#WHEW. I FINALLY TACKLED THIS. FUCK

[wwriothesley]

      I have never tackled over the circumstances of Wriothesley's blindness, but after some brainstorming I think that I'm ready to pinpoint the time when it happened, how, and why. 

      Wriothesley was not born blind, but the blindness has been acquired in his early years of the Fortress's administration. Those who were present when it happened stay quiet, and simply looking at him and thinking about what he has done, about the price he has paid for all of them, ensures Wriothesley an infinite amount of respect from them. 

      I can pinpoint that the entire thing happened a year, perhaps two, after he became the administrator of the Fortress: during this time, Wriothesley had started to turn Meropide into a much better place, slowly cancelling out the tyranny of the previous administrator, the one who fled when the day of their duel approached. He was putting ideas and projects in motion, gaining a lot of traction between the inmates, who saw the changes and happily adapted to it- finally, they were starting to have a meal a day, and working in much better conditions and with a newly found motivation. The place was looking more like a rehabilitation center, and less like an actual, terrible prison. 

      However, there were some, namely a lot of people, that took the period of adaptivity as an occasion to mutiny.

      Of course that reached Wriothesley's ears. For him, people talking about trying to evade from an high security fortress underwater was a funny idea, and they could have tried that and failed miserably. 

      The way to handle this, however, was another matter entirely.

      He could have acted immediately, while plans were still being made and ideas were being thrown around without any action behind it. This would have shut down the rebellion, but at the cost of the other inmates seeing him as a tyrant- one so wrapped up in willingness to keep control over everything that he couldn't even tolerate some rumors being thrown around. No- this approach was too forward, and his budding reputation as an administrator would have been affected. And he wouldn't have cared, if that wouldn't have meant a possible resistance to his efforts and plans to make the Fortress better. Plus, the spread of inmates willing to escape was big- and covered plenty of zones of the Fortress, from the warehouses to the pipes maintenance crew.

      Wriothesley was threading on thin ice, careful of the cracks forming and the freezing waters beneath him. He would have allowed the to-be runaways to keep going, see how far they were willing to go while keeping all of this hush-hush under his nose. When a person believes themselves invincible and smarter, they're bound to make mistakes- that's when he planned to get them.

      However, the situation changed once Wolsey gained a new assistant in his kitchen.

      The 'assistant' in question was one of the inmates willing to escape, and Wriothesley's informant came running to report to him about a plan that the riotous inmates had concocted at his expenses.

      They wanted to poison him, and take over the Fortress as an addictional fuck you to the new management.

      Somehow, hidden in a stash of supplies coming from the surface, the rebelling inmates had managed to snuck in an hefty dose of methanol- an organic chemical compound that smelled pungently sweet- just perfect to pour into his evening tea, prepared to him in the kitchens. 

      The idea of being poisoned didn't put Wriothesley in alarm- it was the fact that, as easily as they were planning to poison him, other bystanders in this plan could have had their food and drinks tampered with as a result of his actions.

      He couldn't remove the newly-hired inmate working in the kitchen without a proper reason. Her conduct had been spotless up until now, not a complain from Wolsey either. Removing her anyway would have absolutely alerted the herd that Wriothesley knew of their plans, and thus could have led to mass poisoning as another method to divert attention from their escape. He couldn't make any rash decisions, for the inmate's safety was now in his hands.

      And there was only a thing to do not to alert them.

      He had Sigewinne start studying the composition for an antidote- a simple solution of ethylic alcohol and bicarbonate was made by her in a matter of days, and a vial of it was sneakily put into his pocket next time he visited the infirmary. After this, he asked her to keep studying, just in case, to make a stronger antidote to possible mass-poisoning.

      With the solution on his person now, and a stronger remedy on the way, Wriothesley could accelerate things.

      Not sooner than two days later, a message written by the administrator himself informed the inmates that repairs were going to be made to some old, broken-down zones of the Fortress. He spread the repairs wide- both to some of the escape routes that the groups would have used for their grand escape, and both some really, really run-down zones that desperately needed it- the rest of the message, however, adviced the population of Meropide to be patient for the slowness of the repairs, due to the state of some zones. 

      In that way, the to-be escape artists felt just the slightest amount of pressure, with the possibility of the accommodations for their future jailbreak being discovered and reported- but not so much that they had to take immediate action. It would have been suspicious to protest a common maintenance. There was a sudden, slow-burning fire under them, and they acted exactly as Wriothesley predicted:

      Three days later, he was served the poisoned tea.

      He would have commended them for the effort- his evening, soothing tea smelled normally, with his usual milk and sugar. If he didn't knew, there would have been nothing notifying him of something off. The cook assistant even made sure to stir it for him, handing the fine porcelain cup to him with a smile, and blushing bashfully as Wriothesley nodded and thanked her for knowing his tastes, with one of his charming smiles.

      ( Sigewinne had warned him: while the antidote would have stopped most of the terrible effects of the methanol- the damage to the optic nerve would have been quick. Quick, and irreversible. Not even she could have done something about it- 

      And he accepted the price. Those eyes of his had seen plenty of things, in his life- in a way, he was tired of witnessing, of seeing. And, he deemed a sense of his a fair price to protect the other inmates, the ones who no longer struggled to survive in Meropide after he brought changes, the ones who looked up to him. It was a fair price to pay, to keep his home safe. )

      He drank every last drop of the tea, with the assistant excusing herself about halfway through his cup, an excited light in her eyes.

      As soon as his cup was finished, Wriothesley uncorked the vial, and drank the antidote slowly- sip after sip. For a moment, as the pains began, he allowed himself to lay his head on his desk, closing his eyes as he rode out the breath taking pain of knives digging into his abdomen-

     -and quickly stopped thanks to the antidote, the discomfort minimal.

      When he could lift his head again, Wriothesley no longer saw anything but darkness.

      And he had never been afraid of it- not even now.

      With an headache forming behind his eyes, and the nausea settling down, Sigewinne made sure to give him a double vial of the antidote for any unwanted side-pains before sending him off.

      And then, in the next few minutes, Wriothesley seized the jailbreak by the throat.

      The groups who were split in six, heading down their planned escape routes, found that the administrator had lied- the repairs hadn't been slow- the repairs had been traps, with some of his most trusted men pulling up a giant tap of flat wood that went unnoticed until it was brought up to close on their route to the surface- and another tap to seal them inside the giant pipe leading them outside- trapped, and at the mercy of Wriothesley, a person that they believed they had killed-

     -only for the taps trapping them to be lowered, a group of guards escorting them back to the open areas of the Fortress, and a pale but otherwise fine administrator smirking at them, very much alive and, seemingly, unharmed.

      He praised them for their attempts and plans, and told them that they'd be justly punished- not for their attempted escape, but for the risk and unpredictability that could have led to the poisoning of inmates. They had tried to feel powerful, to become a threat- and so, as a threat they would be treated.

      Wriothesley remembered their faces clear as crystal- he didn't needed his sight to feel the stench of fear wafting off them. Not a single person protested- not a single person challenged him in his decision.

      They had been defeated, and led away quiet and meekly. Nobody ever heard of them again- and nobody asked about them, either.

      To this day, he treats the entire ordeal as an afterthought. For him, protecting the Fortress and his people was something that was worth giving up something important for him- a piece of himself given to the Fortress, a feat that gained them the endless respect of everyone involved, once they saw how far he was willing to go to protect all of them.

      The rehabilitation didn't took long, either- Wriothesley is an intuitive man, and Meropide was always his home. He knows every twist, every turn, every passage of the Fortress like the back of his hand, so much so that sight is not a necessity.

      It's his duty to protect his home, and he will always abide by it.

      ( However, after this, his tea was no longer prepared in the kitchens and brought up to his office- he took up brewing it himself. Call it a picked up hobby, or call it a safety measure... )

[cowboygenesis]

1/2 fatum invenit | gale x reader

part 1 of the "fatum" mini-series.

summary: you've loathed each other since the dawn of his first arrival. it never should've worked, but somehow, as you find yourself chest-to-chest within a sunken crypt with no way out, your feelings finally surface— and Gods, do they cut deep.

pairing: gale dekarios x sorceress!durge!reader tags: fluff, angst, tons of cursing, mutual pining, forced proximity, enemies/rivals to lovers. word count: 5.3k notes: whew, here we are at last. if you've read "knuckle up" you might find the ending a little similar but... what can i say, im a softie. also, the durge aspect of the reader is truly very minimal, i just added it for the sake of flavor, whatevah... oh, and reader is super cheeky and generally curses a lot, im case that's something that bothers you. i want this to be a two-parter eventually, so expect some smut in the future chapter. as always, let me know what you think! enjoy! masterlist.

You… you fucking knew it. The one time in your life you decide to give a wizard the benefit of the doubt he… he screws you the fuck over.

It was supposed to be an easy job: infiltrate Kereska’s chapel, retrieve the relic Raphael demanded, and slip away unnoticed. Hey, no big deal— you’ve handled worse without breaking a sweat.

Most of your companions weren’t so eager to take on the devil’s dirty work after a night of drinking, so, you figured you’d tackle it solo. No problem. After all, you’d just returned home to Baldur’s Gate. The evening was warm, the streets thrummed with energy, and after a night of revelry, you were in a damn good mood.

So when Gale, with his calm, holier-than-thou attitude, offered to “assist,” you’d thought sure, why the Hells not?

And what a mistake that would turn out to be for you. Just as your gut had warned you, things ended up going sideways. All because of him.

You both had made it past the wards, the traps, and even those fucked up, undead necromancers that you hated dealing with—no thanks to Gale’s constant commentary on your spellcasting techniques. It was always some remark about how your magic was “undisciplined,” how you were “too reckless to be at your best.” Fuck, like you hadn’t been doing this shit for years, now.

Warranted, you weren’t exactly the nicest person, either. Meals at your camp were a battlefield of their own, filled with biting comments and passive-aggressive stares, often over trivial matters that had nothing to do with magic.

Plus, combat was no different. It rarely took more than a few minutes before you and Gale were mired in a heated debate over the “best course of action for the situation”. Naturally, these debates only added to the tension, making every encounter feel like a personal clash as opposed to a friendly discussion over technique.

You two were polar opposites, discordant, incompatible.

But you were an idiot, then. A dumb, tender-hearted idiot in a great mood who had hoped you two could eventually get along if the stars aligned just right. But that’s all hindsight.

After all the hard work, you had almost had it— your hand was just within reach of that damned necklace, caution thrown to the wind, when Gale decided to get fancy. A small “adjustment” to the magical aura surrounding the relic, he’d explained— something about minimizing risk and stabilizing the flow of the Weave so you could extract it safely.

You discarded the idea, of course; “fuck your tricks,” you had said (your actual words), rolled your eyes at him, and said goodbye to the remnants of your good mood as he reprimanded you like a teacher would a novice— and that, naturally, you weren’t.

Unlike him, you didn’t need a stack of tomes to inspectthis kind of arcane energy. It felt powerful and intricate, yes— but beneath it all, it was just a trick of the eye. The glowing, golden-tinged sphere wasn’t malevolent whatsoever, and instead served as a cheap ploy to repel those tempted by the artifact.

So, knowing what you knew, you reached for the relic despite his suggestion.

But, just as you were to lay a finger on it, he… he cast his fucking “safety” spell. And everything went to hell.

The forcefield around the necklace reacted— wildly. The air rippled in waves, the ground shifting beneath you, and suddenly, you were trapped in some kind of collapsed chamber beneath the chapel— cut off from the rest of the world, with no way out.

Worst of all, you were in heartbreaking proximity. The dugout was deep, but narrow, allowing you maybe a centimeter of privacy before your chest collided with his. And Gods, did that happen often. Any movement you made, your bodies would collide in one way or another, be it feeling his thigh rub against yours, grazing fingers, or smacking his chin— the last one being a complete accident on your part, of course.

And yes, as two magic-wielders would, you tried your luck. As it turned out, the stone binding your bodies together seemed to have a sort of Weave-repellent property that rendered your only functional skills worthless.

So, here you were, stuck with your arch-rival, and with every passing second, your frustration grew. It must have been half an hour since the disaster struck when you finally felt your head pound with frustration.

“Gale,” you sigh for the millionth time, “Are you even listening?”

He’s been doing a great job ignoring your commentary by seemingly occupying himself with analyzing your surroundings. Smart, sure, if it wasn’t for the simple fact he refused to collaborate with you whatsoever. After your initial scream-off, he seemed reluctant to give you the time of day again.

He finally clears his throat to speak, and you shoot him a glare in the dim light.

"You just had to do your thing, didn’t you?" he sighs.

“And you just had to show off,” you retort through a bitter snark.

Gale glances at you with narrowed eyes, yet his expression remains infuriatingly contained. “I was trying to prevent a catastrophe. If I hadn’t intervened, the entire chapel may have collapsed.”

“Well, congratulations,” you snap, “It collapsed on us instead. I’m so glad we avoided a disaster, Gale.”

He exhales slowly, then gives you a haphazard eye-roll. “Perhaps if you hadn’t rushed things—”

“Rushed things?” Your chest flares, making it collide with his. “I didn’t touch a damned thing. You’re the one who decided the Weave needed tuning or whatever other bullshit.”

Gale’s eyes narrow, a flash of frustration crossing his face. “You think I did this on purpose? I made the right choice. But you—”

“Oh, so it’s my fault now?” You cut him off, “Honestly, fuck you, man. If you were half as concerned with doing a good job as you are with peacocking we wouldn’t even be here in the first place.”

He looks away, his jaw tightening. “Peacocking?”

“Yeah. Peacocking, showing off—Are you okay? I thought you were supposed to be the clever one.” You shrug in mock nonchalance, rolling your eyes as if the circumstances weren’t already driving you up the wall.

You feel Gale’s chest rise and fall with a steadying breath, the sort one might take when trying to stop themselves from saying something they’ll inevitably regret. When it came to containing his bubbling rage, he beat you to it every time.

His casual lilt, when it comes, makes your teeth grit. “Obviously.”

You groan loudly, letting the back of your head thud against the stone wall behind you. A tense silence falls between you, broken only by the steady rhythm of his breathing, a sound that seems to grow louder in the small space whenever conversation dies down.

“You would’ve been buried stone-cold dead under the rubble if I hadn’t cast that spell,” he mutters, and just like that, your patience snaps.

“I— I can’t believe you’re saying this to me,” Your words are sharp as daggers, eyes burning into his as you twist your body just enough to face him head-on. “The barrier was a ruse, Gale. A fake. I told you not to cast that damn spell—”

“And I suppose explanations are beneath someone of your obvious talents,” he snaps back, his words dripping with venom.

You glare at him, feeling your pulse quicken. “You’re a scholar— Gods, don’t you know this kind of illusory magic is Kereska’s whole thing?” you spit, watching his face aptly in hopes of catching a glimpse of something; remorse, sympathy, fuck, even just a bit of pity would satiate you.

But it never comes. His eyes bore into you with practiced reprimanding, and because he must see you on the precipice of breaking down, he continues to poke the metaphorical bear. “You should’ve waited.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I must’ve missed the part where you became the authority on everything. In case you somehow overlooked it, I’ve been doing this for years without your lectures.”

“And look how well that’s worked out for you,” he retorts, his voice low, treacherous. There’s a mocking smile imbued on his face, and you quickly realize it makes you want to tackle him to the ground and claw it out yourself. If it wasn’t for the minimal space, you probably would’ve even attempted it. “This wasn’t some petty street magic. That relic was infused with layers of defense—complex protections you clearly didn’t even account for—”

“I knew what I was dealing with!” you hiss, pushing against the wall for leverage. You brush against his chest again, sending an electric jolt of tension through the confined space. “I didn’t need your over-calculated, pompous meddling. I had it under control until you—”

“Under control?” Gale’s voice rises, his frustration finally splintering through his quiet facade as he emits a burst of scornful laughter. “Do you even hear yourself? Your recklessness nearly got us killed!”

You scoff, pushing back even harder. “You’re so damn smug— acting like the world will end if you don’t micromanage every little detail, but guess what? You don’t always have the answer. And right now, we’re stuck— all because of your fucking arrogance.”

He opens his mouth to reply, but then closes it, jaw tight, eyes blazing as he holds your gaze. For a second, you think he’s about to let loose another lecture, but instead, there’s silence—a strange, electricity-charged stillness that envelops you like a cold breeze.

You can’t speak. It crackles between you with a strain, thick enough to feel suffocating. Every breath you take only draws you closer to him, and somehow, it almost feels like the walls enveloping you have only grown thicker throughout your argument.

The closeness, the heat, the sheer intensity of the argument—it’s all too much, and yet, neither of you looks away once your gazes inevitably connect.

The wizard licks his bottom lip languidly, lips smacking as he seems to be taking you all in. His eyes scan over you, and somehow the fact makes you feel vulnerable.

