short.

******

Admittedly, you felt a little dirty afterwards but only in the way a one-night stand always made you feel, in the back of your mind. You still worried that it was embarrassing. Fear struck you at the thought of anyone you knew finding out even with the NDA in place.

Your need for sex had gone to the extreme except that this was way more satisfying than picking up any random guy at a bar.

By the second time you booked him, you felt braver, more empowered. By your third session, the shame and awkwardness wore off.  You saw the same guy four times in total, on a monthly basis. You have officially made it part of your self-care routine.

Some women liked mani-pedis or getting their hair done while you preferred feeling a man's weight on top of you.

Obviously, you were fully aware that your relationship was strictly business, but it was nice to feel familiar, in a way. You kept in contact and had casual chats while arranging your next meeting.

It felt almost like a special friendship, except that there was no stress over ‘what any of it meant’, or whether he was ‘giving off signs.’ There were none of those complicated mind-games that usually came with casual dating. It was refreshing!

Your fifth booking was certainly a memorable one.

As you were preparing for your monthly meet-up with your usual, he sent you an urgent message saying that he was feeling ill and apologized profusely for not being able to make your date. However, since you’d been such a great client, he didn’t want to leave you hanging so he had spoken to his other colleague to show up in his stead to make it up to you.

[You] 5:20PM: You really don’t have to do that–we can reschedule when you’re better!

[J] 5:25PM: No, this is last minute and I know that we were both looking forward to it! But my friend will take very good care of you, I promise!

[You] : Hmm…I don’t know. Send me his profile?

He forwards you the link after a few minutes.

[J] 5:35PM: I promise you, he’s great! I’ve known him for a while. If you like me, you’ll definitely love him. 

[You] 5:40PM: 😅 How are you so sure?

[J] 5:42PM: Just trust me on this! Don’t I always deliver?

Multiple orgasms during every date? He had certainly met and even exceeded your expectations each and every time.

[You] 5:45PM: You got me there. 😏 I’ll wait to hear from him then. Feel better, baby!

[J] 5:46PM: Thank you, love 😘. He’ll be at your door at 8 tonight!

You scrolled–more like skimmed–through his friend’s profile. The photos were mostly of his body. There weren’t any that included his face, except for one where he was looking away from the camera. You were about to text him when his alert came through, confirming that he’d be arriving at your address in a couple hours and that he was looking forward to meeting you.

It was enough to distract you from the nerves. So, you texted him back saying that the feeling was mutual. Then, you went about your evening, preparing for your mystery date’s arrival.

It certainly added some thrill to it–not knowing who would show up. Since everything had gone so smoothly with your previous date, you thought that this escort service wouldn’t compromise its reputation with a dud. His body seemed good enough for you that his face was the least of your worries.

You get a knock on your door at 8 o’clock, on the dot. Also very punctual, like your usual. You liked him already!

You stop by the mirror at the entranceway, checking your hair and making sure you had nothing between your teeth.

When you open the door, your jaw drops. The next few moments play out like a scene out of a movie.

“YN?!”

“Taehyung?!” You gasped at the sight of your ex-boyfriend. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here? What are you doing here?” Taehyung’s tone was accusatory.

You scoffed. “I live here!”

His eyes widened. “You…" he gulped, "You live here?” He asks in complete disbelief.

The man standing in front of you looks freaked out. He turns his head from side to side, looking around the hallway and at your door, making sure that he has the right apartment number. 

You gasped out loud when realization sets in. A realization that you refuse to believe. Mortified, you ask, “Oh my god…a-are you–”

The look on his face confirms your fears. “Your 8 o’clock? I’m afraid so,” he grins awkwardly. 

“Oh shit,” you choked out.

It turned out that he had been using a fake name. And though you had used your real first name on the site, it was pretty generic enough. You had also moved out of the old apartment that you shared not long after you broke up so he didn’t recognize the address.

Moments later, you both burst out laughing. It was hysterical, really.

“Well, this is awkward,” you croaked.

“Uhm…I could just go?” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.

You stared at each other in silence. His eyes rake you from bottom to top and you suddenly feel a little self-conscious.

You’d forgotten that you decided that you wanted to look extra hot tonight–a silky slip dress that clung onto every curve and a thigh-high slit.

“Can I at least offer you a drink? For old time’s sake?” You gave him a polite smile and opened the door wider.

He hesitates for a second but only to confirm that you were sure about letting him in. Once you gesture for him to come in, he obliges, and you tell him to make himself at home.

When you go back into the kitchen to retrieve the champagne, you remember something and go into your storage closet.

You balance the bottle of champagne and a banker’s box and set it in front of him while you pop the bottle.

He chuckles when he opens the box. It was filled with some belongings that he left behind when he moved out.

“Oh wow…I thought I had lost these 45’s,” he remarks while he holds up a couple of vintage vinyl records that he purchased when you were together.

“Yep, it’s all there,” you tell him after pouring champagne into glass flutes that you set out.

“I’m surprised you hadn’t thrown these out,” he murmured while he superficially rifled through his things..

You’d hung onto this box for nearly a year. One would say for sentimental reasons but no matter how much it hurt when you broke up, you couldn’t bring yourself to throw away his personal belongings. You’d sooner donate them to the nearest charity consignment store.

You shrug your shoulders at him when you settle on the couch next to him. “I wouldn’t dare throw away classics,” you answer him quietly.

He gave you a rueful smile. “Well, I appreciate it.”

You pick up a champagne flute, hand it to him and clink your glass against his.

“So, Taehyung…what have you been up to?” You ask after taking a sip of champagne.

He laughs heartily, nearly choking on his drink as you follow suit.

You drink in silence for a minute, staring, waiting for the other to speak first.

“Are–”

“How–”

You both break into laughter again. He gestures, signaling that he yields the conversation to you.

“How have you been?” You ask him.

“I’m good. You?”

“I’m…doing pretty good, too.”

“I see that. Nice place,” he remarked after he gave the room a brief once-over.

“Yeah. I got a promotion about a year ago. That’s the only reason I can afford this spot. Otherwise, I would have moved in with Yuri.”

He nods softly. “Yuri…” he repeats your friend’s name. “How is she?”

“She’s fine. She still hates your guts,” you added jokingly. “But…she was actually my ticket to your little operation here.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Oh…well, thanks for the heads up on that. Wouldn’t want to answer her booking.”

You laughed. “She has her usual, I think? So maybe you don’t have to worry about that.”

“Still, though. Would not want to cross paths with her!”

You both take sips of your drinks again.

“Does this mean you’re not seeing anyone currently?” He asks.

You scoffed. “You think I’d be booking escorts if I was seeing anyone?”

His shoulders lifted. “We have clients who are…” he paused to think of the right term. “You could say, attached.”

You were shocked. “Really?”

“Oh, of course. That’s why part of the service is discretion.”

You puckered your lips and squinted one eye at him. “Have you ever gone out with somebody who was married?”

He kept his face neutral. “What do you think?”

You stared at his blank expression for a bit, trying to get a read on him–then your eyes widened. “Kim Tae-hyung!” You gasped.

“I won’t confirm nor deny,” he laughed before downing the rest of his champagne.

“You’re a savage,” you say to him.

He raised his hands innocently. “I never said anything, YN!”

******

You and Taehyung had been so distracted in getting caught up in each other’s lives that you barely noticed that over an hour had passed.

You were attempting to sit up, recovering from laughing so hard from some anecdote that you were bonding over. When he helps you up, the strap of your dress slips off your shoulder.

“Oops!” You giggle, clumsily trying to reach for the strap, which you couldn’t seem to get a grip of.

“Here, let me.” He leaned closer, finger curling around the strap to slide it back up your shoulder. His hand lingered there for a bit. It sent a shiver down your spine. 

His face was too close to yours, it took all of your energy to tear your eyes away from his mouth. They drift to the empty bottle of alcohol instead.

You cleared your throat. “Excuse me while I put this away,” was all you could say before gripping the neck of the bottle for dear life while you walked towards your kitchen.

You bent down to open up the cabinet under the sink, where you kept your recycle bin and dropped the bottle there.

When you turned around, you see that he was standing right behind you.

“I thought that maybe you needed some help?”

You straighten your posture and cock your head slightly. “You thought I needed help putting an empty bottle away?”

“Among other things,” he says with a low voice then suddenly holds up the empty champagne flutes and the appetizer plate that you had laid out. You hadn’t even noticed that he held anything in his hands.

You chuckled and walked towards him, taking the dishes from his hands, making sure that your fingers brushed against his.

“You’re a guest. You should just sit and relax.”

You turned back around towards the sink. While you wash and rinse the glasses, he stands beside you, watching your every move.

You eyed him from your peripheral and poked him on his side to knock him into his senses. “What’s up with you? You act like you’ve never seen me wash dishes before or something.”

“I just didn’t think I’d see you again.“

“To be honest, I thought you’d be off the Mediterranean coast or someplace where it’s warm and sunny all the time.”

He chuckles. “It was fun getting lost at first…then reality set in and I had to come back.”

“You should have just told reality to fuck off.”

That made him double over in laughter. “Wow, YN! I love this new side of you.”

You turned the tap off. “Shut up, don’t patronize me,” you smiled. “Just saying. Things don’t always have to be heavy.”

“You’re right,” he agrees emphatically.

You picked up the clean dish and dried it with a towel. When you were done, you walk to the cabinet closest to him. It was a tight squeeze so you brushed past him. You distantly hear him inhale sharply.

With that reaction, you decide to play a little game with him. The champagne has long-settled into your veins. You stand on your toes to reach up and place the dish back on its shelf. It didn’t really belong there but you knew the effect it would have when you reached up that high and with your hemline being lewdly short.

You see his reflection on the glass, watching your dress hike up, revealing a hint of your ass to him. You linger there for a bit, pretending to push the dish securely in place.

When you were satisfied, you turned back around to finish up with the champagne flutes, brushing past him again. You picked up a glass from the sink to dry it.

“I know what you’re doing,” his voice has a hint of warning.

“What?” You ask with a straight face.

“You’re trying to seduce me,” He states.

“Me? No,” you deny innocently, picking up the second glass to dry it.

“Oh,” his face fell slightly. “I was gonna say, if you were…it’s working.”

You cocked an eyebrow at him. “And why would I need to seduce you? Isn’t that what I’m paying you to do?”

He laughed huskily. “It is. But I’m always up for a role-switch.”

You stopped and set the glass down on the counter. “And what makes you think that I’d be into that?”

He shrugged. “The thrill of it?”

You said nothing but the look on your face confirmed his suspicions.

“I will say, though—I won’t touch you unless you ask me to.”

You scoffed. “Guess that cockiness hasn’t gone away since we last saw each other, huh?”

He smirked then leaned in closer. “I seem to remember you liking it…the cockiness.” He put more emphasis on that syllable.

You licked your lips, shifted your weight where you stood and suddenly switched tact. “You know that I was heartbroken when you left me?”

His expression softened and traces of guilt marred his face. “I’m…I’m sorry. I was just feeling…I don’t know…like, I couldn’t give you all of me. And I knew you deserved better.”

You chuckled and folded your arms across your chest. “That sounds like such bullshit.”

He remained serious. “It’s true. You wanted a future, wanted to get married. I just wasn’t in that place and I didn’t know if I would ever get there–at least, not at the point when you needed me to. I didn’t think it was fair to carry on through that.”

You nodded and stood in silence for a minute, staring at the floor. Afterwards, your eyes flicked up at him. “You know, if this conversation happened six or ten months ago, I probably would have smacked you really hard on your face.”

“And I would have gladly accepted that,” he said sincerely. “You deserve someone who is sure of themselves and on the same page as you are.”

He slowly backed away from you and picked up the dried champagne flutes himself to stow them away. After he shuts the cabinet, he turns and leans back against your kitchen counter.

You exhaled sharply. “Well, lucky for you, I’ve changed my perspective recently. I feel like, for the longest time, I was looking for Mr. Right. And I think that was adding to my frustration.”

He watched carefully as you sauntered towards him. “So, I’ve decided, for my sanity…to settle for Mr. Right-Now.” You brought your face up to his. “Are you up for that?”

The corners of his mouth twitch mischievously. “I’m up for whoever you want me to be tonight.”

“Good. Now give me a kiss and make it all better again,” you quietly demand.

He tilted his chin up and bit into his lower lip. “My friend warned me about this…and when I found out it was you, I couldn’t believe it at first.”

You cocked a challenging eyebrow at him. “People change. You should know.”

“I know. And I like it.” He grabs your face between his hands, forcing you to look up into his determined eyes.

Your mouth opens and he takes advantage of your lapse in willpower, thrusting his tongue into your mouth, exploring and lapping every corner. He’s kissing you, almost violently.

Arousal explodes throughout your entire body as you kiss him back, matching his fervor.

You run your hands across his suited back, your fingers delving into his dark, wavy hair. You knotted through the strands and pulled hard. He groans, a low sexy sound in the back of his throat that reverberates through you.

His hand moves down your body and past the hem of your dress, grazing the back of your thigh, until his fingers are digging into the fleshiest part of your ass. Then he moves between your thighs, brushing over your clothed clit very gently. You jerk at the sensation and you let out a cry of pleasure. He slides his finger under the material and slowly circles your burning core. All you could do is helplessly moan into his mouth as he continues his excruciatingly slow, controlled drives with his fingers.

He broke away from your kiss. While you’re in a pleasure daze, he switches your position around to back you against the kitchen counter. He hooked his fingers onto the band of your thong, pulling it down. When you wriggle out of them, he takes you by surprise when he drops to his knees to lift your dress, propping your leg up onto his shoulder.

You are half-conscious about what he was about to do when you stopped him. Due to the nature of these dates, safety was always a priority. Condoms were always a necessity and oral sex was optional–for obvious reasons. 

“W-wait, Taehyung. I thought you didn’t do–”

“I know, we don’t have to, but I want to. I want to please you.” He paces a lingering kiss on your inner thigh and gently suckles on the flesh.

That made your breath hitch. You don’t remember him being this attuned to your needs before. You had great sex then but he didn’t always seem this eager to please you. It certainly brought a different dynamic to the table.

“But if you don’t think–”

“Can I trust you?”

His eyes staring up at you, he confidently answers, “Yes.”

After a brief pause, you lifted your skirt up higher and leaned back. “Continue.”

With your prompting, he wrapped his mouth around your wet heat. You dragged out a deep sigh when he groaned into your core. His tongue relentlessly licked every fold, every crevice. He sucked and teased your clit, making you tug at his hair even tighter.

You felt your left leg start to buckle with your impending orgasm. Just then he replaces his tongue with his thumb and rubs your aching bud. The friction inching you closer and closer as your walls clench at nothing. You sank your teeth deeper into your lower lip making you wince in pleasure.

He slid his ring and middle fingers into you, massaging your tender tissues while his tongue fluttered over your clit. Your mouth went slack and head lolled back in pleasure while your hips rocked against his face.

“Your cunt is so sweet,” he murmurs against your folds. “It’s just as I remember it.” He gripped both your ass cheeks and brought your center closer to his mouth.

What a difference a year made. You don’t remember him being this good with his mouth but you didn’t really care about how he was back then. Right now, his tongue and lips were goading you into an orgasm.

“I just want to spread you out and lick you until you beg for my cock.”

While one hand gripped at his head, your other hand clung onto the edge of the counter. “I can beg now, if you want,” you breathed out, your climax threatening.

“You’re so fucking wet and ready for me. I want to hear you say my name when you cum.”

And just like that, you fell apart with a drawn out, high-pitched moan, mouthing his name incoherently. You were desperately trying to catch your breath, but he didn’t let you. Next thing you knew, he was upright, lifting you off your feet, bringing you both into the bedroom.

After he sets you on the mattress, you shed the rest of your clothing.

You made quick work of undoing his jeans, his cock already visibly straining against his boxers.

The moment he pulls them down, your mouth starts to water. He had such a pretty cock. The memories begin to stir again. 

As if reading your mind, he shakes his head.

“Tonight is all about your pleasure, baby,” He brushes his fingers to your cheek and seals his mouth over yours once more.

He moves lower, placing wet kisses down your neck and onto your collarbone, stopping to suck on each perked nipple.

Before you knew it, he was back down between your legs, sinking his mouth on your cleft–as if he just hadn’t had his fill of you in the kitchen.

“Fuu…uuck,” you choked out as you felt the deep suction from his mouth. Your hands fisted the sheets beneath you, back arching as Taehyung pinned your hips to the bed and fluttered his tongue across your folds.

Your vision started to blur as your core tightened with another threat of an orgasm. Your pulse quickened with the steady feel of him humming into your center.

Your thighs quake with another building orgasm threatening to attack you from every direction, and your grip on his hair increases. He gets the message, sucking on your clit harder and more frequently. The strokes of his fingers become firmer as you're bulldozed by pleasure and rocketed skyward. Then your mind goes blank, except for the bliss of release riding through you. 

Holy fucking shit!

He reached down on the floor to where his trousers were to grab some condoms out of his pocket.

When he settles back into the mattress, he’s cradled between your thighs. Not long after, you feel the wet, slippery head of his hardon push in. Your mind is a jumble of thoughts, but then he rests on his elbows and gazes down at you, like you're the only thing that exists in his world. 

You move your hands so your palms are on either side of his face.

“God, I forgot how sexy you sound when you cum,” he says softly as you stare up into his eyes, drowning in them, pleasure and desire flooding between you. You smooth your thumb across his moist lips and slide it into his mouth, withdrawing slowly and resting the tip on his bottom lip. He plants a light kiss on the end and smiles down at you as he lifts his hips while maintaining your eye contact, my pelvis shifting to meet him.

You sigh in pure, unapologetic pleasure as he slowly, unhurriedly and reverently slides deep inside of you. You close your eyes and slip your hands to the back of his head as he fills you completely. He holds still, his cock pulsing inside you. His breathing changes to quick, fast bursts of breath--it was a familiar trait. He was struggling to maintain control.

“Fuck, I’m so hard for you,” he says between pants.

You force your eyes open and gasp a little when you feel him jerk inside you. “I missed this pussy,” he whispers, his voice cracking. You inhale sharply at the words.

“Hmmmfuck, yessss, Taehyung–fuck me harder…”

You know he’s in a lust-filled daze and to be honest, so were you. 

His hips surge at your prompting. Your hands fall away from his head and squeeze at your breasts. He circles his hips into you, drawing a collective moan from both of you.

He withdraws and pushes deep and high. You try to rein in your scattered thoughts, but a deep groan escapes. He places his hands over yours, pinning your wrists on either side of your head. 

Thrust. “Taehyung!”

“So good.” Thrust.

“Fuck!” He pulls back and rams back in.

“Ah!” He stills on a few deep breaths. He withdraws and slowly plunges back in.

“Are you gonna cum for me, Taehyung?” You ask, shifting your hips up to capture the deep penetration.

“Yeah…you want me to?” He pants.

You reached up with a free hand and rested it against his throat. “Fuck, yes. I want you to cum hard for me,” you breathed out.

He lowered his neck against your touch. You didn’t close in on his flesh, even though you were tempted to. “Yes…and I want you to make a mess all over my cock,” he countered. “Want to make you cum again and again.”

He pushes high and grinds firmly, a sweat breaking out across his brow. “Don’t hold out on me, YN.”

His words hit you like a lightning bolt. He’s about to fuck another orgasm out of you. He rams into you repeatedly. Another perfect grind and your internal muscles spasm furiously, tremors inching their way into the center of your nerve endings. Your core stiffens.

“Oh my god…I’m so close…” you cry, throwing your head back.

He hits you with a full, hard strike, and your eyes squeeze shut at the feel of his hips smacking up against your flesh.

You came with a hoarse scream, your breath feels as if it was punched out of you. He stops his movements completely as he goes rigid, his forehead pressed against yours as he growls through his climax.

Your back arches on reflex when the rush reaches its climax and sends you tumbling into the deep pool of pleasure. You cry out again, your body trembling in his hold as the pulsing recedes, slowly and lazily with his continued even strokes, fully emptying himself into you.

Your breaths are rushed and pulses frantic.

The intensity of the last few minutes waning away as he gingerly lifts his head to look down at you. He smiles faintly and slowly withdraws himself, making you wince at the emptiness.

As sanity returns, you open your eyes and turn your head sideways at him. Taehyung is staring up at the ceiling, his expression is soft, tender. You turn to your side, bearing your weight on your elbow, stroking your fingertip on his nose.

“Holy shit,” he breathes.

“You can say that again,” you deadpan.

“We’ve never fucked like that before!”

You exchanged looks and suddenly burst out laughing again. You laugh so hard until your elbow gives out and you’re flat on your back on the mattress.

******

You remained sitting on the bed with the sheets pulled up under your armpits while you silently watched Taehyung get dressed. You reach over by your nightstand.

“Hey, before I forget…”

He turns around to see you holding up an envelope. “YN, I can’t accept that–”

“Can’t? How come? It’s the rate that was agreed upon.”

“It’s what you and he agreed on,” Taehyung says, referring to your original escort. “I was just covering for him.”

You sighed, feeling slightly confused. “Look, Taehyung…let’s not make this weird–”

“I’m not making it weird! It’s okay, YN. Really,” he chuckled, waving the money off.

“Right but…service was rendered and I’m a paying customer.”

Taehyung paused while smoothing his shirt, looking offended for a second. “YN, I am not taking your money. Just think of it as a random catch-up fuck.” He turns away from the cash that you held out to him, grabs his pants off the floor and sits at the edge of the bed to put them on.

“If we didn’t have history, would you take it?” You say to him while his back is turned towards you.

He pauses again and you see his shoulders slump over slightly. You scoot closer to the edge of the bed, and sit next to him, still dressed in your bra and panties.

“Look, Taehyung–I didn’t think I’d ever see you again–much less, in this setting. But, business is business, right? I know the night started off awkward but…I hope that we wouldn’t end it on that note.”

He sighed heavily then looked up and returned your gaze, giving you a small smile in return. “I’ll only accept this if you let me take you out for dinner tonight.”

You roll your eyes and chuckle at his acquiescence. “Fine.” You present the money to him again and he takes it this time.

You rise from your bed and walk towards the bathroom to clean up. “I’m still a cheap date, by the way,” you call out past your shoulder.

He laughed again as he stood up to finish buckling his belt. He knew exactly where he'd be taking you.

******

“Mmm…godddd, that hits the spot right there,” you moaned in appreciation.

