#and because i have no idea what ‘harassment with/without intention’ is supposed to mean

[labyrynth]

in the spirit of pettiness statistics, i wanted to make my own version of that biased poll from the other day so that we can have OUR OWN completely inconclusive results!

Please consider reblogging, since lots of people don’t check main/character tags!

[missgeniality]

Strip Lawyer (m)

“Rules are for children.” - Joe Abercrombie

➺ Banner: The supremely talented @dnrequests 💛

➺ Pairing: Jungkook x Female Reader

➺ Trope: Tutor!AU, Lawyer!AU

➺ Genre: Smut

➺ Rating: +18

➺ Word Count: 8.4k

➺ Summary: Years ago, as Jungkook’s tutor, you played a game – but not to completion. Today, he does the teaching. And he’s intent on reaching the finale.

➺ Warnings: dom!reader x sub!jk then dom!jk x sub!reader, strip poker but education, implied consent, little power imbalance, seggsual tension, restraints, oral sex (m&f receiving), grinding, jungkook is a tease as always, dirty talk, kissing, alcohol, boob play ehehe, fingering (f receiving), pussy slap, spitting, tearing clothes, biting, degradation, unprotected sex, jk cums on her ass, cum eating (kind of)

➺ Cross Posted: AO3

➺ Author’s Note: This was supposed to be @taegularities‘s birthday gift because she asked for Lawyer!AU - but in true Siya fashion, it went out of control. So... here you go LOL happy buttday to youuu, hope you enjoy ittt 💛💛 The biggest thanks to @jimilter because she is the reason I did not delete the draft, thank you so much for all your help in fixing this mess, love you so muuucchh 💛 Also huge huge huge thanks to @alpacaseoks​ for helping me with the flow and giving me pointers in a big chunk of the fic, I appreciate it so much! 💛 Disclaimer: I am not a law student in any way so please don’t expect any accuracy. Just enjoy the sex, I’m begging. Let me know what y’all think, and as always, thank you for being here! 

ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ | ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ  

“You’re not serious.”

If only he knew. 

“So. Serious.” You emphasise your words with a slap on his shoulder, “I won’t have it on my honour that a student under my tutelage has been failing the same subject for two years.” You raise an eyebrow at the hunched figure ahead, and knock on the table to bring his attention up to you. 

“So you’ll just… Strip? Everytime I answer correctly?”

“That’s right,” you confirm, “and for every wrong answer, you strip for me. Simple.” You give Jungkook the widest grin you ever have, possibly too wide, because he only hunches further into his seat. 

And it finally bursts your bubble.

“I mean… I’m just–you don’t have to do this, okay?” You scramble up from your seat, opening the distance between you two – placing yourself a good few feet away from the boy. “I was just… having fun with the idea—” With stumbling haste you continue to comfort him, “I jus–isn’t this like classic nerd porn that you’d watch?”

And you remember that comforting a fellow human being isn’t really your forte. You’re ready to gather all your belongings that are spread across the table, run away, change your name and hope like hell he doesn’t file you up for harassment. 

Thankfully, your shabby attempt at damage control does ease Jungkook, and his back straightens a little bit as he brings himself to look at you.

“Not wrong,” he gives you a grin, “I–I really like that, umm, idea. Yes, let’s do it.”

He trails off, but not without a smile of burgeoning confidence – apparently not enough to finish that sentence with, but enough to give you one strong nod – and you have the affirmation you need. More affirmation is given by his not-so-subtle shift in his seat, that shows you something was making its presence known in the confines of his pants.

“All right, let’s start this. International Law and Relations is pretty easy, and actually has very interesting sub-topics – you can take subjects on this topic when you move to the next semester,” you pause flipping through the textbook and give your tutee, “if you move to the next semester. Thankfully, this year you have multiple choice questions, so… You better fucking pass, you hear me?!”

Jungkook only gives you a sheepish grin, his hands fiddling with each other.

“Okay, we’ll go through chapters randomly. Your first one – what is a country’s exclusive economic zone?”

On completing the question, you look up and await an answer – but the doe eyes that greet you back showcase that behind them, there is a lot of emptiness. Jungkook’s eyebrows are raised as he tries his best to push out any answer, any words, just anything from his brain. Alas, after two minutes, you give up.

“Okay, you’re going first then,” your voice breaks his intense thought process, and he flashes you a wide grin. 

“Socks count right?” He pulls off the socks on both his feet, and wiggles his toes against the fresh air. 

“Why you wear socks in this weather, it’s beyond me,” you huff an exasperated sigh, “but okay. One down. Exclusive economic zones are the sea-areas where coastal states have the right to exploit resources for economic gains. Think fisheries, mining, construction, artificial islands, and other endeavours. Capisce?”

“Got it. Next!”

“Love the enthusiasm,” you grin at his eager look, and open the textbook to a random page again, “okay, same chapter, what are the three international air laws?”

“Oh, I know this! I read thi–uhh, Public International Law, Private International Law…”

“Yesss? And?”

“Why is my brain saying Supernatural Law?”

One look at his bamboozled face and you burst out laughing. “Supranational Law! Not Superna—” Your persistent giggles have you dropping the book onto your lap, hands rushing to wipe a tear that makes its way down your cheek. You can see a bleary Jungkook, following suit in your snickers, his shoulders rising up – it’s a very cute view. 

No, Jungkook is not your type of guy – and you will not make him. 

You’re actually supposed to wrap up this session with Jungkook earlier than usual – because a party doesn’t wait for anyone – and last night Baekhyun told you he’d pick you up. When you asked him whether the party was, he only sent you a smirking emoji as a response. 

Rude boys are your standard, and Baekhyun fits it to the tee. Jungkook, not so much.

But now you’ve started something that can’t possibly end soon. 

“Okay, next item!” You aim to be loud, to quell that finagling thought in your mind.

“But—” Jungkook sputters out, “but I got that right?! Come on, it was close enough!”

You shake your head. “A hundred, or nothing. Chop chop,” you wave a gratuitous hand at his torso – and he obliges with a sigh.

God damn. 

The gamer nerd, who probably doesn’t see the light of day – his body is way too beautiful for his character arc. You scan his whole chest with your glaring beam, pecs ogling back at you – totally unaware of how Jungkook is doing the same to you – it takes considerable effort for you to rip your eyeballs out and get them to focus back on his face. 