Finally, he breaks the peace.

“If I’m so arrogant, why did you let me join you?”

His eyes are dark, but not just with frustration; they’re searching, questioning, as though he’s daring you to give an honest answer, knowing it’s something you can’t afford yourself right now.

“You asked me to let you come,” you bark out, pushing his chest with the heel of your hand, the contact sending a spark of heat through your outstretched arm. “I didn’t want you here. I figured we’d get through this, grab the necklace, and go our separate ways again. But no—you wanted to come. Play the hero, do all the dirty work, whatever your reasoning was.”

Gale doesn’t flinch at your words, but his eyes narrow slightly— they flicker to the space your bodies connect at, then back to your tautened face.

His gaze lingers on where your hand presses against his chest, and for a fleeting moment, you think he might back down. But instead, his jaw clenches, and when his eyes snap back to yours, there’s a fire behind them that ignites something deep in your gut.

“And you agreed,” he counters mockingly, the smile adorning his face making your head spin. “Why?”

The question hangs between you for a beat. You falter, mouth opening and closing without a reply.

He’s right. He’s fucking correct, and you hate it.

Why did you agree? You could’ve said no, barked back at him, insulted his stupid wizard frock— pushed him away with one of the countless options you had at your disposal.

But you didn’t. You let him come with you, willingly.

You clench your fists, pushing against the surge of discomfort bubbling in your belly. “Well, forgive me for being an optimist,” you mutter, voice tight. “I thought, for once, that maybe— Fuck. Maybe we could get through one fucking mission without trying to jump at each others’ throats.”

He exhales at your explanation, tilting his head to glance through the top of the crevasse and toward the chapel ceiling. You follow suit, albeit subtly, noticing the intricate engravings lining the skylight; in the dim light of the afternoon sun, they look elegant, beautiful, even. How didn’t you notice that when you first walked in?

“And how’s that going for us?” he asks suddenly, the smile curling at the edges of his mouth turning bitter.

You huff, running a hand through your hair. The condensation sticks to your fingers, and you can’t help the joyless chuckle that escapes your lips when you look at him again.

“Well, I don’t know,” you sigh, shrugging your shoulders lazily. Your cynical laughter shifts into the shadow of a smile. Somehow, as he glances down at you, you find yourself with a pang in your chest that overshadows the frustration you’ve been drowning in— it’s deep, and resonant, and feels like it’s swallowing your heart whole when his dark eyes meet yours. “We still hate each other.”

The wizard exhales sharply through his nose, and strangely, you can’t seem to read his expression even as your eyes squint.

His gaze is fixed on yours with an intensity that makes your pulse quicken; you feel it best when his hot breath hits the sweat-slicked skin of your face as he leans in. It’s a slight, almost imperceptible gesture, yet just enough to make your breath hitch with… rage, aversion— or perhaps, most frighteningly, something else you’ve been pushing down for months since your first quarrel.

You’re forcefully dragged out of your stupor when the pad of his thumb grazes your palm— the touch sends a sharp, almost uncomfortable jolt of electricity down your spine, leaving you speechless as you chalk it up to an unfortunate accident. Nothing more, it couldn’t be.

“I don’t hate you,” he says, and though his tone is stiff, the words cut through your pause like a skilled blade.

It couldn’t be.

Your breath catches in your parched throat, heart pounding with a force that would surely reverberate through his body hadn’t his robe been so thick.

You can feel the heat radiating off him, each shallow breath you take only drawing you closer— or, at least, that’s exactly how it feels in the tiny space you’re being forced to share.

His thumb is still brushing your palm, slowly, gently, and deliberately enough that you cannot ascribe it to a simple accident anymore. For a second, your eyebrows arch and there’s this urge to pull away, something thrumming in your head and telling you to hold to principle.

But you don’t… you— you physically can’t. Not when he’s gazing down at you with… with patience. Understanding, maybe. But why?

A beat passes, then another. The tension coils so tight you almost want to scream to break it, and his gaze remains locked on yours, his palm grazing yours.

You swallow hard, trying to gather your scattered thoughts, but your voice betrays you when you finally manage to speak, trembling, barely above a whisper.

“You—” Your throat feels tight, words failing you as his face remains inches from yours. "You’re fucking with me. I… you hate me, Gale, I can’t—"

He glances down at you with a strange glint in his eyes, then exhales loudly again. Did you strike a nerve?

“Why do you always do this?” he questions with exasperation tugging at his tone. You feel his touch momentarily drop from yours, and in the heat of the moment, you find yourself missing it.

“What?” you blink, eyebrows furrowed.

“This,” He gestures between the two of you with a frustrated sigh. “You’re— you’re always picking fights with me. Always pushing, always assuming the worst—”

“I’m picking fights?” Your eyes narrow, the sneer coming back to your lips like armor. “You’ve been criticizing every godsdamn thing I’ve done since day one, making me feel inferior, questioning my skill— and now I’m the one picking fights?”

He shakes his head sharply, then sighs in frustration. When you look up, his eyes are locked on yours—deep brown with flecks of gold, catching the fractured sunlight streaming through the cracked skylight. You could drown in them, given the chance.

“No, that’s not— That’s exactly what I’m talking about,” He stops himself, closing his eyes briefly before opening them again. “You don’t— you just refuse to listen to me. When we fight, in camp— even now. The relic, that barrier, you— Gods, you always act instead of—”

“Don’t you dare paint me as the villain now,” you snap, bumping his chest with the pad of your palm again.

“You almost got us killed!” he bites back, “I don’t care for your talents if it means you don’t utilize them properly. Have you ever stopped to think that maybe, just maybe, raw talent doesn’t equal capability?”

Right.

Your lips purse, the pit in your stomach suddenly overpowering your ability to retort. It was a mistake— you should have known the niceties were a convenient gimmick to ascertain his position over you, and not an actual instance of humanity, for once.

But somehow, your false hopes only drive the wrath within you. You let the nausea overcome you and have it fuel your bitter tone as you finally find the power to speak up again.

“All you care about is being right— about having the last word against anyone who dares question your abilities,” you mutter, challenging his stern gaze with your own, “And the rest of us? We’re just supposed to sit by and watch, grateful to be in the presence of Gale Dekarios, the great, tragic wizard who thought his tricks could satiate a fucking Goddess!”

You’re fuming. The words that come out of your throat are only half-baked as you shrill at him, but… but at the moment, it feels right— warranted, somehow.

So when you catch him give you the space to continue, you take it.

“…But the truth is, you need to feel superior. You need everyone to see you as the sleekest in the room because deep down, you’re still clinging to the ghost of a woman who abandoned you. And that’s why you’ve been picking me apart since day one—because I’m not afraid to tell you how full of shit you are.”

Suddenly, you feel his hand catch your wrist, his grip firm as he holds you still. His thumb presses lightly against your pulse, sending a sharp, unwanted jolt of awareness through your body as your arm tries to jerk away.

“You don’t know the first godsdamn thing about me,” Gale growls, his breath fanning your face as the words spill out, thick with venom. “You’re so wrapped up in your own insolence, so blinded by your stubborn pride, that all you can see in others is a reflection of yourself. And trust me when I say that it’s an ugly one.”

You laugh, a bitter, angry sound, but your heart is hammering now. “Oh, so you think you’ve got me all figured out?”

His jaw clenches, but his grip doesn’t waver. “I know enough. I know that your actions speak louder than words. I know that you’re reckless, impulsive, and too damned proud to admit when you need help—”

Your heart pounds in your chest, the heat between you scorching as your breaths mingle. “You’re such a fucking hypocrite. You’re the one who’s blinded by your own self-importance— always thinking you’re the wisest, savviest person in the room, like the rest of us are just pawns in your little fucking game.”

Gale’s eyes flash with something wild and uninhibited, and you watch his sneer shift into a bitter smile again.

“You— You really think that?” he questions through a chuckle, voice gravelly and low. “Do you really think I’m just using you for some game?”

For a heartbeat, neither of you moves. You sneer at him, and the outrage bubbles out again.

“Oh, don’t make me laugh. You’ve only ever looked out for yourself. This was never about helping me—it was… it was about proving something. To me, to yourself, to fucking Mystra,” you trail.

The moment the words leave your lips, the air shifts between you like a storm about to unravel. His grip on your wrist tightens, not painfully, but with a deliberate firmness that forces you to stop and feel the tension between you. His face is suddenly too close, and for the most succinct moment, you catch something flickering in his eyes—something dim, and dark—but not the rage you were expecting.

He should be angry with you— Hells, he should be furious. You just tore into every insecurity you knew he had, ripped open wounds that never quite healed, and worst of all, dragged his old lover into it all.

And yet… his gaze isn’t burning with the fever you’ve grown used to seeing from him in every argument, every fight.

Why the fuck isn’t he furious?

“Gods, I actually— I used to admire you. You know that? Before all this, I thought you were someone I could… I don’t know, respect. You were this brilliant, woeful man who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, and I thought, ‘Maybe there’s something more underneath all that.’ I thought we could, I don’t know, actually be something—friends, allies, whatever the fuck. I wanted us to trust each other. But… but you…" your voice lowers to a near whisper, and somehow, unbeknownst to you, your eyes go glassy with hot tears.

You’re left reeling, heart hammering in your chest as your mind races along with your bitter confession. The air around you feels viscous, mucous-like, but when your throat goes dry with impending tears you look up to see something that makes your breath hitch.

He’s listening.

Not just waiting for his turn to speak as he usually does around you, not calculating his next clever retort, but listening— really, truly listening.

His gaze, once so sharp with ire, has softened. His dark eyes are fixed on yours with a vigor that nearly undoes you, and there’s no anger in them now, no resentment.

Your breath catches.

“You never gave me a chance, Gale. Not once. It was always about you, your guilt, your past, your Mystra— Fuck!” you cough out and rub your eyes with the pads of your palms, massaging your vulnerability away. “I tried. I really, really tried. But none of this seemed to reach you, not through that… that mental barrier you’ve created around yourself. I think that since the very beginning, everything else was just noise to you. I was just noise to you,” your voice dies down to a mutter, and you inhale sharply to fight the sorrow back into your grieving heart.

You withdraw your hands and finally feel brazen enough to face him.

You can feel the heat in your cheeks, aware that your nose is red from the tears you tried so hard to hold back, that your eyelids are probably puffy and swollen, and you’re a fucking mess.

But it doesn’t matter now. You’ve come undone, and now, nothing mattered to you anymore; not the anger, not the sorrow, and especially not the way his kind, gentle touch seemed to soothe your aching heart when his palm met yours.

You scan his face, but there’s nothing— or at least, you can’t seem to read it through the coating of tears obscuring your eyes. The light above has shifted to cast his face in a warm, velvety light. You catch the subtle lines etched into his forehead, the faint silver threads streaking through his hair, and his lips curling into… a smile.

Despite your desperation, despite your pain, he was smiling.

Your chest tightens, fists clenching at your sides, and before you can stop them, a stream of hot tears finally spills down your cheeks.

This was it. You braced for impact.

“…So do whatever the fuck you need to fill that void in your heart, but don’t involve me in any of it. And— for fuck’s sake, Gale, don’t act like you give a shit about me because you—”

But you never get to finish.

Before you can witness the gentle glint in his eyes as he leans into you, before you can even register it, his lips crash onto yours.

Your gasp is muted against the softness of his mouth. When he moves, it’s not gentle, not soft, but raw in its intensity and so, so desperate.

His grip on your wrist tightens briefly before finally releasing, his free hand sliding up to cup the back of your neck. The warmth of his hand is a pleasant change to the cold, hard stone you’ve been leaning against, and suddenly, just as your mind threatens to flood you with dopamine, it all dawns on you.

You’ve been here before—no, not here, but in moments that feel eerily alike.

You recall the edge in his voice during arguments, the way he’d insist on ‘rectifying’ you at every turn, the blunt critiques you assumed were borne from pure vanity. But now… now there’s a clarity to it all. Worry. Fear. A softness, a hesitation. Like when he would offer his hand to you after a fight, his fingers lingering just a moment too long as they brushed over yours.

You loathed him… Hells, you detested him.

But how deep were you willing to draw the line between hate and devotion?

Against all your instincts, against the sharp, burning ache in your chest—you drink him in. His warmth, his touch, the power behind it all.

You know you should push him away, shove him off, scream, but instead, you find yourself frozen— trapped in the certainty of this moment. And despite every ounce of fury burning inside you, you can’t deny the spark it ignites in your indigent heart as he caresses you so tenderly.

And with that, you seal your fate with his.

Your lips press against his, head tilting until you feel you’re melting into him. He groans softly against your mouth, and the sound makes your chest thrum with a melody you’re afraid to place.

Your hands, trembling, inch towards his chest, but this time they aren’t formed into spiteful fists or an accusatory point— your palms lay lax against him, resting at the junction of his ribs and pushing, pushing… just in hopes of catching the steady thrum of his heart against your fingertips. The anger, the pain, the confusion—it’s all still there, but in this moment, none of it matters.

Just him. Just this.

For all the times you’ve misread him, all the moments you thought his criticisms were barbs, meant to wound—now you wonder. You had mistaken his care for contempt, his frustration for hatred. But now, as his lips part slightly against yours, the world narrows down to just the two of you. No damned relic, no mission, no war; only the benign sensation of his hand cradling the back of your neck, the warmth of his mouth on yours, and the undeniable truth of it all:

You’ve never hated him. Not once in your rotten life.

And when his tongue swipes against your bottom lip, you want to come undone. You’re tired, hot, melting into this fiery, passionate kiss that has slowly turned languid and gentle.

So despite the zeal enveloping your body, you’re finally forced to part.

When your eyes open, you find him already watching you. A shiver runs down your spine as you drink him in; tousled hair, half-lidded eyes, and the ghost of a smile on his plush lips as the both of you pant in tandem with each other.

He looks wrecked. But then again, you’re certain you do too.

Your face feels flushed, still burning with aftershock and when you bite your bottom lip, you find it swollen. Raw. The taste of him lingers there too, sweet like bourbon and sharp like anise.

You stare at each other. It’s like you’re seeing him for the first time again, really seeing him, and it softens your heart as much as it terrifies your lust-addled mind.

The silence stretches between you, so thick you can feel it pressing against your skin. It pulls taut with every second, coiling tighter, and you can’t stand how fragile it makes your heart feel.

You swallow hard, trying to gather your scattered thoughts, but your voice betrays you when you finally manage to speak, trembling, barely above a whisper. “You—” Your throat feels tight, words failing you as his face remains inches from yours.

"Yeah?" His voice is husky— you’ve never found that aspect of it attractive until now.

You open your mouth, but the words—whatever they are—die in your throat. Instead, all you can do is look at him and fall deeper into his embrace.

There are questions that swirl in the back of your mind, ones you know you should ask, but they slip away the moment his thumb brushes your cheek again. Why did he kiss you? Why did you let him? And why, despite the chaos and pain that’s passed through your mind, did this—he—feel like the only thing that has made sense since you forgot all else?

“I never hated you,” he murmurs and shifts slightly, lifting his hand to cup your cheek. You nuzzle into his touch.

“I didn’t want to hate you,” you manage, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I thought it’s what we were meant to be. Enemies.”

“We aren’t,” The corner of his mouth twitches. “We never were.”

His thumb brushes your cheek, and just like that, the fragile walls around your heart crumble. Gale Dekarios, the man you had sworn to hate, has somehow intertwined himself into your very existence in a way you suddenly think might last centuries.

—

As it turns out, the solution to your predicament was surprisingly, nearly embarrassingly straightforward. The anti-magic barrier encircling the sunken crypt could be dispelled by reciting the incantation inscribed on the rock walls— and with Gale’s surprising proficiency in Draconic, it proved quite an easy feat.

After that, it was just a matter of a few rudimentary spells. Naturally, the task took longer than anticipated, thanks to the lingering, newfound tension between you and the wizard— fleeting glances, soft touches, and even an occasional, stolen kiss as you recited your magic; things you surprisingly found yourself quite fond of.

As you step out into the cool evening air, you inhale deeply, savoring the crisp, refreshing breeze. The sunset paints the world in a warm, golden hue, casting long, soft shadows across the cobbled streets as you pass by groups of chattering townsfolk.

“I’ve been thinking,” you hear your companion muse through a playful smile. “After all of this, do you think we could avoid arguments for a little while?”

You meet his gaze with a puckish eye roll, a smile tugging at your still-swollen lips. The warm glow of the streetlights casts his face in a soft, intimate glow, and your smile widens into a grin when you catch his lips bearing that same sign of your carnal affection.

“It depends,” you reply with a nonchalant shrug, pushing against him playfully.

“Mhm, and on what exactly?” he hums, his hand squeezing tighter around yours. When his thumb caresses your palm, you feel your heart thrum with something you can’t quite describe.