Taehyung watched you suck the sauce off from your thumb while you savored your taco. La Corneta was a frequent late-night ritual for you and him back when you were together. It’s been ages since you’ve stopped by this taco truck.

You’d almost forgotten how delicious their carnitas tacos were–especially after sex.

“Don’t tease me like that,” he remarked with a warning.

You paused mid-bite. “What? Give me a break, I haven’t been here in a while.”

“Really?” He asks in disbelief. “You always said you loved the tacos here.”

“I know,” You nodded, taking a bite out of a chip with some salsa. “Haven’t been back since we split up.”

His face falters a little from guilt, but he doesn’t make it obvious. “I see,” he says softly, picking up another tortilla chip and holding it to his mouth.

“It’s just that…I usually had a craving for this place after we’ve had a good night of fucking.”

His ears perk up and his eyes lift up at you.

“And I haven’t had that in a while so…” you give him a knowing look before trailing off, taking another bite of your taco.

He shifted in his stool and leaned in. Not that the bistro-style table and chair wasn’t small enough for you to sit closer but he wanted to whisper in your ear. “Are you trying to tell me something?”

After you swallow your last bite, you turn your head to him, and lick the excess sauce off your lips. “I’m just saying…I really love these tacos.” 

He smiled then his eyes drifted to your mouth. He reached out to swipe the corner, then licked the leftover sauce off his finger. “I do, too.”

He walked you back to your apartment and you ended the night with a hug going your separate ways.

When you laid in bed, you stared at your phone screen. There were two icons on your BFE app now–two escorts you’ve ordered. Your finger hovered over Taehyung’s icon. Although the sex was unbelievable, you weren’t sure if you wanted to see him again.

Sure, the app guaranteed some layer of anonymity but this was something that you did not foresee. The beauty of the service was the no-frills, uncomplicated nature of it. And you wanted this to remain your own thrilling secret.

You swiped at the row for Taehyung’s icon and a red button appeared, prompting you to confirm whether you wanted to delete it from your history.

The inner turmoil ate at you but there have been too many hassle-free orgasms for you to stop. With a groan, you push the power button on your phone to lock your screen, effectively canceling any action you were trying to execute.

You place your phone back on the nightstand and sink into your pillow and sheets. When you take a deep breath, you catch his scent still lingering in your bedroom and you feel the faintest flutter in your belly.

Guess you would just count down the days until your next fix. It might even warrant another late-night trip to the taco truck! 

You’ve reached the end! Thank you so much for reading!

If you loved it, please comment, reblog, or send me feedback! 📩. I love hearing from readers! If you didn’t like it so much, I would still like to hear about it. Help me become a better writer! 💜

Tagging: @internetjunkdrawer @deepseavibez @itdoesntmatterwhy @yu-justme

[hillbillyoracle]

One thing I miss about the internet from “back in the day” was that more of how I learned came from conversation, not content. Reading forum threads, commenting and asking someone a question, robust ask culture, etc. 

Because I think we really lost something with the primacy of content. It seems to me like it encourages passivity and reactivity. 

In the past, sure you could blow up at someone on a forum post but you’d just as likely get kicked out. Like say some of the stuff that’s common today and most forums I hung out in would have warned you then banned you pretty quickly. 

But today, especially with algorithmic bubbles keeping people in their little havens, if someone comes across content that doesn’t agree with them - the humanity of the person making the content is just completely gone. It’s a force to do battle with and saying awful things = activism. 

TikTok is such a good example of this. One of the reasons I finally quit it was seeing people who were questioning conservative dogma and trying to slowly support their trans loved ones they’d previous hurt or make amends with the groups they’ve previously campaigned against just get absolutely inundated with hateful comments and straight up death threats on the basis that they just...should have already been their version of a good person. 

How dare the algorithmic gods bring them this imperfect person - imperfect in a way they think they can’t relate to because “I’m so depressed I was a dick to all my friends” and neurodivergence as excuse* plays really well over there ime.

It’s just wild to me. There’s no real cost to being a straight up hateful fuck in the name of “social justice”* with most services. It’s also boring. It produces the same swiss cheese takes on a loop. 

I crave conversation but damn is the supposedly social internet so not built for that right now. 

*I am a person with multiple types of neurodivergence. There’s a difference between excuse and seeking accommodations with those around you. I’m talking about the former here.  

**In air quotes because while it has a real can valid framework, it’s been stretched to moralize whatever a person dislikes and that’s the fun house mirror version I’m talking about when I use air quotes. 

[anthrotographer]

Leave the World Behind (2023)

Set in the modern day, the film follows the Sandfords. A family that takes a spontaneous trip from the city to upstate New York. They soon realize, that rash decision might’ve saved their lives. The U.S. is soon to be in the throes of a cyber attack from foreign adversaries. Drones are dropping leaflets on both seaboards that read “death to America”. Planes are falling out of the sky. Wild animals are congregating together to send a message to humanity about impending doom. With all that happening why does ‘Leave the World Behind’ feel so flat?

Most of this two hour + movie feels like we are watching these people on a lavish vacation instead of dealing with their country being attacked. The family rents a mansion for the weekend but the first night there is a knock at the door. Because of the blackouts in the city, George (Mahershala Ali) and Ruth Scott decide to come back home. This leads to a lot of animus from Amanda directed at the Scotts, which considering the circumstances really shouldn’t have been a big deal. They mostly sit and talk trying to piece together what might be causing all the service outages, for example. Lounging and waiting around when what’s happening in the world would seem to inspire more action to occur. Amanda Sandford (Julia Roberts) especially, but the film in general, is a lot of talk and little show. Her lines are full of exposition telling us what is going to happen, what she and they are about to do and it feels like Roberts is just reading lines. Mahershala Ali’s character was similar with the exposition but his character felt like a more real personality. The fault was mostly in the writing but the acting performances all fell somewhere on a scale from mediocre to great. 

Amanda is a very confusing character and hard to like. She says she “fucking hates people” but also says she feels lucky to be part of the world where so many are out there making something of themselves. She constantly states her disdain and distrust in others, but contradicts herself at points in the film where she says she misses people. I know people are hypocritical and can change their minds but she comes off as an inconsistent character. For the majority of the film she is combative, unreasonable and on the back foot wanting desperately that others solve problems for her. And then in the third act Amanda delivers this monologue; “We fuck each other over all the time, without even realizing it. We fuck every living thing on this planet over and think it’ll be fine because we use paper straws and order the free range chicken. I think deep down we know we are not fooling anyone. I think we know we are living a lie. An agreed upon mass delusion to help us ignore and keep ignoring how awful we really are.” A description of humanity this discerning feels really out of place coming from her. This line and many others like it feel too scripted. 

Ruth says Friends is a show “nostalgic for a time that never existed”. This is a scripted line that rolls off her tongue better seeing as Ruth is setup as a character that is socially and culturally conscious. She mentions this about Friends because Rose, Amanda’s daughter, is obsessed with the show. Rose finally gets to watch the series finale of her favorite sitcom when in the movie’s closing scenes she finds a fallout bunker with a grand collection of DVDs. I sort of found this ending to have a nice symbolism with Ruth’s context because as the bombs are falling outside, signifying the dark reality, Rose has one last chance to fall into that ideal, fictional world.

The Friends music, juxtaposed to the previous chilling scenes of NYC getting bombed, felt off. The soundtrack in total did not flow or sound like they were the right songs for the film. The choice of using up-beat hits clash with most of the imagery of a boring high end AirBnb get away. 

The camera work is technically impressive at points where the camera traverses cars or rooms in acrobatic tracking maneuvers. The technique does get overused though. Are the multiple upside down shots supposed to signify how the world is being turned upside down? I suppose. Like the music I didn’t find these choices to fit well. Maybe they are both in effort to enliven the scenes introducing the film’s unstimulating setting. If so, either a change of setting or a change of style might’ve worked better. 

It seems like the movie is trying to point out many different things about society without totally dissecting any of them. A few themes you notice while watching are; can we live without the internet, blissful ignorance of the decline of the empire, humanity’s cause of environmental collapse, selfishness vs selflessness. I agree with many of the ideas the film is alluding to, yet like many Hollywood movies today I don’t think it explores the ideas deeply or effectively enough. One of the more provocative things the film brings up is the idea that we are in part responsible for any attacks thrown our way.

Our government and military claims that all of its excursions around the world are defensive, but these things that they do in our name more than likely are at our expense. The U.S. empire leaves us less safe. “We’ve made a lot of enemies around the world. Maybe all this means is that a few of them teamed up.” This is the most interesting quote in the film where Danny (Kevin Bacon), the rural survivalist, points out different cues he’s picked up examining national affairs that led him to think we were susceptible to attack. The empire’s hubris allows it to believe it’s untouchable. We think we are safe, even George/G.H. (Mahershala Ali) mentions that he never thought ‘we’ could let this happen. As if multiple world powers have never allied together to stop a blood hungry empire an ocean away (and the U.S. is blood hungry, just look at our pursuits in Palestine, Yemen, Ukraine, Iraq, Vietnam, etc etc etc). I respect that the movie brings this up for American viewers to contemplate the vulnerable position we can be put in. Now, the harder pill to swallow that naturally should follow is the fact that as citizens we are not all just innocent bystanders. We have culpability for the machinations of the United States. We have agency to speak up in mass and change the actions our country takes, and still the majority of us haven’t. I suppose the Sandfords and Scotts are meant to represent the passive, oblivious, well-to-do, American family existing in an imaginary bubble of safety. Is everyone equally vulnerable though?

One among the many things that bugged me watching this was how it characterized the elite of the world. George repeatedly references one of his investor clients who is part of the “evil cabal that runs the world” /s. It is meant to be sarcastic but the client works in defense contracting so it’s not really. Because of his existence in the upper strata of society he was privy to the fact that shit was about to go down. So its inferred that the client was able to get away to safety. And G.H. says, in a weighty moment in the plot, “No one is in control, no one is pulling the strings. Sure there are those like my friend who might have the right kind of access to the right kind of information. But when events like this happen in the world, the best even the most powerful people can hope for is a heads up.” First, as if these powerful people aren’t the one’s creating the international disasters (ex; fossil fuel execs in the case of climate change or defense contractors in the case of Middle East invasions). And second, this paints the elite just as blue as everyone else. We know there are different rules for the rich and powerful in this world, so to pretend that they only have marginal advantages is laughable. Yes it’s hard to escape a country wide assault but some people can afford to be in a second home abroad or an underground bunker as we saw in the closing scenes. 

Rating: 6/10

[one-abuse-survivor]

You can call me Doll Anon if you want.

I don't know how I feel about my parents and I thought you might be able to help.

My grandparents raised me for the majority of my life and my parents only moved in to take care of my Nana after we lost my Grandfather. It feels like my parents just don't care sometimes. The house is a mess, we barely have food in the fridge, bugs everywhere and they get angry at me seemingly at random. I ended up having to call social services and get my Nana taken to the nursing home because they just stopped taking care of her and her health was suffering because of it.

I feel angry. I feel like they took my everyday life and stole it from me. But I also feel bad for feeling this way. They do care about me. Sometimes I think it would be better if they didn't so I wouldn't have to question everything but they do. They aren't doing this on purpose, they are just bad at running a household and holding their tempers. I'm not good at cleaning either so maybe I'm being too harsh. Sometimes after I break down crying they apologize and say they'll make things better and it seems genuine.

I guess i'm not an angel either, I've given up on reasoning with them. I yell back at them when they yell at me because I feel like if I'm gonna get yelled at no matter what I might as well do something worth being yelled at for. One time in an argument I cussed my Mom out and she slapped me. Afterwards she started crying about how awful of a mother she was to hit her own child and I tried to calm her down. I feel like she didn't deserve all the blame because I was saying some mean things to her in the hopes that she'd leave me alone after realizing I wasn't an easy target.

I feel so alone here. I've taken to staying in my room all day to avoid getting yelled at. I just want to feel like I'm more then an annoyance. I want someone to listen to me when I talk instead of assuming the worst possible intentions behind everything I say.

I just don't understand, do I have a valid complaint or am I just being a troublemaker?

Hi there, nonnie. Really sorry it took so long to reply.

Your complaint is more than just valid. You have absolutely every right to be upset by your parents' behaviour, because it is neglectful and abusive. I know it'd be easier to believe if they didn't genuinely care, if they weren't just humans trying their best and fucking up.

The truth is, many abusers are just humans who genuinely care deep down, but not enough to hold themselves accountable for the sake of the people they're hurting. That's why a lot of us are, or have been, where you are, myself included. And I can assure you that no matter how well-intentioned they are or how guilty they feel afterwards or how badly they sometimes wish they would do better, none of that negates the fact that they're making you live in a completely neglected house with little access to food, or that they put you in a position where you had to call social services on them for your granny's sake. Nor does it negate the fact they often yell at you, belittle you, and even hit you at random, forcing you to walk on eggshells around them because you can never know when to expect verbal/emotional/physical violence from them. The fact that you've been put in a position where you've had to reassure your own mother after she hit you is also not something you should ever have gone through.

You deserve so much better than this, nonnie. I hope with time it becomes easier to believe that your parents can be flawed and struggling humans and also be abusive.

Sending all my support your way ❤️

[castiel-left-his-mark-on-me]

Hi, Ary, very inactive ex-mutual(i think???) here. Good to see you thriving! ♥ It's been a while since I've dipped my head into cockles stuff. Could I perchance maybe ask uuuuum tf is going on??? lol I see Mish apparently confirmed he used to stay over at Jensen's in Van, and heard newbs were apparently freaking out about it and getting a bit messy, which I get that, business as usual. But I'm also seeing shit about spin-offs? And Jared getting in a twitter fight with Jensen, causing/resulting in stans to going feral and sending hate?? I know you're not as big a fan of Jar, but that's part of why I figured I'd ask you, you usually have a really level head about this kinda stuff. If you don't wanna answer publically, or at all, that's totally chill!

Hey, Rhi! We're still mutuals! Of course we're still mutuals! When I saw the notification of your ask, I was like "Hey! I haven't seen you in a while!" and my husband was like "???" and I said "Tumblr" and he said "Oh."

It was a wild time haha.

In any case, welcome back to the dumpster fire! We are obviously still a mess. So to catch you up, I guess I will start by summarizing both before and after the finale (not sure where you left off so this might be redundant for you) ... basically, it became obvious as the end of the show neared that Jensen was not on board with the plan for the finale; although Jared never stopped singing its praises.

We got confirmation of this during a zoom interview where Jensen said that he actually went into the writers room as well as called Kripke to basically voice how he didn't agree with the direction the final season was going, but he was shot down on all fronts. In another interview, he was asked "What would you tell your younger self going into this career?" And Jensen responded with: "I would tell myself to just keep your head down and do the work" meaning, "Don't try to change things because you can't." I also think that this whole situation is what he wrote "Let Me Be" about for his first Radio Company album, but that is just my own speculation. All of his reluctance, even though he always followed it up with "But I eventually saw the value in the script" or "I came around in the end" (which never sounded sincere, and I don't think he was really trying to sound sincere) made us all very nervous about what was to come for 15x20; and of course, when the last two episodes aired, we saw just how badly they fucked it up.

After the awful finale, the entire fandom became aware of the CW's heavy handed role in the thing, basically squeezing all the life out of SPN to shape it into a ramp from which Walker could launch itself. They not only erased all the love and joy and representation that Cas's love confession gave us, they also tore apart the things that made sense about the bond between Sam and Dean, making it really just about Sam-- and therefore Jared, which of course, Jared seemed to be fine with ... even though no one else was. Misha barely said anything during the finale, and a few of the other actors talked about the show ending in various posts, but Jared tweeted up a storm ... and Jensen? Jensen just sat in sexy-silent resentment of the whole thing. He didn't tweet, he didn't post, he didn't say a word once he no longer had to, and I think that's because he was already going full-steam-ahead on his plans for redemption.

Which brings us to Chaos Machine-- Jensen and Danneel's new production company that is being run by a queer creative director and has a mantra of inclusivity and representation woven throughout it's fabric; and apparently, the first story that Jensen wanted to tell through this new platform is the origin story of Sam and Dean's parents; so last week (?) he announced the upcoming production of "The Winchesters" -- the untold love story of John and Mary. Obviously, John is not the most likable character from the show, so the idea was met with a lot of resentment when it was first announced, but Jensen has gone on to say that he is excited to take on the task of telling the "true" story behind these characters-- the one that makes sense with the pre-established canon and doesn't reject it. So, given that, the idea is being mulled over with a bit more optimism from the fandom.

Who isn't being optimistic though?

Jared Padalecki.

When Jensen made this announcement on Twitter, many of his friends and coworkers congratulated him, but not Jared. Jared responded with a passive aggressive: "I'm happy for you, man, but I wish I didn't hear about it through Twitter." This of course, sent all the die-hard Jared fans into a tizzy and they immediately began asking him if he was serious (hoping it was just a joke-- we all hoped it was because there would be fallout no matter what one's opinion on Jared is). Instead of leaving it there though or just deleting that tweet, Jared went on to tweet some more, saying that he was being serious that he didn't know about the plans for the prequel, and that he was "gutted" that Sam apparenlty wouldn't be included (mind you, this a prequel to SPN... meaning BEFORE Sam and Dean were even born, so how could Sam be included? But Dean is apparently narrating this story so maybe Jared thought Sam should be helping to narrate it? I don't know). But Jared being Jared couldn't just leave that there, he then went on to tweet at Robbie Thompson who was announced as a writer for "The Winchesters" so then Jared went off on him too, calling him "Brutus" and a "coward" acting like Robbie betrayed him (speculation is-- Robbie refused to write for Walker, so Jared is pissed that he essentially chose Jensen over him). He did fairly quickly, remove that tweet attacking Robbie, but of course the damage was done at that point. And it truly only took his first tweet calling out Jensen for some people to be like "Jared-- that sucks if you didn't know but why are you saying any of this publicly?"

As you might know, Jared has had issues in the past with posting hurtful things on social media, and has even used it as a tool for attack before-- calling out customer service agents and public workers that he felt have wronged him, which is bad enough ... but for him to then do the same thing to his best friend of well over a decade? Many people who had once liked him or at least gave him the benefit of the doubt (I used to ...) stopped after this latest twitter tantrum.

However, some people have suspected for some time that J2 had a falling out either shortly before the finale or just after. Their public/social media interactions have seemed awkward, stilted or even non-existent in moments that they normally wouldn't be. In the past year, when Walker premiered, Jensen didn't say much about his friend's new venture other than a "Congrats. buddy" here and there. Later, we learned that Jensen refused to work on the show ... Jared said he make him do it, drag Jensen to the set "kicking and screaming" which made many fans quirk up an eyebrow because, why would Jensen put up a fight unless the two weren't as close as they used to be? And then Jensen moved his family to Colorado (either permanently or for an extended period at least) which is notable considering how he moved to Texas seemingly to be closer to Jared, even buying a house that was near his. All this was just speculation though; but it wasn't until Jared's tweet complaining about not knowing about the prequel that the theories behind them falling out, became less theory and more fact.

The day after his twitter tantrum, Jared tweeted again-- not retracting his statements or apologizing, but instead saying that he and Jensen "talked" and were "all good". Jensen then tweeted too, parroting this statement to some degree, which only made the whole thing even more sour in the mouths of the fans. The fact that Jared didn't apologize for his outburst and throwing his friend under the bus, and also the fact that Jensen-- Mr. Sexy Silence, Mr. Never Tweets, Mr. Tech-Ignorant-and-Proud, actually had to POST SOMETHING saying that he and Jared made up, it just screamed OPTICS. It was obviously the work of agents and PR firms and lots of people going "Look, if you two keep beefing, that will mean the death of both of your projects. Even more people will stop watching Walker, and this SPN prequel will never get picked up due to the scandal." So, the two "made nice" publicly to quell the chaos, but in my opinion, it's all too little too late. Jared started a storm that he can't contain now with a little tweet, and it seems like he knows that too because before he talked about him and Jensen making up, he asked that people "not send threats". He could have just as easily said that he shouldn't have made this a public issue and that he's sorry, but instead, he continued to play the victim and stoke the flames by alerting us all to the damage he's done.

Now, like I said before-- I used to give him the benefit of the doubt. I don't think he's an awful human or that he deserves to be attacked or anything, but he is an adult man with very poor judgment and an obvious selfish-streak a mile wide. He should know better, and he should have more respect for his so-called "friends" and "brothers" than to make them targets to public ridicule. I have a hard time believing that Jensen still sees Jared the way he used to, and I wouldn't blame him a bit for wanting to pull away-- especially when he's moving on to so many new and exciting things. Jared certainly deserves happiness just as much as anyone else, but he went on twitter and basically asked for a scandal, and he got one.

The question is now-- was there a motive behind it? Was just looking for a reason to bring his and Jensen's falling out to light-- while making himself looking like the victim in the process? Or did he genuinely not know about the prequel and just decided to go about "not knowing" in the most toxic and hurtful way he could manage?

In any case, that is the drama ... that is the J2 insanity in a rather lengthy nutshell ... that is the tea ... and I hope it all makes sense.

But the good news out of all of this is, Cockles is thriving-- they are happy and in love and Jensen calls Misha "Babe" and Misha misses waking up to see Jensen in the morning, and they are just as cute and wonderful as can be.

So, I will end that there. I am so glad to see you back, and I hope I answered all your questions in a way that made sense ... I tried anyway!

💖💖💖

[soldrawss]

Sol i need headcanons for the brothers, please im begging you

BRUH I GOT YOU

I’m currently working on some little fics for them BUT I CAN GIVE YOU SOME DETAILS BECAUSE I’M DYING TO SHARE

(Warning, gets a little dark towards the middle, but overall fine. Sorry for the long read. I went for a DEEP dive on the Age Gap Au)

Ace was put into foster care 4 hours after his birth. His father died before he was born and his mother died during childbirth. Ace had nothing to his name but physical traits of the dead (Like his father's sharp eyes and his mother’s freckles) He grew up with a need to prove himself and to gain something that truly belonged to him all on his own.

Sabo was placed in foster care when he was 5 because of an altercation with his abusive and possesive parents, involving him having broken ribs and running away.

Ace and Sabo met in a halfway home for troubled youths when they were 6. (They both had issues with authority and past placements in foster homes, so they quickly bonded over that, and decided to stick together ever since)

Their bond was so strong that ‘honorary’ brothers didn’t really fit them. They were brothers. And they stuck together and stood up for one another like it was them against the world (which sometimes it was)

They would often run away from the halfway home they were at, trying to earn a living on their own on the streets, and often commit petty thefts in order to survive. 