You take a large, audible gulp to facilitate speech, “Okay, didn’t know that’s what would greet me – moving on—”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean absolutely nothing, you closeted hottie,” you attempt to close that argument with that sole compliment – after all, you do have a tutoring responsibility – but Jungkook’s singular raised eyebrow makes you wonder if that party is really worth it.

Oh no, you need to make him pass this.

“Let’s move on now, or else you won’t ever move on from college,” you deflate whatever ego-ballooning Jungkook has – his bare shoulders slumping back to his hunched posture – and you internally grin. 

Picking up the thick textbook, you flip through to find a new page laced with information.  “Name three international hybrid tribunals, and their subject matter.”

“Okay okay, I just did this,” Jungkook starts off with confident, “the Special Tribunal for Lebanon, which is for the the prosecution of the people responsible for the assassination of the Lebanese Prime Minister, Special Court for Sierra Leone—” he pauses to take a deep breath and you watch his chest heave with an intent gaze, “which was for the Sierra Leone civil war, and finally… What was the–uhh– for the Kosovo War… Yes! Yes! Kosovo Specialist Chambers! The Kosovo Liberation army was put on trial,” he ends with a gleeful smile.

“There you gooo! See, you can totally do this,” you give him an encouraging nod, “what do you want me to take off?”

“O-oh, umm, your top?”

“Sure,” setting the book on the table, you slip out of your camisole, shaking your head to send your hair back to their place, “shall we move on?” 

But moving on gets tougher when he eyes you like that. The air gets denser within your space, the room feeling too small to escape the tension, and too big to act upon it. You remind yourself multiple times – this chocolate boy isn’t going to be the end of your night – your night ends on Baekhyun’s unspoken promise – but the eclipsing eyes that follow your neon bralette are pushing your brain to reconsider how you write this evening. 

“You–uh–you are really hot,” Jungkook’s fumbling words finally reach you.

You chuckle, stifling the urge to egg him on. “Thank you,” is your quiet response, and you both do well to stifle the snowballing tension.

“Okay, now I’m way more motivated to get my answers right,” he exclaims with vigour, and the two of you trudge forward, keeping up this charade of studies. 

Many questions down, and you’re at quite the standstill. 

Jungkook sits on his chair, not an inch of clothing on his body, stark naked – and you are about to lose your bra. 

Apparently he can apply himself real well when there are lewd incentives at the end of the rainbow. You circumvented the inevitable, counting riddance of jewellery and accessories as stripping – but now you’re out of options. Jungkook’s lips – pulled into a tender smirk that isn't racy – don’t threaten to sweep you off your feet – but fuck, they still get to you. Supple, with the slightest hint of moisture making his waterline glisten… you ache to taste them, to run your fingers over them, to drip honey all over them and watch them turn sweeter than ever. 

You need to get on Baekhyun’s dick. ASAP.

“Go on, I know that was right!”

Breaking out of your reverie with a demure huff, you smile your way out of your bra, and you can fully hear the deep inhale that your tutee has to take to this new view. With a brazen look of gloating, you cross your arms, letting your eyes and your cleavage do all the teasing – lest your tongue stumbles over the words and lands in his mouth. 

“Shi–yo–you’re—” Jungkook’s words falter as well, giving you an extra boost of pride. “Fuck, you’re so goddamn hot – I’m sorry, is this the fifth time I’m saying this?”

You laugh with him. “Yeah, probably. Could use a thesaurus.”

“I don’t think my brain will process anything on it. This keeps coming out because I got practice. Said it about a hundred times in my head.”

With your head thrown back, your whole body jiggles in laughter, filling the room with mirth and joy to replace the leaden lust in the air. You bend forward to flick his forehead, knowing full well that the movement just makes your breasts look more enticing; if that was even a possibility. His cock is stiff as iron, and you can fill a drying lake with your current rate of salivation. Both of you clearly recognize that words are flowing slower than before, movements are more calculated than before, and most importantly, eye contact lasts way too long for either of you to ignore. 

“Okay, umm, last question, then I need to be off.” You attempt to bring a close to this increasing strain in your throat, no matter how badly your body wants to delay your departure. “What years did the Hague Conventions take place?”

“I hate these questions,” murmurs Jungkook, “I remember the subject matters of it – it’s not like knowing the exact dates and times will help me avert war.” His pout makes you falter, like there isn’t a fully grown naked man in front of you, like he isn’t testing your limits right now.

“So… No answer?” 

Jungkook shakes his hung head, having given up on finding an answer. “What now, I can’t peel my skin or something,” he starts, a very innocent tone for this ambiance.

“Yeah, I mean, I gotta g—”

“And I’m out of jewellery, too, so—”

“Yeah, it’s cool, I’m gonna head out anyw—”

“You wanna tie me up or something?”

Silence. 

Too long of a silence. 

“I mea—”

“Jeon. Jung. Kook.” Your staccato of words work as a beat, your legs moving in its sync. You bend down for a brief moment to pick up his discarded t-shirt, but the rest of your movement wastes no time in finding a seat on his lap.

His dick presses against your clothed core, imbuing the ache that he currently feels, and goody – you both are in serious pain. And when you lean ahead to gather his hands into a knot on his back, he takes a sharp inhale – your breasts doing everything his dick-led-brain has been wanting for the whole session – pressing against his chest to feel every throb that races through your body.

“You have no filter,” you whisper into his ear, making sure he feels your damp lips move, “do you?”

“N–N–I, me–nngghh,” Jungkook labours through this ordeal, his hips going the extra mile to close the gap between you two. 

When you feel his hardness work against your pulsing clit, it only eggs you further, and the rudderless ship of your resolve yaws out of its lane, finding its anchor in the parted lips in your view.

If your surroundings could combust at the spark that you set off with the kiss, you’d be sitting in a castle of embers, licks of flames being innocent bystanders to the heat that your kiss generates. Your fingertips dig into the nape of his neck, and you swallow his groan with an eager tongue. Without a break, the kiss turns feral. 

You push into his mouth. He returns in kind – although there’s nothing kind about the way he digs his teeth into your lip. The hiss you attempt to release never makes it out to the world – Jungkook is intent on ending this kiss only when the last breaths in your bodies threaten to leave, carrying along with them your consciousness. 

And when that point comes, you part – your head is thrown back, and your hand carded in his hair pulls his back as well. Brisk, shallow breathing is the tune to which you gather your bearings. Your thighs burn for relief, the ache of holding your body in place settling in as the dopamine dies. From your awkward position, you flit an eye towards your partner in crime – and any dopamine that was dying, comes rushing back.