“Oh, I don’t know,” you reply, glancing up at him with a grin. He returns it within a beat, and now it’s your turn to knit your fingers tighter. “How much longer are you planning on nagging me?”

He chuckles from the belly, and the coil in your chest that you’ve long expected to be spite emerges as something much larger, softer, and most unexpected. You fear to name it out loud.

You smile when your gaze meets his, the warmth in his eyes mirrored by the softness of your own. He leans in, and the world narrows to the touch of his lips against yours—a brief, gentle kiss that seems to linger in the evening light. In that fleeting moment, all the doubts and anxieties are swept away with his voice calling your name.

“For as long as I live,” he retorts softly, his voice laced with tenderness as the air between you, once again, fills with his laughter.

[waitmyturtles]

Unknown: The Final Episodes (Episodes 10, 11, and 12)

(*CAVEAT!!!!* I wrote this screed before the producers of Unknown cut a different version of episode 11. I have only watched the first version, the version that the Taiwanese BL gods had originally intended us to watch, hmph. My commentary below only reflects my thoughts on this first version. I'm gonna allow myself to be old and crabby and say, "BAH! We didn't revise episodes back in *mah* day!" to excuse myself from watching it and I'm an old mom, I have no fuckin' time to watch a revise, so so sorry fam lmaooo ok byeeeee)

So -- I'll repeat what I think a lot of us have thought about the final arcs of Unknown, and where I could have used more of the delicate, thoughtful exploration about family roles and boundaries that the first nine episodes of this show displayed. These are the elements that drew me to the show, as well as Yuan's general spiciness and empathic intelligence towards Qian.

Anyone who reads around here knows that themes that I'm driven by include Asian intergenerational trauma and Asian family systems and dynamics. This show (here, here, and my tag) -- oh lordo, this show tackled expected, internalized, and externalized roles and responsibilities within families head-the-fuck-on, at least for the first nine episodes.

Let me state the obvious first: this show veered off the highway a bit too early to demonstrate that, WOW, Qian really is the

HORNIEST MAN ALIVE, WOW, EVER --

(dang dude, you really needed to get down EARLIER and MORE OFTEN, because that IN-OFFICE AFTERGLOW, MY MAN, like, listen, I'm down for the post-nut vibes! all support and celebration and respect, but also, we need to delegate these tasks, we're on the clock, you are a co-owner of this company, back to work! chop-chop)

and MAN, could I have used a quick wave of a flag or hand that his deficit for love, care, and tenderness would hit at THAT SPECIFIC angle (HEH HEH) so very quickly and VERY INTENSELY at the start of episode 11. That took me out. I had to just scream at @lurkingshan. I watched that episode IN PUBLIC, PEOPLE!

We were missing some steps there. It was a FABULOUS actual love scene. But I could have used more of

1) Yuan contemplating the reality of what was going to go down BEFORE that scene began, and

2) To see Qian enter that moment as well. Instead, we hit the sheets, and had to process that very intense scene WITH flashbacks, which, whew, was a whole thing, all while I was just kinda literally screaming.

Those flashbacks were supposed to tell me that Qian had come to terms with Yuan's lifelong longing, but the down-dirty confirmed that for me before I was ready to get to the same mindset that Qian had started that scene with. The very important timing and pacing of the emotional exploration and reveals that we had been presented with in the previous episodes was jettisoned for the booty.

So, yeah. That was out of order.

What I also missed in these episodes was, as I stated earlier, the previous and very intentional exploration of family roles and boundaries that this show was playing with prior to the last three episodes.

With this emotional line concluding in episode 10, Qian showed us consistently that his struggle with negotiating his older-brother-and-fatherly responsibilities was his biggest burden, alongside the lifelong processing of the abuse he had received at the hands of his mother, and his further processing of her death.

Qian and Yuan get together in episode 11, literally go out on a date, and Qian woos Yuan.

Qian's continued resistance to being open about his health to Yuan is extremely reminiscent of a parent (I think of Asian parents, but I think this is common to global parenthood) hiding a health status from a child. This part of the story was still an important one. Qian was STILL holding onto his understanding of his responsibilities to Yuan and Lili as a parent/older sibling figure. If he didn't get out of that surgery in perfect condition, he worried about their futures -- regardless of the facts that Yuan was self-sufficient, and Lili was both self-sufficient and supported by a loving partner. Because that's how so many parents are: no matter the stability of their children, parents will see children as their children.

What I liked about this storyline, and what I could have used a bit more of (ideally in an extra episode) WAS HOW YUAN'S FAMILY ROLE CHANGES AUTOMATICALLY BY BECOMING QIAN'S PARTNER.

Lili calls Yuan a "sister-in-law," but he also becomes a

brother-in-law, AND a stepdad, AND THEN ALSO BECOMES A VERY NOT TECHNICAL GRANDPA, ALONG WITH GRANDPA/UNCLE/OLDER BROTHER QIAN

AND, AND!

We see Yuan THEN CARING FOR QIAN as the younger brother he's always been, AND

AS QIAN'S PARTNER

which they're calling wife or sister-in-law in the show, which, bleh to gendered terms, but

THEY WERE GOING THERE WITH YUAN

but we didn't get enough of it.

THAT IS A HUGE CHANGE FOR YUAN.

HE IS EQUAL NOW!

We just didn't get enough exploration there. Because the show was centering Qian's narrative (which I don't blame the show for at all), and mans was in his post-boop vibe the whole time, that we didn't sit enough with the changing of these roles FOR THESE TWO MEN, and while Lili hinted at it, I would have liked just a few more minutes at the macro-high level to explore what this meant for this entire, wonderful family unit. This is just huge Asian family dynamics stuff regarding who has power, and how that impacts how Qian interacts with Yuan, how Qian has to internally process the growth of his "child," as it were, to be LITERALLY EQUAL to him as his partner; and also for Lili to contemplate as she regards Yuan now as someone partnered with her caretaker. Yuan now would kind of step into that role, as well. THAT'S HUGE for dynamics changing and rebuilding.

Let's also remember that San Peng transcends these boundaries, too, but it's a bit easier for him, because he hasn't lived in that house. But he's the family's benefactor, in a way, which both Yuan and Lili acknowledge. And his turning into a partner into the family is also a significant boundary-crossing.

Finally, Qian's concern for Lili. Yes, he was concerned for her career. He didn't want Lili to turn out like his mom.

I would have liked to have proof in that concern, literally. I say this as a mom.

Qian was missing something big. Lili's baby was going to be born into a nice big family unit that Qian was the creator and anchor of.

At least they had Qian and Yuan sitting on baby toys to end the series. Lili, truly, had nothing to worry about. The gay uncle-grandpas were going to be there to help raise the baby, because as an Asian viewer, I am going to assume the extended family's participation

(NOT ASSISTANCE! ACTIVE PARTICIPATION!)

in the raising of that child.

I'm not sure why Qian missed that, except for the very real reason of familial PTSD and intergenerational trauma from his mother. But San Peng was right there as Lili's partner and as the actual dad. And Qian was valid to have a concern. But that could have been a moment where Yuan, also, as a new equal "elder" of this newly readjusted family, could have reassured everyone that this baby was going to be born in a wonderful, close-knit, loving extended family.

These readjusted roles were not fully named and explored. If I were Lili, I know I'd be having that baby in the good hands of all of the men around me that would help me raise the kiddo in a happy and supportive environment.

One more point about the baby. We need more babies in BLs. We need to show men becoming fathers, people becoming parents. This is a right that all people have. We need more of it to emphasize that all people are deserving of the families that they want to create -- and truly, it was so BEAUTIFULLY SYMBOLIC that Qian would be such a good caretaker as to be blessed with further generations, because he literally cared so well for Yuan and Lili that they could bless him back with growing the family he tended to. We just didn't get enough sitting with that.

Finally! TF was up with that office vibe in the end. The tops, the bottoms, the public kissing. That we got that instead of the role explorations -- k, but the tone of all that was a little off, if it was meant to be comedic. And yes, I definitely took away that I was meant to ship Dr. Lin and Le Ge. I have NO IDEA why they were talking otherwise. Doc and Don are meant to, ya know, YA KNOW? Right? Ummm, lol.

All of this together is enough to put a touch of a damper on my memories of this show. I didn't end with a high.

But I ABSOLUTELY LOVED what this show accomplished through the first 10 episodes. All these complicated, delicious boundaries and roles and responsibilities being explored! It's a joy, as an Asian, to watch this being explored in a queer Asian show.

We ended on some tropey bumps, but I'm going to remember this show overall with fondness, and I'm ultimately very happy that this was my first Taiwanese BL. I can't wait to catch up in this space more in due time.

[chuckwon]

Here's Why I Want A Chuck Won Plot For The Sequel

Not to go the off about this on a random Saturday night or anything, but I have not stopped internally vibrating since the SPNWIN finale because the potential for a Chuck Won sequel plot line feels so implied and therefore so close I can taste it. I know that there are several people who don't like it as an explanation for the ending of season 15, and/or several people who don't like the idea of it being used as a sequel plot in the future. So I would just like to talk about why I, personally, am passionate about wanting them to use this particular avenue to move forward.

I'll likely unavoidably repeat some of the things I've said before elsewhere but... fuck it, I'm in my feelings, I want to get this out. Rambling on or whatever.

For the sake of clarity, here's a reminder of the POV I'm writing from: A) that Chuck's victory is canonically what was deliberately written as the plot of season 15, B) that it's meant to be noticeable and pointed out as tragic, and C) that even if you argue about the semantics of the literal order of events in the plot that add up to that result, Chuck's victory in some fashion is still the byproduct of the story's final execution.

The thing that I feel can and does get lost in a lot of fandom discussions about this concept is... D) the fact that Chuck winning is an allegory for and commentary on censorship.

I will go back to that. Follow me here.

With SPNWIN as a whole and especially the season one finale, we have already gotten step one of something incredibly subversive: it culminated very loudly in making it clearly canonical that Dean is some semblance of trapped. He is not happy, he is not at peace, he is not done. These are things that many of us in fandom who have brains all already kind of knew and took for granted, because we understand this story and this character and so we understand that 15x20 was not a good ending. But when you step back, what SPNWIN just established is actually a Big Deal in comparison to the fake veneer of happiness that 15x20 was (supposedly) trying to sell to us–and that it did indeed effectively sell to a large number of casual viewers.

Now, here we have canon openly demonstrating that Dean's ending was not okay, in general or to him. Objectively that wasn’t necessarily the case previously with 15x20 alone, but now it is the case.

That is a how-the-turntables level of redefinition of 15x20 in canon. Those crazy bastards fucking did it. They gave Dean Winchester back his agency and had him tell us for 13 episodes that the finale was inarguably Bad, and then they showed his sad grieving self still pining for his happy ending and his angel. That's fucking wild!!! Oh my God!!!

Whew. Okay, anyway:

So SPNWIN has made it clear that The Finale Was Bad, that Dean still needs and wants his happy ending, and that he knows what that happy ending should look like–as demonstrated in this whole hall of mirrors show, through the healing/romance/hope/future we witness the cast of The Winchesters getting to have.

If they stick with that vibe moving forward (which they may not. Continuity could get tossed), to me it then wouldn't make sense if they tried to move forward with any kind of sequel plot or angle that tries to say "okay, now Dean really will Find Peace And Be Done In Heaven." Because they seem to have made it clear that Dean doesn't want that. He wants out! He is fucking around and finding out!

To me, the next logical question to tackle in the plot as part of getting Dean back in the game would be this:

Why did those bad things happen to Dean in the finale?

Look, they don't have to answer that question with a plot-driven reason, obviously. They can go with the (boring) angle of nihilism that's basically like "Yeah Dean died and it sucked, but shit happens and that’s part of free will. It was an unlucky situation :/ he should get another chance at life though!" Or they can absolutely do something totally wacky and out of left field to explain lmfao. (I mean, hell, the Akrida were out of left field and that was only lessened when they tied them back to Chuck.)

Orrrrr.

They could go with a plot that's SOMETHING along the lines of explaining how Dean’s death and the fracturing of their family feels like an injustice to him because it is, and that shit did not just Happen, and that it wasn’t just arbitrary bad luck but rather he didn’t get his happy ending because Something Else was going on pulling the strings at least a little bit.

In that sense, Chuck- / Jack-related fuckery feels like the next natural through-line to me. I'm aware I'm heavily biased, but I want them to go all in on that angle so badly, and the point of this post (yes, there is a point!) is that I want to tell you why I want that.

The strength in the potential of an explicit Chuck won storyline in a continuation–other than the fact that it would be damn good television–is that, if done correctly, it would explain why the ending of season 15 sucked in the first place. And it would explain it not only in-narrative but also out-of-narrative.

Chuck exists to act as allegory, and that's what has always made this concept so significant, subversive, and compelling. Chuck's function and purpose is to be an allegory for producers and/or network executives, and thus the function and purpose behind a Chuck won storyline is to reveal the controlling forces of those figures. And because Chuck is the personification of the Original Creator's intentions that the characters are trying to supersede and defy, the fact that at the end of season 15 they do not get to grow beyond those intentions–aka the fact that Chuck wins and they don't get their full freedom–is indicative of the fact that the characters were not "free" or allowed to defy the Original Creator's real-world intentions either.

The idea that Chuck won is not simply a fun view on why the finale sucks or a fun plot idea for the future. It's because Supernatural is a censored queer text and higher forces won largely because Destiel was not allowed to be explicitly reciprocal. A pillar of the argument is that there could be no happy ending without Destiel; reciprocal Destiel was not allowed, and so the characters had to lose.

That is still the state of canon right now. Chuck's victory is amongst the many threads season 15 left dangling to potentially pick up and play with moving forward, and they don't HAVE to pick that thread up and make it into a central plot for a continuation. But if they do... Man. If they do, it would open the ending of season 15 to further examination for anyone who cares enough to pay attention to it, and that would also open up commentary on the censorship that caused it in the first place.

Here's what I mean:

SPNWIN has left us in a place consistent with 15x19, seemingly further highlighting that something is wrong with Jack. That's huge. Whether that "something" is Chuck possessing him or–potentially more likely–that the God power Jack absorbed has corrupted him, the point is that Jack needs to be freed because Chuck's influence endures.

Making the Akrida into a Chuck fail safe has already leaned into that idea, in a way. Even if Chuck is "gone," his influence wasn't gone entirely. The characters were not fully and entirely free from Chuck's lasting effects on the universe that they inhabit.

But now with the destruction of the Akrida, those effects are supposedly gone. But what if they actually aren't gone completely? What if something is wrong with Jack? What could that mean for Dean's story specifically and the happy ending he still wants and needs?

Apply that to the allegory: if Chuck's power has possessed or corrupted Jack, then Chuck's enduring influence that the characters still have to wrestle with becomes about the enduring influence of industry censorship.

It's then about the insidiousness of the forces that make it difficult for writers to let their stories and characters grow out of what was originally meant for them, especially when those stories are not meant to be queer narratives and yet are molded to have queerness centralized. It's about saying... you (the writers + characters) thought you'd be able to get free but you couldn't; you thought you could write the happy ending but you still haven't gotten to. How have higher forces twisted and shaped things into something unrecognizable? How do you make it back from that and rid the story of that negative influence once and for all?

Hypothetically, examining what Chuck's enduring influence fucked up in the story would then have to examine what censorship fucked up in real life. If they have to break out and return to reality, what does that look like? What is revealed? Dean and Cas could not reunite because their love was real and threatened Chuck's enforced unreality. Dean died and Sam got an apple pie life because that was always part of the ending Chuck wanted to see. Jack was taken over and/or corrupted by God power as part of Chuck's plan because he was powerful enough to help unite them all as a family, which threatened the classic "brothers only" focus of Chuck's story. Chuck's power was still personified in Jack and influencing the outcomes and that's why all of this tragedy occurred. They have to reunite, break the cycle, heal their family, and save Jack while getting rid of that personified God power once and for all, releasing it back into their universe so that power is now in everyone/everything rather than concentrated in overseeing forces threatening their freedom.

And when Chuck is an allegory for the censoring forces in real life... for anyone who cares to engage their brain cells, this could then make it abundantly clear(er) that the end of season 15 was not simply ~bad writing~ or ~cowardice~. It would retroactively redeem, explain, and redefine Supernatural's original "ending" as a backed-into-a-corner narrative gamble embedded with the ability to shine light on the source of its problems, the hope that in the future the story could be continued, and the keys to give the characters justice especially in regards to the queer narrative.

You can look me in the eyes and tell me you don't think that would absolutely rock, but then I will have to simply agree to disagree with you.

Because I would very much like to fucking see it.

It is literally ALL RIGHT THERE. It's THERE, it's so close, and this story could reach its highest potential and make several lasting, impressive points in the cultural realm for anyone who gets their heads out of their ass and stops ridiculing it or stops layering their interest in it under 1000 levels of irony long enough to look at how special it is!!!