These little runaway trips wouldn’t last long though, because they were always caught by Officer Garp, a police officer that happened to have a knack for catching little runaways.

However tough Garp acted though, he had an incredibly big soft spot for these two little brats that were only trying to make their lives better. These two kids, barely 8 years old, who had so much hatred for the world because of adults in their lives that failed them. Adults that hurt them, giving them scars and bruises on their hearts just as easily as the scars and bruises on the little frames. 

After a particular runaway incident, Ace breaks down and confesses about all the horrible placements he and Sabo had been in before. How social services always judge Ace’s sharp eyes and label in a problem child, how Sabo’s quick wit always get him in trouble with the adults, how they both have scars and bruises from past foster homes they were placed in, and that's why Ace and Sabo runaway. They’re tired of getting placed in bad homes. They’re tired of having adults try to separate them. Ace is all Sabo has and vice versa because that's the only person in the whole world who they trust to not hurt them. And Garp thinks that’s the last fucking straw.

Garp, much to Ace and Sabo’s but nobody else’s surprise, adopts both the boys, and takes them into his own home. Because dammit, if they’re just gonna runaway, they might as well stay with someone who will at least love them enough to always look for them and bring them back to a good home when they do.

And it’s weird at first, because Garp is the rough and loud and nosey officer that used to grab them by the scruffs of their shirts and drag them back to that awful halfway home kicking and screaming. But then it gets better. Because he still yells at them, but it’s with a tempered and fiercely protective love it when he does. He still grabs them, but it’s just to pull them into a rough bear hug that they fervently pretend they don’t like. And every dinner is spent with tears of laughter in their eyes and cheeks warm with delight at the stories he tells them. (They call him old man with affection and he’s their father figure even though they treat him like their grandpa.)

Sabo joins his school’s baseball team! Which is so freaking cool! He’s a really strong batter, can weild a bat like it’s an extension of his own arm, and Ace and Garp are always the loudest cheers on the bleachers every home run hit Sabo makes.

Garp makes Ace take up boxing, because the kid’s got a lot of pent-up rage and aggression, and he figures it’s a good constructive sort of therapy for the rowdy brat.

The two still get up to mischief every now and again, though. Nothing illegal, but Garp is still having to wrangle up his two little idiots before they do something stupid. (They get into a lot of fights with local gangs because they have smart mouths and are still a little reckless)

Garp has a biological son that Ace and Sabo never met due to Garp’s and Dragon’s strained relationship. Garp had always bad-mouthed him whenever his son was brought up, but it was always with words that had no heat behind them, and Sabo and Ace could tell there was a sadness behind his eyes whenever he looked at the picture of his son in his wallet.

The boys were 10 when they got the news of Dragon’s death a week after it happened. Garp had gotten the phone call when he and the boys were watching some late-night trash tv on the weekend, and he had all but strangled the phone in a grip that turned his knuckles white. He didn’t say what had killed his son, (he never did), but he had told the boys he needed to take care of something, told them to pack up some of their things, dropped them off at his friend Newgate’s house, and got the quickest flight out that night.

He came back 3 days later, and when he did, he had a tiny little baby with him.

Ace and Sabo were no strangers to babies. There was always some snot-nosed kid that would get dropped off at the halfway home (and then adopted that week, because everybody loved babies), and they were pretty sure this baby wasn’t gonna be any different. Because babies were loud and gross and never stopped crying, and Ace and Sabo were prepared for the absolute worse.

But then they stood over the baby’s crib to get a good look at him, and the baby looked back.

And smiled the biggest and happiest smile Ace and Sabo had ever seen.

And Garp had said “His name is Luffy,” and Ace and Sabo had been hooked around his little finger ever since. 

Luffy was barely 6 months old, and was a bundle of chubby cheeks and contagious giggles. With big brown chocolate colored eyes that melted all the sharp corners and edges of Ace’s and Sabo’s hearts.

Because Sabo and Ace were the same age, and neither one of them felt like the older or younger brother. They were equals in every way. But it was different with Luffy. Because Luffy was tiny, and soft and could barely wrap all 5 of his little fingers around one of theirs, and it hit Sabo and Ace like a bullet train because oh.

 Oh this is what it was like to be an older brother. This was what it was like to have a little brother. And Sabo and Ace have always looked out for each other, of course. But Luffy was something they had to protect fully and with their entire being. His smile, his laughter, his heart. All of it. Sabo and Ace knew all the horrible things in the world, knew all the hatred and fear and heartbreak the world could throw at you and it was like a silent promise to each other they never verbalized, that Luffy should and would never have to go through the things they went through. He would never feel unloved. He would never feel unwanted. He would never feel like he had to prove his worth or reason for existing. (He was worth more than any price anyone could give anyway)

Sabo and Ace stopped getting into trouble. They got good grades, excelled in their respective clubs, and didn’t give Garp any reason to chase them down in his old cop car and bring them home. (They were always at home anyway, giving Luffy piggyback rides and teaching him how to ride a bike and do one-handed handstands and cartwheels, and basking in the warmth that was Luffy’s endless love) And they lived in peace like that for 5 years.

Then the fire happened.

Garp was a good police officer and an even better Deputy Chief, and for almost 40 years, he served on the Foosha County Police Department. He had put away a lot of bad guys and saved a lot of people in the process and was an honored and highly respected man. However, this also made him a big target and earned him quite a few enemies. He was 3 weeks away from retirement and spending most of those weeks staying at home, playing with Luffy, and ingnoring the last of his paperwork left on his office desk.

When the fire broke out, Ace and Sabo had just turned the corner from the bus stop on their way home from school. They had seen the smoke, but didn’t know where it was coming from till they saw the towering blaze of fire that used to be their 2 story home and the group of neighbors surrounding the outside. 

They managed to push their way to the front, hands shaking and eyes wide and absolutely breathless, because that was their house! That was their house that was one fire and where was gramps?! Where was Luffy?!

The only thing Ace heard Sabo whisper among the roar of the fire and the loud murmur of people around them was “Do you hear that? That... crying?” Before Sabo surged forward.

Ace didn’t have time to reach out and stop him, and by the time he could, Sabo had already disappeared into the open front door, which was covered in flames. He had screamed out, tried to race in and follow his brother into the flames, but the neighbors around him were quicker than he was and pulled him back. 

Edward Newgate, one of their neighbors and close personal friend of Garp’s was in the crowd, and he was holding Ace to his chest with an arm like an iron bar, as he was on the phone with the local fire department. (Newgate was also the Foosha County fire chief, and was shouting at his lieutenants to “get your asses out here now!’) But Ace didn’t hear a word he was saying. All he could do was struggle to get out of the older man’s grip, reach out for his brother and best friend, and scream his lungs out.

What felt like hours went by, and Ace felt like his heart was shattering into a million piece, the glass shards falling around him, as he sobbed into Newgate's chest, thinking he had lost everything. His home. His family. His only purpose and reason for living.

And then some of the neighbors were shouting again, only this time in surprised alarm and Ace looked up with hazy eyes blurred by tears, to see something was coming out of the front door.

And it could only be Sabo. Ace knew it was him before he could even register it, and bolted out of Newgate's grips that had slacked at the surprise and towards his brother.

Ace met Sabo only a few feet from the door, Sabo collapsing into his arms, and Ace had to pull him the extra few feet away because the flames were still too much to bear even at that distance.

And Sabo’s skin was hot and red and covered in smoke and ash alike. There was a giant welting red burn against the side of Sabo’s face that looked like it would leave a scar forever, but Ace was having a hard time focusing on it because he was too bust focusing on the bundle of blankets that Sabo was desperately trying to push into Ace’s arms.

And Ace was already crying before, but he began crying even harder when he removed the fold of blankets to reveal a muffled Luffy, covered in ash but unharmed, crying his eyes out. 

Sabo had a coughing fit that rocked his whole body, and burns that looked like they'd hurt forever, but he was smiling when Ace broke into a sob, clutching both Sabo and Luffy into his chest.

The firefighters and paramedics came a few minutes later, and they had to physically pull Sabo and Luffy from Ace’s arms to check and treat them. Luffy only ended up with a few mild burns and cuts on his arms and legs and some burning of his throat from inhaling so much smoke, but Sabo had to be taken to the hospital immediately for his burns, especially for the one on his face. Ace pleaded to let them all ride in the same ambulence on the way to the hosipital, and held on to Sabo’s shirt sleeve with a grip that would take the end of the world and then some for him to let go.

Sabo had to get some surgery and treatment to save his left eye, but he was all in all ok, and Ace and Luffy were allowed to visit his hospital room for as long as they needed.

When Ace finally confronted Sabo on why he had ran into the house in the first place, it was on the first night of their hospital stay. Sabo had a giant white gauze wrapping half of his head, and he looked at Ace with tired blue eyes that looked a little fuzy, still a little drugged from all the medication he was on to ease the pain. 

And Ace felt bad about it, he really did, because Sabo didn’t derserve to be grilled on the matter. Not after he had sacrificed himself and saved Luffy. Their little brother. Their little brother who they wouldn’t even have anymore if it weren’t for Sabo. 

But Ace had to know. He was so mad and heartbroken and scared out of his mind when Sabo had rushed in without word or warning. Because they had lost Garp. They had almost lost Luffy. And Ace could have almost lost Sabo too.

But Luffy was tucked underneath Sabo’s arm on the hospital bed, and Sabo just smiled at Ace with a patience that only Ace and Luffy could pull out of him, and patted the other side for Ace to join them. Ace climbed onto the bed beside him, and even with the two 15-year-olds and one little 5 year old, the bed didn’t feel too small at all.

Sabo explained that he could hear crying from the door and he just moved. Knowing it was Luffy before his mind could really think about the implications behind that. He confessed how the flames hurt at first. Hurt so bad, and it was so hot, and everything, from the floor to the ceiling, was on fire and he could barely see anything through the smoke. But he could hear Luffy’s little rough and horse scream, coming from one of the back rooms that used to be Garp's office, and suddenly all Sabo could afford to think about was Luffy’s crying.

Sabo would tell a watered-down version of this story to the cops in the morning, because they were Garp's friend and companions, and they only really needed the broad details for their report anyway. 

He’ll tell a heroic version of this story, lacking any horrific graphics, to an older Luffy whenever the eternally curious kid wonders and asks about it.

But he only ever told the whole story right then on that night, one arm tight around his baby brother in a toothed and protective love, while the other one gripped his best friend's hands with shaking and bandaged fingers hard enough to leave bruising.

Garp was long dead when Sabo found him. The smell of his skin burning off is something that will haunt Sabo for the rest of his life. (Sometimes certain smells will set him off. Uncooked bacon is not allowed in the house anymore after one traumatic morning when Luffy is six. Campfires are viewed and enjoyed from a distance.)

He was lying on his stomach, clutching something to his chest. Sabo knew it was Luffy by the cries, bundled up in a few quilts and one of this office rugs, and Sabo knew he had to get them out of there before the smoke killed them off like it had a personal agenda against them.

The heat was unbearable, Sabo had confessed, but it was nothing compared to having to drag Luffy from underneath Garp’s grip. The old man was built like a brick house, sure, but even in death, his grip on Luffy, protecting Luffy, like he was daring the world to take anything away from him, was steadfast and almost unbbreakable. 

It was the hardest thing Sabo had ever had to make himself do.

He didn’t look at Garp’s face. His body was burned black and bloody and raw, and Sabo couldn’t live with himself if his memory of Garp’s face was replaced by anything other than with the one of his scruffy beard and the shit-eating grin that he always wore.

When he pulled Luffy out, he didn’t look back, and raced out of the house as fast as he could. Something along the way fell and smacked him in the face, knocking him down at one point, but Sabo couldn’t pay it much mind. He got back up, and continued towards the door. He could barely see, barely breathe, with all the smoke and the ash, and the pain from the fire was almost numbing against his skin, but he didn’t stop.

All he could think about was Luffy, still struggling and crying against the blankets wrapped tightly around him. Next thing he knew, he was outside, and looking up at Ace’s snot-covered face.

Ace had never seen Sabo cry for the almost 10 years he knew him. He didn’t cry when he was 7, and the Anderson family had called him a freak and had sent him back after a failed foster home placement. He didn’t cry when he was 9, and broke his arm falling out of the tree in their backyard that Garp had told him not to climb, so of course he had to climb it. And he didn’t even cry earlier that day, at 15, when he was off medication and feeling the full extent of his painful burns.

So when tears started pooling out of Sabo’s pale blue eyes, falling down his cheeks and staining the cotton white blanket he was under as he told his story, Ace pretended not to notice, wrapped an arm around Sabo’s shoulders, and held him like it was the only lifeline in the world. 

Garp’s funeral was held the following week. Closed casket. All the police departments in the county, and even some outside of it, showed up to give him a full send-off. Ace cried for both Sabo and himself. Sabo spoke a few words for the both of them. And Luffy stood between them, holding both their hands. They explained the night before that gramps was gone, but they don’t think the notion of death really got through to Luffy. He was crying, but only because Ace was crying, and when he asked ‘can gramps come out of the box to give me a hug before he goes away?’ everyone has to clench their teeth and hold their breaths to stop their hearts from breaking. Sabo kneeled down to wrap Luffy in a tight hug. Ace covered his face with his arm and cried harder

(They never bother asking Luffy about how the fire started, or what happened that day. Luffy doesn’t remember, and they don’t push it further. The truth isn’t as important as Luffy’s mentality is, but Garp’s old squad promises that they won’t rest until they get to the bottom of it. And as much as Ace and Sabo want justice and revenge, they have Luffy to think about, so they leave it up to the police)

Sabo and Ace are almost 16, and they suddenly have no parental figure, no home, no anything, and suddenly they’re faced with the horrible notion that even more can be taken from them when a blast from their past threatens to take Luffy away from them too.

They’re no stranger to the foster care system, so when social services show up at the motel they were renting with Garp’s savings, they feel their hearts drop to their stomach for fear of the very real possibility that Luffy will be placed in immediate foster care, and possibly, so would they. 

Ace and Sabo jump into action then, because no way, no fucking way, were they gonna lose Luffy. They had lost everything else. They almost did lose Luffy. They weren’t gonna risk that chance again.

Ace was only a few weeks older than Sabo. Sabo hadn’t paused a second to jump into the fire, risking life and limb, to protect what little they had. It was Ace’s turn to be the heroic older brother. And on the day he turned 16, Ace petitioned legal guardianship and parental rights for Sabo and Luffy.

And it was hard, because of course the courts felt sorry for him, the grandson of one of the best police chiefs in the county’s history, begging the courts to let him keep what little family he had left together. The courts wanted to give it to him, wanted to help him. But Luffy was a child. And Ace and Sabo were practically still kids themselves. Asking kids to raise themselves was something no one should ask them to do. 

But Ace and Sabo fought for it. Ace was 16, and Sabo would be 16 soon enough. They could get GED’s, no problem. They’d get jobs, get a little apartment near Luffy’s school, attend any parenting and child service meeting required of them. They’d buy all the necessities over again and they’d love Luffy where no other foster family could even compare. They’d do everything, everything and anything, to keep Luffy. To let them stay together.

With a couple of vouchers from Garp’s old police squad, including one from an overly enthusiastic Edward Newgate and one from the boy’s homeroom teacher, Makino, the courts ruled in Ace’s and Sabo’s favor, and Luffy was officially theirs until they proved that Luffy was better off somewhere else.

Ace and Sabo were never gonna let that happen.

They got a little 2 bedroom apartment a couple blocks from Luffy’s elementary. They quit school, and worked extra hard to earn their GED’s within the following months. (With the help of their old teachers and a few of their overly enthusiastic neighbors)

Ace got a job at the local fire department, as a rookie in training under Newgate.

Sabo got a job at the local news station, writing reports on top of his interning duties. 

Ace eventually got a motorcycle that same year, which scared Sabo half to death and delighted Luffy to no end. It was cheaper than a car, and easier to travel to and from work on, and no matter how hard Sabo tried, he couldn’t come up with a valid reason why Ace shouldn’t use it to their advantage. So Sabo made Ace promise to always wear a helmet when riding it, and that Luffy wasn’t allowed to ride it until he was much older. (Which Luffy pouted about to no end)

And it’s hard at times, both of them working overtime just to make enough to support themselves and keep them afloat, but it’s good, and it’s theirs.

Luffy makes a friend on his first day of first grade named Zoro Roronoa, another kid that lives just across the street from them, and when Ace and Sabo know they’re gonna be late in getting home, Luffy goes over there and hangs out until they can pick him up (Which is totally fine with Zoro’s father Koushirou, a kendo teacher and single father of 6-year-old Zoro and 9-year-old Kuina. Zoro has a bit of a personality problem and often has trouble making friends (because the child doesn’t see a need to) so when little bright-eyed and endlessly joyful Luffy pops into their life, Kushirou jumps at the chance to have him over as much as possible, because the two small children seem to bring out the best in each other, and are best friends attached at the hip) Sabo and Ace are eternally grateful to the kind man)

A few years go by, and Luffy is 8. Ace is still working at the fire station and is now legally allowed to join them on calls and emergencies. (Fire used to make Ace nervous, because he almost lost everything to it. Now he has a personal agenda with it, to make sure it doesn’t take anything from anyone else)

Sabo has moved up the ranks now, and when he turns 18, confronts Ace with a rare job opportunity he was offered.

“It’s a year-long internship for this really cool company that reports and delivers high-class diplomatic information around,” Sabo starts, rubbing the back of his head like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. “I’d be working as like, a cool undercover spy with diplomatic immunity and a messenger bag. It’s not dangerous at all, and pays almost triple my paycheck now, which would really help us out. But it’s overseas, and I’d be gone for a whole year. You’d be raising Luffy all by yourself, birthdays and holidays and skinned knees, with just the two of you, so say the word, and I’ll totally turn this job down on the spot.”

And it’s scary to Ace. Because he hasn’t been alone since he was 6 years old, and he can’t possibly remember a time when Sabo hadn’t been by his side. His best friend and brother. It was always the two of them. Two little runaways that found a home, lost that home, and then built a new home all on their own despite it all. And neither of them had ever been away from Luffy for longer than a weekend, so Ace was sure it would kill Sabo to be away from them for so long.

But he also knew that Sabo was only playing this off like it wasn’t a big deal, when in fact it was the job opportunity of a lifetime for someone like Sabo, a kid who breathed adventure and freedom with every breath. And that when he talked about it, his eyes sparkled with a joy that Ace would hate himself forever for taking it away. 

Sabo was giving Ace the choice, and Ace knew that Sabo would go along with whatever Ace decided without a second thought or complaint. But Ace knew that Sabo would regret it for the rest of his life if he didn't go, so he slugged Sabo in the arm, gave him his best shit-eating, confident grin, (the kind he used to give him right before they were about to steal some food as kids, or about to get into a fight when they were teens) and said, “You let me have a motorcycle. The least I can do is let you go road tripping abroad.”

Because Ace and Luffy would be fine. They’d miss Sabo like crazy, and Ace was pretty sure Sabo was like, 90% of his impulse control, but they’d survive. Sabo had the burn marks to prove how far he was willing to go for their family, and Ace had never thanked him for that. Ace was never gonna live that down, and was going to spend the rest of his life making it up to both Sabo AND Luffy, and prove just how good of an older brother he could be. This was the least he could do for them.

[umiarumi]

fucking three houses | lorenz hellman gloucester

the whole reason i wrote this collection was because of an inside joke. "wouldnt slut shaming lorenz be funny?"

The resounding tune of the clock striking noon echoed around the monastery, prompting you to perk up from your studies. Usually, you studied in solitude. As outgoing as your allies made you, you always held onto that ease and pleasure being alone supplied you. With how lust-induced your recent activities had been, a little peace and quiet would do you some well-deserved good.

You shut the book regarding tactics your professor had recommended you. The soft shuffles of former students leaving the library and hushed chatter reverberated around the room and halls. Of course, you were at war but there's always time to get better at what you do. You chuckled at the thought of some grizzled lady wielding a sword studying. Well, that is you after all!

Sliding the book back in its respective shelf, you hummed as you remembered Tomas. From what you gathered, the Tomas that the faculty knew was replaced. Unfortunate, but unsurprising knowing the enemies working behind the scenes.

You shifted your thoughts to your upcoming mission. Some scouting mission from the empire detected commotion in Garreg Mach. You huffed at the thought. Of course, you'd expect Edelgard to retaliate but damn, that was quick.

You shook your head, well, it was tea time! Noon meant the yard would be filled with people gossiping and sipping alike, the hobby so ingrained in them that they retained it through the war.

You walked past Seteth, nodding to him. He nodded back, cracking a soft smile. You'd rarely see that emotion! You giddily laughed as he turned the corner, pleased to see he was loosening up.

Walking down the stairs, you passed a rushing Lysithea who didn't even recognise you. You grinned, shaking your head. Always in a rush, that girl! Or, well, woman. She'd like that better.

Sauntering, you caught a glimpse of a certain purple and ginger-headed duo bickering. "Lee! Lorenz! Whatever is wrong, my dear friends?" You cheered, slinging your arms around the two. Leonie raised a brow at you, grinning, seemingly relieved at your arrival. Lorenz, on the other hand, froze up. "Although you may have connections to House Riegan, (Y/N)..." He grumbled, sighing.

"Oh chill, Lorenz!" You guffawed, shaking your head. He'd become considerably more agreeable, but God, he'll hold onto that 'treating commoners with his version of respect' ideal forever.

Leonie nodded with you. "Yeah, buddy." She pointedly looked at Lorenz, crossing her arms. "Well, apparently (Y/N), Lorenz thinks that he can't take me to tea because I'm 'unpleasant'". Hands now on her hips, she turned back to you.

You smirked. "Lovers quarrel?" You asked, shifting your weight.

"NO, DUMBASS!" "Absolutely not!"

You cackled at the yells, waving your hands in front of your face dismissively. They really did act like it!

"My bad, my bad... now, Leonie is a great dining partner! But... I doubt tea is even your thing." You offered, mockingly putting on a wise tone. She slowly nodded, realising you're right.

"Yeah! A good meal is better than tea. Thanks for seeing my point, (Y/N)." She slapped your back before, turning away. "I'll spend this time on training, can never get enough!" She waved goodbye to the two of you, although you supposed it was more to you.

Lorenz sighed, brushing his, admittedly less foul, hair out of his face. "I fail to see why you defend her." He muttered, looking to you. You raised a brow, tilting your head for that added 'what do you mean?' effect.