Your hands are still in the lush strands of his hair, and his lidded eyes are bouncing between many areas of view. Your libidinous eyes, your wet lips, your heaving breasts, or the junction of your thighs that give his hardness teasing touches. Maintaining this position, you dig into his cock, your flimsy underwear allowing your arousal to caress against his hot and awaiting length. He groans – it’s animalistic, it’s uninhibited, it’s none of the shy gamer nerd who cowered under the weight of your knowledge. His eyes, fervid, shuttle between all of your exposed skin, finding an anchor, but failing to stop.

“Look at you, is this what you really wanted?” It shocks you how far your voice shakes – what caused it – the kissing, the breathing, or the rock hard cock currently against your throbbing pussy? Who knows. 

“I mean… We wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want this,” Jungkook bites out an answer with great difficulty, “I—I definitely wan—ungh!”

You just can’t resist. His neck. His clavicles. His bobbing Adam’s apple. His chest. His restrained arms making a tireless effort to feel you. You leech onto his sparkling skin, and drag your tongue in the confines – Jungkook’s words transform into unintelligent warble, just the way you like. 

Sliding downward, and acknowledging the slight ‘fuck’ that Jungkook exhales with a smirk, you lodge yourself directly in front of his broad, heaving chest. The position is awkward — a lot of your body weight lays on your hands that balance you on the chair’s seat – but your current view makes any pain go away. 

“Could this be the reason,” you land a soft peck in the middle of his chest, “why your grades are like this,” trailing your path with your nose, you move left, “we could have just gotten this over with,” you end the sentence with a swirl of your tongue around his already pebbling nipple. 

He hisses a string of unintelligible curses, arching into your ministrations, “Yo–you’d have d–done tha—” His train of thought ends with an audible gasp when you engulf the nipple in your mouth.

“For my tutee,” you release his nipple with a pop and look back up at his eager-to-please-face, cupping a cheek, “anything.”

“Can y—can you get rid of thi–this?” He shakes his bound hands from behind, his shoulder muscles bulging in the movement.

You simply shoot him an innocent look. “But you asked for it, didn’t you?”

“I thought that was the best thing that could happen to me,” Jungkook huffs with a light pout, “right now, I’m regretting it so hard.” As he speaks, you move to trail a soft line of kisses across his chest, reaching his other, neglected nipple. With your eyes locked in with his, you lick around the nub again, enjoying his restrained groans from your vantage.

“You don’t like it? What would you do if you… could touch me?”

“Fuck, I would—I wo—God, I would wrap myself around you… take a big piece of that ass, tear off your fuckin’ underwear… Grab your tits and dig my face into them till it’s time to execute my will—”

You chortle, still busy teasing his chest and making it hard for him to make his words flow. “You don’t need your hands for the last one baby.” 

Your skin rumbles against the loud groans of pleasure that come out of Jungkook when you press his face into your chest, and you feel him frantically lick and suck at your skin, tongue lolling at whatever it could catch a taste of.

“Ahh, this is—making me want some very bad things,” you chuckle at the throes of pleasure he is pushing you under, but are surprised at yourself how much your voice quivers as well. Jungkook makes a show of fighting his restraints; you very well know that you don’t have a sailor’s knot guide on you, and the fight he’s putting up is not more than the fight you had been putting up throughout this evening.

“Bad things?” Jungkook’s breathy whisper brings you back to his lips, and you drop back on his lap, grinding yourself just enough to let your wetness cover his twitching length. “You’re my tutor, I–I’m sure you only want the best for me.”

With your show of repress finally curtained, you drop to your knees, arching your back until you’re face-to-face with his member – tip leaking copious amounts of precum, owing to the hours of tension that you put him through. Jungkook’s thighs tighten under your enrapt gaze, and his staccato breathing is music to your ears. 

“Well, since I am your tutor,” you preen before you drag your tongue around the base of his dick, “and since I want only the best for you,” you drag your tongue up his muscle in one long stroke, “let me give you the best that I have.”

You wrap your lips around him thinking about how sweet he looks. You draw figures with your tongue thinking about how he's absolutely not your type. You suck more of his length into you thinking about how his moans differ from your average partner. So sweet. So pure. So untainted. 

So, so not for you.

Perhaps sweet is what you nee—

“I’m gonna cu—” 

The shrill ring of your phone pierces through Jungkook’s uncontained moans as he empties into your mouth recklessly. With your eyes closed, you try your best to savour the crisp, salty taste, letting your tongue cheekily lap at his member until you feel him shudder under your stimulation. Satiated, you get to your feet, looking eye to eye with the doe-eyed monster – who has the gall to look so pure even now, hands tied, balls empty.

“I should… Get that.” 

Unsurprisingly, Baekhyun is pissed that you kept his premium cock waiting at your doorstep, and you appease his injured ego while finding your clothes and bearings. Jungkook relieves himself of the ‘restraints’, eyes following your disrobed body as it finds its modesty back, piece by piece. 

“Okay… my phone, my book, my jewellery… I think I got everything,” you announce to the small, overheated room. “Jungkook. Good luck, this is the one thing you gotta pass, make sure you reread chapters 8 to 11, don’t blindly mark something because it sounds reasonable because nothing in this world is, make sure you have eno—”

“But! Listen—” His voice, still so sweet, not a hint of demanding assertion in his tone, just plain and beautiful pleading. “Wh–when can we… Umm when can we m–meet again?”

Ugh, your heart. 

“Listen, I’m going away on vacation, my exams are over,” with a mildly heavy heart you try to explain to him without rushing, “that’s why this was our last class. And after that, I’ll be moving away. But!” With a spring in your step you open his door to let yourself out. “Keep in touch! Keep texting me, okay?” With your second shoe on, you stand at the stairs leading you out of his apartment, and look at him for one last word.

And you see his beautiful body and almost crumble back into his apartment. 

“Yeah… Will do, bye!” He pulls himself together and grants you a bright, guilt-free smile.

So sweet, even when you’re blowing him off. So, so sweet. 

But you don’t do sweet. So accepting his goodbye, you run like a deer being chased by the hungriest predator, towards the spice that awaits at your door.

Damned professional attires. Why can’t they look good without having to be tended to every fucking day? 

You curse yourself for the cup ramen breakfast that ruined your only good shirt, owing to which you have this stainless but wrinkled shirt on you. It is very out of place, the lush lobby walls making you feel like every crease on you is magnified by a thousand. 