[shakes the table with my hands]

AAAAAAAA

Okay, sorry, I'm devolving. But in conclusion: I want this. And though the prequel seems to be hinting towards it (QUITE LOUDLY), there is of course absolutely zero guarantee that any mysterious future sequel would go in that direction for several reasons, let alone the fact that it's objectively a ballsy as hell approach to take.

I still want to write a very long meta about The Winchesters' overall themes and its Chuck won propaganda (lol), so uhhh I reserve the right to plagiarize myself in the future from this post for that purpose. But I had to get this specific thought out sooner rather than later because, to be honest, I am simply going bananas.

JENSEN ACKLES, GIVE ME ONE PHONE CALL WITH YOU LOCKED UNDER AN NDA. PLEASE. PERCEIVE THE VISION.

[peninkwrites]

📓!!

OKAY. I've talked about this AU before but I'm gonna go into more detail. It's an AU for this cancelled BBC show about gay zombies called "In the Flesh".

Essential need-to-know about the world:

The Rising happened a few years ago, it was a zombie apocalypse in the sense that everyone who died in the year before crawled out of their graves. Zombies did eat people's brains (and sheep brains) but bites did not "turn" you, there was a finite number of resurrected. Zombies are now treatable, so the dead can go home to their families.

But of course there's mistrust and conflict because the things that were eating people's families are now just waltzing back into society.

As for plot: (some stuff carries over like directly from the show when I say this show was sooo c!Wilbur core. whew)

Wilbur killed himself and was resurrected during the Rising. He's been treated and can now go home to his small town with his family. His family includes his dad Phil, his dad's best friend who moved in with them during the Rising, and his little brother Tommy.

Tommy joined the militia during the Rising. He hates zombies, and he especially hates his brother for abandoning him. Most militias are shut down, but Tommy and some others are still patrolling the woods, killing zombies, and of course led by Dream, who Tommy seriously looks up to. (I'm thinking Sam and Sapnap are also part of the militia, Sapnap stops though once Quackity comes home, Tommy doesn't stop when Wilbur does because he's mad at him) Sam isn't like, bigoted against the resurrected, just obsessed with keeping people safe.

Quackity is also resurrected. He came home from the treatment center to find that his two fiances got married without him (because as far as they were concerned, he was dead, they were trying to live again) but he's still hurt and feels like he doesn't belong there anymore. He's more radical, he doesn't try to hide he's resurrected, so he gets a lot of shit in this tiny town. (Schlatt is a fanatical preacher claiming the resurrected are demons from hell)

Tubbo is new on the town council, assisting Schlatt, but he's not one of the fanatics, instead he's volunteered to serve as a nurse helping the resurrected with their treatments in secret, something that if found out would lose him his job and probably worse. In his rounds, he befriends Ranboo, a resurrected who is desperately trying to hide what he is. He doesn't remember his life before the Rising, and he doesn't have anyone.

Some fucking Insane scenes from the show I intend to carry over:

(SPOILERS for the show in the flesh and this AU if I ever get around to it lmao)

Wilbur disappearing for a few days and scaring the shit out of his family, because the last time that happened, well. Techno goes after him, they have a talk, and when he returns Phil is too calm, so Wilbur goads him into yelling at him so Phil finally breaks down and screams himself hoarse about finding Wilbur's body and carrying him home. Genuinely, the scene from the show is one of my favorites of anything ever.

Quackity is having some tension with Sapnap and Karl, he's resentful, they're unsure. (Okay, in the show, it was this guy who came home to find his wife remarried with his best friend, so polyamory wasn't the solution. I haven't decided if I'm going that route or making it them all being engaged but it still being complicated because Feelings) But basically, Quackity and Karl (maybe Sapnap? I haven't decided) accidentally get locked in a garage. At which point, Quackity's watch starts beeping reminding him he needs his shot. Because the Resurrected Need to have their medicine administered once a day or they Will go rabid again. At which point Quackity is freaking out, he gives Karl a wrench and tells him if he starts acting weird he needs to be ready to bash his skull in, Karl is freaking out because he doesn't want to do this, and at the last second, Sapnap breaks down the door and tackles Quackity to the ground. But after that, Quackity is the one who doesn't feel like he should be there, because he thinks he's too dangerous (that, or I think in the show the guy was arrested and sent back to the treatment center which is so bad, haven't decided yet)

Dream gets pissed off and defensive when Tommy starts to forgive his brother, so he kidnaps Wilbur and drugs him with something that negates the effect of the treatment, hoping he'll go rabid and Tommy will be forced to kill him, but Tommy can't shoot his brother, and Wilbur somehow manages to stop himself from attacking him until. Idk maybe Techno tackles him before someone else can shoot Wilbur.

[poutybinz]

the thing u said abt being in bunnyspace w soobin and rutting against each other...i am begging u to expand (not actually if ur uncomfy i just want to hear ur thoughts on it!)

wait wait wait wait WHEN SOOBIN IS IN BUNNYSPACE HIS BREEDING KINK GOES UPPPP!!!! and he can’t even say anything he’s so fucked out he just has to give u babies

IM NOT UNCOMFY AT ALL LETS TALK ABOUT IT!!!!!

soobin in bunspace ... he’s an entirely different man.

because the moment he lays eyes on you all he’s thinking of is “breed breed breed breed”, he can’t control himself. he nearly tackles you to the floor he’s so serious about it and the thing is both of you are in bunspace right

both of you are kind of super out of your mind ridiculously horny anyways and when you practically give yourself to him .... like you sit up on all fours wiggling your ass at him like “i’m all yours, come take me”. whew. he goes positively feral

it’s probably the roughest he’ll ever be with you although he still isn’t sure in his movements. there are times where he stumbles because he’s just not sure which thing he wants to do first. he wants to fuck you, god he wants to fuck you; but he wants to taste you. he wants to bury his face between your thighs, he wants to push his long fingers inside of you and feel your warm walls tighten around them.

there’s a lot of fumbling because sometimes he tries to do two things at once and since his brain is so fried he can’t process shit 😭 there’s definitely a point where he’s trying to push his fingers and his tongue into you at the same time but hey fuck it.

all you know is he’s touching you and everything feels amazing.

when he finally does get his cock in you it’s this insanely heightened feeling of lust between the both of you. like...it’s almost indescribable how good everything feels. he pushes himself so far into you, so deep you can feel him in your stomach, and he’s jackhammering into you with so much force your body’s jolting forward with each thrust.

he’s got enough strength to break a bed in this moment, he’s fucking you into the mattress with a death grip on your hips growling in your ear about how much he loves you. how beautiful you are, how beautiful you’re gonna look stuffed with his cum. soobin isn’t normally super talkative during sex but in this headspace all he can do is ramble on and on about how good he feels. he’s so loud, he’s desperate and whining in your ear. (start fucking back on him and he’ll lose his mind i swear it)

(another thing that would positively make him go crazy: start begging for him to breed you. get dirty with it, tell him thoroughly how badly you want his cum inside you. he’ll kick into a new gear, i promise you.)

as much as he loves you in all fours though fucking you in the mating press ... pushing your legs behind your ears and folding you in half; being able to see your face while he pounds you. he’s all shaky breaths and whimpers with his lips mere inches away from yours. “gonna cum. ‘m gonna...”

[crazymangaluv]

Mercy: Jason Todd x Reader

Warning: Some curse words & some steaminess. 

Brief Summary: Being the bright person you are, you come up with a great idea to relieve your boredom, however, you failed to consider the repercussions of your actions. You reap what you sow and now you’re at his mercy. 

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

You had to admit this wasn’t your strongest idea, going up against someone like him. There you are, under the mercy of your captor, struggling to break free. Arms pinned above you, the weight of the man heavy on you. Your eyes wide, pleading.

”Please have mercy!” you cry out. 

He sneers, “You had your chance. It’s too late for mercy.”

Crap, I messed up bad. Your stomach drops, the sense of dread creeping in on you as you sense your impending doom. 

“Noooooo!”

It was a hot day at Gotham and to make things worse, you were home alone bored while you waited for your boyfriend to come home. You two had plans, Disney marathon plans, but he was late...again. You sigh. Hmm-- you tap your fingers on the table-- what to do, what to do...then it clicked. You know exactly what you want to do. You leave a note for your boyfriend and head off to begin your preparations. 

Whew, there...you wipe the sweat off your brow. You finally finished. “Thank you for your help Alfred.”

“Anytime Miss/Mister y/n. Is this all the assistance you require?”

“Yes, thank you. Hehe...hehehe….hahaha -snort- ahahahahahaha! Yes! This is perfect!” you cackle at your plan. With a sigh Alfred leaves you laughing to yourself. 

“Y/n, I’m home! Sorry for running late, Bizarro--” Jason pauses, noticing the note you left for him:

Dear Jaybirdie,

        Meet me at Wayne Manor ASAP...you owe me.

               Love,

                      Your awesome lover 

Wayne Manor? Hn...what are you up to y/n? He ponders. He then shrugs, already heading out to meet you. Soon enough he arrives at Wayne Manor, but before he could reach the door his back feels an impact. *splash*. Was that a…water balloon? He hears your trademark giggle, his head whipping around just in time to see you running off. “What the hell y/n?”

“Master Jason, these are for you.” Alfred states, appearing behind him. Jason turns back around to see Alfred holding out a bucket for him. “A message from Miss/Mister y/n, and I quote: ‘I’m leveling out the playing field. It’ll make your ass whooping more satisfying sweetheart.’” He clears his throat, handing Jason the bucket of water balloons. 

“Hmph, oh how nice of you sweetheart…” he snatches the bucket from Alfred’s gloved hand.  He dashes after you, “WE’LL SEE JUST WHOSE ASS IS GONNA GET WHOOPED! NEWS FLASH!” he rounds the corner, “IT’S YOURS!” he advances towards you. 

You look back and see him advancing on you. You give him a wicked grin before sticking your tongue out at him childishly and giggling away. He returns the grin, chucking water balloons at you, however, not a single one hit its mark. You, on the other hand, manage to land a hit right on his beautiful face. You both stop. He was dumbfounded, dazzling blue eyes wide. His expression was so funny you couldn’t help but burst out in laughter while you took off running again. Your cackle brings him back to the situation at hand. He shakes off the shock and with a newfound burst of energy he sprints after you, hot on your trail. His throws become faster and stronger, precision improving. It was getting harder for you to dodge them. 

You laugh, “Pfft, I thought you were a marksman, the marksman! What kind of marksman are you if you can’t even hit your target?!” You taunt as you nimbly dodged each of his water balloons. 

You can literally see a vein popping out on his forehead. “I was going easy on you cuz I love you but fuck that! You’re gonna get it now y/n!” 

“Oh noooo, the big bad Red Hood is after me! I’m sooo scared!” you retort back sarcastically. You were digging your own grave taunting this dangerous man, but it was worth it. The look on his face, priceless. You were kicking his ass, but alas, your winning streak wasn’t bound to last forever. 

You hear barking in the distance. Titus! Soon you see Jason’s face shift from a determined smirk to a mischievous grin. Uh oh…

“Get her/him Titus!” he shouts, pointing at your direction.

No! But before you could react, you’re tackled and knocked over by an excited Titus. “Noooo! Titus! Get off you big goofy dog!” you shield yourself from the onslaught of licks and drool. 

This time it’s Jason’s turn to laugh at you. Oh how the tables have turned. You manage to get Titus off you but Jason launches himself on top of you before you’re able to recover. He’s quick to pin you down. And there you are, hands pinned above your head by your boyfriend’s firm grip, his hard body heavy on top of you. He has one hand gripping a water balloon menacingly above you. You struggle against him, attempting to break free but he’s too strong; it didn’t help that you were already tired from all the running and dodging. 

“Please have mercy!” you cry out with pleading eyes. 

“You had your chance, it’s too late for mercy” he sneers. 

“I was just trying to help you! You just looked so hot...I thought I could help you...you know...cool off?” you weakly explain.

His eyes narrow, smugly grinning, “How nice of you y/n. Let me repay the favor, my love.”

Crap, I messed up...bad. Your stomach drops feeling a sense of dread for your incoming doom. Noooo-! *splash* You gasp, but that was just the start of it. He soaks you with the rest of his remaining ammo. 

“Oh my goodness gracious, I’ve been bamboozled!” you manage to choke out, completely drenched. 

He chuckles above you, “That's what you get for challenging the amazingly badass Red Hood!” 

Your chest is heaving from exertion as you glare up at him, still unable to break free, completely at his mercy. Your soaked shirt has become see through, revealing your chest. His eyes roam down your body, his handsome face no longer sporting the triumphant, gleeful expression he had a few seconds ago. His eyes are now darkened with lust, pupils dilated...your heart pounds wildly and your breath hitches. Your eyes flutter shut as he leans down. You could feel his hot breath fanning your anticipating lips briefly before his mouth covers yours passionately. He releases his grip on your arms, his hand is now underneath your head gripping your hair, firmly but gently. You clutch onto him with a moan, reciprocating in fervor, pulling your bodies closer together. He sucks at your bottom lip then slips his tongue into your mouth. Your tongue meets his, sliding against his as you grind yourself against him. He huskily groans in response, his other hand slipping under your shirt to explore your chest--

“Aww come on guys! Get a room!” Tim shouts in disgust, covering his eyes. 

“Nooo Damian! I’ll save you!” Dick cries out dramatically as he tackles Damian to the ground in a poor attempt to protect his innocence. 

“Get off me Grayson!” Damian demands, struggling to get his stupid brother off him. 

Both you and Jason cease your “activities”, releasing an exasperated sigh, disappointed by the interruption. You look up at him, making eye contact, and you both smirk. He helps you up, and you hand him your bucket containing the rest of your water balloons. Taking advantage of their distracted state, you both reach in, grab a balloon, and proceed to chuck them at the brothers. 

“HEY!” they shout in unison. 

Jason and you cackle evilly while the two of you proceed to pelt the boys with the water balloons. You both run away once the brothers recover as they made it their primary mission to get their revenge on the two of you. 

Jason chortles, “Suckers!” when the two of you pelt Tim and Damian on their faces. 

You also manage to land a hit on Dick’s butt, causing him to gasp dramatically. You snicker. “Sorry your ass is too big Dick! It makes such an easy target!” 

Dick gapes at you with a hand over his heart, aghast at the audacity!

Jason laughs at Dick’s expression, smirk widening at your taunting, however, you both unfortunately run out of water balloons. Uh oh. “Run y/n!” Jason grabs your hand, pulling you along with him to run for your lives. 

“Traitors! The both of you!” 

“Oy! Get back here!” 

“Todd! Y/n! You’re dead!” 

[tonesplash]

painkiller (leah clearwater x reader)

@super66legends87​ asked:

Hi! Can you do a Leah Clearwater x fem!reader where reader used to be good friends with Leah. When Leah shifts they stop talking and reader goes into the forest to take pictures to relieve stress, but catches Leah shifting. Thanks!

pairing: leah clearwater x reader

warnings: cursing, imprinting,kissing

a/n: whew i never thought i’d get this done. I have never written for leah before and think i need a refresher but i hope you like it! i dont think i used any gendered terms for the reader but this feels p sapphic to me lol. named after the beach bunny song of the same name.

Y'know, with how temperamental Leah had been the past few weeks before she completely ditched you, you'd think you wouldn't miss her as badly as you do now. You'd heard from her brother that their dad had passed away, but you hadn't been invited to any kind of funeral, and from then on, any calls to the Clearwaters went unanswered. 

Recently, it'd seemed that all of your friends on the reservation were too busy for you. Always ignoring calls or coincidentally busy on the days you'd wanted to hang out, going so far as dropping out of school so you couldn't even confront them then. You'd thought what you'd had with Leah was different, that despite the changes you'd both been going through that you'd miraculously stick it out and finally get to tell her how you feel. Evidently, it was too late for that.

So you threw yourself into your art. Photography had always been a nice outlet for you. Whenever you became stressed or upset, driving out into the mossy woods of Forks, Washington, and capturing the sights was as good as a long talk with someone you trust. And since she was apparently too busy, this was your next best bet.

You pull off of your favorite backroad outside of city limits and climb out with your camera bag in tow, fully prepared to spend the afternoon losing yourself in what the great state of Washington had to offer.

You had just gotten comfortable amongst the roots and rocks when a grey blur came barreling out of the woods. When it staggers to stop, you can see that it's a massive wolf. With gargantuan paws and lengthy but muscled legs that lead to an absolute barrel of a chest. Your camera slips between your fingers in your shock.

Its hindquarters are to you, and it looks to be in pain, stumbling to the side and violently throwing its head back and forth before its form shrinks and flinches down to the forest floor, leaving in its place the bare crumpled form of your best friend. You sit up in surprise to get a closer look.

"Leah?"