"Simply put, she wouldn't make a fair tea partner. She accused me of the reason being that she was a commoner, but it truly was not! I explained to her, but she seemed to have not appreciated my honesty, either." He pondered, lips pursing.

"Well, Lorenz! I think you need a lesson in manners." You bluntly asserted, placing your hands on your sides.

"Why I never-"

"Not that you don't have wonderful manners! However, your honesty can be jarring... you come off rude, man." You explained, patting his shoulder.

"So I am to lie?"

"Gah! No! Look, how about we discuss it over tea?" You suggested, exasperated. As intelligent as the dude is, his social cues with... commoners and the rest of us normal people are is abysmal!

He nodded. "A splendid notion! Shall we take this to my dorm? I feel as though the tea court will be filled by now. I also have some delectable flavours and tea sets!" He smiled, leading you away.

You yelped, catching up to him. What was the deal with guys walking briskly away from you?

~~~~

"Please, take a seat." He offered, pulling out a chair for you. You mumbled thanks, sitting down.

Crossing your legs, you hummed. Was this a curse? Was this going to end up in you fucking the most pretentious man? Well, the omniscient presence watching your every move knows the answers.

As he poured the tea into your embellished cup, you admired the colour. "How pretty! And the teacup compliments it!" You whispered in awe, looking back up to Lorenz. He smiled sweetly at you, almost in the way one would at a kitten or puppy.

"I'm glad you have a knack for spotting artistic factors in the simplest things." He said, sitting down opposite you.

"However, on our way here, I thought about something."

You gulped. How was your impending lecturing being turned on you?!

"Y-yes?" You stuttered, bringing the teacup to your mouth, sipping nervously on the steaming liquid.

He eyed you, before humming.

"I doubt you're the most qualified person to teach me about manners." He said, gauging your reaction. You halted sipping on your tea.

Collecting yourself, you placed your teacup back down. "Oh? Why would that be?" You questioned, fiddling with the tablecloth.

"Well, you seem to have time engaging in certain... promiscuous activities, that isn't exactly too innocent or polite." He murmured, sipping on his tea.

Your eyes bulged, hands antsy as they moved to your face to hide your shock.

"For someone so carefree to participate in such... activities in public, you sure do seem to hold a facade of modesty." He replied, watching you sternly.

"Yeah, imagine how it feels having someone know of this!" You gritted your teeth, clenching your arms.

He raised a brow, smiling crookedly. "Certainly you wouldn't mind. Considering you would do so on holy grounds. You and Claude seemed to have not cared. I wouldn't be surprised if the whole monastery heard you."

You gasped, moving to get out of your chair. You didn't need a lecture from Lorenz.

He stood up with you, challenging your gaze.

"When I told Leonie she wasn't well-kempt enough... I suppose you aren't any better." He smirked, watching you bite your lip anxiously.

"Damnit, what do you want!? Don't tell anyone, I'll do anything!" You pleaded, taking a step forward. Lorenz grinned at this, raising a brow. He walked around the table, coming to face you directly. You looked down, refusing to meet his gaze.

"Since you're so eager to offer. Perhaps I could partake in those services Claude recommended to you?" He whispered, hand coming to tilt your chin upwards. Your face erupted in a dark heat, your heart thumping.

Don't fuck Lorenz. Don't fuck Lorenz. Don't fuck Lorenz. Don't fuck Lorenz.

You collected yourself, giving him a sly grin as your hands found themselves around his neck. "Well, if you're interested in a free trial..." You hinted, swaying your hips.

Don't fuck Lorenz. Don't fuck Lorenz. Don't fuck Lorenz. Don't fuck Lorenz.

He gulped, smiling crookedly. "You strike a hard bargain, my fair lady. I suppose I'd have to indulge." He murmured, grabbing underneath your knee and pulling your leg up to his waist.

Don't fuck Lorenz. Don't fuck Lorenz. Don't fuck Lorenz. Fuck Lorenz.

"Then, please, take whatever you'd like."

Fuck Lorenz. Fuck Lorenz. Fuck Lorenz. Fuck Lorenz. Fuck Lorenz. Fuck-

Your lips were captured by his own, as you soon felt your weight shift as your body was lifted from the ground. You wrapped your legs around him fully as you were set down on his plush bed

The kiss heated up passionately, feeling Lorenz palm you through your normal uniform. Being a Sunday, no war business was discussed and no armour was worn. He cupped your breasts.

"You're hardly pleasant, ever so brash and callous. But not to fear, I'll mould you into a fair woman. However, I'd say I prefer your unabashed promiscuousness." He hissed, stripping you of your uniform. Soon, your bra and underwear followed.

He shed his own casual uniform, for once in his life, not caring. That was proved as much as he dropped his uniform onto the mahogany floors.

You were pushed down onto the bed as you felt Lorenz slide on top of you, his already hard dick grinding against your slick cunt. You sighed, capturing his lips in a kiss once more.

His hands moved to your breasts, removing his mouth from your own only to kiss up the skin. Poking, squeezing, kissing, licking. He left no stone unturned, or in this case, no skin untouched. His apparent fixation on your breasts soon shifted to your darkened face. He simpered at his work.

"You will be good practice for the future. I suppose a whore such as yourself wouldn't oppose being treated with such behaviour." He proposed, his hands stroking up and down your sides.

"I... I'm not a whore!" You defended weakly. Yet any argument was soon washed away as he began to rub his dick up and down against your vagina.

"Oh? Ah, I see. So making love... no, I should say, carelessly fucking your former classmates one after another was just a hallucination?" He asked, the tip of his dick sliding into your walls for a split second before retreating.

"N-no, that's not what I meant!" You cried out, frustrated at the lack of stimulation.

"Ah, straight to denial, I see! You have skipped explaining and gone straight to denying your needy, sluttish behaviour." He groaned as he felt you pull him closer.

You cried out in frustration before looking away.

" F-fine! You're right that I'm a whore! I'm a whore who loves her classmate's dicks! Now please fuck me!" You moaned, exasperated.

"That's wonderful to hear."

And no sooner than he spoke did he thrust his dick right into your pussy, a silent moan escaping your open lips. He leant over you, feeling your tits press against him. Your legs rose and wrapped around his pistoning hips.

You struggled to get a full breath at the pace he was thrusting at, it sent your head spinning. You couldn't think, you could only feel as you were fucked silly by the one guy you could never like.

Yet, that distaste furthered your arousal.

"You are far from suitable for me. You.." He heaved as you clenched around him. "Naughty. You're brash, loud, unladylike... but you make a wonderful cocksleeve." He groaned into your ear, letting out soft moans.

You felt the coil in your stomach tighten at his words.

"Then... you're just like me! Sinking down... to my level just for some pussy?" You teased, slurring.

He smirked annoyedly. "Tch, I wouldn't say that in your position." He grunted out, holding you tighter as he pistoned harder.

"O-oh! I... you!" You moaned, speech cutting off as you couldn't talk. It was so fast, so hard, so good!

The two of you continued to moan and grunt, accompanied only by the sound of skin slapping. The erotic groans of the man you held such distaste for was sending you over the edge. You hated it so much that you loved it.

To the means of an end, you felt the coil snap as he groaned once more in your ear, the spasming of your walls soon causing him to cum. You felt your ravaged pussy shudder as ropes of hot cum seared your insides. As he slid out, it trailed out.

Lorenz looked down on you, smiling coyly at the sight. "Speechless and fucked silly, that's a perfect look for you."

[jypbae7]

Im Changkyun - Natal Chart

- requested by @jookyunz

Can’t remember if you wanted the 18+ section so I included it at the bottom and marked it incase you wanna skip it ❤️

(Not claiming to be an expert this is just for fun please don’t take anything too seriously!) Hope this is helpful and that you enjoy it 🥰❤️

Personality: Aquarius Sun, Aries Moon, Capricorn Mercury, Aquarius Mars

Aquarius Sun comes with lots of intrigue and lots of complexity - like the other air signs Aquarius is very adaptable and tends to prefer an “exciting life” (though earth signs tend to see this lifestyle as pure chaos lmao)

Aquarians tend to be intrigued by mystical things due to their very logical view of the world, this logical side can often lend to them coming off as cold or aloof but it’s less about that and more about their need to rule with the head and not the heart in order to avoid being thrown off the balance that they like (Aqua is a fixed sign) also they do NOT want to be hurt by people so the guard they have up towards the world is basically an iron curtain till they develop enough trust with you

Aries Moon is equally as spontaneous and adaptable but for a different motivation - Aries is bold and wants the most out of life and you can bet your bottom dollars they’ll do WHATEVER necessary to gain the lifestyle and goals they set for themselves.

But since they are naturally social butterflies and genuinely just want to have fun and encourage the people they love to reach for their dreams and have fun doing it, they tend to succeed rather easily since people are drawn to them. - All about confidence, bold styles, working hard because they NEED to be the best at whatever they do, but they definitely play hard too (as does every fire sign lmao)

As much as Aries and Aquarius like change and excitement - Capricorn Mercury does NOT. This adds a LOT of grounding and “tradition” to quick moving Aries and unconventional Asquarius.

Capricorn Mercurys are known to speak slow, quite monotonous and precise which I definitely have always felt about Changkyun. You’re not getting too much fluff or extra words from them because Capricorn finds it a waste of energy. They say what they mean when they mean it and not much else more. But this means they are good listeners and are very comfortable and unreliant on “attention” or “being in the spotlight” giving them added levels of independence. I also feel that this is why they are sooooo unbothered by other people’s opinions and friendship.

Aquarians straight up rather be alone than around fake people. They don’t care if they “fit in” with general norms because they don’t want to be like anyone else anyway lmao and they are interesting enough to keep themselves entertained. While Capricorn and Aries have places to go, people to see, and goals to crush so why the hell be worried about others???

Mixed with the other 2 placements it’s likely that his home is a serious sanctuary for him that he takes seriously. When he’s out in the world doing his busy schedules and chaotic traveling and work he’s happy and really feeding into the air and fire energy. But when he gets home it’s his Capricorn Mercury that is being nurtured and stimulated. He’s going to wanna hibernate there for a while without leaving especially if he’s been gone a long time. Could be either unbelievably messy or unbelievably neat but likely no inbetween with these placements lmao.

Aquarius Mars.... reminder that Aquarius is a fixed sign so this in Mars could mean one HELL of a temper or at least rage once he’s set off. But thankfully the Airy nature of Aqua means you’d really have to mess with him to get that kind of reaction because they generally really dislike being upset. They prefer staying content and neutral rather than having extreme feelings of any kind or it makes them veryyyyy edgy. If you can disagree with respect and if you provide logic instead of ego as your argument you’re likely to get a much better reaction from Aquarius

Relationships:

Non-Romantic Relationships & overall communication style: Aquarius Sun, Aries Moon, Capricorn Mercury, Aquarius Mars

Boy oh boyyyyyy he takes a LONG time to open up to people - 2 Aquarius placements and a Capricorn placement screamssssss trust issues and vulnerability issues

Capricorn doesn’t wanna sulk and talk about their problems so IF they trust you enough to come to you with an issue they want solutions and practical help and support

Is really cheered up by acts of service and quality time - watching a great movie even in complete silence just near each other on the couch in sweats tucked under cozy blankets or getting surprised with their favorite dinner can boost their mood instantly

Aries Moon as I said before is a natural in social situations and tends to draw attention even when they aren’t trying so he’s bound to come off a lot more open and friendly than he actually is. The deep stuff won’t come out till he REALLY knows and trusts you and even then… in SMALL increments

That said he’s a super fun friend to have - down for adventures, actually thinks about and puts effort into doing cool stuff with friends and loved ones

When it comes to friendships he shows care through quality time and acts of service

When he buys gifts for people he cares about they are BOMB - cool as fuck and either one or a combination of the following: one of a kind, meaningful as fuck, and/ or super expensive - most likely fashion, jewelry, something music related, or super cool stuff from his travels

Romantic relationships and preferences : Pisces Venus, Aquarius Mars, Aquarius Juno, Aries Eros

Lmao even MORE Aquarius and Aries energy

Ok into the main meat - these four placements are particularly interesting combo: 2 fixed air (Aqua), 1 mutable water (Pisces) and 1 Cardinal Fire (Aries)

Aqua Juno - generally hints at a pretty unconventional relationship and this can come in manyyyyy forms for the very unique and varied Aquarians (partnership without legal marriage, mixed race/culture couple, could even mean choosing a bachelor lifestyle over any normal type of relationship, etc.) - given that Changkyun seems quite close with his parents and his interest in kids I’d say he’s unlikely to choose the bachelor route.

For a lot of Aquarians unconventional can also come in the form of a very stimulating partner, they enjoy learning and expanding their minds and experiences which is why they tend to run towards challenges that others would run from. I think someone who shares similar passions but varied skills and/or background would fulfil that for him. Aquarius, Pisces and Aries like to be stimulated A LOT.

Pisces in Venus is a tricky placement - can be pretty hot and cold, lots of mixed signals, you should be ready to be stood up or flaked on atleast once in the beginning🙄) BUT if you actually manage to earn their trust and dedication they make very caring partners.

Pisces in Venus is art gallery and museum dates, binge watching documentaries especially murder mystery, and spending most of the summer near the closest body of water.

Aries Eros fantasizes about being in a partnership that others look at as a power couple but they’ll never admit it - they dream of a partner who is in awe of them and their accomplishments but has their own big goals and successes to cater to as well. They like people they can grow with as individuals and as a couple. Push and pull works really well with Aries (and the other two fire signs too honestly) they like the cat and mouse thing and they like to have time to miss & yearn for their partner especially the men - absence makes the heart grow fonder.

Love languages in order from most to least: quality time, physical touch, acts of service, gift giving

Aries is a strong sign and they want and need a real partner who respects and supports their independence and boss energy but also can nurture their softer more vulnerable side and be the strong one for them when they need it

***** 18+ Preferences ****

Ooof this should honestly come as a surprise to NO ONE but damn placements do NOT lie...Im Changkyun is one freaky ass boy

I mean ARIES EROS???? Let me spell that out for y’all: fucks you like he absolutely fucking hates you or ties you up like a present and edges you for hours till you’re crying

LOVES, let me repeat LOVES jealousy sex - whether it’s you being jealous of all the screaming thirsting fans he has or him being jealous of guys getting too close too you for his comfort - he is allllllllll about taking that energy directly into the bedroom ASAP (or a bathroom or even closet if it locks 🤐)

Could and WOULD makeout for hours on end - especially if he’s been drinking

The more you switch it up the more excited he is - with all them Aquarius placements it should be pretttyyyyyy often

Different positions, lingerie, role play - any and all of it excite him

With a partner he actually trusts and has feelings for I can see him being extremely open minded to trying things (though obviously EVERYONE has limits and boundaries)

Toys, blindfolds, handcuffs, whip cream, hot wax, spanking - all a STRONG yes

Get the strong feeling he has strong preference to use his mouth often - lots of kissing (passionate, needy, messy - sometimes more aggressive) , likes to give and receive hickeys, wants to kiss all over his partner’s body and LOVES oral both receiving and giving (and I get the feeling he’s TOO good at that 👀)

More willing to let his partner take control than you might think - he’s not a switch but he just doesn’t think you initiating or “being in control” makes him any less dominant. In fact it’s probably the opposite; you showing your desire to that point actually makes him feel MORE dominant and masculine

Literally could find anyone and everyone beautiful - is more attracted to people’s minds, spirit and energy than physical looks (BIG Pisces and Aquarian thing)

Gets turned on every single time he sees you in the crowd at one of his shows - makes him feel like you are the only two people in the world (drives his Aries Eros INSANE - gets a kick out of the slight power play of being on stage in front of so many people, as well as the secrecy and raw passionate energy of it all)

Tattoos, piercings, colorful wigs, or even just interesting jewelry paired with the right lingerie or outfit will have him 🤯- think short black see-through lace robe with nothing on underneath except a sparkling body chain dripping from your body....yep he’ll eat you like a main dish in .00000000023 seconds

Hope you enjoyed! 💕

[whump-town]

Ambushed

Warnings: attempt sexual assault and Emily's potty mouth

No Pairings

Summary: A bathroom break goes very, very wrong

It's whumptober so I have to at least try this month to make things awful. Also, this is for @olivinesea, who has been waiting on this fic for months... maybe longer

Hotch’s order had been for Reid to follow him, that it would be the two of them departing tomorrow morning at four a.m. for Charleston, West Virginia. The way Hotch had marched across the catwalk with his file spoke measures about his mood before his clipped tone did. The second Hotch roughly called his name Reid flinched, looking pleadingly to Emily. Knew he was the target and was pleading with her to find some way to save him. With a sigh of resignation, she leans her head into her palm, knows what she’s about to put herself through for the sake of Reid and Hotch.

If Hotch has a problem with her rather blatant insubordination, he doesn’t say anything about it. He comes in and sees her, her go-bag at her feet and two coffees in hand, and raises an eyebrow. Ultimately, he carries on his path towards their SUV. Sharing not a word just a glance that she takes to his equivalent of a motion for her to follow him. She knows his silence to be of low social battery drained by the early morning and fatigue, nothing personal.

Besides four a.m. is way too early to be talking to anyone.

It gives him time to think, to try and not sour this entire trip with his bull in a china shop mood. He’s just unsettled, has this awful feeling in his stomach that he’s grown accustomed to developing whenever they take cases in the mountains. It’s not that he is afraid of them, this isn’t a matter of ghosts or monsters, but there is so much uncertainty every time you enter them. He spent his entire childhood roaming the Appalachian Mountains, knows them by their many dimensions. Chasing squirrels, knee-deep in rotting leaves every fall. The cooling breeze sweeping through pine needles, snakes striking at ankles. The trees swaying to tunes unrecognizable to his ears. Hearing his mother’s voice calling his name, turning to find nothing but shadows. Knowing someone, something, is watching around every turn.

Quantico is about all the Virginia he can handle, the city nestled warmly where the southern Virginians rarely touch it but northern Virginians are everywhere to be seen. The accents not so thick and the city full of tourists-- people from Pennsylvania, New Jersey, New York, etc. Fewer woods to get lost in.

Charleston?

He’s going to be neck-deep in the mountains everywhere he looks.

Emily’s here so that’s bound to make this whole trip more interesting. With her annoying wit and much to be desired charm. It’s like she can feel him thinking about her. With a yawn Emily sits up in her chair, shooting a sleep-stained scowl at him. She rubs her fists into her eyes, attempting to force herself back to awareness. “That coffee went right through me,” she tells him, clearly annoyed. She’s prone to oversharing but, for some reason, with him, it’s so much worse. He assumes it’s just because she knows it exasperates him. Doesn’t anger him but he typically sighs and shakes his head.

Secretly, he likes it. The way she’ll invade his person like no one else has the courage to. Casually laying across the couch and putting her feet in his lap or leaning against him. Talking like they’re lifelong friends and not two people distantly connected for the last twenty years as enemies, tied together by their hatred for one another. Only recently having learned there’s something more, still a nice enough connection that binds them as friends.

She squirms in the seat, bladder a little too full to be comfortable. The darkness outside consumes every indicator of where they are on the road. She can hardly make out the tree lines and aside from yellow precautionary signs aligning them with the turns on the road, there are only thick, choppy clouds of fog. It’s a little after five-thirty so they still have to be in Virginia. “Where the fuck are we?”

He grunts, furrowing his eyebrows at her explosive fuck cutting so harrowingly through the peaceful silence. It’s not an unusual occurrence, he’s used to the way she effortlessly tears through the walls and caverns he builds up around himself. “Strasburg.”

She groans, “really?” She should have made Reid come on this stupid trip. She could still be in her own bed, pressing snooze and rolling back over. Instead, she’s got to pee so freaking bad and she doesn’t know if Hotch is in one of his “no stops” moods or not. He’s such an asshole about making stops when they’re on the road. “I’ve got to take a leak, boss, so… We’re looking at a bathroom stop soon or new detailing on these seats.” She looks down at the worn seats, runs her fingers over the loose seams and torn fabric. “Not that they couldn’t use it.”

He seems more agitated with her oversharing than with having to stop-- looks like a bathroom break in her future.

She stays silent for a few minutes, just watching what she can from outside her window until the next town comes into view. She shoots him a glance, wonders if he’s actually going to stop, and breathes a sigh of relief when he uses the turn signal, pulling them in that direction. There was no way she was going that long without a bathroom break.

Hotch pulls the car into park, frowning when he sees the lack of lights guiding their path to the gas station and even around the side of the building where he knows the bathrooms are bound to be. Leaving them standing in the dark facing the woods. She’s already unbuckling, moving quickly so she can go pee, but he beats her out of the car. Opens his door first and announces, “I’ll go with you.” She frowns, cuts his back a dirty, confused look but doesn’t say anything.

He’s already standing on her side of the car when she gets out, glaring ahead at the empty field and then towards the woods.

“So you do care,” she mumbles, bumping her shoulder against his. “You don’t want me to get eaten by a bear.”

He grunts, still half-distracted by the darkness and the threat it presents.

She’s imagining him fighting a bear. “You know,” she keeps his pace, curiously looking around as they go. “I think you’re a really tough guy,” she says, “but Hotch vs. A Bear just… I’m rooting for you, really, but I’m not stopping to see who wins. No offense. I think you’d put up a good fight but I think, as a general rule of thumb, watching your friends get mauled to death by Pooh does not fall into the typical bonding experiences that strengthen dynamics.” She’s rambling, not in the same way Reid would have. At least with Reid, Hotch would still likely have the semblance of not only control -- the timing to include himself in conversation -- but also a clue about what the in the world they’re even talking about.

She sees him glare at her and so she glares back, “I said no offense!”

“Go to the bathroom, Emily.”

She smiles as she makes her exit, feeling triumphant with herself. She’d seen that little smirk, not a quirk of lips detectable to the naked eye but the way his eyes had flipped up. Looking to the stars, eyes searching up and away from her. A Hotch smirk and the very best kind.

Distracted by the graffiti all over the walls she hears the faint thump of something outside and humorously wonders if it’s a bear. “Hotch v Bear”, round one, and she’s in the damn bathroom.

While she’s washing her hands her stomach growls and she wonders if he’ll end up following her into the gas station too if she goes in for a snack. The man’s a shadow when he’s worried. She’ll probably try to reach for a snack and find him right underfoot mean-mugging the cashier for no apparent reason. A snack though… She’s starving and maybe if she’s feeling feisty enough she’ll start an argument with him until he gets a snack too. It’ll entertain her for a while.