It’s obviously not the shirt that is making your stomach gurgle. It is the upcoming meeting that is creating turmoil in your insides, part dread and part excitement.

“He will see you now.”

This guy has a receptionist and an assistant. Why is he so boujee? One look at his office door and you already know – this meeting will not go as per plan.

And when you push the heavy-set mahogany door, and take the man sitting at the baroque desk, silhouette highlighted by the clear night sky behind him – you’re certain this night was made for trouble. 

“Ah, look who it is.” 

That voice. So different from the last time you spoke. Gone is the tender, dulcet voice of his, gone are his soft, vulnerable eyes, and gone is the benevolent disposition that he carried around with pride.

As he takes a good, slow look at you, assessing you from top to bottom, gleaming with mischievous confidence, you shuffle in discomfort at all this directed display of interest. The million twinkles in eyes have coagulated to turn into a ball of inferno. With that blaze, he drags his eyes all over you, tracing your contours with the pens of his gaze, making you feel nails and needles through your spine. Unabashed. Doesn’t care that you’re waiting to take a seat, doesn’t care about your obvious discomfiture, just holding you at your place like a puppet to his watchful leer. The black-on-black suit fits his body like a dream, and the things you want to do to him are straight out of a nightmare.

“Please, why are you still standing?” His assessment complete, he waves an arm to the plush leather seats at your disposal. “Have a seat.”

Moments of uncomfortable silence pass by you, but only you seem bothered by it. You hate how fidgety you are right now, showing your cards so plainly. But truth be told, you have no cards to show. You’re here for his help, and there’s no game to be played with him.

“You’ve done well for yourself,” you offer, making a general gesture to show his entire office space. You could fit nineteen of your cubicles in here, and still have space to waltz around. Your incessant jumping from one firm to another, attempts at finding footing wherever you land but ultimate dissatisfaction with whatever was presented to you led to a not-so-stellar career, and tonight, to this office. 

“Thanks.” He offers nothing more. And his lack of words definitely stings. 

How did someone who breezed through law school end up like this?

More importantly, how did someone who was barely passing subjects under you end up in a position of such power?

And most important of them all, how did you end up being at his mercy?

"So tell me,” he begins once again, bursting your bubble of self-detestation, “how can I help you?"

You take a deep, rich breath and start. "I'm assuming you read my email, so I just nee—"

"You're gonna have to pause right there. I didn't." A simple response, with a simple smile, and you simply want to crawl into a hole and never see sunlight ever again. Jungkook doesn’t even try to explain himself out of this – no excuse or reasons given as to why the email remains unread. And as happenstance would have it, you are in no position to ask him why.

"Very well." You tap the file ahead, taking a deep breath and starting again, "This file should have it all. It’s better if you read through it, I might miss details." 

Jungkook’s extended, bejewelled hand accepts the file, and leafs through the bundle of papers you’ve prepared for him. But that is not what you’re internalising. You're too busy furtively eyeing his bedecked office, the wooden panels offering a private divide between the office space and a separate seating area. The ritzy furniture establishing the space, the lavish lighting giving more depth to the space, the skyline flaunting its glory above it all – you're fraught with uncontrollable envy.

A call to your name jolts you, moving your eyes to him. 

“So do you need me as co-counsel? I hardly think you need the help.”

“Please, don’t patronise me,” you chide him, the repressed irritation showing its face. “I know I’ve not had the best set of years in this field. And I know I fucked up on this one, pardon my French.”

“Well,” he pays no heed to your agitated tone, pushing the file back to you – just enough, so you are forced to get up to reach, “you’re right about that. You fucked up. I can definitely look into this, but I have a heavy workload as it is.” He simply shrugs, a mock-saintly frown on his lips.

What happened to your sugar-cookie boy who would do anything to make you proud? 

Who is this man?

“I know, but I’m—” You swallow everything in you that stops the words, “I’m desperate. This meeting was clearly out of desperation. I know you knew what this was about. Why would you accept an appointment this late if you weren’t going to take on the job?”

“Maybe I just wanted to see you. Maybe I was curious what my tutor was doing, after leaving me high and dry that fateful night.”

He says it with such a harmless smile, like he just announced what he had for dinner. If you weren’t shaken yet, you now are. 

“If I remember correctly, that was not the case. But for now, I’m asking for your help. That’s how I’m doing.”

“Yeah well,” with a smooth move, he gets out of his charcoal seat, and glides towards the tasteful couches placed on the other end of this palatial office, your heartbeat picking up pace from a gentle jog to a frantic pace, “I think I’m entitled to something in return.”

You follow him to the couch across the room, seating yourself on it – and taking a second to enjoy how comfortable it feels. “I literally swallowed your load that night. If anything, I’m the one entitled to this.”

“I’m sure your boy-toy that night gave you everything you needed, didn’t he?”

Deep breath. He remembers the night very well. Too well.

Did you expect that? No. 

Did you want to find out?

Well, why else did you choose his name from a catalogue of high-end lawyers who could have saved your ass in this case?

What’s that saying… Curiosity kills your pus—

“Listen,” you interrupt your own reverie, “you will receive remuneration for your work, my boss is ready to—”

“Nuh–uh,” he tuts, “come on now, we really don’t need to play this cat and mouse game, do we?”

A deep exhale calms your nerves against this burgeoning yet desired situation, and you leave your seat to accept the glass of whiskey he’s offering you. After returning to the couch and gulping the hootch, you meet his accursed, biting gaze. “What can we even wager on like that night? It’s not like I have test questions to ask you anymore,” you throw the ball back into his court, desperately hoping he finds a good enough solution.

“Oh, no, no, no,” he teases you, sliding into the seat – it’s unbearable how good he looks with this confidence. He gets in your space, still holding his undrunk glass of whiskey, peering into your eyes as he makes his proposal. “I think a bit of role reversal will do us good,” he smiles back at you. “Do you good.”

“My definition of good, or yours?”

He smiles at your attempt at feigning confidence. “I don’t think they differ by much.”

In this quietude, the frenetic beating of your heart rings all the way up in your ears. It is a testament to how agog this transformed man leaves you; by the way he speaks, the way he looks, the way he commands your entire being. Words fail you, so you whisper a small ‘yeah’ and nod – you definitely knew where this night was going the moment you called his office, even if your ego strives hard to say otherwise.

“Let’s start simple,” he begins with a slap to his thigh, seating himself comfortably, “where did you go that night?”

What tactic is this? You’re baffled that this man – looking like a Michelin-star-seven-course-meal – cares about that one immaterial night.