The choppy hair of her head whips with it as she faces you, blushed red with exertion, and stained in angry tears, as she glares at you over your shoulder before her eyes soften with something you’d never seen directed from her at you before.

All at once, you are tackled to the forest floor. She seems to have grown a foot in your time apart, body corded in lithe muscle, so unlike the slender girl you knew before. Leah's stern expression doesn't match the tone of her voice as she keeps you pinned beneath her.

"You can't tell anyone, and I mean ANYONE, what you just saw." Your shock keeps you still and silent, like a deer in headlights, and when your brain continues to short circuit, she leans closer to speak quietly, her hair tickling your cheeks. Her scent and overwhelming heat immediately encompass you, leaving something warm and fuzzy to grow inside you.

"Promise me you will keep this a secret." Her voice is uneven and creaky like she'd been crying. You’d never found her more beautiful, cheeks suddenly on fire.

"Yo-” you stutter and pause to swallow. ”Your tits are out." Leah’s resounding laugh washes over you and makes you all fuzzy inside. You feel as if you could pass out. The heat rushing off of her is comforting and suffocating all at once.

"Yes, and they were out last summer when that wave got lucky, (Y/n); I need you to focus."

"I promise not to tell anyone that my best friend turned into a gigantic wolf if she would just put a shirt on." You rush out in one breath, eyes tightly shut. Amidst your disorientation, you still try your best to be respectful.

Later, after Leah had procured a pair of Soffe shorts and a tank top from rifling around in a bush and dressed with your burning face turned away, you both settled in your backseat for a serious talk.

You both start at the same time. 

“Wh-”

“(Y/-)

That’s never happened before. You’ve never felt so out of sync. The emotional overload of the situation is making you jumpy, and you honestly can’t tell what Leah is thinking behind her dark eyes.

“No- you go ahead.” her firm tone leaves no room for argument and after that, the words just fall out. 

“What the hell Leah?” You didn’t mean to yell, and she flinches at your intensity at first, but you press on, incensed by your anxiety. “Do you know how worried I was about you? All I wanted to do was be there for my best friend and you- you shut me out! I thought you’d done something after what happened with your dad! With Sam?” 

 Leah remains silent during your outburst, respectfully listening, but looks like she’s holding herself back with the way her eyes anxiously flit over you. She begins to bounce her leg, shaking the carriage with the corded muscle and you notice for the first time how close your knees are, and it feels like a current is running between the joints, something inside you urging to close the gap, but your ire keeps you from being tender.

“A-and then you show up and you’re a goddamned wolf? Am I fucking dreaming?” Your hand’s card through your hair and nervously run your thighs as your anger turns to sadness.

“Lee… I was in love with you.” Your voice cracks at the admission and suddenly you are looking at your hands, playing with the hem of your shirt. “And you just left. I thought I meant more to you than that,” you admit, quieter.

Suddenly, the backseat feels a whole lot warmer, your tears are welling with emotion before she scoots closer, eyes warm, and you startle, now crowded against the window.

Leah pulls you in gently, first cupping your cheeks and regarding you quietly for a negative reaction before pressing her lips to yours. Your worry dissipates, and you’re just alone with Leah. In that moment there is nothing else but her and you are warm, and safe, and overwhelmingly loved. When she pulls away from the kiss, you can’t help but unconsciously follow before it breaks off. She lingers, propping one arm on the seat to support her head as she entwines your fingers. 

“After my dad I just…” She wavers at first but her voice firms up quickly, leveling her gaze with you and gripping your hand tighter in her sweltering hands as she speaks with conviction. “Shut down. And I'm sorry, that wasn't fair to you, and you didn't deserve that.”

“I wanted it to be you, but I couldn’t risk putting myself through that again (Y/n), you have to understand.” You shift uncomfortably, bracing for rejection, but she takes up your other hand in her own and squeezes reassuringly.

“But now I know, you were right here in front of me the whole time!” She says a bit too loudly at first. “It’s you. You’re it for me.” Leah excitedly scoots closer, more animated than you’d seen her in years. She drops one hand to tuck your hair behind your ear, eyes shining with adoration and you’re frozen on the spot.

“I love you.”

She kisses you again, harder this time, and you pull away before you can lose your train of thought again.

 “Leah- what do you mean I’m-” You reluctantly interrupt before she cuts you off with a final peck ,moving to give you room, intense concentration crossing her face.

“Do you remember? What Dad told us about the Spirit Warriors?”

You had spent many a night on the res, sleeping over with Leah to watch Seth or just sit by the fire and listen to the elder’s tales and legends. The night he’d relayed the story you’d both spent chasing each other around the house pretending to be wolves.

“Are you saying you’re….” You trail off, already knowing the answer when she nods, still watching you for a reaction. You guess that’d make the most sense. When you stay silent, she continues.

“And I know this is sudden and confusing, but (Y/n) I swear it will all make sense later.” Leah tangles your fingers again, bringing them to her face to kiss your knuckles nervously before continuing.

“You’re my-” she pauses, hesitating. “my imprint.”

You try your best to take this seriously but the words come out before you can stop them.

“Oh, so we are really in Warrior Cats territory now.” You really need to get some help.

“(Y/n) you are my soulmate and I love you. But if you bring up Warrior Cats to me like that again I will find the highest cliff just to throw you off it.” Her deadpan expression is marred by a smile she can’t fight, so you know you’re safe for now.

“Noted.” You giggle and pull her closer. “Kiss me.”

[xpeachesncream]

acquainted | eight

> series masterlist | series playlist <

summary: the biggest goal of a grad student is to get through school in one piece - no petty drama involved, no sweating over the little things. however, that plan almost always never follows through. sometimes, you can’t help but fall into the most unthinkable, unexpected traps and learn the hard way. like, exhibit a: being unable to resist your engaged, substitute teacher, kim seokjin.

pairing: jungkook x reader x engaged!teacher!seokjin

genre: grad school au, student life au | fluff, angst, smut

words: 3.6k

warnings: cussing, mature language/implied sexual content, jealousy and slight possessiveness, making out

tags: @laurynne5 @yiyi4657 @miinoongi @teamtardis-notdead @bluesharksandfish @photographic-girl @yonkoghan @moonchild1​ @thebeebi​ (pls msg me if you would like to be added to the taglist!)

"Should we go to that charity event the school is holding on Friday? It sounds kind of fun." Ryujin sipped on her drink, while you went through your closet, showing her different outfits over the facetime call.

"What's it for again?"

"I don't remember, but the Golden State Warriors dj is going to be dj'ing. He's pretty good."

"Yeah he is. I mean, I'm down, especially if it's for a good cause."

"Okay, I'll grab us tickets when I head to campus."

"You're not even gonna ask Jimin or Tae?" You chuckle.

"Why would I? They do everything we do, they don't know anything outside of us." You shake your head.

"Cut them a little slack."

"Boohoo, they'll say yes regardless. Bring Jungkook!"

"I mean, I'll ask, but I'm not gonna force him."

"Oh quit, I'm sure he'd be happy to spend time with you." She looked at you through the camera. "K, let me see that outfit."

"He said casual." You showed her your outfit in the full length mirror.

"Absolutely, yes! You're fucking hot." She squeals, automatically solidifying your outfit for tonight. It, thankfully, wasn't too cold in the Bay today, so you throw on a grey distressed denim mini skirt, a low-cut light grey longsleeve, a belt and some heeled combat boots. You ruffled and fixed your hair a bit until you were satisfied with your look, picking up the phone once more to turn your attention back to Ryujin.

"Thank you."

"No problem, babe. I hope you have fun! Did he say where you two were going?"

"Nope, it's apparently a surprise."

"Ugh, I love him already." She gushes, causing you to shake your head. You dabbed a bit of lip gloss and pressed your lips together to spread it out before spraying a perfume cloud for you to walk through. Sooner or later, knocks came at the door.

"Okay, I think that's him. I'll talk to you later?"

"Call me as soon as you get home. I want to know how big his dick actually is."

"You're sick. You sound exactly like Tae, you know that?"

"We're not talking about him."

"Love you, bye!" You abruptly hang up on her, unsure of why the hell you deal with her and Taehyung's crude comments. You grab your bag and open the door to see Jungkook standing there with a small bouquet of flowers. He peeks his head over the bouquet with the cutest smile you have ever seen.

"Hi." He slightly scrunches his nose and pulls you into a hug. Goddamn, does he smell good. "These are for you." He hands you the bouquet.

"Jungkook, they're beautiful. Thank you." You take it into your kitchen and place it into a vase really quickly before stepping out. You eye him from head to toe, and boy is looking like a whole ass meal in the denim outfit he has on. Like, who in the world could pull off this outfit like that?

"You look amazing." You blush. "If you ever get cold, just let me know, alright? I can spare my jacket."

"You're so sweet."

"Just want to make sure you're comfortable." He shrugs. "You ready?"

"Depends on what you have up your sleeve."

"Nothing extreme, if that's what you're thinking." He laughed. "I hope you enjoy it, though."

"Thanks for planning all of this, by the way."

"No biggie. I'm just glad to finally spend some time with you." He does a little run to open the passenger car door for you before hopping into the driver's seat. Immediately, he gets the car started and turns up the heat to make sure you're comfortable. The radio is softly playing Zayn's sHe, with Jungkook softly singing along.

"Wait a minute," You chuckle. "Do you sing?" He smirked.

"Maybe."

"Hey, that's not fair. Sing louder."

"No, now I'm shy." He chuckled.

"Why? It's just me."

"Yeah and I just wanna impress you and not make a fool out of myself."

"You won't! Please." You pouted, making him shake his head.

"Ugh, Y/N. That's going to easily become a weakness for me if you keep pulling that pout." You keep pouting. Eventually, he gets over himself and starts to sing a little louder than earlier, causing your heart to flutter at how angelic he sounds. He ends up laughing towards the end and shrugging it off, his cheeks tinted with a rosy tint as you shower him in compliments. Swoon. You were so into the moment that you didn't even realize Jungkook was taking you across the bridge to San Francisco. You and your friends don't come to the city much, strictly because there's too many goddamn hills, parking is expensive as fuck, there's too many one way streets and people just get crazy as hell [like crossing the street when it's not time to walk?!]. It was a little calmer back home and that's all you guys needed. You watch as he parks the car effortlessly on a steep hill before coming over to your side to open the door for you.

"Whew, that's gonna be a workout later." You look back at the steep hill that you're gonna have to climb after eating dinner, you assume.

"Don't worry, I got you." He laughs. There's actually a lot of people out for a Tuesday evening that you end up hanging onto his arm to get navigate the random sea of people. He walks into Brenda's French Soul Food - nothing too fancy, but nothing too casual. The waitress brings you both towards the back end of the restaurant and out into the patio, where there are christmas lights hung around the fence and outdoor heaters posted. He pulls out your chair before sitting himself down, the waitress putting down your menus and cups of water.

"Ohhhhh, my god." You say with heart eyes looking at the menu. You had heard about this place from so many people, and you were impressed that Jungkook was able to score reservations being that it's always so busy due to its popularity. "I'm so excited! I've been wanting to try this place."

"Goodjob, Jungkook." He says, patting himself on the back. "If you're happy, that's all I could ask for." The waitress comes back to offer recommendations, which you both include in your orders in one way or another. Although packed, the restaurant was able to pump out orders quickly and efficiently so you and Jungkook weren't sitting around for too long without food.

"So, how's Jin in class?" You almost choke on your food even though this is something you should have expected. You really wanted to avoid speaking about him tonight, but you knew it was inevitable being that you were out with his brother.

"Um, he's alright."

"Just alright?" He rose his eyebrow and chuckled.

"No, sorry. I mean, he's a really good teacher. Definitely better than our last professor. Everyone in class loves him."

"That's cool. Yeah, he's really smart and wise. I've always looked up to him."

"How long has it been?" You weren't sure how to ask the question, but Jungkook understood what you were asking.

"I was a sophomore in high school when my mom met his dad." You're silent for a moment, allowing him to continue on if needed. "I had a really hard time at first, you know? The whole stepfather thing. My anger was moreso directed towards my mom and my stepdad for awhile. But Jin helped me out a lot. He helped me come to terms with my feelings about everything and he stuck by my side, always had my back whenever I got into arguments or bickered with one of our parents." You nodded, suddenly feeling guilty even though you and Jungkook weren't a couple.

"So, you two are really close." He nodded.

"Yeah, we are. I really don't know what I'd do without him. He's taught me a lot and helped me grow. Plus, Namjoon, Hoseok and Yoongi have been around too. They treat me like their own little brother.”

"That's sweet. It's nice to have that kind of relationship with your sibling and their friends." You chuckle.

"It is." He nods. "Do you have any siblings?"

"Ryujin, Taehyung and Jimin." He laughs.

"From the club, right? I met your friends, they're fun people."

"They're too much, honestly. I'm the only child, but we've all been stuck to the hip since freshman year in college."

"That's cool that you guys have been together since then." You give him a toothless smile. "I think it's pretty awesome that you guys are tackling grad school together too."

"Initially, we all had different plans, but Jimin had some big goals for himself including grad school, and it played a huge role in my decision to do grad school, too. Then Ryujin followed, then Taehyung."

"Cute."

"Speaking of friends, there's this charity event at school on Friday." You look up at him, a small smirk growing on his face.

"Uh huh?"

"And I was wondering if you wanted to come along with us. They really want you there."

"That's sweet. But, what matters the most is that you want me there."

"I wouldn't be inviting you if I didn't, right?" You bit your bottom lip.

"Touché. Of course I'll go with you, beautiful." He does a small nod before sipping his water. "Should we show up in matching outfits?" He joked, causing you to snort.

"Honestly, that seems pretty entertaining. Cute, and entertaining."

"I'm down if you are." You stuck your tongue out playfully.

"I'm game too."

"Let me know what you're wearing then."

"I will, whenever I figure that out."

"Take your time. Just know you'll look good in anything." You blushed. You both continue to talk over the remaining bits of your food before Jungkook calls for the check. You watch as he scribbles his signature onto the receipt before standing and sticking his wallet into the back pocket of his jeans. While exiting the small and crowded restaurant, you hold onto his hand, feeling him grip it tighter as you both successfully make it out. The night isn't too cold, and you sure as hell knew it wouldn't be after you conquered the hill that Jungkook parked on.

"Fuck." You say as you stand on the street, eyeing the steep hill in front of you.

"Come on." He says, slightly bending down for you to hop onto his back.

"Ouu, I don't know if that's a good idea--"

"Y/N, I promise it's okay. Come on." He laughed. Hey, if he was willing to do this, then why not? You hop onto his back, his arms wrapping your legs tightly around his waist, while you clung onto his neck. "See, not so bad, right?" He says, sprinting up the hill, making you laugh and hold onto him tighter.

"Shit, I am so sorry. That was probably a workout. Right after we ate, too."

"Nah. It wasn't anything." He scrunched his nose. On the way back over the bridge, Jungkook is heading towards Lake Merritt. You both are singing along to songs and joking around about topics that pop up here and there. When he parks his car, you notice a whole crowd of people gathered by the lake, which was a little unusual for this time of night. He grabs your hand and gently caresses the top with his thumb as he walks you over towards the crowd. To your surprise, you realize people are gathered here for a water lantern festival. Your eyes light up, making Jungkook smile at how excited you look.

"Jungkook, what the hell! How did you know about this and I didn't?" He shrugs.

"I have my ways." He says, his voice low and deep. You playfully shove him before you make your way over to grab lanterns to decorate. You and Jungkook sit off in a more quiet, calmer part of the lake, silently decorating your lanterns and writing your wishes along with it. What exactly did you want to wish for?

Happy friends, happy family. Happy you.

Whatever happiness meant to you.

To have Chance look over you.

Jungkook is done pretty quickly, but he waits for you to finish, not questioning what you've written since he figures it's a private matter. He shows you his lantern and his cute little stick figure drawing of his family and friends. You giggle, watching him gently lay his lantern in the water, giving you leverage to do the same with yours. You stand closely to him, his body providing you some warmth as you watch your lanterns float off into the lake and illuminate the night along with the others.

"Ready? We have one more thing to catch." He snakes his arm around your waist and gives your side a gentle squeeze. You simply nod, following him back to his car. He takes you about 30 minutes away, exiting and pulling right into a lot two street lights down from the exit. He pulls up to the ticket booth, buying 2 tickets for Tenet at the drive-in movie. You squeal and clap in your seat excitedly, also not knowing this was still around.

"Did you really do your research to plan this date?"

"Yes and no? I've been here before, and I thought it would be fun to take you. The restaurant and the lantern festival though, yes." He parks his car as instructed, turning the radio to the correct channel in order to hear the audio. "Wanna hop in the back so we have more room?" You nod, getting out of your seat just to hop into the back. He leans over into his trunk, grabbing water bottles and assorted gummy candies for you to snack on in case you wanted some. "I hope you're having fun so far."