“Hey,” she frowns when she steps out of the bathroom and finds that he’s not there. Not leaning against the wall like she thought he’d be. “Jesus, did that bear really get the--”

A gun cocks in her ear, slow but unmistakable.

“Slowly put your service weapon on the ground and raise your hands.”

She’s frozen in the spot. Eyes glued to their shadows cast out far around them. Drawn out caricatures of them.

“Do it or I’ll kill your friend.”

It wasn’t a bear.

She reaches for her gun, steady and slow movements. Her fingers curl around the metal and she wonders if she’d be able to move fast enough. That there’s a good likelihood if Hotch isn’t within her line of sight that he’s already dead and if she doesn’t do something she will be too. But she can’t risk it.

“Rob!” the man grabs her gun before she’s got it on the ground. Jerks it back from her grasp. To their left, coming around the section of the building facing the woods and completely dark, another man steps out. He’s younger than she is, probably thirty-fiveish, and dressed in work gear. Jeans that have plaster and paint stains and a t-shirt that is stained to the point of no return. “Get the G-man.”

Rob nods, disappearing just as quickly as he’d appeared.

“Listen--” as soon as she can open her mouth the gun taps the back of her head. A sharp warning followed by the order to shut up. No negotiating then.

A grunt turns both their attentions to the side of the building. Hotch stumbles out before Rob. His hands bound in front of him by rope and when he looks up to find her she watches him blink blood out of his eyes. There’s an open wound across his forehead, blunt force trauma split the skin open and now the wound weeps fat crimson tears down his face. His mouth is taped shut, deep grey cutting into his pale mouth. He’s disoriented enough to fall, tripping over his legs as he’s shoved forward.

Rob keeps a gun pointed at his head the whole time but looks to the man behind her. Waiting for the next instruction and as the man gives them she watches Rob react the same she does. Whatever is happening here Rob is an accomplice but he’s not in charge.

“Walk.”

The gun nudges her forward. She bites back her anger, annoyed with this constant nudging business, but her voice is still laced with it. She can play even-tempered but it’s going to take more control than she wants. But she has to play along. Unless she wants to die tonight or, worse, watch Hotch die. “Where?” she asks “Tell me where I’m walking.”

“The woods,” her answer comes, grunted and annoyed. “Now walk.”

Rob pulls Hotch up to his feet (so he’s stronger than he looks, Emily notes) and pushes him forward again. Hotch manages to stay standing this time, bringing his bound hands to his face to swipe at the blood. The glimpse she gets of his blood-stained fingers is what brings her to motion. To be close enough to inspect the wound herself.

“Straight ahead.”

She steps forward, shivering as the wind blows and she’s reminded that despite it being the middle of June it’s likely only sixty degrees out here. Getting out of the car, she hadn’t been planning on being kidnapped. If she had maybe she would have grabbed her jacket. Her fault, she supposes lack of forethought on her part.

As she steps into his gait, the two of them shoulder to shoulder but not close enough that she thinks Rob or the other man will say anything she glances over at him. A look she means to use to articulate her worry and to ask if he’s forming a plan on how to get them out of this. She’s met with his blood-stained eyes. He doesn’t know how they’re getting out of this. It hits her hard, unforgivingly.

If he’d set his shoulders and sent that haggard, worn look she’d understand he thought they were up against fools not even worth the exertion of escaping from. That the bump on his head pissed him off more than hurt him. Something akin to annoyance would mean he already had his plan, she should wait for the cue. Here, in the place she’s searching for his tactile brilliance, is trauma. He’s locking it down behind walls as quickly as he can but she still sees it. Trapped, they’re trapped and he’s blanking on what to do.

Well, maybe he gets a little leeway. He did get hit in the head.

So, fine, she’ll do it herself.

Can you fight? Dave said it was creepy, the conversations they passed through glances, and now she’s hoping creepy is enough to keep them alive.

He looks back, one glance over his shoulder, and gives a sharp nod.

Good.

Next comes the part she’s not really sure how works. The part where she never actually says anything at all, they just move together. Concisely at the same time. She moves for the unknown man and Hotch knows to go for Rob. Both trusting that the other can handle their target. She can hear Hotch take Rob off his feet at the same time her body smacks into the unknown man. The air is taken from her body, leaving her to pause for a dangerous second as her body fights to get it back. His elbow swings sharply into her cheek, smacking dancing lights behind her eyelids.

She’s trained for this kind of stuff. This shouldn’t be so hard.

It’s a bit of a panic, throwing her hands down. Just punching down blindly and hoping the blows land.

There’s a gunshot-- it takes her too long to recognize the sound. Her ears ring and her body aches. The wrangling limbs, the man underneath her, stops as they all identify who it is overcoming as the largest threat.

It’s Rob, blood-flecked across his face.

Hotch’s blood splattered across his face.

Emily screams, disembodied as she throws herself towards Rob but she’s stopped, grabbed by the hair, forced back down through the leaves, and sticks. The leverage pins her to the man’s chest, both pulled upright. All she can do is stumble back. She’s immobilized by the forearm he presses against her windpipe. “I oughta kill you,” he growls, smacking the gun against her temple. Not enough to draw blood but it cracks, makes the area of her scalp throb. “Stupid fucking bitch,” he pulls her tighter, ignores her fingers scratching at his skin as he cuts off her ability to breathe. “Both of you. I should have just killed both of you in that damn bathroom. Started with the G-man and I could have had hours, until day-light, with you trapped in that bathroom.”

He eases his hold on her not out of preservation of life but in his realization that he’s angry with himself for being so reckless. He and Rob had never had problems before. One woman wasn’t all that hard to control and after seeing Hotch and Emily walking so close, bumping together they thought it could be fun. Force him to watch and see if that makes this any more fun. To see him bargain for her life or sit there lifeless in his resignation that he could do nothing.

But Hotch was stronger than he looked.

“No!” her voice is scratchy from the pressure had against her throat. Combined with her desperation it cracks, pops like roaring embers in a hearty fire. “Stop! You’re killing him! Get off of him!”

Rob has Hotch pinned to the ground, his hands around his throat.

The other man holds Emily still, prevents her from being able to pull herself away. This isn’t how he’d intended for this to go but, he has to admit, this is fairly interesting as well. He’d expected it to be G-man that was forced to break. A big strong guy like him doesn’t take losing well. Feeling Emily shiver and cry in his arms is nice. Her desperation hums in his veins, arousing him in a way he hadn’t anticipated. He doesn’t want to lose that just yet.

“Get off of him, Rob.”

Hotch’s arms are still bound, all Rob had to do was push him over. It was over in a flash, leaving Hotch face down in the dirt one second and watching the trees above him fade out as Rob pushed down harder against his windpipe, his fingers digging into his neck. He couldn’t move. Unable to do anything more than turn and twist his hips, his arms pressed into his groin where Rob had immobilized them the second he threw his hips over Hotch’s.

Rob doesn’t let go, not immediately. He pushes down a little harder, wants to feel the snap of the other man’s neck but his name is called again. This time, not the light order the first had been. Rob doesn’t release Hotch and with an annoyed huff, the other man raises a gun. Emily cries out again, stunned by the gun right by her head, and flinches falls with a crash to the floor when the trigger is pulled. Her head a roaring buzz, trying to swivel its way off her neck. No matter how hard she pressed down on her ears she feels the throbs of pain as if her head was swelling. The world pulsing.

Rob’s dead.

She looks up and she’s looking right into his eyes. Shocked and open, not expecting the betrayal of his partner.

“Hey beautiful,” the other man crouches down beside her. Takes advantage of her confusion, of her shock. Her friend dead. Knowing she’ll follow soon after. “You never told me your name, you know. I’m Mark.” He strokes her hair back from her face, pushes her down to the ground.

Fighting is futile.

She had a chance with Hotch. Their odds nearly even, two against two. Even tied up and bleeding, they’re a threat that can’t be replicated and certainly not by an Unsub. Not one who takes women from gas station bathrooms in the ugly hours of the morning. Not ones dumb enough to take federal officers.

But it’s over.

It’s over and Hotch is dead.

“Don’t cry,” Mark whispers against her throat. He wipes her tears away with the back of his finger, shaking his head and mockingly comforting her. “But,” he holds her head, tenderly cupped in his palm. “You’re so pretty when you cry.”

Emily turns her head from Mark’s hand, finds herself looking at Hotch. His still body, head turned away from her. This is how it ends. Hotch dead and she’s powerless. She’s left his turned cheek, even he can’t bear to see. So she looks to the scar under his ear from New York, the hearing he lost and never fully recovered. A scab from shaving this morning. His hairline, the greys that were popping up around his temples and ear. Still sparse enough that he doesn’t look aged by them. And the blood. The wound Rob inflicted on him in their initial meeting. It doesn’t bleed now, it hadn’t been agitated in their fight. Color had started to creep into its edges, bruising to further demonstrate its anger in having been disturbed so violently.

Now he’s just dead.

She tries not to make a sound when Mark gets her pants undone, tries to make out unaffected. His hand cups at her hip, cold fingers curled around her. There’s a certain level of invisibility she’d felt on the other side of the yellow tape. After years of having used her body to get things, to win Ian Doyle’s trust and eventually his secrets, she’d thought herself too clever for this. Got too comfortable, perhaps. Surrounded by the likes of Hotch and Dave and Spencer and Derek. How many times had she stripped down to just an undershirt, leaned in too close over one of their shoulders just because she felt comfortable? Knew they wouldn’t hurt her.

But she’s losing.

After all the ways she’d won, all the ways she’d found victories in men’s selfish desires, and now she’s laying in the woods. She’s losing.

She’s going to die too.

But she doesn’t.

She jerks, unprepared for the sudden sharp pain across her temples. Her hands coming up to protect her ringing ears and not expecting the dead weight of Mark over top her. She writhes away, feels something hot and wet landing on her breast, sliding down her ribs. Sticks and rocks push against her shoulders but she fights with a terrified panic, crying in her blinding fear. Her fist connects hard with an audible crack of bone against bone and everything stops.

She pushes herself up and back, the back of her hand swiping through blood and sweat across her face. Leaves give beneath her, too slick with dew to hold properly as she moves backward. Sticks dig into her skin. Rocks turn over as she kicks them. Until she’s got an actual picture of what’s happening. Until her brain can work over details.

Mark is on his chest. His head split open, a terrifying weeping wound. Shot.

“Hotch?” she’s removed. Only partially aware of things as she takes them in. Of Mark’s death. Of the damp ground beneath her. Of the chill in the air. Of her own pounding heart. Of Hotch laid out on his back, eyelashes fluttering but open. Gasping sounds -- from her and from Hotch. His chest rising quickly with his shallow breathes.

Her knees scream smart pain as rocks and twigs dig into her flesh, deadened leaves chilled by the night’s air seeping through the material of her pants. She doesn’t even realize she’s moving, it’s automatic. It’s uncontrolled. “Hotch?” she touches his cold skin, taps at his cheek an indistinct beat she hopes will raise him from whatever unconscious solace he’s found. He breathes, shallow but audibly as his body tries to work again.

She touches his throat, grazes her fingers against miserable, chilled skin. He’s alive. Despite all the odds. Despite what she’d seen. Alive.

She cries as she leans forward, pressing their temples together. Cheek to cheek, their cold skin warm against one another. “I thought you were dead,” she sobs, fully allowing herself now to break. To feel the terror and isolation she’d felt thinking he was gone. Killed right in front of her. “You fucking bastard,” she holds onto his clothes, feels his hand come up and his fingers fumble to grasp her. To feel her alive and well. “I thought you were dead.”

He lets out a huff of breath, as close to relived laughter as he can manage. “Me too.”

She pulls back just enough to look down at his face, his pale lips twitching up and the blood caked across the side of his face. “I’m never going on a road trip with you again,” she says.

He nods, breathlessly whispering, “fair.”

She shivers, the breeze picking up. “Can you walk?” They can’t be that far from the car. She’s already pushing her hands into his pants pockets before he can answer, in search of the keys. Distracted to the point that she misses when he shakes his head. When he admits things are a little worse than what she thinks. “What do you mean--” and she looks down, his left hand shakily lifting off his abdomen.

“Shit!” she pushes his hand back over the wound. The first thing that comes to mind is to ignore the problem but that’s not very rational. “Why couldn’t it have been a bear?” That seems like it really beats watching him bleed out in the woods. She lowers her head, turns away from him for a second. She can’t lose her cool. He just saved her and now she has to return the favor. At this point, she refuses to go home without him.

Her earlier remark about bonding has aged like milk.

Something cold nudges her hand just faintly grazes her fingers. Despite everything they’ve been through in the last hour she still flinches, tries to move her hand away from what she suspects is a spider. There are sticks poking her back and ass but she’ll be damned if she’s going to become a jungle gym for a spider to crawl all over. Except she looks down and finds fingers, Hotch’s right hand pushing at her fingers.

It’s candy. Slowly, trying to find her courage and work through her panic, she lifts her palm back up. Looks at the stark contrast of his white mint on the decaying leaves.

She laughs.

They say nothing and yet they share an entire conversation. All glances, his pain pinching at the corners of his eyes, fatigue weighing him down quickly, and her slight humor over his grandpa candy. The mint is crushed, it hadn’t survived their rough journey well. “Are you trying to tell me my breath stinks?” she asks, tilting her head and raising an eyebrow to dare him. A playful sort of smirk on her lips as she declares, “Because I swear to God, I’ll punch you in the balls, Hotch.”

He smirks and as he opens his mouth a branch cracks, a flashlight shines right into their eyes.

“Hands up!”

Emily raises her hand to cover her eyes, wincing. “We’re -- We’re federal agents!” The flashlight lowers just a bit, enough so that she can see it’s a man standing before her.

“Your buddy hurt?” he asks.

Emily looks down, Hotch is already looking back at her. He’s shivering now and she knows whatever is about to happen is all on her. “Shot,” she answers. “Some guys they… they ambushed us? Dragged us out here.”

The man nods, “can he walk?”

She looks back down, Hotch’s eyes sinking shut, fighting to stay open. “I -- I don’t know? Maybe?” No. No, but she’ll drag his ass out of here if she has to.

“Alright,” the man steps forward, and Emily tenses. “I ain’t gonna hurt you little lady but you ain’t getting that big fella up without some help.”

Hotch remembers very little of what happens next. Standing seems to pull all of the blood from his body, at least there isn’t any in his head. Everything is confusing, a strange man is on his left and Emily on his right. He wakes up in a truck bed, rocking back and forth. His head in Emily’s lap and the cold wind grabbing at the blanket pulled under his chin. “We’re almost there, Hotch. Just hold on.” But she sounds like she’s underwater. Far away.

And then everything is still.

“And that’s how I saved us.”

He follows the sound of the voice over to his right, to Emily. She’s sitting up in bed, legs curled underneath her. There’s a chunk of gauze taped to her temple but she’s not wearing a hospital gown. She looks good, nearly restored to the Emily Prentiss he’s used to seeing around the office. The others are gathered around her, Dave smirking at what must have been a rather grandiose retelling of what happened.

“Technically,” he rasps, “I saved you first.”

Emily’s face betrays the first thing she feels hearing him. He’s been laying there for four days, unresponsive. He’d been on a ventilator the first two days. Throat nearly swollen shut from Rob’s attack, bruised badly. But now his eyes are open and he’s challenging her, picking a fight having been awake a whole minute. She's weirdly thrilled to see him glaring at her, too high and too exhausted to hide it.

“Are we really going to start keeping score?” she asks.

His eyes burn, they’re too heavy to keep open. He lets them slide shut, smirking still. A moment passes, maybe longer, and he feels a hand take his. Plastic sitting uncomfortably against his palm. It takes him a moment, the drugs trying so hard to pull him back under. It’s the mint he’d given her.

She doesn’t smile now, they share no knowing glances.

He hums, closing his hand around the mint.

“Considers us even,” she whispers.

He manages to crack his eyes open just a sliver, voice is completely gone but she just barely make out what he says: “not a chance.”

[tinyboxxtink]

"Weird Secret Friends" *Chapter 14*

Chapter 13

Chapter 15

This chapter literally took me all day, and it's kinda super long, but since I'm only going to 15 it had to be done. Also, I wanted to get a certain part and all the bullshit detail action needs to be written before we get there so I just kept writing to get there. Lulz.

Tag List

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@mrsrafaelbarba

Okay and can I just say about the Goodbye Love thing it was in my head since I had her say "I need to go away".

This was supposed to be the preview:

Mimi Please don't touch me Understand I'm scared I need to go away

Mark I know a place - a clinic

Benny A rehab?

Mimi Maybe - could you?

Benny I'll pay

And this is for chapter 15: Mimi Goodbye love Goodbye love Came to say goodbye, love, goodbye Just came to say Goodbye love Goodbye love Goodbye love Hello disease....

*DUN DUN DUNNNN*

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

The next thing you knew you were waking up in another room. This one was more lavish and beautiful; the sunset was peeking through green silk curtains with a matching chaise lounge. You were now in pink silk pajamas as opposed to a hospital gown, and you weren’t hooked up to near as many wires. Just a pack attached to your arm linked to your sides.

“What the…?” You cautiously crept out of bed, examining the room.

So many questions flew through your mind at that moment. How did you get here? Where exactly were you? Who the hell changed you while you were passed out? It was too much to imagine. You walked over to the full length mirror and examined yourself. You were still semi pale, but you looked pretty damn good for just having surgery this morning.

You walked back towards your bed where your phone was laying on the nightstand. You went to check your messages when you saw the date-- it had been three days. THREE DAYS?

“What the actual fuck--?” You muttered.

Were you in a Black Mirror episode? How did you lose three whole days of your life?! You began to panic, making you pace the room. Wasn’t there a button you could do? You quickly looked around the room for anything, but all you found was a TV remote.

“Oh are you fucking--” You started to curse the world when you saw a little drawing of a nurse on one of the buttons. You frantically pushed it until a girl who looked like she was a nurse out of a porno as opposed to a hospital came running in.

“Oh my god, I thought you were like, dying or something,” She rolled her eyes and twirled her hair like she was a teenage stereotype.

“Where the hell am I? Why am I---”

“Okay you need to like, chill babe,” Nurse Betty put her hands up. “

“I’m not your babe, mmkay pumpkin? We are not friends,” You pushed her hands down. “Now why don’t you get your little chart and explain to me what’s going on in the Twilight Zone?”

“Alright, well--” She whipped out a mini tablet from her scrubs and flipped through it. “You got here three days ago with an order to keep you in a medically induced coma-- Ooooh, wow that sounds like some soap opera shit. Where your organs harvested on the black market?”

“WHAT?” You grabbed the tablet. That DID sound like some soap opera shit. “You read the tablet, all it said was the details about the coma and then FILES SEALED.

“Can you-- unlock this, please?” You shoved the tablet back in her hands.

“Um no, you need a supervisor for that babe,”

“Can you please get someone to unlock this then, BABE?” Your eye began to twitch from stress.

“Yeah, sure I’ll try,” She shrugged and walked back out of the room. You continued to pace faster now, googling “HARVESTED ORGANS ON THE BLACK MARKET”, when a doctor came in wearing navy blue scrubs, looking like Derek Shepherd.

“Well hey there, beautiful,” He grinned at you.

“...What is happening?” You muttered, staring at him. He was gorgeous, you’d probably be more flustered if you weren’t so freaked out and pissed off.

“What kind of soap opera hospital is this?!” You scowled.

“Hey, just because we take care of ourselves around here doesn’t mean it’s Grey’s Anatomy up here,” He made a face.

“...Could’ve fooled me, McDreamy,”

“....Just because my name is Derek doesn’t mean I’m that tool,” He frowned.

“Oh my god you’re kidding me right?” You had to laugh at the irony.

“You’re probably just grumpy because you haven’t eaten for three days,” He patted your head. “How about a nice filet mignon?”

“Wha…?” You looked around the room in disbelief. “How about you tell me where I am and how I got here?”

“You’re at Whistling Pines Hospital and Rehabilitation Center in Hartford Connecticut, Miss Y/N,”

“Connecticut?!” You gasped. “Sonny said it was just upstate New York. Jesus Christ he sent me out of state?!”

“Calm yourself,” Derek put a hand on your shoulder. “We’re basically on the state line, Mr. Carisi didn’t send you to Siberia,”

“...And why exactly was I brought here against my will?” You crossed your arms.

“Against your will?” He snorted. “Your paperwork says you requested to be out while you recovered so you wouldn’t be tempted to ask for pain meds or anything. Part of the detox, you understand,”

“Detox?” Your face scrunched. “Seriously? So...so now what, you escort me down to the padded room now that I’m healed?”

“No, no of course not,” He shook his head. “Our rehab rooms are much nicer than this. And yours is all ready for you,”

“....Yeah, alright,” You shrugged, looking around the room.

“Wonderful,” He gave you another 100 watt smile before opening the door and motioning you to follow him. You walked for a while through what seemed like a normal hospital wing, then you came to two large doors that said “REHABILITATION WING”.

Derek opened it and let you go through first, into a beautiful lobby. The walls were made of marble, there was a koi pond with a waterfall in the middle of it, sparkling water stations next to big leather chairs. It was like a spa.

“Wow...” You whispered as you admired it while you walked.

“Yes, I know,” He chuckled. “It’s quite impressive, isn’t it?”

“Yeah…” You began to feel guilty; how much was this costing Sonny? This place looked like it cost the down payment on a house to stay in. You followed Derek down a hallway that looked like a hotel room hallway more than a rehab center, until he stopped at a door labelled 312.

“Ah here we are,” He opened the door and let you go inside first once again. It was an even more lavish room than you woke up in. A nice king bed with fluffy pillows and silk comforters were covered with extra blankets if you needed them. There was a huge sofa in front of a large screen TV, and a little kitchenette with a small fridge, cabinets, a dishwasher, and a microwave.

“....Wow,” You continued to stare in awe at the luxurious amenities this place had.

“Indeed,” Derek smiled. “Now, the TV comes loaded with digital cable and all the streaming services. Our WIFI password is LIVELAUGHLOVE, the fridge is stocked with organic, healthy foods only, but if you’d like to request something you can give our front desk a ring,”

You just nodded as you checked out the room.

“Now,” He cleared his throat. “For the icky part,”

“...The icky part?” You sputtered with a sarcastic smile. “Where did you go to medical school, Sesame Street?”

“Ha ha,” He rolled his eyes. “You will need to stay in your room at all times unless it’s social time, or group time. We do have several common areas such as a pool and a gym, but you’ll need to schedule times to use them, you can’t just walk around on your own,”

“Ah,” You nodded. “So it is a prison, just a very nice prison,”

“It’s not a prison, Miss Y/N,” He shook his head. “Not for you, anyway,”

“Really? Because it sounds like--”

“Your cousin did pay for your residency here, but you’re not under a court order or anything so you’re not confined here. Most of our residents have to be here several months before they’re even allowed out of their rooms at all, you should consider yourself lucky,”

“...Right,” You rolled your eyes. “Where is my cousin, anyway?” You asked. “Is he back at the hospital in New York?”