Was it really immaterial, though?

Youngling Jungkook was probably offended, you posit to yourself, by the way you left things hanging (pun very much intended). 

“How would you know if I lie?”

“I’ll decide that.” His eyes add “and you’ll follow.” No room for discussion is provided.

“Right.” You sip on your refilled glass, clearing your throat before you answer, “I don’t know if you know him, Byun Baekhyun.” You look in his eyes for recognition, but you can’t read anything, anything at all. “I had to meet him.”

“To fuck?”

“Well, yes. Drinks and then that.” 

“Okay, I’ll take that.” 

And you’ve passed question one – all your clothing fully intact.

“Next question,” his eyes filled with sensual mirth, “was he any good?”

“Oh my God,” you throw your hands up, ready to leave the seat in a show of exasperation, “are you—is this insecurity? After all these years?”

“Well, I’m asking the questions, so I don’t owe you an explanation,” Jungkook leans into the cushions, his confident manner growing with each passing second, “but you might say, I’m curious.”

A moment of silence passes. 

“Yes.”

“Ahh…” He tuts at you, inching closer until you feel the microfibres of his coat against you, “Wrong answer.”

Of course it’s the wrong answer. 

Byun Baekhyun might have been one of the best fucks of the campus, and you might’ve had a lot of fun with him on erstwhile rendezvouses, but that night wasn’t either of your nights, with him being pissed of at you for making his dick wait, and you having your mind glued on a totally different dick to his. The lie might have been obvious, but the fact that you’re having to accept it right now is making your ears heat up.

You don’t really need to do this.

Oh, but you do.

“Go on,” Jungkook coaxes you with his honey-dripping voice, lidded eyes tormenting you, “you know the rules.”

In the tense air, you take off a bracelet, the fake diamonds leaving a chill on your wrist. After dangling it in his face, you drop it onto the couch seat. 

“Good…” Jungkook teases, wondering which deviation of his brain to follow next. “Next. Did you think about me while getting your mediocre pounding from Baekhyun?”

“Oh my God, no!” Your rude tone is extra sharp, like you didn’t even want to entertain the thought that Jungkook would think – Jungkook would know – that that’s what happened. 

To this date, you do not remember anything of Baekhyun – your memories of that day have been painted with Jungkook and Jungkook alone.

“Come on now,” his smug visage turns ungodly, eyebrow cocked up, “a white lie. Off,” is all he says. 

You bend down to reach for the buckle of your shoe. Owing to Jungkook sitting fairly close, your line of sight is delicious – his taut suit pants defining the thighs that he’s clearly worked for; basically ogling at his thighs and crotch in close proximity. With shaky hands, your shoes finally come off – no thanks to the burst of anticipation flooding your veins. 

“Have you ever thought about us on lonely nights?” The closer he moves, with each syllable of utterance, the farther you feel from a sense of control. 

“No…” Your words stammer, and you mentally give the point to Jungkook. Looking up, you find him smirking at your shrinking stature.

“Ahh… You make it too easy,” he just chides you, and you start slipping out your rings.You’re well aware that you are the one dragging this out – but the “yes” just does not want to grace your lips. 

Maybe because you actually like this game. 

Maybe you’re enjoying this end of the show. 

And maybe, you finally want to see this game to completion. 

“Just so you know,” Jungkook purrs into the shell of your ear, leaving you wondering when he moved so close, “I think about your slick on my cock a lot.”

The desperation in your countenance is so visible, it’s pathetic. You wait in silence for the next question, eager to jump to the finale, but the path to the end is far too enjoyable to skip.

“Do you want to continue where we left off?”

“No.” Your answer is straight, to the point, no embellishments. 

Instead, you let your hands do the talking.

In one smooth action, you unzip your skirt and pull it down, without a prompt from the dastard ogling at you. Every move you make, you feel his stare burn into your skin, countering the chilly air filling the room. You sit back with your legs tightly closed – not out of any false sense of modesty, that has never been your strong suit – but the unceasing throbbing of your clit needs temporary relief or else it will jump out and land into his mouth.

The distance between you two has steeply decreased, and you can’t tell who’s at fault anymore. In any case, this proximity is most welcome, as per the anticipatory goosebumps that decorate your skin. Swirling his yet-unfinished drink in his hand, ice cubes clattering against each other, Jungkook takes your exposed legs in that are only barricaded by your pantyhose. It’s not the best material – you’ve been wearing the same one for a week now, displaying many scratches and tears – but Jungkook’s eyes don’t even seem to register it. 

But what is with this speed? He is fully intent on making every second of your horny existence miserable. In a desperate attempt to get a fraction of his touch, you bring your leg up – making the move as slow and deliberate as possible – landing it on his thigh. The best begging you can do without actually voicing it out.

Jungkook, however, is a man of many talents – ignoring your direct needs being a prime one. After a light sip, he brings his glass down to your leg, the bottom rim touching under your toe – and you hiss at the ice-cold feeling that spreads across your foot, as the condensate spreads its influence. 

“I have so many questions for you…” Jungkook whispers to you, watching you twitch, “but I’m having too much fun right now.”

Just when you begin to ask whether his dictionary reads ‘fun’ differently, he drags his cold glass upward, painfully slow, traversing your foot, then along your shin bone, letting the precipitate draw a path of icy chill on the map of your body. Meeting your eyes to just plant a cheeky wink into your brain, he continues forging ahead – until he can reach mid-thigh. He stops there long enough to hear you hiss – only then do you feel the glass move away. 

If you weren’t already panting, you are now. Very audibly so. It is all you can hear in the room, in fact. 

That is, of course, until Jungkook assaults all your senses by dragging you awfully close to him, extracting a gasp from you – his grip on your thigh is tighter than the band in your stomach begging for a release, and you relish the feeling. 

“Do you, want me,” he says into the miniscule space that’s left between your lips, “to kiss you right now?”

You can’t decide what demands your spotlight; is it his gaze boring holes into your skin, or his lips that are now glistening deliciously?

“No.”

“Hmmn,” Jungkook turns away from you, and you almost rise in alarm – until you register his next actions, “thought so.”

One second to completely sip all of his whiskey. Another second for his lips to land on yours.

Finally.

The fantasies of this night blend into reality, and instead of doing the rational thing – thinking why you ended up like this – you give into the kiss.