"I am." You respond softly.

"Okay, beautiful. If you say so." He chuckles. He moves the driver and passenger seats forward so that you both have room to spread your legs a bit. At first, Jungkook made sure to give you enough space so he wouldn't make you uncomfortable, but over time, you felt yourself sinking closer and closer to his body until he had his arm draped around your shoulder, while part of your body rested on his. His hand gently caressed your arm, occasionally sending goosebumps through your body at how soft his touch his. You glanced over, admiring at how focused he was on the movie. He must have felt you looking at him because he quickly looks over and blushes as he nibbles on a gummy worm. "What?"

"Nothing, it's just cute how focused you are."

"Damn, are you not into it?"

"I am, but it's kind of hard to follow sometimes."

"Yeah, it's definitely one of those movies." This time, his gaze on you is a little longer than before. You don't know what takes over you, but you plant a kiss on him, making him smile into the kiss. He doesn't say anything, but proceeds to rest his free hand on your neck, pulling you close and into another deep kiss. Your hand grips onto the side of his shirt, your tongues slowly fighting for dominance. The sounds of wet kisses fills the car and tunes out the movie audio. You can feel the moment intensifying, both you and Jungkook letting out breathy moans in between kisses. Suddenly, the thought of Seokjin quickly flashes in your mind, the past nights you've spent with him and the nasty shit you both have done to each other.

You lightly gasp as you pull away, but it wasn't obvious to Jungkook that something had disturbed your peace.

"Sorry, I—" He tries to save face just in case he was in the wrong about something.

"No, I just— I wasn't expecting it to get that intense." You lied. You knew damn well.

"It's okay." He chuckled. "I would never rush you into anything, Y/N. Okay? We can take this slow." He gives you a genuine, warm, reassuring smile that causes you to swoon. Why the fuck was he so good? Just why? How was this even fair right now?

All you do is simply smile and lean back onto him. He's back to caressing your arm and shoulder, giving you small pecks on the top of your head every now and then to reassure you. Part of you wondered if this is what Seokjin had taught him over the years - how to properly love a woman and be a gentleman. But then, that quickly fades when you remember the situation you're in with him.

Well no, you're not in anything with him. You needed to stop doing this to yourself.

When the movie ends, you both climb back into the front seats to make your way back home. You feel the exhaustion hit you, all the fun and adrenaline you felt today slowly come crashing down. Jungkook parks in the passenger loading zone, throwing on his hazard lights before walking you up to your apartment.

"Jungkook, thank you for tonight. I really enjoyed it and had a ton of fun with you."

"I'm glad." He cups your face and gently places a kiss on your forehead. You weren't satisfied with it though, so you tippy toe as you hold onto his hand and kiss him on the lips. He leans into the kiss, deepening it for a quick second before pulling away. "Let me know the details about Friday, okay?"

"Okay."

"I'll call you tomorrow. Sleep tight, beautiful." He smiles and licks his lips as he watches you walk in, feeling utterly content with how the day went. You feel the same way, smiling to yourself as you throw your bag onto the floor and prance into the bathroom to get ready for bed. You felt the butterflies in your stomach every time you thought about Jungkook and his smile, or his soft lips against yours.

Butterflies that kept your mind off of—

[jin] 10:04pm: Are you still with Jungkook?

You roll your eyes at the text. You hadn't pulled out your phone all night, so you're also seeing the numerous messages from your friends in the group chat, too.

[jimin] 7:45pm: have fun tonight, Y/N!

[taehyung] 7:50pm: ^ ditto. use protection, young lady

[taehyung] 7:50pm: think about mr. kim's feelings

[ryujin] 7:56pm: taehyung kim, shut the hell up. do you have anything better to do?

[jimin] 8:01pm: i really hope she doesn't pull out her phone during the date -__-

[taehyung] 8:05pm: lmfao you guys, chill out

[taehyung] 8:06pm: i'm sorry y/n, im just kidding. have fun tonight and be safe, love you

[ryujin] 8:10pm: CALL ME WHEN YOU GET HOME Y/N! i wanna know deets, remember! and ask him if he wants to join us on friday!

Unbelievable. Your friends were unbelievable, and that was an understatement. You don't respond to the group because you figured you'd call Ryujin in a bit and update the boys over the week. But to Jin's text - fuck.

You were literally just tucking him away in the far, far, far dark, deep depths of your mind.

[y/n] 11:38pm: I was, but now I'm home.

[jin] 11:39pm: Yeah, he just texted me back. Sorry.

[y/n] 11:40pm: It's okay.

[jin] 11:43pm: Okay. Have a good night.

He hates this. Why the hell would you do this to him? Grace is upstairs sleeping while Jin is trying to clean the kitchen up like he promised. Suddenly, his phone goes off, signaling a call coming in.

Jungkook.

"Hello?"

"Oh shit, yes! You're awake!" Jin chuckles a bit.

"How was the date?" Not only was he asking out of curiosity, but wanted to know how you were doing during the night. Completely none of his business but he couldn't help himself.

"God, she's fucking amazing. A-and-and beautiful." He yells into the phone excitedly. "She's so exciting. I can't wait to take her out again. I just wanna keep spending time with her." Jin is pretty unamused on the other line. Thank God he isn't on Facetime so he didn't have to fake this facial expressions hearing about Jungkook's feelings for you. "S-she- I mean, we kissed."

"Oh?" Jin asks, tongue pressed against his cheek. What the fuck.

"Yeah, we were making out during the movie. It got pretty intense, but it didn't get any further than that. I didn't wanna rush her into anything."

"You think it could have escalated?"

"Yeah honestly, but I wanna do right by her, you know?" Jin can tell how serious Jungkook was starting to become about pursuing you, and he had never felt more competitive until this day. He just wanted you to himself, and he wanted to be the one to kiss you and make you feel things you've only dreamed about.

Not his brother.

He, too, wanted you just as bad. If anything, more.

"It sounds like it was a pretty successful first date." Jungkook is beaming through the phone, he didn't have to see his face to know that.

"It was. It was such a good night." Jungkook chuckles. "By the way, I'm going to that charity event on campus on Friday. Are you and Grace going?"

"Probably not."

"Well, if you both are free, you should swing by. It'll be nice to see Grace."

"Yeah, I'll ask and see what's up." Jin sighs. "I should probably get to bed, I'm pretty tired. I'm happy to hear the date went well, kid."

"Thanks, dude. I'll talk to you later, get some rest."

"You too." Jin hangs up the call, silently hitting his fist against the kitchen counter as he lets out a deep sigh. More than ever, he wanted to keep you wrapped around his finger. He wanted to keep you there, no matter how selfish that sounded. There was no way he was going to let you unravel.

[djmarinizelablog]

Hey!! Would you mind write a Miss Congeniality!AU with levihan?

You know, with my beloved hange being Sandra Bullock, and Levi loving her in anyway, after or before the changes, but being surprised with them hehehe

Whew, this was a long one, Anon! Read under the cut to see the rest of it, and let me know what you think! I might expand it one of these days...

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

1.

Beauty pageants are a nightmare for FBI Agent Hange Zoe.

She can do a sliding tackle, a crosspunch, a backflip-ninja-combo-roll before landing a roundabout kick on the bad guys. All of that while she's wearing a handsome suit. Those shitheads were just damn overwhelmed by her the last time the rascals went on the run from the police; Hange managed to find their hiding place after deducing that these crime lords did their operations in small underground bars where they could bribe the management.

But beauty pageants will haunt Hange in her sleep, especially now that her supervisor Erwin Smith has just assigned her to a new mission involving a serial bomber who targets the public. Said criminal had sent them a threat two days ago saying that he intends to bomb the upcoming Miss Paradis beauty pageant within a weeks' time. To add to that, Erwin has asked FBI's top agent Levi Ackerman to call the shots while they're out in the field, which unfortunately in this case... is the runway.

"I just don't fucking understand." Agent Levi grits his teeth as he pulls his suit tighter around him. "Why does this idiot of a bomber want to make a statement in a pageant, of all places?

"Maybe he's a feminist?" Hange suggests. "You know, maybe he doesn't believe that women should be ranked in terms of looks... or maybe he's got a grudge on one of the contestants? They have their own personal advocacies and all that, too."

"Why the hell do you know so much about this?" Levi eyes his colleague suspiciously, her tomboyish nature unconvincing enough to make Hange Zoe the type of person who would be interested in these events.

"Nanaba makes me watch them," Hange says. She's referring to her buddy in the Cybercrime Unit. "Not that I enjoy it, but I think it's enough for me to get an idea of how these shows actually operate---"

And apparently enough for her to infiltrate the pageant.

Hange obviously did not take it lightly when Erwin announced the plan to use her as an insider in order to track any suspicious activity and monitor the candidates' safety as well.

"Oh no, please no," Hange shakes her head. So much for her intelligence and her critical thinking skills. "I'm not gonna strut across the stage in high heels and pushup bras---"

"You don't have a choice." Levi frowns.

"You men seriously don't understand anything about pageants, do you?" She puts both hands on her hips in exasperation. "It takes weeks, months, maybe even years, to train the contestants... and have you seen me?" She gestures to her masculine appearance and her blatant lack of curves.

The two men look at each other before Erwin breaks the silence. "Keith Shadis can take care of that."

2.

Apparently, they had already asked the pageant committee to put her on the roster of candidates, in addition to hiring a beauty consultant to assist her in the preparations.

"Great heavens," Shadis mutters the moment Hange introduces herself to him in plain casual clothes, eyeglasses dirty and her ponytailed hair in complete disarray. His face cannot hide the disappointment. The older man straightens himself up and continues, "Am I staring at a clown? Not that I've seen worse."

He circles Hange slowly, scrutinizing her poor posture and her vital statistics, wondering how a disheveled person like her would even have the audacity to show up at his place for a makeover.

"I heard you're an expert at transformations," Levi comes to Hange's defense, his tone professional. "We just need her to look good enough so she can get into the final selection. Surely some makeup and beauty sleep will do the trick?"

Shadis raises an eyebrow. "At this rate, Mister Ackerman, your partner here needs to hibernate."

Hange winces at the insult. "Look, I'm not as excited in this as you are---"

"But we're already here, aren't we?" Shadis crosses his arms. "Well, let's get to work then."

He snaps his fingers, and out of nowhere, his assistants grab Hange from behind, forcing her down into a styling chair as they inspect every nook and cranny of her face and body, starting from her untidy hair down to her overgrown toenails.

"This is going to be embarrassing," Hange says, an understatement.

3.

No one has ever told Hange Zoe that prepping up for a pageant is worse than torture. Over the past twelve hours, she has been subjected to a manicure, a pedicure, a hot oil treatment, dental prophylaxis, eyebrow threading, earwax cleaning, body sculpting, and of course, a full-body Brazilian waxing.

To add to that, Shadis has discarded her formal suit and has her done several outfit changes to give her a new sense of style.

"My entire face is sore," she complains to Levi who has been on standby while she underwent all the necessary procedures. "I can't even feel my legs.”

They're separated by a huge dark curtain, Shadis wanting it to be a surprise when he finally reveals the new and improved Hange-motherfucking-Zoe.

"It'll be over soon, trust me," Levi consoles her, both of them already exhausted. He doesn't really care about this entire shebang; he just wants to continue with the operation and gather as much intel as they can on the contestants. Unfortunately, this is part of the mission.

Hange whines again. “And they won't even let me eat any of the pizza!"

“I’ll sneak you in a slice while they’re not looking.”

“I heard that.” Shadis says, his head poking through the curtain. 

There's a sigh that escapes Hange on the other side.

"Say, Levi... would you prefer a bombshell model over a badass fighter?" she asks him.

"What kind of question is that?" Levi raises an eyebrow. “You already know my answer.”

He whips his head around just in time to see Shadis smirking, holding the curtains together behind him.

"Behold..." he says, "the one and only... Hange Zoe!"

Levi manages to keep his mouth from falling open when he sees Hange in a nice halter dress, her hair now loose in soft curls, lips pink from the gloss and tint. Instead of her usual glasses, she's now wearing plain contacts.

"What do you think?" She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, her brown eyes curious while she looks at him in all earnest.

Levi swallows. The words have already left him.

--------

Bonus scene!

The girls are already in their bikinis, hands on hips and sashes hanging on their shoulder as they prance around onstage for the swimsuit segment. Earlier that evening, Levi and Erwin had deduced that pageant contestant Petra Rall may be involved in their case, having joined several protests against animal cruelty in the past. Hange Zoe immediately shut their opinions' down, claiming that Petra wouldn't even hurt a fly, even if she knew how to. The men were still skeptical, nevertheless.

"Like a Dalai Lama, like a Dalai Lama," Hange grits her teeth as she forces a smile on her face. She can feel the silicon cups moving around her chest as well as her bikini bottom sliding up her butt.

When she was up for the Q&A portion, the host had asked her what she would wish for in order to make society a better place. Hange Zoe made the mistake of saying "harsher punishments for parole violators," but she immediately rectified it by adding "world peace" to her final statement.

They're now watching Petra Rall from the sidelines, Levi and Erwin still convinced that the girl could be an accomplice to the bomber's plans.

"What's your idea of a perfect date?" The host starts with his question.

"Oh, that's a tough one." Petra giggles, her ginger hair bouncing as she speaks, "I'd have to say April 25th. Because it's not too hot, not too cold... all you need is a light jacket."

Hange lets out a snort as the two men's face wrinkle in confusion.

"So much for your alleged criminal," she says.

[kiss4kazu]

Hi! could I request some headcanons for what kissing Ashe and Dimitri (Felix too if thats not too much if not its fine) would be like for the first time?

☆ first time kisses with ashe, dimitri, felix 

↳ ashe babie boy 

although ashe is really innocent and pure i think he’s easily one of the most romantic in blue lions and would really go above and beyond always for the person he loves. 

i know a lot of people probably see ashe as someone being too reluctant and nervous to actually ever make a move first but i think if he really liked someone, he’d be extremely obvious about it, blushing like crazy, a stuttering mess, etc and after enough pep talks from sylvain he’d finally make a move to ask u out on a date and it would be an absolute wreck.

would literally put together something so fckin cheesy n corny but in the most adorably ashe way that it makes you want to punch him from being so precious

like a cute picnic or something by a lake and he’d make cute little cakes with some help from annette and it would just be so pure. 

he’d rehearse how he’s going to confess in his head like a million times but when the moment actually comes it ends up just being a jumbled up mess filled with “ums” and he’d try to stick to the script him and sylvain came up with and get out a “y-you’re r-really… u-uh… p-pretty..” but then he’d fuck it all up by saying something weird n dorky like “a-and you s-smell really nice… w-wait that’s weird i’m sorry-” and you’d just hold back ur laughter, ur heart swelling with so so much affection for him. 

ofc he’d ask for permission to kiss you, cheeks crimson and his eyes looking up at yours like tht one starry eyed emoji. you’d give him a vocal response, since he rly needs that reassurance. no stutters just “of course ashe” and he’d smile so so big and then just swoop down totally uncoordinated. 

would probs miss your lips and have to readjust. 

kissing ashe for the first time would be … messy. he’s not experienced at all, and doesn’t know what to do with his hands and he’d honestly be a dead fish for a good few moments. but as you ease him more into the kiss, he’d loosen up a bit, tilt his head and just stop overthinking. his lips would be really warm and would taste so sweet from the cake and he’d smile so hard into the kiss that your teeth end up bumping into each other and you’d pull away laughing

ashe kisses are the best honestly the butterflies fireworks the whole shebang yknow. 

as he gets more confident he’d probably try out a few things he’s seen in books like slipping his tongue in and would be completely taken aback by just how nice it feels. would probably whine into the kiss, cradle your face in his hands, and once you guys pull apart for some air he’d just breathe heavily against your lips with the dopiest smile on his face :( <3 

he’d be rly slap happy after kissing you for the first time and would probably tackle u onto the picnic blanket laughing from happiness kissing your face everywhere and showering you in compliments, shoving his face into ur neck and just breathing in ur scent. 

he’s very clingy ok. 