“Excuse me?” He looked at you in confusion. “I’m not sure I understand,”

“Oh I guess it’s been a few days,” You thought out loud. “He must have gone home by now,”

“...Well I’d sure hope so,” He chuckled.

“So..” You took a seat on the couch. “What am I doing now, warden?”

“Well like I said, I can have food sent up to you if you’re hungry,” He explained as he handed you your own tablet. “We have these for you so you can browse our menu for food and amenities,”

“Mmmkay…”

“Tomorrow’s social time is at 10 am, and your group therapy is at noon,”

“..Uh huh,” You nodded as you absent mindedly flipped through the menu.

“It’s mandatory,” He added.

“...Right,”

“Wonderful,” He beamed. “Now your bathroom is there, obviously,” He nodded to a door on the other side of the room. “It has a shower with three different pressures, and a spa bathtub. I recommend you take a long hot bath and relax, the first night is usually the hardest to get used to.

“Right…”

“Alright well I’ll leave you to it,” He nodded at you with another dreamy smile.

He walked out and left you to your own devices. You walked over to the drawers and pulled them out. They were full of your clothes, how did they get these so fast? It was so bizarre all of this happened while you were out, it really did seem like some kind of episode out of Dynasty or something.

You decided to call Sonny and get some things sorted out. You picked up your phone and dialed his number and let it ring.

“Oh hey...you, how you feelin’?”

“I’m good,” You went and sat on the bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Me? I’m good,”

“Really? Not sore or anything?”

“What? OH-- Yeah, y’know, of course, obviously,”

“...Thanks so much for this, Sonny. It’s gorgeous here,”

“Anytime….sweetie,”

“Is um, is Rafael doing better? Do you know?”

“Uh he’s...he’s fine, I’m sure,”

“...Well that’s good,”

“I’ll be up there next week to see you, you hang in there okay?”

“...Yeah, alright,”

“Night darlin’, you sleep well. I love you,”

“Love you too,”

Sonny hung up the phone and glanced over at Rafael who was busy writing his closing arguments for their case tomorrow.

“....Who was that?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Niece,” He lied.

“Mmm,”

“...How are you feelin’, by the way Barba?”

“Carisi, we’re not discussing anything personal, ever again. I told you that,” He grumbled, not looking up from his desk. He winced in pain every so often when he pulled on his stitches while writing.

“...Right,” He nodded sadly. He did feel guilty about all of this, but he knew in a few weeks it wouldn’t matter. You’d both forget about each other and move on, it was for the best.

--------

The next day you woke up and felt this overwhelming sense of dread. It was like everything had finally caught up to you, all the memory of how you got here came back to you. You missed Rafael almost immediately, Sonny’s words about how you had traumatized him rang in your head.

You wanted so desperately to call him and apologize, tell him how you would have never hurt him on purpose, and that all you wanted to do was make it up to him-- but you knew you had no way of doing that, and there was nothing you could do about it.

Your tablet began to go off, alarms for SOCIAL TIME were set on it. You tried to turn it off, but apparently a counselor had to do it when you arrived. Sneaky bastards. You sighed and pulled on some PJ pants, trying to ignore the blaring sound. You stomped out of your room and down the hall, down some stairs to a huge room labelled “REC ROOM.”

“Welcome Y/N!” A bright and cheery nurse came over and greeted you. “We have lots of activities for you here,” She began to show you around. “We have arts and crafts, several board games, and the Cards Against Humanity rounds get quite rowdy!”

“...Right,” You nodded softly, feeling more and more hopeless as you saw all the other “residents” mingling-- and by mingling, meaning most of them were walking around like soulless zombies. Was this your life now?

----

One Week Later

“Hey…” You saw Rafael laying down in front of you, reaching out for your hand. You took it, not believing this was real.

“I love you, Y/N…” He smiled at you, his green eyes sparkling.

“I love you too Rafael..”

You shot up in bed, it happened again. You had been having the same dream ever since you had gotten to Whistling Pines. It felt so real, especially when you touched his hand. And you always woke up alone, stuck in your prison. Never to see Rafael ever again; It was torture. No matter how fancy the prison was, it was still a prison. You looked at the clock on your bedside table- 3:30 am. You wondered what Rafael was doing at that moment-- well, probably sleeping, duh. Or maybe he was up late, working on law stuff.

You wondered if he was thinking about you, if he ever thought about you. He didn’t seem angry the last time you saw him, in fact you were pretty sure you remembered him holding you and crying. Well, like Sonny said he was probably just upset having to see someone like that again. But-- something inside told you that you didn’t leave on bad terms. Maybe you had been too quick to just delete and block his number. But it was too late to do anything about that now. You laid back down and cried yourself back to sleep for the fifth time that night.

=============

Two weeks later

Sonny drove up to Hartford early Friday morning, hoping to get back to the city that night. He signed in at the front desk, muttering obscenities under his breath. He paced the lobby waiting for you, trying to keep his calm. Finally you emerged from the big double doors: You were dressed in a t-shirt that used to be tight, but now it draped on your shoulders. Your hip hugger jeans were more like men’s jeans, hanging off your pelvis. Your hair was pulled into a messy ponytail and you had no makeup on. You walked over to Sonny who crossed his arms at the sight of you.

“Hey, Sunshine…” He pulled you into a tight hug, your face barely moved into a small smile.

“Can we talk?” He asked as he led you to one of the leather couches.

“Sure,” You nodded like a robot as you sat next to him.

“So Sunshine,” He sighed. “They tell me you haven’t uh, been doin’ so hot,”

“Oh, have they?” You mumbled, playing with a hole in your jeans.

“Yeah they said you’re not eating, you skip the group, you won’t talk to anybody,” He put a hand on your knee. “Is everything okay? Is it your new liver? The diabetes kicking yer ass?”

“...No, I’m fine,” You shrugged feebly.

“....Seriously?” He removed his hand, his soft tone gone. “So, nothing’s wrong with you physically? You’re just being a brat?”

“Excuse me?” You suddenly blinked in surprise.

“Here I came up here because I was worried somethin’ was really wrong with you, like you were rejecting the donation or-- or the trauma was too much, but you’re tellin’ me you just won’t cooperate?” He snapped at you.

“...What do you want me to say, Sonny? Sorry?” You snarked back.

“I want you to tell me why!” He tried not to yell but this was ridiculous. “Do you know how expensive this place is?!”

“Oh wow,” You scoffed. “Well I’m sorry my recovery is so expensive for you, Son,”

“It’s not even recovery, Y/N! You’re-- You’re just laying around here like a fuckin’ angsty teen!” He barked. “Why aren’t you trying? Don’t you wanna get outta here and get back to your life?”

“Maybe I don’t!” You yelled and stood up. “Maybe I don’t care about getting out of here, or not. There’s no point anymore,”

“What?” Sonny furrowed his brows. “Why not?”

“...Because,” You looked down at the floor.

“Oh for fuck’s sake…” Sonny threw up his hands, finally standing up himself. “Is this about Barba, really Y/N? You knew him for a few fuckin’ days, gimme a fuckin BREAK,”

“He was wonderful to me, Sonny! He was wonderful and loving and caring and YOU made me go off on him, and then I--” You paused, tears caught in your throat. “I fucking traumatized him. I hurt him so badly he didn’t even want to see me when i was dying,”

“I mean-- how bad of a person am I?!” You tried not to break down in the lobby. “I shouldn’t be allowed to be around anyone anymore, I just destroy things. Hurt people. I shouldn’t be around anyone,”

“Oh Jesus Christ,” Sonny sighed. “You need to stop, alright? If you actually tried to get better, you wouldn’t--”

“I don’t want to get better!!!!” You flat out stomped your foot, not caring about making a scene now.

“Y/N, tough love time. You need to get your shit together and forget about Barba, alright? I can’t keep paying for you to stay here--” He put both hands on your shoulders.

“So let me out,” You glared at him.

“....And if I let you out, are you going to stay sober?” He gave you a suspicious look.

“Nope,” You said with a smirk.

“Y/N come the fuck on,” He threw up his hands.

“What?” You crossed your arms. “I’m being honest. So either you keep wasting your money here, or let me go,”

“And what, let you kill yourself?” He asked angrily.

“...Maybe,” You muttered.

“Sunshine, come here--” Sonny went to wrap you in a hug, his t-shirt caught up on yours causing it to pull up on his torso. Your eyes went wide when you caught sight of it, letting go of him.

“....Where’s your scar?” You blinked in disbelief, trying to wrap your head around what you were seeing.

“What?” He began to panic.

“Your scar,” You pulled your t-shirt to reveal your own scar from the transplant. “You should have one,”

“Oh, Um--” Sonny began to rack his brain for an explanation, but your brain was moving faster.

“.....You didn’t give me part of your liver, did you?” You pulled away from him.

“Uh well--” He sighed “Not exactly, no,”

“Then who did?” You eyed him accusingly.

“They got you an anonymous--”

“Oh don’t even give me that shit, Sonny,” You stopped him. “This-- this whole thing, when I got here. It felt so much like, like a set up. A soap opera plot,”

“A soap opera?” Sonny laughed. “Come on Sunshine, don’t--”

“Why did you ship me here so fast, Sonny?” You asked, your brain now on a roll.

“What?” He half laughed. “So that you could get started early--”

“No,” You stopped him. “You could have just let me come here on my own, CONSCIOUS,”

“Well I just wanted you to skip the DT’s--” He tried to think of a defense.

“DT’s don’t happen to you if you get drunk ONCE, Sonny!” You raised your voice.

“Well how was I supposed to--” He looked around nervously.

“Who really gave me their liver, Sonny?” You narrowed your eyes.

“I told you, I don’t--” He began to lie again.

“I’ll look it up,” You threatened, making his eyes go wide.

“Y-You can’t do that,” He protested.

“Why wouldn’t you want me to?” You challenged him.

“...Because--”

“Rafael did, didn’t he?” You weren’t letting him think of any more lies.

“Look Y/N, he just wanted to help you out so that you wouldn’t die, like his dad. He couldn’t save him so he saved you. Doesn’t that sound like him?”

You had to admit, it really did. But why lie about it?

“So why didn’t you tell me that, Sonny? Why tell me you did it? Why didn’t you just tell me he did it to be nice, and not that he hated me?”

“I never said he hated you--”

“If you lied to me about that, what else have you been lying to me about?” You put your hands on your hips.

“What?”

“Oh my god…” You started to remember your recurring dream. “It was real, it was real. I know it was real!”

“...What was real?” His eyebrows furrowed.

“I keep having this dream where Rafael is across from me lying on a table, and he tells me that he loves me. And I know that happened I know it did,” You explained.

You were absolutely sure of it now. So many thoughts were running through your mind, you hated that you didn’t remember any of this before.

“What?” Sonny laughed again. “Sunshine it’s just a dream, don’t you think you would remember something like that?”

“They...they gave me something before I went into the OR,” You looked off into nowhere as you tried desperately to recall that morning. “The nurse called it…’giggle juice’,”

“Giggle juice?” Sonny rolled his eyes.

“Did you make them give me that too?!” You went for his collar, but a nurse came out of nowhere to hold you back.

“Wha who whoa, Sunshine calm down,” Sonny waved the nurse off of you. “I got her, thanks ma’am,”

“I didn’t tell them to give you anything,” He said softly.

“Yeah, just to keep me out for three days so I wouldn’t ever see Rafael before you sent me here,” You accused him.

“...Not true…” He shook his head.

“Why wouldn’t you want me to talk to him, Sonny?” Tears choked your throat.

“He didn’t want to talk to you--”

“Bullshit!” You stomped your foot, eyeing the nurse who had her eye on you in case you lost it on Sonny again.

“Bullshit, were you scared he was going to tell me what you were really doing? That you were trying to keep us apart?” Tears began dripping from your cheeks. You couldn’t believe this was happening, you couldn’t believe you could have been with Rafael this entire time.

“No!” He protested, his eyes darting back and forth. “No, I--”

“I don’t believe you!” You pushed him, the nurse stepped forward but you put your hands up in defeat. “You’re keeping him from me right now, aren’t you?”

“What?”

“That’s why you sent me so far, he has no idea where I am, and he wants to know doesn’t he? He wasn’t traumatized by my ‘incident’, he’s traumatized he lost me!” You hated that you cried when you got angry, it made you so much less intimidating.

“Traumatized is a strong word, Y/N…” Sonny rolled his eyes.

“Y’know what Sonny,” You shook your head while you wiped your eyes. “I’ll make you a deal. You bring Rafael here, and I’ll try to get better,”

“...I can’t,” He looked at the floor.

“Wha--Are you serious?” You half laughed sarcastically. “You’d rather me rot in here than--”

“I don’t know where he is, Y/N,” He looked up at you seriously.

“...What?” You asked, not wanting to know the answer.

“He…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “He left,”

“What do you mean ‘he left’?” You air quoted left.

“He went on some campaign trail, Hilary I think. He took off across the country, I literally have no idea where he is right now,” He explained.

“Why would he do that?” You asked.

“I don’t know, he said he had to get out of the city--” He shrugged.

“And you couldn’t imagine why?” You gave him a knowing look.

“Oh puh-lease Y/N, he’s not a drama queen like you--” He stopped, thinking about it. “Okay well he might be a drama queen but--”

“You can call him,” You pointed to his pocket.

“I can’t,” He looked down at the ground once again.

“WHY NOT?!” You were getting fed up with him.

“He was….he was super pissed at me for keeping you apart, alright? You’re right. He...he changed his number when he took off, he wants nothing to do with me,”

“So he’s just...gone?” Your voice cracked.

“Sunshine, I promise you. In a few weeks you won’t care about him, and you’re gonna wanna get out of here,”

“Why, you're gonna start adding memory pills to my regiment too?” You scoffed with angry tears in your voice.

“Jesus,” He rolled his eyes. “No, because you’re 22 and you can fall in and out of love like that,” He snapped his fingers.

“No I won’t,” You shook your head. “You’re gonna have to let me out of here or I’ll die in here,”

“God you’re such a--” Sonny sighed in frustration. “I can get them to get you to eat, y’know that right?”

“Do it!” You dared him. “Start treating me like some kind of mental patient, control my life like you think you need to,”

“...I can’t deal with this,” He waved his hands and started to walk away. “I’ll be back in a few weeks, I’m sure you’ll be over this by then,”

“Don’t count on it,” You stomped back into the ward.

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

A week later

You let the night nurse into your room, she brought your meds and a nightly snack.

“Well, are you excited for tomorrow?” She asked, making conversation.

“...What’s tomorrow?” You asked as your downed your pills.

“Your last day!” She smiled.

“...What?” You quirked an eyebrow.

“Well, honey you’re not here on a court order or probation, and your cousin only paid for 30 days. So, you’re leaving tomorrow!”

“You’re just...you’re just letting me go??” You asked in disbelief.

“You’re not happy about that? I’m sure we could talk to your--” She started.

“No!” You stopped her. “No, No I’m totally excited, ready to get back to real life,”

“Good!” She smiled and patted your head. “Make sure you’re all packed, we’ve already filled this room once you leave,”

“...Of course you have,” You rolled your eyes.

She left and you began to frantically pack, ready to get out of here as fast as possible. You would find Rafael on your own, you knew you could.

----------

Sonny’s phone went off while he was out on a call, he saw it was Whistling Pines so he excused himself from the scene and answered it.

“Hello?”

“Yes, Mir. Carisi? This is Sylvia at Whistling Pines, we were just checking on Miss Y/N,”

“....Why would you be checking on her? Don’t you have her?”

“...No sir, she checked out a few days ago,”

“WHAT?!”

“Well it had been 30 days and you had only paid for a month--”

“So you just let her leave?! Why would you do that?!”

“Well sir, for one she’s a grown woman who’s a law abiding citizen, she wasn’t committed here by any kind of law enforcement. And like I said you only paid--”

“For a month,” He growled. “That’s all that matters to you people, isn’t it?”

“Well sir, this is a very expensive--”

“Where did she go?”

“What do you mean where did she go? She left with you,”

“Uh she sure as hell did NOT,”

“...Well she got in a car with a man…”

“Oh my god,” Sonny almost dropped the phone. “I swear to God if something happens to her because of you people I will sue you SO fast--”

“Okay no need to get hysterical,” She began to panic. “Why don’t you just come here and we’ll figure it out…”

“No I think you’ve done enough,” He growled before hanging up on her.

Where the hell had you gone? And with who?!

[ditttiii]

Enchanted To Meet You || 05.

Summary:  No one ever told you that you had a soulmate or—soulmates, for that matter. Humans don't have soulmates, but shapeshifters do. What are you supposed to do when the seven members of the worlds biggest boy band turn out to be your soulmates—only for you to realise that they aren't even human.

BTS is on a hiatus and ARMY thinks they are completing their mandatory military service. You believe that too, at least you did until you realised that you had adopted them and that one way or another they were gonna live with you—as Hybrids because apparently, you all are soulmates.

(Hybrid AU // Soulmate AU) (Fluff // humour // smut // angst  // eventually NSFW) (NC-18) (Ot7 x Reader) (slow burn)

banner by: @thebannershop​

series master-list 

There is an interlude between chapter 4 and chapter 5. Read it before proceeding ahead with this. The interlude can be found in the series master-list. 

Word count: 2831

Warnings: Curse words (pg-13) (sfw for now)

Gif credits: Btsislifeu on tenor.

Your heart races as your hands grow sweaty and uncomfortably clammy. There were noises, coming from inside your apartment. Noises that sound an awful lot like footsteps thumping against your floor.

Footsteps.

You let that thought sink into your head for a minute. Your door was locked since you had just unlocked it, you think your windows should be closed too, so the question arises as to who is in your bedroom? And how they managed to get there.

You debate not going in, turning back and maybe asking for your neighbors’ help, but then you realize your antisocial tendencies had led to you being so distant, that your neighbors’ probably didn't know your name either. 

The realization leads to a deep, sinking feeling in your stomach. Not for the first time ever you curse your own stupidity and lack of social skills.

'This is what you get for wanting space.' You think to yourself, as you let your hand finally let go of the death grip it had on the door.

There was music, coming out of your room. You frown when you hear the loud, booming, bass thrum through the walls and out to where you are. 

'What in the world?' You think, now utterly confused. 'Did I leave the speakers on?' You question yourself. Now confused and second-guessing yourself, you put your bags down by your feet near the door and slowly put one foot inside. 

Still wary and frightened of quite possibly being attacked, or worse kidnapped and murdered, you creep and make your way inside, the door behind you wide open in case you need to make a run for it. 

Noiselessly putting one foot in front of the other, you creep in. The glaring possibility of being hit on the head and growing unconscious with a stranger in your apartment, an incentive to be stealthy.  

As you walk towards your room, you realize that you are unarmed, with virtually no weapon or object to protect yourself with. Again cursing at your stupidity internally, you roam your eyes around the room, as you try to look for something that could be used as a potential weapon. 

After a few seconds of your eyes searching over your furniture and random knick-knacks, your eyes land on a metal bull. It was a showpiece that you had bought on an impulse, when you had first signed the lease to your apartment. 

You mentally thank every deity that you can think of as you make a move to grab it. You didn't particularly like the bull per se—it's design and color now seemed more dull to you than anything else but, it was heavy and if used right would cause some significant damage. 

With a metal bull in your hand, that might or might not protect you, you make a move towards your room. 

You can hear your heart thudding in your ears, the beats so loud you are afraid the intruder can hear them too. You have half a mind to just, march in there and demand why this person had decided to break and enter into your apartment of all the ones in your complex.  

'The hell would he even steal? Not like I have anything of value.' You think annoyed, as your converse clad feet touch the old, cheap, red carpet. Your floorboards are creaky too, but after a while, you had learned to identify which were the creaky ones and avoid them. 

For the first time, you think maybe you aren't as stupid as you had initially thought. 

Snapped out of your thoughts you abruptly freeze as you realize the thumping echoing throughout your apartment had just stopped. 

'Oh, fuck no.'

Gripping the bull tighter in your hands, you try to breathe in as quietly as you can, not daring to move an inch in fear of making any noise. For the umpteenth time, you curse whoever up there was supposed to be your guardian angel. 

'Whoever you are, you need to pull your shit together, because this is just ridiculous.' You think vehemently, the string of events far too strange and moving, for your steady, boring life. 

'Okay Y/N, you can do this. Just enter in quietly and bring the bull down on their head. No mercy. You will live to see tomorrow.'

Steadying your breath, you grip your bull tight and slowly push the door to your room open with your foot as you balance your weight on the other leg.

The door creaks open, it's unoiled, rusted hinges announcing your presence. 

Your eyes rapidly flicker from one corner to the other, trying to find the intruder. Your feet stay firm but glued, still outside the bedroom in the hallway. 

Once you are sure you don't see any human-like shape in plain sight, you pause and let your eyes scan your room. Detailing and picking at things, as you try to spot the signs of someone having been in there a few seconds ago. 

From your unmade bed to your medical textbooks stacked in the corner, you don't see any glaring disturbances. Your room is small, to begin with, but with the stacks of textbooks and your desk cum nightstand pushed into a corner, there wasn't much space left. 

Certainly not enough for anyone to be able to hide without being obvious.

When your search yields no results, you frown and inch closer. Walking tentatively inside with tense muscles, ready for a jump scare and swift attack. 

However, when neither happens, you are left both relieved and confused. With furrowed and an increasingly familiar growing frown, you slowly turn into a circle, double-checking to see if you had missed something. 

'Am I being haunted?' 

The thought suddenly doesn't seem as strange as it might have before. 

"Hello? Is anybody here?" You call out, not really expecting a reply. You don't think if someone is hiding in your room, they would actually reply back, but you also don't know what to do as you move forward. 

You don't believe there's a protocol in place for what one should do if they think their home is broken into but can't find any evidence to back up their assumption. 

It's then that you register the pile of clothes lying on the floor, in the middle of the room.

'Did I leave those out?'

You question yourself as you look at the random pile of clothes. You were in a rush when you had left for shopping, so it wasn't a far-fetched possibility. 

Thinking back, you recall giving Kookie a bath—

"OHMYGOD KOOKIE!" 

You furiously curse out loud as you realize that you can't see him anywhere. The fear that had abated a little by now, coming back in full force. 

You spin on your heels and rush out to your hall. Checking all the dark corners and places your bunny could have taken residence in. 

"Kookie! Kookie! Hey baby, I am back home, where are you?" You call out hoping he'd hear you and come out from wherever he was hiding. Some part of your brain brings forward the possibility that someone might have taken him, or that you had lost him. But you tamp down the thought before it can fully form, too scared and anxious to entertain that possibility. 

You can feel the back of your eyes sting, as tears cloud your vision. But you refuse to let them fall because now was not the time. Finding Kookie was your number one priority, and everything else would simply have to wait until you find him—panic attack included. 

You double—triple, check the hall and kitchen, your apartment was small and, there weren't many places he could have used to hide, but you stubbornly check again and again. Your voice breaks as you call out to him, your desperation rising with every passing minute. 

"Dammit, Kook! Where are you!?" You wail, as your control over your tears snaps, and they slip out. Warm, wet trails of tears run down your face as you let out a choked sob. 

You don't know how—it hasn't even been a week since you had brought Kookie home, but for some reason, the thought of losing him, crushes you—makes your heart feel unbearably heavy, as it squeezes painfully in your chest. 