Not only does he kiss you hard, like the future of his world depends on it, he also pushes in his undrunk whiskey into your eager mouth. The liquid swirls between the colliding tongues, some leaking out of the corners of your mouth – the rest coating the insides of your cheeks with a lush, rich and robust flavour – flavours that didn’t pop when you drank it from your own damn glass.

You kiss until the whiskey gets drunk – by whom, is a mystery – and before you can tend to the stray drops down your face, Jungkook’s hand grabs your chin to keep you still. 

God, your last kiss was nothing like this. The blood buzzing in your ears is thunderous, reacting to the contradiction between the soft, tender kisses exchanged all those years ago, and the jagged, raw conquering of your lips happening right now. Your roughened lips burn under the remnants of alcohol, but it’s nothing compared to the searing you feel when Jungkook lets his tongue languidly glide against your gnawed skin.

“Now, since it was the wrong answer…” He husks, his fingers moving inward, closer and closer until they land just below your collar, “I have no choice but to—”

One mighty sharp tug – and all the buttons of your shirt have popped, flying all around the two of you. His hands, still clutching the buttonless seams of your shirt, harshly pull you back into him. Lips firmly sealed back onto yours, he sends his hand roaming.

“This is what you needed that night, eh?” With one hand back to digging in your jaw, he mouths the words into your cleavage, teeth digging deep into whatever they can grab, “Sweet boys just don’t cut it for you.” He moves up to the nook of your neck, his other hand slotting between your thighs, “For all the attitude you had back then, all you want then is to be treated like a street slut. And you’re still the same. Whores don’t change.”

Rude boys are still your standard, and Jungkook has become just that.

“Ow—fuck, don’t leave mar–marks, man,” you attempt an angrier voice while avoiding his truth bomb – because yes, aren’t you knocked out, over the moon right now? The voice that emanates is feeble, with no brawn to be found. 

He too, doesn’t pay you any heed – teeth tugging the flesh in his clamp until he can hear you hiss, then letting it go, letting his tongue soothe the sting.

“You can pretend to hate it,” he sneers at you, his low tone whisper sending shivers like a snowy night, “your lips can lie, but your body? From the moment you walked in, I know your pussy’s been screaming to be filled. Just thank your stars I’m generous, huh?”

You’re drunk. On just two fingers of whiskey? That can’t be it. Definitely, it’s the heady concoction of the alcohol and Jungkook’s very able hands – one of which is enjoying the feel of your perking nipple. 

While one hand goes back up to roughly dig into your neck, the confines of your throat feeling the heat of his lust, his other arm wraps holds your back, making sure you don’t lean too back and lose your balance. It’s sweet.

What’s not sweet, however, is how long this is taking.

He pushes you until you’re balancing your head on the armrest, with one knee digging into the cushion beside you, the other firmly planted on the carpeted floor. Within a wink of an eye, he’s moved down – and you feel his tongue play over your bra, teasing your nipples, reminding you of a forgotten (but not really) past – a harsh suckle under your boob releases the trapped moan, but it sounds battered; perfectly showcasing your state of mind.

“How about this,” he whispers, looking up from his actions, “you think I can get you to come without taking anything else off?”

Do you have the mental fortitude to deal with the consequences of your bratty answer? 

“No.”

The fingers fiddling with your bra hooks halt – instead, he descends onto your clothed breast, biting over the fabric, fully knowing that your sensitivity was through the roof. You cuss and moan, growing frustration urging for more, but you do not beg.

“Funny how life changes,” he coos, shifting attention from one boob to the other, “today you’re the one tied down. And lucky for you,” with not a hint of weariness in his voice, “I don’t have to be anywhere, anytime soon.”

No ties, no ropes, no chains – hell, not even that overworn, oversized tee of his – and he’s still so right about it. Not a part of you wishes to move away, your pathetic self just wrapped around his agile fingers. 

Said fingers now hold your cheeks, squeezing until your quivering lips give an opening – and he drops a ball of spit right over. You lay there, entranced, taking what he has to give, your writhing less prominent now. Anything that falls outside the outline of your lips is gathered by his thumb, massaged over your mouth, then inserted for you to suck to your heart’s content. Which you do.

“You’ve shanghed sho mush,” you speak past his thumb; he definitely doesn’t try to make it easier on you, pushing his digit further inside, putting your tongue through a test of endurance.

“So have you,” is his simple response, dragging his wettened thumb across your cheek.

“Not as much as you, for sure.”

“I don’t think the mouthy bitch years ago would suck spit off of my thumb.”

“You don’t know that.” With his eyes widening ever so slightly, you continue, “But surely, the geek from years ago wouldn’t have spit in my mouth in the first place.”

“You don’t know that either.” 

Just when you think you’re done seeing stars with the roof on, Jungkook hooks the band of your bra in his teeth – like the primitive animal that he is – and pulls at it, just to let it snap back at your skin. The unannounced action makes you squeal, even though it didn’t really hurt – he’s got your body so alive, a feather could hurt you if he wielded it.

With the odd, oafish position of yours; one leg on the couch, the other hanging off loose, head balanced precariously on the armrest with your arms dutifully out of his way – you try to get him where you need him, knee nudging his thigh while your hips wriggle under an invisible spell. Finally, he acquiesces, settling down at the couch with your legs unwrapped on either side for his viewing pleasure. His palms squeeze the flesh of your thighs, a small tsk falling off his lips at the touch of your pantyhose.

“Tearing doesn’t count as taking off, right?”

“What?”

You don’t get a response – not in words, atleast. The loud rip that follows is the only answer he graces you with, your worn down pantyhose having its last wear forever. But his easy access only brings you gratitude when two fingers enter the tear in a split second, pushing your underwear inside your sopping core.

“Mmmhh—Fuck!”

Jungkook just laughs at your helpless body writhing beyond control as he explores everything he didn’t have a chance to before. Fingers travelling down, then up, inside, then outside, around and about – everything, only egging you further on. 

“After all these years…” Jungkook purrs, not directly to you, eyes only connected to the juncture of your thighs, “you deserve a good fucking. What should I do, huh? Should I make you come, then drop off the face of the earth?” His tongue swipes the length of your crevice, sending shudders down your thighs. “Or should I spend this whole night doing all the things I’ve been meaning to? Cover you in my jizz and parade you across the office? Show everyone what an excellent tutor you were, and your very innovative teaching methods.”

Your brain has no filter when exposed to the horny, and his last words made it do just that – you latch onto whatever words best serve your purpose. 

“You–you’ve been meaning… To?” 