↳ dimi !!

whew. ok so we’re gonna do academy phase dimi since feral dimi is uh… probs not sfw & violent skjdfjslkjfd  

academy phase dimi knows NOTHING about kissing n he has 0 experience so it takes him forever n a day to finally get the balls to kiss u and when he does … whew. 

i can imagine kissing dimi to be during like , a deep convo or something late at night, when he’s having trouble sleeping or something and ur just running ur fingers through his hair, listening to him as he vents and admiring the sound of his voice bc he’s always more talkative at the dead of night when he’s sleep deprived. 

he’d just look at u so so lovingly and it would be suffocating and ur just staring at his lips but u know ur probs way in over ur head bc uh he’s the future king of faerghus 

but then he’d ask for permission too like ashe tbh bc he’s just polite like tht and has too good mannerisms 

plus he cares a lot about your comfort and would never want to make u feel unsafe or uncomfy especially by his doing

and you would nod with quickness n he’d waste not a second to connect ur lips 

kissing dimi is like a trance tbh, type of kiss that feels like something in u is short-circuiting 

literally the type of kiss that makes ur knees buckle u know the ones. 

he’s a rly rly good kisser n it makes no sense bc he’s literally never kissed anyone before in his life n it kind of makes u mad bc why is he perfect 

a rly rly passionate kisser and he can be kind of rougher than he intends to bc he’s not good with fragile things 

clearly v dominant in the kiss, one hand with an iron grip on ur hip the other tangled up behind ur neck, gripping ur hair. after a while gets reluctant and starts to overthink things and pulls away apologizing for being too rough

you’d probs have to reassure him a million times tht its okay dimi ur not hurting me!! 

he’s rly touch starved tbh so he always tends to take pecks into full-blown makeout sessions or when he intends to just kiss ur forehead he ends up kissing ur cheeks too, ur jaw, down ur neck just riling himself up tbh and then he finally  looks up at u with his eyes all dark n ur just like … here we go

did i mention he groans a lot during kisses bc he does 

dimi’s other sides shining through when his emotions overwhelm him is just .. dimitri 101. 

he’s rough, seemingly an expert at this shit, his tongue shoving past your lips and completely taking u off guard. he’d literally kiss you so hard your head would spin and he’d do it all with a blush on his face bc he’s still a shy babie.  as soon as the moment is over he’s back to stuttering n being all awkward boyish prince. 

he’s also the type to shower u in compliments between kisses.

kisses lips “you’re so gorgeous” smooches neck “so amazing” kisses jaw “goddess i love you” 

im scream crying

↳ felix too bc WHY NOT ! i love him 

listen. 

this little fucker kisses the life out of people u heard it here first folks. 

he’s 100% a heat of the moment type of kisser. it could go two ways tbh. like if you got hurt or something on his behalf he’d scream at you with glossy eyes for a good 5 minutes and then just stare at you all >:( and then he’d just grab you and  kiss the fuck out of you.

probably the most passionate kisser out of the three, he kisses to the point where u can’t feel ur toes and stuff he’d just completely indulge without any fucks given bc he almost lost you and he’s not good with explaining his emotions so hopefully this helps you understand. 

the other way i can see a first kiss going down with felix is more.. vulnerable, despite his hard exterior. he is rough and mean but it’s not bc he’s genuinely a bad person he just has walls built up so high tht its impossible for anyone to rly climb over 

to get a kiss from lix, u definitely have to have climbed over tht wall of his, or just fly a wrecking ball through it n send it crumbling to the ground

you’re literally the only exception, the only person who can rly get through to him 

he’d probably turn to you for comfort a lot, when dimitri agitates him with memories of glenn or his dad says something that ticks him off and he wants to punch something he’d just go to you instead, knock on ur door and just waltz in like he owns the place, sitting down on ur bed and u would know he wants cuddles bc this is how felix communicates 

if he had to actually say “i want cuddles” out loud he’d probably shoot himself in the foot with an arrow so he’s glad u understand, u always understand him just by looking at him n it’s reassuring bc he’s never been good with words.

its kind of cringe to him that he likes being held but shocker he likes being held 

he also rly rly likes it when u play with his hair he’s like a cat he will literally start nuzzling into you, so warm and pliant to your touch

ok im getting distracted back to the kissing shit

felix would probably just be rly overwhelmed with emotions n he doesn’t rly know how to tell u “i like u” so he just says “im going to kiss you.” like a literal statement n then he does it n ur just like o-o bc wtf. 

if ur not responsive at first he’d just pull away after a while and wouldn’t meet eyes with u and be all blushy. 

would let out a tch like the little shit that he is, and u have to turn his face so he’s properly looking at u again and meeting eyes with u 

he looks so vulnerable and stupidly gorgeous so u kiss him this time so he knows the feeling is mutual and it’d take him a min to really gather whats happening but once he does he’d literally. suck. the. life. out. of. your. face. period. 

felix kisses r rough n messy n just completely self-indulgent and he groans shamelessly when u pull his hair tie out from his bun and tug at his hair yes i have a thing for felix’s hair leave me alone.

gives 0 fucks would literally shove his tongue down your throat pull you flush against him and he always calls sylvain insatiable but rly its this fucker who’s insatiable he is literally eating your face. 

you’d have to pull him away from you and he’d just pant so hard against your lips and look at you like he wants to devour you and its kind of overwhelming bc he’s fucking hot !!!!! 

would shove his face into ur neck and mumble out an “i like you”  and u would tease him n be like “what did you say i cant hear u?” and he’d elbow u in the ribs  and groan into ur neck and u would laugh n kiss his head, telling him u like him too

at tht he’d lift his head up, his hair falling over his amber eyes and u would just push the strands away from his face and kiss him softly one last time before going back 2 ur conversation about punching sylvain’s face or sumn

anyway i love felix thanks 4 coming to my ted talk. 

requests are open! <3

- vivi ★

[yezielmoore]

Day 1: Foster

v.t. to care for and cherish.

Kaito pants as he circles his weakened prey, automatically cataloguing its injuries and weak points. He takes advantage of the lull in the action to recoup some strength. It won’t be long now, cunning as the beast is, it hasn’t shown much in the way of patience.

With a shout and one last push of strength he engages his foe one last time. Kujata rears back at his approach, intent on stomping him flat no doubt. He dodges nimbly out of the way and ducks under the follow up swipe of those sharp horns. Dangerous, those things. His lightly stabbed side bleeds some more in perverse agreement. His body is a traitor, he decides.

Kaito feels the displaced air ruffle his hair. Breathes. 

‘Whew, that was close, very close’. 

He steadies his stance and jumps, swinging his axe with all his strength into that opening. It’s the breaking point. The axehead lodges deeply into the beast’s neck and neither it nor him budge until the monster ceases its dying flailing. Once that’s done he straightens-  

Only to be tackled to the ground by a crying child repeating ‘thank you’ over and over again like it’s a mantra. He sighs and pats the boy on the back awkwardly. 

Kaito doesn’t understand, if he’s honest. But that’s life for him nowadays. An outsider looking in. Wondering if this boy sobbing his heart out in grief and relief in his arms was him at some point. Maybe, maybe not. There’s no familiarity and the answer, as always, doesn’t come. It’s frustrating, it’s familiar. Still, that doesn’t mean he has to be an asshole to a boy that recently lost his family to the very much unlamented beast he just felled. He can spare a minute or two to comfort him and snot is not the worst he has been covered with just this week anyway. 

Finally the boy calms down and allows his grandfather to pull him away, allowing a relieved Kaito to pull away from the rocky ground, doble ouch. He pops his back and hisses at the stabbing pain that flares with the action. He unconsciously curls inwards a bit. Azeyma’s tits, but that fucking hurts.

That’s what getting gored gets you, a mocking voice resonates inside his empty skull. Familiar in a way that means he should know it. He doesn’t remember if he does. Did. Whoever it belonged to is most likely dead so it’s whatever. 

Fuck you, he thinks back at the voice. Because if he’s gone insane at least he will own it and have fun with it. I’m not dead, am I? 

The voice doesn’t respond. Because why would insanity work on command really, Kaito thinks sourly as he downs his last potion. It’ll do while he wraps things up with Wyrnzoen here. 

But before leaving, he can’t help but look back at the boy one last time and he’s relieved when he finds him safe and sound in his grandfather’s embrace, the old man clutching his remaining family with a desperation that is painfully familiar. It’s a sight that soothes something in him that Kaito didn’t realize was bothering him. Whether the boy (Sighard, he finally recalls) grows into a hero as he proclaimed or a farmhand or a merchant or anything else, Kaito is glad to see that he won’t be alone. 

Kid will be alright. 

[sleepynegress]

WandaVision Finale Early Summation Thoughts...

^^^ Not even remotely the same energy, except in magnitude... and maybe traumatic baggage. Elves be long-lived, meaning they carry a lot of shit and I'm sure the one ring exploits that...but I digress.

...This entire series taken as a whole is some of the best visual fictional media to ever tackle mental health.

And I mean that.

MONICA!!!

They are really following comic canon. FakePietro got to use his powers on her ONCE and she learned that shit and took him down easily... The SAME power that was used well to almost be the saving grace of that last terrible X-men movies. She turned into energy!!!!!! And the bullets just phased on through... The bullets just phased through a black woman, who was shot by men in uniform working for the government.... *whew!* And OMG, when the extra scene happened and Skrull Agent said they wanna get her into space... I imagined Talos and fam and Nick Fury turning into that (accurate) Cedric The Entertainer bit about how black relatives act when they see grown-ups after a long time away... "YOU LOOK JUST LIKE YO MOMMA!! *hug!*" et al.... I looked like wet bichon frischet at the end of this... the tears came so good w/ this ep. Everything w/ Vision (AHHHH!!! THE SHIP. OF THESEUS), the kids.... Well. Done. Wanda and the magnitude of that "I'm fine." mask. ONLY a fantastical genre could really do that metaphor for traumas a lot of us are masking to get through, right. And seeing her rise up and encompass her true self and healthily let go of her hurts, her loves, and pains.... TEARS!!! (I hope she manifests a monetary settlement forthe pain and suffering of the townspeople tho). Which is why Scorsese can piss off with his much easier, since it doesn't come from a "look down your nose" genre.... Love his films. They are classics. But I never cried for any of his characters or felt that rich a connection to them. I was entertained, but the empathy was much stronger w/ this show. Old white man jealousy.

So basic, so common. (and it's probably gonna destroy us all, TBH but I digress!)

Kids, love your genre (romance/fanfic/fantasy/horror/scifi etc...). Create in it with love and confidence, fuck these haters. Paul Bettany really is a troll (had me looking for a Blue Marvel and shit) and it don't even matter because the final product really brought it to a nice close. That was good. I hope these awards shows can get over themselves enough to properly award the people who participated so well. Also, JImmy Woo using common sense to take down Hayward, his heart-eyes for Monica... (I need recurring references to his obvious crush on her in future MCU). Also ALSO!! Nice continuity there when Dr. Darcy used the clown van to take out an armored vehicle (because it was an armored vehicle w/ molecules rearrranged to look like a clown van). IMMA MISS THIS SHOW!!!

[youngbloodbuzz]

Eddie pulled her closer, his hand rubbing a warm path over her shoulder and arm, audibly swallowed hard, and finally said, “I miss her, too.”

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

“Sometimes I feel like I miss you more than I remember you, and I don’t know what to do with that, or where to put it all. So, I suppose I have to leave it here. At the cottage and in this letter.”

Omg stop this right now. END MY SUFFERING I BEG YOU. Also Dani going to visit Nan’s grave literally made my heart clench. They had such a beautifully nuanced relationship. And Dani telling her dad about Jamie 😭

“The girl who invited Dani and who only ever referred to Eddie as ‘the boyfriend.’”

As soon as I read this line I knew I would like her 😂

“A life sized cut out figure of Michael Myers.”

💀💀💀💀 y’all had me in the first half I won’t lie.

“She wanted to want it. She wanted to think of him and not the way Lila smiled at her in class.”

Comphet is a bitch 🥺

“Still haunted by a dream where a faceless figure explored her body with a soft mouth, a roving tongue and sharp teeth”

Mhmm. A “faceless” figure. Sure Dani, keep telling yourself that. Poor thing.

“How much more fun it would be with you. I miss you.”

Guys 😭

All my love,

- Dani.'

I feel like it’s meaningful that she signed off the letter like this.

“Words banged again within her chest, beating against her ribs. I don’t know how to love him, it said, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m - “

WHEW. I’m suffering holy fuck. For the millionth time I just want to give her a huge hug and let her know ITS OKAY.

“I like to imagine you going to all those places we talked about. I like to imagine your life is better now. I like to imagine you keep a piece of me with you.”

Running out of things to say because it just hurts so much 😭 this is masterful writing, really.

“What she failed to mention was the handful of bills and change from a certain travel fund jar that had helped her along the way.”

I just know Jamie was responsible for 99% of the contents of that jar.

“And Dani with her shoulders the lightest it’s been in years, an unknown spectre amongst a crowd of hundreds, with no expectations and constraints tangled around her neck.”

Foreshadowing to her feeling that same feeling with Jamie when they’re at Carson’s concert 😭😭😭😭

“left her feeling strained and bone weary with longing affection.”

I’m absolutely incoherent rn. IM BONE WEARY.

“Dear Jamie,

Come home.’”

Sorry won’t be able to continue because unfortunately I’ve just passed away xxx

(Final part of my re-read)

((Lol see ya’ll again when I get the strength to tackle another chapter))

lskjasdf you DID IT! only 2 more chapters to go in this reread yeehaw

thank you again for this hella fun and entertaining response lol we'll pour one out for you at the funeral lmao 😘

@romanimp

[laraslandlockedblues]

Trust Me

One of my favorite smuts, from Ch 21 of Just Like Heaven. Once the slow burn broke with these two, it was...whew *fans self*

This is for Smutty Slutty Weekend, so check out the rating explanation before proceeding. Under a read more for length and content <3

Summary: Now that she’s finally free of her past, Abby decides to treat Rylen.

Pairing: Rylen/Abigail, Rylen/OFC (M/F)

Words: 1894

Content Warning: Explicit for sexual content, including: restraint, switch!Rylen, established relationship, dirty talk, oral sex (blow job), vaginal sex, rough sex, blink and you’ll miss it praise kink, porn with feelings

~~

“I’ll do the dishes,” he told her, pushing himself to his feet and picking up their plates. For a moment she watched him moving about the small kitchen, and then she slid off the stool.

Once inside the bathroom she took a moment to look in the mirror, fixing her hair and smiling as she did. She felt giddy, like it was the first time, or a special occasion. In a way she felt like it was. The good news she’d had that day made her feel like celebrating.

Together.

Stripping out of her t-shirt and jeans she threw them aside and then turned so that she could check each piece to make certain it all had the effect she wanted. She straightened the straps and some of the lace, and then took a deep breath.

She couldn’t tell if it was nerves or excitement that made her heart race and her fingers tremble. Honestly there was little reason to doubt he would like it. She could probably wear a burlap sack and he would still ravish her like he had every time they had been together so far.

When she opened the bathroom door she noticed that he had turned most of the lights off, leaving on the small lamp they had moved beside the bed so that they didn’t have to get back up to turn the lights off. He was lounging on the bed, reading the new history book on Sparta and Ancient Greece he had gotten, but when he heard the door open he looked up.

And she was fairly certain his jaw actually dropped.

“I - uh, lass, you look - absolutely beautiful,” he said after a moment. He threw the book aside and sat up, crooking his finger to encourage her to the bed. She knelt on the mattress and crawled toward him, and he slid a hand down her back before he kissed her lightly. “What did I do to deserve this?”

“I was just passing by the shop and thought I’d peek in,” she murmured. “Plus I wasn’t certain how much sexy lingerie you’ve seen before.”

“Nothing like this,” he said. He slipped his arm around her and pulled her to lay beside him so that he could begin kissing her, one hand roaming over her as he did. Occasionally he released the kiss to glance down and take in the sight of her.

The lingerie she had decided on was a soft, dusty rose in color and lace all over, with a bit of the lace continuing up to delicately frame the neckline of the cups. Where the sheer cups met between her breasts was adorned with a rosy satin bow, the long, skinny ends of the ribbon hanging down over her belly. The panties were the same dusty rose lace, and the sides tied on the hips like bikini bottoms with the same long, satin ribbon.

Rylen’s kiss was nearly suffocating, and his fingers wandered over her, sliding beneath the lace and gripping her almost roughly in his impatience. He quickly yanked his shirt over his head and threw it aside before he continued his overeager caresses.

She wanted to enjoy it, though, feeling an urge to savor and tease him with what she was wearing, not put it on so that he could simply tear it right off of her.

When she pushed lightly at his chest he leaned back and peered down at her, but before he could ask her anything she gripped his shoulders and guided him back onto the pillows. After a moment of rolling and adjusting, she ended up on top of him. He smiled and ran his hands over her, again sliding his fingers under the lace. She was briefly distracted, enjoying the way his rough hands moved so familiarly over her breasts, but then she reached for his belt.

Pulling it off she bit her lower lip and held his inquisitive gaze for a long moment. “Trust me?” she murmured.

“Aye, lass, of course,” he answered without hesitation.

Abby grabbed his wrists and looped the belt around them before she also looped it about one of the posts. When it was secure she glanced down at him, only to find him smirking with an eyebrow quirked. “You were being too handsy,” she teased.

“Oh? Apologies, lass - I just couldn’t resist the look of you in that,” he told her. “I see you and I just can’t keep my hands off you.”