'Get a grip, for fucks sake! Someone could still be in the apartment, hiding—waiting, for the chance to assault you.' Some part of you berates yourself but you can't even focus on that thought. 

The only thing that you can think of is, if your baby bunny was safe or not. The endless possibilities of what could have happened to him run like a horror film through your head. Most of them you realize, end in you never seeing him again. 

You run your hands through your hair, pulling the strands back none too gently as your eyes roam the interior of your apartment again. With still no signs of Kookie anywhere, you wipe your tears with the end of your sleeve and rush to your room. 

Some part of you can feel Kookies' presence. As insane as the thought sounds to your own ears, you can sense him somewhere. It's like an unknown pull—a tug, that makes you rush back to your room. 

Hanging on to the doorframe of your bedroom with one hand, you lean on it as you try to steady your breathing. The adrenaline, and the tears, make it hard for you to breathe as you stand there and helplessly follow your instincts. 

Glancing through your room again, your gaze trails from wall to wall, before you finally see a movement from the corner of your eyes. Your gaze sharpens as your eyes fall on the pile of clothes in the middle of your bedroom floor. 

You move closer, as you see a movement again, a tiny bit wary. 

You walk closer, only to see a long, floppy ear rise from between the heap. As your eyes hone in on that ear, you all but lurch to the pile in your haste to get closer to it.

Ripping away the clothes from on top of him, your eyes land on your rabbits' hunched over the figure. His ears that were floppy now both stand straight, turning towards you as if picking up the sound of your heart beating. 

As your eyes zero in on Kookies' figure, the nauseating fear at last abates. That nagging, tugging feeling in your heart, waning with it. Your figure hunches, as all the breath leaves your body. 

You want to crouch down, cup him, hold him close and hug him, but the trembling of your hands stops you from doing any of it. Instead, you let your eyes take in his figure, as a reassurance that you had not lost him. 

The residual tears of relief continue to fall from your eyes, as your eyes shift up to the ceiling. 

Slowly loosening the tight grip your fists had formed, you throw the bull away on your bed. The thump of the impact rings in your ears as your eyes close and tears of pure, unadulterated relief continue to slip down your cheeks, leaving behind a wet trail, before dripping down onto the floor. 

After a few seconds of breathing in and out and calming yourself away from a panic attack, you pick up Kookie and take him out onto the couch. 

Settling him there, you turn away your gaze from his at the last second. 

You don't know why, but you have a feeling that if you look into his honey-like chocolate eyes now, you will cry. Giving him a soft pat on his head, you push yourself up from the crouch you had been in and move to your room. 

With Kookie finally found and safe, your previous concern rushes to the forefront of your mind. 

'Right! Gotta check the locks.'

Moving towards the window, you pull back your curtains to check on the lock. Your eyes fall onto the latch, only to find it— 

Locked.

Just like you had thought it would be. Dropping the curtains back, you shift away and move to check all the other latches. 

For the next five minutes, you meticulously check every single window and latch in your apartment, making sure that none of them were open or loose. Once, you are finally done with your inspection, you go and shut the front door, secure in your knowledge that there was no intruder in your apartment. 

Moving to your room, you pick up the pile of clothes from the floor and start folding it to put it back into your cupboard. 

The learned, mundane motion of folding your clothes gives your fidgety hands something to do and finally, you let yourself think. 

All the doors and windows were locked shut when you came in, so there was no chance of someone sneaking into your apartment. 

'But then what about that music?' 

As you think back to the sound that you had heard when you first entered, you turn to check on your stereo, only to stumble and almost face plant onto the floor below. 

Letting out a low curse, your eyes shift to see what it was that you had stumbled upon only for your eyes to widen as you realize it was your speakers remote.  

'Aah, now I see.'

It's then that you connect the dots inside your mind.  

When you think back to it, the thumps could very well just have been Kookie hopping—stomping, around with his feet. 

'The remote was probably on the floor, and he must have switched the music system on by mistake.' Your brain rationalizes, as you bend down with a huff and pick up the remote. 

Placing everything back to where it belonged, you finally move out of the room and to the kitchen for dinner, not pausing to look at Kookie. 

You are just so tired—tired of your studies, your work, but more than anything else, you are tired of feeling like you are missing out on something. 

The feeling doesn’t make sense—you don't make sense, and it's probably just the aftermath of the adrenaline rush, but you feel this bone-weary fatigue, deep in your bones, one that goes beyond the realm of just being physical.  

It's like your soul is exhausted. 

You keep feeling like something's missing, like you've finally had it, figured it out—and then it slips away, until you are left grasping at thin air. 

Putting the pan down, with a little more force than necessary, you groan—annoyed at your sudden teenage-like, angst filled thoughts.

'What in the world is wrong with me!?' 

After dinner, you set the bed you had bought for Kookie near your own bed. You had successfully managed to lug up all your shopping bags, but the many trips up and down had left you feeling thoroughly exhausted.

With the bed in place, you move to your washroom for a warm, quick shower before bed. The weariness of a long day, making your limbs feel heavy as you move to get a pair of pajamas to change into.   

You swing by the living room before your shower only to find Kookie still munching on his dinner. His eyes twinkling, even from a distance. 

Reassured with the knowledge that he would be occupied with his food, you quickly rush to take a shower.

Showered and dressed, you curl onto the couch beside Kookie. With your T.V softly running in the back, you let your eyes go droopy as you cuddle him closer. 

The feel of his warm, wet, tiny tongue over your cheeks makes you smile dopily. You run your hands through his fur, before they glide over to his ears—them twitching in response to your feather-light touch. 

"You Babyboo scared the living daylights out of me today," You whisper softly and push your face closer to him as the warm puffs of his short, quick breaths, hit your face like gentle caresses. 

Wrapping an arm around him, you cuddle him closer to yourself, your boy heat enveloping him like a warm cocoon. 

Lodging him under your chin and close to your chest, you drop a quick kiss on his head and giggle when his long ears tickle your chin. 

You turn to watch the TV but miss the way his eyes soften, them growing warmer and shinier as they look on at you, brimming with affection. You miss the way his entire body melts at your touch—folds between your curves, closer to your heart. 

But as you lay there, Kookie wrapped around you with his ears pressed close to your heart, your body feeling loose and your soul feeling cherished, what you don't miss is the realization that the exhausting from before is gone, and in its place is a gentle feeling of comfort, of belonging—of love. 

Taglist for this story can be found here.

Thank you so much for reading! If you are enjoying the story so far, drop me some feedback as it is all that fuels my motivation to write. Have a good day ahead ❤

Also I am taking up commissions at @ficswithluv​​ so if you want me to specifically, write for you, mention that in the ‘more details’ section. All proceedings will go on to the BLM fund. However, before requesting me, shoot me an ask. As, if I am already working on one, your request will be given to another author. However, every single author is extremely talented and good at their art. If you haven't yet donated and are in a position to, consider commissioning. We appreciate your support ❤

[rainbowloliofjustice]

So I didn’t want to touch one of the posts that came across my dash and I had a much longer post than this before it got erased but..

Why is it that people are demanding that someone care about them, and their wellbeing but not being demanded to offer the same thing in return? How can you honestly demand people give a one way street of care about you, but you can’t be bothered to do the same thing in return or if you’re that kind of person, just tell them something that amounts to going to die and saying their issues are their problem. 

Last I checked, the same thing “Your issues are your problem”, “You are responsible for your own health”, etc. can be applied to those of us who are at higher risk of death from complications of covid. I have asthma, no one else is responsible for that. Yeah, I get annoyed and mad when people who are fully capable of wearing a mask refuse to do so because they think covid is a hoax, that its no big deal, etc. 

But wanna know something? I don’t decide to tear people a new asshole or tell them to “suck it up” if they cannot wear a mask for medical and physical reasons and haven’t been able to afford or get a face shield. I have asthma, so I already have a hard time breathing. But I wear my mask when I can, why? Because my health is my responsibility. Yet even still, I cannot wear my mask 100% of the time unless I want to be found passed out in the middle of the street or store so I have to take it off in order to breath (and ya know, not pass out) when I’m able to. 

I don’t sit around telling them they should stay inside, just die anyways, etc. or do everything online because online services such as curbside delivery, doorstep delivery, etc. may not be offered in their area or if it is, it may cost them 30+ dollars more than it would have just going to the store to buy them. Yeah, for you 30 bucks may not be a lot but for someone else it is. 

Like, me ordering one meal from doordash (something for one person) cost me like, 25 bucks. The delivery fee, service fee, and tax on top of what was a 10 dollar meal. Not everyone can afford that, hell I cannot afford that. I paid more in fees and taxes than I did for the actual meal. For 25 bucks I could have just gone up there and ordered the meal and a second one.

And another thing... last I checked, bills haven’t stopped. The government hasn’t sent out a second stimulus check and most likely never will. Why is it that someone has to care about my health, my wellbeing, etc. and that “their health is their responsibility” yet “my health is their responsibility”, etc. when it comes to them wanting to go back to work so they can keep a roof over their head?

Wanna make this pandemic worse? Keep a bunch of people out of work, in debt, have them become homeless, go hungry, etc. and you’ll have an even bigger and worse pandemic on your hands than if you had just let them go to work without demonizing them for being “plague rats”. If it bothers you that much that others are going back to work, stay ya ass at home like you’re telling everyone else to do. Why is it that giving a shit about you and your health has to come at the expensive of someone else’s health and wellbeing?

Are you gunna offer to pay their bills? To pay for food? To pay the car note? Are you gunna do anything to help and encourage them to stay home or are you just going to demonize them for being (rightfully I might add) afraid, worried, and wanting to keep some type of income so they aren’t left homeless in a pandemic?

How the hell can you demand that people care about you and your wellbeing, but you can’t even offer them dogshit in return without being one of the most self centered, selfish, and narcissistic people in existence?

AND ANOTHER THING why is it that mega corporations like Walmart, Sam’s Club, Cosco, etc. are allowed to stay open and operate within certain limitations and guidelines while small businesses, therapists, independent practices, etc. are forced to remain closed? Why is it that small business owners and independent practices are demonized to hell and back for being concerned with their wellbeing for wanting to do the same thing that mega corporations are allowed to do? Why is it that Walmart can operate under reduced hours but a small business can’t do the same damn thing? Why are we not questioning the fact that mega corps are allowed time and time again to get away with doing things that other businesses are demonized for doing? and I’m not even talking about unethical shit like wage theft. 

Why is it that governors and politicians are allowed to attend birthday parties and celebrations that are “socially distanced” but god forbid someone want to spend Christmas with their family? Why are they not equally if not fucking more considering they came up with the guidelines and rules than a regular, average person? Why is it that they’re allowed to break the rules and guidelines they came up with but a regular person faces fines and jail time in some extreme cases?

Anyways back on topic... Last I checked, caring about other people was a two way street. To demand that it be a one way street is to basically say how entitled you are to people giving you things but giving nothing back in return. 

Yeah, having asthma and being at higher risk of covid fucking sucks, esp if people decide to not wear a face mask or socially distance for stupid reasons... But it also sucks being at risk of losing your house, going hungry, the decline in mental and physical health, etc. that comes from being out of work, quarantined, etc.

I actually understand that even though that I am at higher risk of dying from complications of covid, this pandemic won’t get any better (and in fact, will only get worse) if people are kept without work because they’ll be at greater risk due to being homeless, a weakened immune system from hunger, stress, etc. and you’ll have far more cases of covid than those “plague rats” could have brought by practicing social distancing and wearing a mask while at work. 

Cause now, you have people homeless, not able to afford masks at all, etc. contracting covid and dying in the streets which brings upon even more diseases that can kill you than just covid.

So until the government decides they’re actually going to take care of their citizens until the pandemic is over and pull their thumbs out of their asses, the harsh reality is that people will need to go back to work. It isn’t that people who are at higher risk are “worth sacrificing” for “the economy” its that with an economy in shambles, people who are already at higher risk and those who previously weren’t before will be at even greater risk because now things have grinded to a halt, people are homeless, etc. 

The pandemic won’t be made better by forcing a total shut down of everything while the government doesn’t send out any money or aid to it’s people for the protection of those at higher risk for covid complications because now you’re dealing with people being homeless, starving, more spikes in cases, etc. and similarly, the pandemic won’t be made any better by freely allowing people to do all the same shit and congregate like they were able to before the pandemic because then that will result in more spikes in cases. 

It’s almost like an extreme of either will result in more people dying and demanding people care about you while offering dog shit in return is how this pandemic got as awful as it did in the first fucking place. 

[popculturebuffet]

Ducktales Shadow Into Light (Lena Retrospective): Friendship Hates Magic! (Commission by WeirdKev27)

Hello all you happy people! And welcome, and to some of you welcome back to Shadow Into Light, my fully paid for but gladly done Lena retrospective, covering everyone’s faviorite lesbian emo shadow’s personal jounrey through all three seasons and some brucey bonuses.

So this time we pick up in mid-season 2.. yes MID season 2. Though for once taking so long to adress things had valid reasons. It dosen’t make the 8 month wait for Lena to return and for Violet to show up, her concept art having been shown off shortly before Shadow War aired during San Diego Comic Con, any less aggravating, especially since the episode did air overseas before that but never leaked anywhere properly. So I knew she’d be okay but not HOW. 

As I said though.. they had their reasons. The episode was set for episode 8 in production order, right behind whatever Happened to Della Duck? which answered the other big cliffhanger from season 1, Della’s exile on the moon. So while this episode was back in the queue, along with Della’s, which had to wait till after the christmas episode to air because said episode takes place before it. So waiting on this episode was fair on the crew’s part even knowing it was a hiatus. 

It ended up getting pushed back by a week once the episodes started airing.. but as outlined last time, THIS TIME Disney actually moved it for good reason instead of just doing so because shut up. See the problem with moving episodes around in season 2.. is Della’s return. Several episodes that in theory could’ve easily been pushed back instead of this one, Depths of Cousin Fethry, Treasure of the Found Lamp... couldn’t because they take place BEFORE Della came back and it’d be weird to air them after.  One features Donald, the other dosen’t but still lacks Della and it’d be weird if it did> While this episode takes place before Della comes back or was at least meant to, no one appears in person, and Beakly mentoning “the boys and scrooge” at the bin could simply be her forgetting Della’s a part of things for a second. It’s not entirely in character, but it’s much easier than explaning why Della’s not there and Donald is. 

They also moved one episode ahead of this.. but it’s one I approve of. See from episode 7 onward the episodes were aired in week long duckbombs, woo-ooo. I I don’t fault disney for it or the reason I suspect they had for doing this: while it wasn’t the intended way of airing, they likely did this airing style to get shows on Disney Plus quicker for it’s debut and given they’ve sunk a LOT of money into the streaming service and it’s a key part of their future, I can’t blame them for wanting the entire series thus far on the platform at launch. It’s one of if not their most popular show at the moment. They wanted it front and center. 

So this one took an extra week to air, and an extra day as they aired raiders of the doomsday vault right after Della’s return in “Nothing Can Stop Della Duck!”.. which is also not a bad move. Fans wanted more of Della and her bonding with the kids, I wanted more of that so while the wait was grumble inducing, it was worth the tradeoff to get more of this character and her bonding with Dewey.. and let’s face it Glomgold.  You know what i’m about at this point. 

So there were delays but not the mind boggling ones that reshuffled the season last time and by next season there’d be zero reshuffling with both holiday episodes designed to go anywhere. So with the history and the agonizing wait out of the way join me under the cut as a snark knight returns, a new fan faviorite debuts and Beakly gets sucked into Launchpad’s awful fandom. 

We open our story at the Duckburg Library. Man I fucking miss the library. I mean you can go by apointment and what not but I also have library card debt and stuff, and it’s just not the same. 

Anyways naturally Webby is going there to research the Shadow Realm in hopes of finding something to bring Lena back. Last week was “Children’s Card Games, Dark Magic and You! by Professor Yugi Moto which while enlightening got her nowhere. Next up is “Shadow Games on Motorcycles!: How a Crimson Dragon defeated a giant Shadow Monster and brought the dead back and I helped by Doctor Yusei Fudo”. 

But that one’s not in yet so she instead goes to the Librarian to get another book.. and it’s Quackfaster! Horay! As for why she’s working two jobs, she’s saving up for a retirement condo in BIRDDDBAAADDOOOSSSSS. I had to type it that way it’s ape law. 

But her next book “I Went there and it Sucked, My Time in the Shadow Realm by Mayor of New Jersey Joey Wheeler” is taken by “another strange little girl”. Quackfaster, you chase people around with a scimitar. Just accept your the weird one and live with it like me. You’ll be happier that way. 

And so we finally meet Violet whose introduced pitch perfectly. Webby gives out her usual “Hi I”m Webby”.. and Violet simply holds a finger up, finishes her page and gives a simple “Yes?” It demonstrates her quite nature, her love of reading and her lack of social skills all in one fell swoop. The ensuing dead language off is also pretty damn adorable reminding me of that scene from “Lisa’s Wedding” where she and Hugh fight over a book and reading it before making out.. minus the making out because these are children, no one wants that, and Webby is taken. .and even then again children. Most we get is an innocent peck and some blushing. 

So Violet, finding out Webby needs it and is researching the arcane too offers to research together tonight, bringing a sleeping bag just in case it goes on long... to Lena’s unheard objections as she’s rattled by the break in her normal routine with Webby, and the possibility of Webby falling for someone else. I mean this i framed as a friendship thing... but you can only say “friend” so many times in a work before you sound like a retired grandma in denial about their granddaughter. 

Later at the Mansion, Beakley is enjoying a nice quiet afternoon to herself. Turns out once a month Scrooge has “Binventory Day” where he and the boys catalogue the bin for hours giving her a night to herself and Webby. Webby loudly interuppts the peace as is Cartoon Law, but Beakley is pleased Webby is getting back on the friendship horse. 

Bentina ends up ruining it a bit though by bringing up her previous slumber party disasters... which even Lena at her most jealous admits were her fault and only agrees to in the hopes Webby’s going to cancel. Instead Webby decides to make this the most normal sleepover ever! The one where her new friend is coming to specifically help her with magic. 

 Bentina tries to back her grandaughter/daughter down from this insane logic, but Webby does, if innocently clap back well to her being the one to give her “Be yourself” advice.  “I’m not like you Granny, I need to have friends”

And while Webby quickly flees after Beakley tries to deny it.. she’s not wrong. She has exactly one friend who she works for and no social life to speak of.. and as far as I can tell she’s fine this way. Beakley is happy with her work and raising Webby and has someone to talk to in Scrooge. She has everything she needs, while Webby is a social butterfly.. a socially inept social butterfly. She needs people and loves meeting new people and needs friends and not just her family. One’s an introvert the other’s an extrovert. I’m both at times, and before you ask why yes it is a living nightmare thank you so much for asking. I get where both are coming from. And Beakley clearly had friends at one point it’s just a long war with FOWL and a sudden granddaughter probably whittled it down to just Scrooge. It’s okay to be yourself. 

So this is where the plotlines split off, so as usual, i’m splitting the up. 

Launchpad and Beakley in Getting To Know You And Getting Sucked INto Your Strange and Lovely Fandom

So Beakley naturally cries out “name one person I don’t get along with.. and in walks Launchpad , Nature’s Perfect Himbo, having destroyed the gate and at least being honest he probably will again. Why he’s here when the boys and Scrooge are all gone? 

But I don’t care as this subplot is just.. a nonstop delight. Starting with Beakly inviting Launchpad to sup with her.. which just confuses him. Look Bentina you have to use small words.. it’s a miracle he gets up in the morning, dreses himself and hasn’t died in a tragic gasoline fight accident. You have to know your audience. Still funny.

And “not knowing your audience” continues as Beakly serves them pea soup but Launchpad is intimidated by the spoons and while she does offer to help instead tries to use all of them then a straw and then falls facedown in his soup. And this is the SECOND TIME Beakly’s left someone living at the mansion to die. I mean that’s not a lot but it’s still weird it happened twice. 

Finally they sit quitely, Beakly reading the Scarlet Pimpernell, and Launchpad doing a coloring book. And besides the odd couple energy what I really like about this subplot.. is that it fleshes Beakly out> This is one of her ONLY plots in the entire goddamn series, yes really. 70 episodes and she only got five spotlight episodes/plots. But it does at least show her off: her upperclass pedigree we really don’t see often, showing that while she applied to the job as maid out of necisity she knows her stuff, her love of classic literature and her being out of touch with the common person. It’s not a ton but it’s more than ninja butler or “stop having fun with your kids della and be a parent”. I mean she wasn’t wrong but she could’ve been nicer about it given the circumstances. 

So Launchpad, given Beakley’s never shown any interest in him as a person before, assumes she’s going to fire him and was just softening him up. I mean Scrooge himself outright said he never would and if he did he’d do it to your face, hard as it’d be. But that aside, he’s fine with getting to know her once he knows that no he’s not being fired she just wanted to hang out, he’s everyone’s friend. But naturally an upperclash british former super spy and a dumb as a bucket with a heart of gold pilot have nothing in common, not even aircraft as “plane go up, plane crash going down’ is about the extent of his actual knowledge on aircraft that isn’t instinct or dumb luck. 

He does manage to break the ice though, mistaking her book for a Darkwing Duck book and deciding to show her the show since it might be something they have in common. At first she’s as unintuhsed as you’d expect a british lady who never watches the telly watching a 90′s kids show would be.. but by the end she’s gotten all the way into it.