“Meaning to fuck you against every possible surface of this room,” is what Jungkook says, but with his fingers entering your cunt and exploring about, you don’t register anything. “As a thank you, you know? Meaning to see you fall apart on my fingers, just like this—” He pushes in hard, your pussy throbbing around his digits. “Meaning to cum inside you, over and over again, and have you crawl around this space, dripping everywhere while I sit and watch your sullied body prepare itself to take more.”

Well, the last one is oddly specific. Even more odd is how much more aroused the thought makes you.

“Wow, umm—w–well—” Swallowing the wad of spit accumulating in your throat, you offer, “Since you clearl–ooh, clearly, know how to make me come,” you look him in the eye, tears of desire pooling in the corners of your eyes, “so fucking do it. S–Stop playing around.”

“But with a plaything as sweet as you,” he moves to kiss your clothed pussy, his fingers still playing imaginary music inside your walls, “with a toy as slutty as you,” another kiss, so delicate it hurts you, “hard to not play around.”

Hands unfettered from the mental shackles that Jungkook put on you, you pull him back up to you, lips smushing together once again – your other hand wraps around his wrist, grinding onto whatever surface his palm offers, using him like a glorified sex toy. He grunts hard into you, a vague attempt made at bringing you back under control, but your tongue is beguiling, and he stays under your hold. 

Until he isn’t. 

“A—w—fuck!”

Jungkook’s sadistic streak continues when he frees his wrist from your clutches, and smacks your clit once, twice, thrice – in quick succession. Your nub would buzz if it could, and a string of expletives release from you when he does it again – this time, with a greater backswing. 

With a sharp tug to his still-on blazer, you pull him up. “Fucker,” you sputter, making your first and last request of the night, in a desperate attempt to get the ball rolling, “let me suck your dick.” Your hands already flounder around his crotch, until he pulls them away, back to their previous confinement. In the background, you can hear his belt jingle; but all you can see is his arresting face.

A deep-throated laugh emerges from him, “Wasn’t last time enough?” He coos at your cock-hungry plea, pushing you back down and fiddling with your legs. “Next time, okay?”

“Next ti—uungghh!”

Barely able to complete your showcase of surprise, because this is the way he announces his acceptance – he pushes into your core, without warning, but he receives a warm welcome in the walls of your pussy. 

“We have a lot,” he emphasises with a thrust, “a lot of work to do, don’t we?” He pulls out just enough to leave you whining, then pushes back in with a grunt of satisfaction; his moves are calculated enough to leave you wanting while maverick enough to leave your spine tingling. “And a lot of catching up as well.” He hovers over you after positioning you better, both of your bodies lying along the length of the couch, before getting right back into your gushing entrance.

One particular thrust has you arching up, the shock of pleasure stagnating in your body for a hot second, making your head lag and voice wane. Jungkook sheaths himself completely, before slotting his face in the nook of your neck, heavy breaths licking at your heated skin. Not one to miss an opportunity, you take the lobe of his ear between your lips, letting your teeth graze over the skin.

“Mmmh, yes,” he keens, tilting into your touch, “make it hurt, baby.”

Whether it is the words he uttered, or the way his whisper travels down to your cunt, you dig your teeth into the flesh, immediately rewarded with a mouthwatering flurry of cusses stuttered into your neck. 

“It’s,” Jungkook pulls out of you in an instant, turning you around by your waist, “not,” he pushes your head back onto the headrest, your cheek bulging as you try to get a look at him, “enough.”

And the way he slams back into you, you feel your soul fight your body to escape. You mewl into the deathly quiet, his dogged jackhammering hurtling you towards your most awaited high of the day – hell, the most awaited all these years. He pistons into you, covering every inch of your skin in a sea of flames. Your orgasm finds you like a river in spate, gushing through its path, fighting boulders in its wake, carving its way through your entire body. 

Sounds of the room start feeling like echoes, slapping balls, grunty exhales, a weirdly long cloth rip that does not belong – but your ears are ringing, your mouth is drooling, and your brain is ready to shut down. Being jostled like a muppet feels like home, and you only start waking up when spurts of liquid coat all of your ass, thighs, and slit. 

In true asshole fashion, Jungkook tore all of your pantyhose, fabric loosely hanging on the sides, seams split until all of your ass and thighs were open for his pleasure. 

In truer asshole fashion, Jungkook left you a mess, cum trickling down your glutes, pooling at the bend of your knee.

And in truest asshole fashion, he is wiping his unsullied fingers clean, without a second thought about your current dishevelled disposition.

Ugh. You love to put yourself in a position you can’t get out of.

How the fuck will you get home? This jerk won’t give you a ride. 

Also, none of your bones work. 

You lay your head on the armrest, finding feasible ways out of this situation. It's going to be nice riding the bus with dried cum itching your ass. There must be a washroom in this boujee office, of course. You finally gather the strength to raise your head and look for one – but interception comes sharp and swift.

“Already done, huh?” Jungkook’s fingers press into the nape of your neck, pushing you back down, your tendons feeling the pressure of his stronghold.

“I—” You stutter and stumble again, just like the start of the night, “I thought we—”

“Don’t you remember?”

“What?”

“Hmmmn,” he sponges kisses over your clothed back, making his way downward, “stupid girl said I couldn’t make her come without taking anything off.”

Ah.

Stupid girl did say that.

Stupid girl also has her speaking right revoked right now, because Jungkook is collecting the half-dried cum on your ass with his tongue, awakening your dying senses once again. His final move is a start to the next chapter of your night, as he pushes his tongue into your velvet heat, depositing the cum where it belongs.

“Guess we keep playing, huh?”

Thank you for making it to the end! For more of my writing, find my masterlist here. As always, thoughts and feedbacks are greatly appreciated!    

[nateconnolly]

“I have tried to show you what I am,” says Barb, the protagonist of one of the most controversial short stories ever written. “I have tried to do it without judgment. That I leave to you.”