“And while normally I appreciate that,” she purred, stretching over him to tug his bottom lip between her teeth. “Right now I have other things I want to do.”

“I like the sound of that,” he said, breath catching as she ran her tongue down the side of his neck.

She pressed kisses to his collarbone, his shoulders, his chest, enjoying the feeling of his hot skin against her lips. When she reached the tattoo that graced his chest she flicked her tongue out, and then began to trace its lines with kisses and her tongue. His breathing became more shallow, and when she glanced up at him she saw him watching her eagerly, lips parted and brows furrowed.

Shifting above him she continued lower, still pressing kisses down his stomach as it flexed beneath her attentions. The dark trail of hair beneath his navel excited her, and she spent several long moments following where it led with her kisses. Her fingers worked eagerly at the button of his jeans, undoing them and sliding them off so that he was freed.

Taking him in one hand she slowly slid her hand up and down his cock, twisting her hand as she greedily kissed his hot skin, getting closer and closer to what she wanted. He was moaning, breaths sounding ragged as he watched her.

When she dragged her tongue all the way up the length of his hard cock he groaned, eyes shutting as his head fell back on the pillows. She swirled her tongue around the tip, still stroking him slowly with her hand, and then took him into her mouth. The way he writhed beneath her as she sucked gently at him only encouraged her.

Soon she was sliding him in and out of her mouth more quickly, occasionally slowing to tease and suck more intently at him. The feeling of him smooth against her tongue was wonderful, and she continued bobbing her head as she watched him strain against the belt around his wrists. She coated him with her saliva, sliding her hand over him to spread it to ease her caresses and mouth on him. Slowly she moved her mouth down his length, managing to take him down her throat before she pulled away. Something almost like a growl met the action, and his hips bucked lightly against her.

When she repeated the motion, a deep moan greeted her as his knee bent beside her. “Maker, lass,” he gasped, his wrists twisting against his belt, “if you’re not careful, I’m going to break the bed or my belt.”

“Is that so?” she murmured before dragging her tongue up his length once more. Reaching the tip she flicked her tongue across his slit, licking the salty beads of excitement that were leaking in response to her attentions. She took the tip of him between her lips once more and sucked hard at him as she twisted her hand up and down him. “So then - you want more?” she asked once she had let him fall out of her mouth with a pop.

The look in his eyes when he met hers sent shivers through her, the usual aqua smoky with desire. “Undo this restraint and I’ll show you how much I want,” he growled.

For a moment she held his gaze, breathless as she took in the intensity with which he was watching her. But she was wet and longing to feel him within her, as much as she was enjoying the sensations of him in her mouth. After considering she knelt above him and reached for the belt to undo it.

As soon as his wrists were freed he grabbed her and nearly tackled her to the bed, devouring her with a kiss as he pinned her. With one hand he hooked his fingers in the panties she wore and merely pulled them to the side as he took his place between her legs.

Rylen barely hesitated a moment before he slid himself within her, causing her to throw her head back on the bed with a loud cry. He immediately began thrusting into her, purring praise in her ear between grunts and moans. “There’s a good lass - did you enjoy my cock in your mouth? You’re already so close, Abigail, I can feel it. Is this what you wanted, love? You wanted me to take you like this, until you can’t stand it anymore?”

“Ry, fuck - please, you’re so - I want - yes, I want you,” she gasped, trying to keep up with all of the sensations crashing over her. She could hardly focus on anything except the feeling of him within her, the way he was rolling and jerking his hips into her. He moved with such an intense, raw passion she almost thought she would pass out.

He used his fingers against her clit to coax her to a screaming release, her whole body convulsing and arching beneath him as she lost herself. A moment later he jerked into her more roughly before he stilled, his panting breaths against her ear all that she could register happening around her. They were both slick with sweat, almost gasping for air as he went limp onto her, pressing her into the mattress.

“Oh my god, Ry, that was - I can’t - put into words how amazing you are,” she murmured. “Every time. Fuck,” she rubbed her forehead and then clung more tightly to him, “I love you.”

“I’ve never met a lass like you,” he breathed against her ear. He nuzzled into her hair and then finally raised his head so he could peer down at her. “And any time you feel like making me appreciate the lingerie you bought, feel free, lass. That was - perfect.”

She giggled and ran her hands through his wavy hair, taking in the way he was smiling at her.

“I promise,” she told him. “Glad you enjoyed it all. I wasn’t sure if any of that was - a thing for you, considering I didn’t know what was standard in Thedas for lingerie or -”

“Lass, you look beautiful,” he insisted, and he pressed a kiss to her. “Give me just a little bit of time and then maybe I can show you again just how beautiful you are.”

“Mmm, yes please,” she agreed, smiling up into his face. ”That sounds wonderful.”

“I’m yours, Abigail,” he said suddenly, brushing some hair off of her face before he smiled softly. “I hope you know that. No matter how everything goes, I’m - I’m here. I’m yours.”

Her heart swelled, but she couldn’t form the words to tell him how that made her feel, or to assure him that she felt the same.

And so she kissed him, hoping that he would understand from the way her lips moved against his that he was everything she had ever wanted, everything she had ever dreamed.

[opalescent-cheetah]

I Don’t Know What To Do (About This Dream And You), 4/5 - Methydoll

Summary: Baseball players and mythical beings are a potent combination. After Crystal catches her eye on the baseball field, Nicky makes a decision that turns her entire world upside down. Meanwhile, Crystal is caught in a mysterious dreamscape, chasing a creature with eyes like liquid gold.

Inspired by these songs: “She’s So High” - Tal Bachman; “Digital Love” - Daft Punk; “Baby” - Francesca Blanchard

Chapter Summary: Crystal is an ordinary girl with messy hair and a baseball cap, and she’s not sure how to feel about that. Jan is the ultimate wingwoman.

A/N: Here is the penultimate chapter of my fic for @cobblestaubrey​ ! In which Aiden and Brita make a very random (but - at least in my mind - a very necessary) cameo.

Ao3 // Previous Chapter

Chapter 4 - Crystal

She’s back in that moonlit field, standing beneath the same tree, its leaves rustling softly in the breeze. Glancing up, she looks for the feathered shape she’d seen last time, but the branches whisper with nothing but emptiness.

Crystal takes the opportunity to gather her surroundings. Nothing has changed since her first visit, several nights ago. There is nothing to see save for an expanse of rolling hills, dotted with huddled thickets of trees. It’s nothing special, and she can’t help but wonder why she’s here again.

She turns, slowly, and that’s when she sees them: the bird person who healed her. They’re sitting on the crest of a nearby hill, feathers twitching in the wind, silently looking out into the distance. 

So it was them, last time I was here, Crystal realises. She can’t help but think that they have something to do with this recurring dream. Ever since the night they healed her, they’ve been an ever-present force in her mind, and now she’s seeing them in her sleep, too?

Almost impulsively, she begins running towards them, desperate for answers. She knows they’ll probably fly away again, but her undying confusion moves her forward.

Crystal slows when she reaches the foot of the hill, taking the trek upwards one silent step at a time. It feels as though she’s closing in on a wild animal; something unpredictable, something delicate and defensive. She can still see the silhouetted shape at the top, the edges of their feathers shining silver in the watery moonlight. They’re ethereally beautiful, yet tragically untouchable. 

When she finally reaches the crest of the hill, she finds herself only a few paces away from them. They haven’t moved - it is as though they are frozen, statuesque beneath the stars. Crystal takes a tentative step closer, but when her shadow falls over them, they stiffen, feathers spiking in alarm. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Crystal tries to assure them, but they have already leaped to their feet, every muscle in their body pulled taut. In the fleeting moment before they spread their wings, Crystal catches a glimpse of their face, their golden eyes ablaze with terror, and it stops her short.

They take off in a blur of feathers, their dark silhouette vanishing into the night, swallowed by the endless expanse of starlight. Crystal stands in their wake, dazed, her throat too tight to even call out for them.

All she can see is the fear in their fiery eyes, their hard stare burrowing deep into her soul. It haunts her; why are they so scared? Why would they heal her, and then run away from her as though she’s some kind of monster? She rubs at a hollow ache in her chest, biting back exasperated tears.

What’s more, they share a striking likeness with Nicky, from the gentle slope of their jaw to the perfect arch of their lips. The downy feathers around their eyes weren’t enough to mask the soft curve of their eyelids, or to hide the shining gold of their pupils, as bright and beautiful as Nicky’s eyes. 

Nicky.

Crystal slumps to the ground, the grass prickling at her bare knees, but she hardly notices. The thought of Nicky makes her chest tighten, her throat closing with unspoken feelings. 

She’s never met anyone like Nicky before. There’s something about her - something special, something different, and it’s not just the iridescent gold of her eyes. Crystal can’t even bring herself to hate the fluttering flames in her chest whenever Nicky smiles at her. No, what hurts the most is that she’s Nicky: she’s perfect, so put-together, and completely out of Crystal’s league. She doesn’t even know why Nicky gives her the time of day; to her, Crystal must be nothing more than an ordinary girl, with messy hair and a baseball cap. She isn’t like Nicky. She’s not special, or interesting, or funny, or cool, she’s just…

She’s just Crystal. And that never feels like enough.

~

You’ve got it, you’ve got it…

It’s a high ball, carving an elegant arc through the air, and it’s coming down, down, towards Crystal’s waiting mitt. She hops a few steps backwards, eyes never leaving the incoming missile.

This is it - if she catches this, the game is hers.

THWACK.

The ball lands heavily in her mitt, and she swings her hand downward, securing it in her grip. 

“OUT!” the referee shouts. The bleachers - and Crystal’s teammates - erupt into cheers. It’s the third out of the last innings, and they’ve just won the game. 

“Crys! That was so good!” Jan shrieks, running up and tackling her in a hug. Jaida follows close behind her, lips quirked in a smile. 

“She must’ve been visited by the magical bird person again,” she jokes good-humouredly. “Hey, Crystal, you should ask them to visit the rest of the team, too.” 

Crystal falters, her mind drifting back to her last dream. 

“I mean, I would,” she finally says, “but I don’t think they want to talk to me right now.”

Jan giggles. “Alright, alright, keep them all to yourself then,” she says, swatting Crystal lightly. 

“You’d better get yourself some extra luck for our next game, though,” Jaida adds, clearly stifling a laugh.

“No, like, I actually think they’re mad at me right now,” Crystal insists, unable to erase their terrified eyes from her mind. “I keep seeing them in my dreams, but they always run away. They seem… they seem really scared of something.” She trails off, biting her lip. 

“I--” Jaida hesitates. “You’re not serious?”

Even Jan has taken a step back and is looking at Crystal quizzically. Crystal tries not to shrink under her gaze - if Jan thinks she’s going insane, then she might just have a problem. She decides not to mention that the bird person wears Nicky’s face beneath her feather-lined eyes.

Forcing a laugh, Crystal waves them off.

“I’m just kidding, you guys! You should see the looks on your faces. I got you good.” She shoots finger-guns at Jaida and Jan, trying not to sigh in relief when they both visibly relax.

“Whew, for a second there, I thought we were going to have to get your head checked,” Jan jokes, elbowing Crystal playfully. 

“Excuse me! I am perfectly sane,” Crystal sniffs, but she isn’t even sure whether she believes that anymore. 

“Yes, and pigs fly,” Jaida comments wryly. Beside her, Jan dissolves into giggles, while Crystal sticks her lower lip out in an exaggerated pout. As they begin walking back to the locker rooms together, Jaida adds, “by the way, I’ll see y’all tonight at the team sleepover, right?”

“Yes ma’am,” Jan says, and Crystal nods in affirmation, hoping that this will give her a much-needed break from her worries. 

~

“Truth or dare.”

“Truth.” 

Crystal watches nervously as Jan’s expression turns sly. 

“Crystal Methyd, have you been… seeing anyone lately?”

“Apart from your mystical bird person,” Jaida adds, lips quirked in a wry smile, and the team giggles.

“I - uh--” Crystal stammers, caught off-guard. Her mind drifts, first, to the bird person of her dreams, but it’s quickly replaced by an image of Nicky’s perfect smile and her iridescent eyes, glowing softly in the cozy cafe. Did that count as a date? She feels her face flush at the thought.

“Someone’s blushing,” Jan teases her gleefully. “Come on, Crys! Tell us who it is!” 

“No-one,” she mumbles. “I’m not seeing anyone.” 

It was probably a one-off thing, anyways. Just something casual. Nothing worth overthinking.

Besides, if she let slip that she’s falling for one of Jan’s best friends, she’d never hear the end of it - Jan would want to play every role from wingwoman to bridesmaid.

“C’mon, sis, we can all tell you’re lying,” Brita laughs, elbowing her playfully. “You look like a tomato.”

“You’re one to talk,” Jaida cuts in, her dark eyes gleaming with mischief. “You and Aiden ain’t ever set anything straight.” 

“Because they’re not!” Jan adds, shrieking with laughter. Crystal giggles, finally relaxing slightly. Across the circle, Aiden’s pale face turns crimson, and Crystal is hit with an idea. Stifling an impish smile, she turns to Brita.

“Okay, Brita, truth or dare?”

She almost feels bad when she sees the way Brita’s eyes widen with knowing, but the feeling is outweighed by her own relief - at least the attention is off her shoulders, for now.

“Dare,” Brita finally decides, her voice hesitant, careful.

“I dare you to kiss Aiden,” Crystal says, and the entire circle breaks into whoops and cheers. 

“Fuck,” Aiden mutters, covering her scarlet face with both of her hands. “Brita, you could’ve just chosen truth--”

“Oh yeah? And be bombarded with questions neither of us wants to answer?” Brita rolls her eyes exasperatedly. “Come on, you can’t tell me that’s any better. At least we can get this--”

“--Over and done with,” Aiden says at the same time. She sighs, finally relenting. “Fine. Get over here, then.” 

Crystal watches, deeply amused, as Brita stalks across the circle and crouches down in front of Aiden. There’s a strange fire in both of their eyes - Crystal knows as well as anyone that their argumentative nature masks something deeper, but Brita and Aiden themselves are the only ones who refuse to acknowledge it aloud. 

Oh well. If anything, it makes them more fun to tease - so much so that it’s almost become a team tradition. Crystal rakes her gaze across the circle, taking in every gleeful grin and sly smirk, as Brita leans in to give Aiden a quick peck. The room erupts in shrieking laughter and cheers, and Crystal can’t help but join in, her own issues momentarily forgotten.

They don’t resurface until after the game, when Jan joins her in the bathroom as she’s brushing her teeth. 

“Hey,” she says, meeting Crystal’s eyes in the mirror. She’s pursing her lips, like there are more words still lingering on her tongue, but she doesn’t quite know how to say them. 

“Hey,” Crystal mumbles back around her toothbrush.

“I know we’re not playing Truth or Dare anymore, but I have a question.”

Though already suspicious, Crystal hums her acknowledgement, nodding for her to continue. Jan drums her fingertips on the countertop, hovering in a brief silence, before she finally speaks. 

“Is it Nicky?”

Crystal almost spits toothpaste into Jan’s face. Reeling, she splutters into the sink instead, hoping Jan can’t see the blush that’s permeated her cheeks. How could Jan possibly know? Am I really that obvious?

She straightens again, her mouth still foamy at the edges, every indignant word she wants to say lodged in the back of her throat. The silence weighs heavily on her skin as Jan watches her, her eyes round with curiosity. 

Finally, Jan breaks the silence with a giggle. 

“It doesn’t take a genius to see that you two have something going on, you know,” she comments, arching an amused brow. 

“Really.” Crystal washes the residual toothpaste from her mouth, refusing to meet Jan’s eyes. “I’ve barely known her for three weeks, so I’d love to see where you’re getting your evidence from.” 

“Are you kidding?” Jan gawks at her in disbelief. “She’s been going to every one of our games since she met you. She hated baseball to begin with - you should’ve seen how much convincing it took just to go that first week, and Jackie said she loathed it. Until she saw you, at least.” 

“She could’ve been admiring anyone on our team,” Crystal mutters, refusing to let herself be convinced. “Yeah, yeah, I bet she was looking at Jaida. I mean, who wouldn’t?” Jaida is not only beautiful, but she’s a sensational player. It would make so much more sense for Nicky to be admiring her, Crystal thinks.

“Well, Jaida’s not the one she went on a date with,” Jan counters. 

“It wasn’t a date.” What if it was? “Also, how do you know about that?”

Jan snickers. “In case you forgot, Nicky is, like, one of my best friends,” she explains. “She was fretting to me and Jackie over the phone the entire morning before your date.”

“And she called it a date?”

“Well, yeah. She said it was a coffee date. I think she really likes you, girl.” 

Crystal’s heart skips a beat. 

She’s still just an ordinary girl with messy hair and a baseball cap, but maybe that’s all she needs to be.

~

Next Chapter