 It’s really endearing, showning that two vastly diffrent people with nothing can common can be brought together by something as simple and glorious as liking the same show. I’ve had it happen with me. She naturally is all for filiming his fanscript after the finale provides no answers, being the one to suggest it and the two end the episode shooting it with her in full darkwing duck cosplay. I’ts a cute and entertaining subplot and a nice contrast to the main plot which while not super dark, does have a fog of tension over it. Speaking of which. 

Webby, Lena and Violet: In Two’s Company, Three Accidently Creates Monsters That Nearly Take Your Girlfriend Off Into The Shadowy Abyss So the slumber party gets underway with Webby shooing away Duckworth after clearing out her room to greet Violet herself and violet having brought pie... a great callback to an earlier joke where Webby wondered if pie was normal at a sleepover. No but it should be. So Webby welcomes her in to her totally normal room devoid of anything. Nothing suspicious about that. 

So Violet tries to get her into research, specifically Tulpas, an actual magical concept, a mental construct of some kind created out of desire, imagination or what have you. Gee I wonder if that will come into play this episode. Webby.. wants to play baggle or what have you or do makeovers and drags Violet along to do the second thing after Violet asks about Magica.  Lena then finds something glowing in Violet’s bag...specifically, her old amulet, cracked but still working and flowing with Magica’s power. 

Lena assumes Violet is Magica and goes to warn Webby only to find her HORRIBLY MUTATED! Naturally it’s a misdirect, as it turns out Violet is just REALLY good at special effects makeup. It’s something I honestly forgot about her... i’m betting one of her dad’s is an effects artist. Just saying that’d be neat. But Webby gives the “i’m normal really even though I live in a giant mansion with my dad I don’t know is my dad and my grandma whose actually my adopted mom” game away by pointing out the demon’s fang is crooked and Violet is curious and heads to Webby’s room finding a picture from said demon. He signed it and everything. Good man that Rakshaka. 

Webby is worried Violet will be freaked out by all the weird but nope, she enjoys it. And it’s not a suprise: violet is actively researching the shadow dimension. Why WOULD she be scared off. The conflict was in Webby’s head all along.. and partly out of PTSD, but we’ll get to that. Webby still tries to get her to baggle but they settle on ancient rune dice baggle and summoning some spirits. Lena scoffs.. until it actually works. It does make sense though: As we’ll see in her last starring role, Lena is kinda like Wanda Maximoff: she has an extreme amount of power but she has no idea how to use it and is simply making up most of her magic as she goes along or took magica’s lead. But the spell means Lena can touch the dice so she spells out don’t trust her.. but forgets she’s dealing with two nerds who love unlocking puzzles and assume the message is on the dice themselves. 

Webby and Violet decide they need more clarity and resume the seance.. which summons mysterious white shadow creatures Lena saw before.. .some now taking Magica’s shape. And Lena’s panicked “Oh not again” says it all. So Lena tries the tried and true bedsheet ghost cliche, grumbling about it but showing up as a ghost without any abillity to speak or talk to webby dosen’t do anything and Violet tackles the sheet before deciding to grab the amulet to dispiate the spirit.. only for Lena to show up for a breif second before she does show making the panicked child look incredibly supscious. 

Webby naturally tackles and interrogates Violet wanting the full story. And it turns out the big secret is.. Violet is entirely normal. Nothing to do with Magica, no possesions or secretly being her or a minon of hers... she was just a logic obsessed 12 year old who thought magic was a myth.. until the Shadow War proved “Nope it’s real everything you know is wrong. Up is down black is white and short is long”. She just happened to be close to the bin and found the amulet when the remains of the staff fell near her and compacted back into it. 

It’s a brilliant reveal. See first watch around your genuinely unsure if Violet is a real person or not.. unless you went in knowing she is, but semantics. Point is most first time viewers didn’t know she’d be a beloved member of the supporting cast and didn’t know what to expect. But looking back... it makes no sense. If Magica had the amulet.. why would she need to infiltrate the mansion. Revenge? Possibly but she’d want Scrooge there too. Even being evil on her own Violet had valid opportunity to pilfer Webby’s magical items, she has an entire box of magic rocks right there and then simply zap her with the amulet. But she didn’t.. because Violet is a person.  When she DOES use it she’s utterly terrified, and we can see her breathing heavy, scared.. something Magica has NEVER been of Lena. To Violet it was just a ghost. Webby hadn’t told her about lena and any information she had about her was second hand from newspapers and the like. 

Webby is sympathetic, as Violet’s feeling of being sheltered from this greater world naturally resonates and while Lena is still supscious, having reincorperated, it’s clear Webby trusts violet and simply dosen’t want to loose another friend to magic. Here trying to hide it now takes another tone.. she knows Lena was behind it.. but is so afraid of it consuming violet the way it did Lena, she forgets almost ALL of the weird magic stuff in sleepovers was magica’s manipulation, and that Lena died because her creator was a monster, not because of magic. Magic is not inherently good or bad, it just is, and that will come back as a theme in a few episodes. It allowed Magica to ravage the town and kill Lena.. but it allowed Lena to exist in the first place and while the terrible events with Magica clearly shook her.. it also shook violet out of her complacency and got her to research a world she never would’ve considered. Good can come from bad. 

And it’s with this in mind that Violet.. does not give up. She’s stayed in her box enough.. and now she knows the spirit is a friendly one.. she figures they can bring Lena BACK using the amulet. After all it was lena’s and the source of her powers.. it might be the key to reiviving her. And while Lena, if invisibly as always, remarks it’s dangerous.. Webby, with no hesitation agrees to get her girlfriend back. It’s risky sure.. but what Lena hasn’t gotten is she’s WORTH the list. She’s so full of self loathing from both her manupations of webby and Magica’s gaslighting and abuse that she can’t see herself being worth anything even as Webby spent MONTHS trying to save her, clearly still loves her, and only didn’t want violet getting hurt because she misses her.  Webby still loves and needs her for who Lena is.. Lena just can’t it and it hurts to think about that. 

So the girls once again try to summon Lena and it starts to work.. but also summons the Tulpa’s back... this time taking Magica’s form and causing a suspcious lena to panic.. and suck both of them into the shadow realm. We get the reunion we’ve been waiting for as Webby tackle hugs her happily.

But it’s soon cut short as Lena still thinks Violet is just manipulating Webby, lying to her and that “she’s mine!”

For the record Joss Whedon sucks, not taking that out on Anthony Stewart Head  or the guys who actually wrote the episode. Moving on. 

I feel Lena’s jealousy comes from the aformentioned self loathing, mixed with a life of having to live just to surivive at the beck and call of a throughly awful person who didn’t consider her a sentient being worthy of anything especially love. She can’t fathom anyone else loving Webby the way she does because she feels once webby has anyone else.. she won’t need her. It’s toxic and wrong.. but it’s easy to see why that’d happen when sh’es only had one healthy relationship. She barely knows the boys, Beakly only grew to tolerate her and she was only friends with Scrooge for like.. a minute. Webby is the only person she knows, loves and trusts and she just can’t risk loosing that and can’t convince herself to share. 

In a realistic scenario Lena would have to simply learn to trust and let her girlfriend have other relationshps and that hogging her all to herself is inhernetly toxic and bad. And while she still does we’re talking about a living pile of shadows smooching a clone, so yeah instead the tulpas come out and drag her off..and take Lena’s form. While Lena tries to blame Violet, Violet has absolutley none of that and makes Lena see the hard truth: Lena is so worried about being forgotten, she created the tulpas by accidnet. As I said her power is raw and unfocused.. so she didn’t do it on purpose nor did she realize how toxic she was being. This finally snaps Lena back to reality, and see Violet geniunely cares about Webby and any ulterior motives were just in her head, so the two agree to work together, using a similar chant to the one from Jaws to destroy the Tulpas and save Webby.

So the shadow realm is disapated and our trio are returned to the human world.. but Lena, not being part of it and no longer having a tether.. starts to disolve, with a really heartbreaking scene of Webby holding her hand, as does violet. But.. then a miracle happens. Since the Bracelet was Lena’s link to Webby, and to her own magic, with it and the amulet close by.. both swirl around Lena, and the power of love.. for a new friend and a first love... revivies her. Mist parts.. and we get one heartwarming sign that after all this time  “I’m back?!” Lena is confused.. but once again part of this plane of reality. She’s free and WEbby triumphanthly hugs her with Violet joining in. By letting go of her hate.. Lena returned to who she loved. They also run into the end of the other subplot and Launchpad’s casual hey lena is just great. 

So our heroes are reunited and doing horror makeup and I really love Webby’s updo here and wish more works fan nd otherwise used it. WE get a final fakeout as Lena seemingly disovles and Violet reveals herself as magica.. only for it to be a prank and Webby to just be glad the love of her life and her new best friend get a long. We get one last hearwarming image and we close out.. with Lena finally having what she always wanted freedom. And while she may not know it yet in accepting violet.. she’s finally found family. More on that in a few weeks. 

Final Thoughts: This episode is excellent. It’s not the best of the Lena arc, that comes next and it does drag once or twice.. but overall it’s a really great character piece, with a nice ballance betwen the tense main plot and the funny and goofy subplot. It adds more to Lena’s character, finally brings her back, while giving us a new and throughly fascenating new character to rave about in Violet, as well as giving Webby her own personal squad. It’s a great episode.. and only leads to a better one. But we’ll get to that in a week or so. First we have a bit of a detour and my plug. 

If you liked this review, follow for more, spread it around, and join my patreon. It’s almost time for new patreons to pay up and if you hit my stretch goal i’ll review a darkwing duck episode next month and every month! We’re just five bucks away people! And if you’d like to just comission a review directly it’s just 5 bucks an episode and avaliable via my dms, ask or discord. 

Next Time on Shadow Into Light: We take a break from the last two Lena episodes to go to one of her sources as we head back to Ducktales 87 with Magica’s Shadow War! I know almost nothing going in so... Shadow betrayals and stuff? Yay?

Tommorow: It’s Fenton’s birthday! And since i’ve done a LOT of ducktales recently and can’t do super ducktales till I hit my next stretch goal at 25 bucks, we’re going back to ST Canard at long last for Gizmoducks second apperance.. which can’t possibly be worse than the first so i’m excited. Let’s get dangerous tommorow!

[timemachineyeah]

I think one of the reasons people hate Los Angeles DA Gascón is his policies force us to take actual accountability for problems in our communities.

Like throwing people in prison where no one has to look at them any more? Easy. Saying “oh we’ll just give these monsters the death penalty so they can’t do it again”? Easy.

Addressing what people need? How this happened? How this was able to happen? How we could prevent it, address it, fix it? Actual justice? That’s fucking work. And it’s work our leadership doesn’t want to do. So they hate Gascón. We want to sweep this garbage under the rug, like we have always done! Why won’t our duly elected under-the-rug sweeper do that??? Why does he keep saying things like “Under the rug isn’t where this goes” or “How did this get here in the first place? Who is making all this garbage?”

Like he’s actually doing his job in a comprehensive responsible manner, which is why people are fucking mad at him. Because if he continues we will also need to change other things to account for that.

And every time I see one of these scaremongering articles about this or that cherry picked case selected to make him look so soft on crime, I’m like “Yeah! He’s doing his job! If only the rest of the government would do that, it wouldn’t be a problem!”

Like, the death penalty is bad and does not work and we know this and Gascón was elected in part because he promised to stop pursuing it. So when he doesn’t seek the death penalty, that’s what he’s been elected to do. He’s keeping a campaign promise, a good promise. Because evidence does not back the death penalty.

This framing?

That’s not unbiased reporting, my friends! That is designed to manufacture outrage.

And you’ll note, with some research, that it’s only the family’s feelings on the death penalty that are getting headlines. Their lawsuit against the city social services? The one that asserts the city doesn’t have enough social workers and they aren’t responsive enough to complaints? That they tried to get help before this kid was murdered but no one listened or did anything? That is, if mentioned at all, mentioned after paragraphs of lamenting Gascón’s failure to understand the feelings of the victims and the terrible exception this crime represents. We’re not going to talk about the outrage around our lacking social welfare, because that’s not politically useful. But we will exploit this child’s death to try to get the man who won’t let us just throw anyone in prison for being homeless or doing a drug out of office.

Paragraphs talking about our safety net? Or child social services? The anger there? The outrage there? The things that could actually have prevented this? That’s not what gets the news. That’s not any headline. Because that’s work! It doesn’t feel as good! That’s a complicated problem that actually matters!

(This isn’t to say the victim’s family’s feelings don’t matter. It is to say that, outside of their grief, the question of “will these two people be in prison for decades before dying natural deaths vs being in prison for decades of appeals before dying unnatural deaths” is, materially, irrelevant to the question of “how do we get abused kids to safety before they die from said abuse”.)

A DA is only ever called when something bad has already happened. Either when there is someone to press charges against or when someone is pressing charges. At that point? There’s already a problem. The DA’s power to do anything about that is limited. They can only react. The death penalty isn’t a preventative measure. Clearly fear of it or a lack thereof played no role in the awful thing these people did to a child. That’s a policy that couldn’t have less to do with the atrocity itself. The policies that do have to do with actually addressing this kind of atrocity? They aren’t getting the headlines. They aren’t getting interrogated.

This case is being highlighted exactly because it is politically useful to a powerful contingent of people who want to keep using the prison system as a place to hide all our other social ills. Gascón is right not to let them. To say, hey, the death penalty is a social ill in itself. It does not solve your problem. Maybe the responsibility is not on me to sanction killing these people so you no longer have to think about how it came to this. Maybe the responsibility is on you to be doing something so this happens less.

And I’m worried all of this clear biased reporting is going to work, and he’ll be ousted from office at the first chance. It’ll be like when we finally got someone who wasn’t a cop to be Sheriff, and the cops all rallied behind a former cop willing to put a D by his name while running a misinformation campaign, and we elected another cop and we were fucked. How’s that going, by the way?

About as expected. :|

I swear to god, if we let the same bad actors control the narrative on Gascón I’m gonna implode.

[mmvalentine]

Home is Where You Are pt 3 | Feysand

Girl next door AU. CW: abusive relationships. Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

The next time Rhys saw Feyre was at the wake.

Back in his apartment, Rhys tried to settle into his normal routine. But the idea of having Feyre back in his life was intoxicating, after having imagined it for so long. He tried to concentrate hard on his work in order to prevent him from texting her everyday. Especially because it turned out that in the city, the did not live far from each other at all.

A few days later, Rhys put on a black suit and went to Feyre and Tamlin's apartment. She looked so tired, with black circles under her lovely eyes and a slight tremor in her hands. The fluttery feeling he had had in anticipation of seeing her again was replaced by a solemn concern.

Feyre met him at the door. She smiled at him, and clasped his arms. Rhys searched her eyes, questioningly. "I'm okay," she said quietly. "Don't spend too long with just one person," Tamlin said to her. "Make sure to greet all the guests." Rhys rolled his eyes. "Do whatever the hell you want," he whispered, once Tamlin had walked away.

After the service, through which Nesta and Elain did very little and everything seemed to fall to Feyre, the people fanned out through the small apartment. Rhys found Feyre sitting in the walk-in pantry.

He had gone looking for a glass for get some water, and now shut the door behind him before sitting down next to her.

"Okay?" he asked. "Yeah. Just tired." Feyre leaned her head back against a shelf. "Have you eaten today?" "Not much appetite." "Do you want me to tell you stories about your dad?" Feyre smiled. "Yes." "Okay. I haven't told anyone this before, and it's a sort of heavy story. But did you know my dad used to keep a baseball bat by the door. Self-defence, he said, in case of home invaders.

"Well, this one time he was going off at me, you know, really laying into me. And your dad, every so often, when my old man was just shouting the whole house down, would knock on the front door at an opportune moment. Sometimes it would just break his rhythm, and that was enough to stop the screaming. And usually your dad would make up some excuse and then leave again.

"Anyway this particular time, my dad had the bat in his hands when your dad knocked. He opens the door, and spits what in your dad's face. I remember so clearly, your dad's going from my dad's face, to the bat, to me behind him. And then he says, 'You know I think there were some teenagers scrabbling around my porch last night. And I've been thinking I should get myself some protection.' And my dad says, 'that's the problem with you lot, you're soft and they know it.' 'well,' says your dad, 'I've got four women in the house and they suddenly feel unprotected. Do you think you could give me a hand?' and next thing I know, my dad's handing over the baseball bat. 'Hold onto this for now,' he says, 'then get yourself a decent rifle.' Then your dad left and he had to whack me with a newspaper roll instead.

"The point is, I'm pretty sure on more than one occasion your dad saved my ass. And I'll always be grateful."

Feyre stared at him. "I didn't know he used to go over there," she said. "Not sure I'd be here if he didn't," Rhys responded. "At least, I wouldn't be nearly this pretty." He grinned at her, and Feyre laughed. The sound of it released some of the tension in Rhys' stomach, and he leaned over and kissed Feyre on the cheek.

A few weeks later, Feyre came around to Rhys' neighbourhood. She had agreed to design something for a campaign Rhys was working on, and they decided to meet at his place to discuss the brief. Over the past fortnight, it had been the perfect excuse to be able to talk to her.

What are you making at the moment? he had texted her. Ugh, nothing, she replied. I've had no inspiration since my last show ended. Maybe you just need some better source material, Rhys wrote. You could always paint me, if you like. Har har, Feyre wrote back. Don't flirt with an almost married woman. Sorry, Rhys texted back. I do it with no hope or agenda. But seriously, if you like working toward things, my company is looking for an artist for an upcoming project, I could throw your name in if you'd like. I'm not in charge of who they pick but I think they'd love you. That would be amazing! Feyre said.

And then they had loved her, not surprising Rhys at all after years of following her on social media. So he picked up the brief and invited her over.

Rhys had torn around his place all evening, trying to get it to look the right balance of homely and inviting, and immaculate. Ridculous, he told himself, trying to impress an engaged woman. Still, even if she wasn't interested in him romantically, he still cared about her opinion.

Finally there was a knock at his door, and Rhys tried not to throw it open too enthusiastically. But when he saw her, the smile fell from his face.

"Feyre," he said. "I... come in." He stood aside, and Feyre smiled. She looked awful. The bags under her eyes that Rhys had attributed to her father's funeral were somehow worse, and she had definitely lost weight.

"Thanks," Feyre said. "How are you?" "I'm... good, how are you? Are you okay?" "Yeah, I'm fine." "Okay, you look..." he trailed off. "Are you sure you're okay?" Feyre brushed him off with a laugh. "Yes mother hen, I'm good. So tell me about this project."

Rhys led her to the couch, and looked sidelong at her. If she didn't want to talk about it, he didn't want to push her. "I was going to order some food first, what do you feel like for dinner?" he said. But Feyre shook her head. "Nothing for me. Tamlin has me on this cleanse, says it's good for stress." She pulled out a bottle of green-brown liquid and took a long drink. Rhys watched her, and held his tongue.

"Okay," he said. "Well I'm going to get some pizza and if you decide you're hungry you can have some." "Sure, whatever," Feyre said. "Now tell me about this project! I'm so excited, when they reached out to me they only gave me this really vague outline."

So they sat and talked about work, and even though her face was gaunt and her skin a little sallow, the way her eyes lit up when she spoke about her ideas made Rhys' heart squeeze. If he could just make her a tiny bit happy, that'd be enough.

Over the next couple of months they exchanged texts and emails, mostly about work, but sometimes about life, too.

Nesta's a pain in my ass, she wrote once. Nesta's a pain in everyone's ass, Rhys replied. Hadn't seen the woman in a decade and when I asked her how she was at the funeral she said 'oh you're back' and then walked away.

Rhys I'm giving up on this project, I quit, she sent another time. Tamlin says what I've made won't resonate with the modern audience, but I don't have any other ideas and I can't bear to start again. We didn't pick Tamlin out of twenty applying artists, we picked you, Rhys wrote back. And personally, I fucking love it as it is. If you change it you're fired.

And then one day, The house sold. I can't believe it's really happening. Congratulations, Rhys said. That's great news. It went for more than I expected, Feyre said. Then, I guess I'll have to go back down and get all that stuff out before the new owners move in. Want company? Very much.

This time, Rhys drove. He picked Feyre up at her place, and his knuckles went white on the steering wheel with effort not to comment on how she had lost even more weight, and her beautiful honey hair looked dull and lank around her face.

"Hello, Feyre darling," he said as she climbed into the car. "How have you been?" "Just fine Rhys dear, and you?" "Good," Rhys said carefully. "That Tamlin treating you okay?" Feyre made a face. "He's pretty stressed out lately. He finds it difficult to work with new people, so I've been modelling for some of his advertising stuff. You know how it is, running your own business." "Sure..." Rhys said. "And... is there a certain... aesthetic they stick to?" Feyre frowned. "Of course, he's a personal trainer." "Okay..." "So are we going to drive or are you going to ask weird questions all day?" "Sorry ma'am, right away ma'am," Rhys said, flicking his sunglasses onto his face and pulling out of his driveway. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Feyre. She was slumped in her seat, and had started to chew on the nails of her left hand.

"Welcome to Archeron Airlines," Rhys said, in his best pilot voice. "My name is Rhys and I'l be your captain for the day, on behalf of us all here thank your for flying Archeron."

Feyre stared at him. "What are you doing?"

"It's a fine day for flying, the weather looks good and minimal turbulence is expected. We are cruising at an altitude of 0.75 feet, your expected fight time is four hours."

"It's six actually," Feyre corrected, the corner of her mouth pulling up. "I know," Rhys said, leaning toward her conspiratorially. "But I drive like a maniac."

Feyre laughed out loud then, and Rhys' heart glowed in his chest. He could do this. He could make her laugh all the way to Velaris St, and make those frown lines disappear. If only he could see her everyday, he thought. If only he could make sure she was okay.

Because she wasn't saying anything, but he was so sure this had something to do with Tamlin.

****

I was going to try keep this very separate from COD but also I want to get the heavy angst out of the way. Because you guys, I promise this one gets so sweet and fluffy if you can just stick with me a little longer.

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