Barb comes from I Sexually Identify as an Attack Helicopter by Isabel Fall, a science fiction story about gender and imperialism. It was Fall’s first published story. There was no backlog of stories to analyze, and her author’s bio was sparse. Readers weren’t given any information about Fall’s gender identity, but that didn’t stop activists from speculating. “… this reads as if it was written by a straight white dude who doesn’t really get gender theory or transition,” complained Arinn Dembo, President of the science fiction writers’ collective SF Canada. The author Phoebe Barton even compared the story to a weapon against trans people: “Think of it as a gun,” she tweeted. “A gun has only one use: for hurting.” N.K. Jemison joined in, tweeting, “Artists should strive to do no (more of this) harm.” But Dembo and the hundreds of thousands of others were mistaken about Fall’s supposed cis identity. The publisher responded to the backlash by taking the story down and posting a statement about the author’s identity. Isabel Fall was a transgender woman, and self-identified activists for trans rights bullied her so mercilessly that she attempted suicide. Dembo later adjusted her criticism, saying “a lot of people might have been spared a lot of mental anguish” if Fall had made a statement about her gender identity. Meaning, Fall had a moral obligation to out herself as a trans woman. Both of Dembo’s comments reveal a preoccupation with the author that distracts from the text. The recent obsession with author identities is one of the great failures of contemporary liberal movements. In order to win liberation for any given group, liberal activists must focus less on who speaks and more on what is spoken. 

Roland Barthes’ 1967 essay The Death of the Author argued that an author’s intentions and life experiences do not make the “ultimate meaning” of their text. The author might as well “die” once the text is in the reader’s hands. The text is “a multi-dimensional space” that one cannot simply flatten with biographical details about the author. Barthes has largely been vindicated among literary critics and theorists, but his idea has not been well-received among liberal activists. It is easy to refuse to acknowledge multiple dimensions of a text. Moralistic groups like liberation movements might even be tempted to sort texts into a simple dichotomy—“good” or “bad,” without any gray areas—on the sole basis of the author’s identity. That is exactly what Dembo tried to do: she suggested that Attack Helicopter was bad simply because of the author’s (supposed) gender. 

I Sexually Identify as an Attack Helicopter is not a transphobic story. Although an in-depth analysis would be beyond the scope of this essay, I can confidently say that Fall critiqued American imperialism, not transgender people. I think that would be clear to anyone who reads the story. But apparently, reading a story is no longer a necessary step in the process of interpreting it. Barton—who suggested her fellow trans woman was a “gun”-wielding transphobe—had not actually read the story. Jemison also admitted she had not read the story before tweeting that it was harmful. We now have a complete reversal of Barthes’ idea: this method of moralistic interpretation is nothing less than the death of the text.

Fall is far from the only queer storyteller to face backlash for allegedly not being queer. Becky Albertalli, Kit Connor (who was still a teenager), and Jameela Jamil all came out of the closet because they were harassed for telling queer stories as “straight” and “cis” people. It is a common talking point in activist circles that the government should not compile lists of queer people or forcibly out them. Why, then, do activists engage in the same behavior? It simply is not always safe to admit that you are gay, or trans, or autistic, or epileptic, or that you have had an abortion. The reason that we need liberation movements for these groups is the same reason that people might not want to publicly claim these identities.

You can read the rest on Substack

[esther-dot]

What do you think about song Bear and the Maiden Fair? While the bear is described as brown and black with hairs while the maid described as honey in her hair and pure. Many think that song is about Hound and Sansa because he saved her when other knights couldn't but the bear in song didn't seems to saver as it tastes the honey of maid when she was shrieking and kicking. Seems like forced touching just like Hound forcing on Sansa. Tyrion, Penny and Jorah had played the characters in Meereen.

I also received this ask about the song:

(These are so old, neither of you may be around anymore, but I finally typed up some thoughts on this. Sorry for how belated this is! 😬)

I would assume that the reason so many relationships have a connection to the song is that Martin has an interest in developing relationships between extremes. At one point or another, he’s formed a relationship between youth/age, brother/enemy, beauty/ugliness, life/death, love/hate and I totally forgot the big one and had to circle back to add: ice and fire! Lmao). “Beauty and the Beast” is based on the interest in the juxtaposition of extremes, The Bear and the Maiden Fair offers something similar, so it makes sense to me that he repeatedly utilizes it.

The placement of extremes in relation to each other is an aesthetic thing some find compelling (created via The Hound’s size and scars against Sansa’s remarkable beauty and youth, Dany’s size, eye and hair color contrasted with Drogo or Jorah’s…), but more importantly, a thematic thing. We see the contrast vividly with Brienne and Jaime as well as Sansa and the Hound. Their appearance is at odds, of course, but what really matters are how their values are contrasted. Sansa’s beliefs and her nature are entirely opposed to the Hound’s, and if you think of Jorah as the knight exiled for being a slaver and the shame of his house helping the woman who attempts to end slavery (until she needs it) and restore her house…well, you get a version of that there too.

Being that Martin has stated he played with the Beauty and the Beast angle with Sansa and the Hound, but was surprised people shipped it, we should accept that Martin uses tropes/references for different purposes, not necessarily to signal an endgame romance or mutual interest even if that is the initial thought by the reader. Martin likes the inside/outside view of things, likes to examine ideas from multiple perspectives, and a character occupying different roles throughout the story allows him to extract a lot of meaning. Fans like to focus on how Sansa is wrong about a certain character, but the main intent behind all of this is the author challenging his reader when he forces us to examine and re-examine who characters are and what he is saying with them. The lyrics of the song twists our perception of things, so, even if I reject how it’s often applied, I agree that the concept behind the song is being discussed in these relationships.

We see the same beast/knight ideas with the Hound and Sansa as with Jorah and Dany. Both Dany and Sansa have these guys who are associated with specific animals (bear, hound), who function as protectors at some point even though they also betray them. Jorah’s betrayal is labeled as such in the book, but the Hound going from rescuing Sansa to assaulting her is a betrayal as well. Both men develop loyalty to the girls, they offer some protection, both have a sexual interest in the girls and both sexually harass them (Jorah kisses Dany without permission, the Hound assaults Sansa). I suppose Sansa and the Hound fit a little better with parts of the song because the girl is initially frightened by the bear while Jorah presents quite differently despite all the bear references. The bear-ish description of Jorah isn’t just the bear sigil, we also get all the hair stuff:

"I shall wish to speak with Ser Jorah before the night is done," her brother said. Dany found herself looking at the knight curiously. He was an older man, past forty and balding, but still strong and fit. Instead of silks and cottons, he wore wool and leather. His tunic was a dark green, embroidered with the likeness of a black bear standing on two legs. (AGOT, Daenerys I)

“He had a neck and shoulders like a bull, and coarse black hair covered his arms and chest so thickly that there was none left for his head.” (AGOT, Daenerys III)

and of course, he is referenced as a bear pretty often:

“Ser Jorah, her gruff old bear” (ADWD, Daenerys VI) and he’s referred to as her “bear knight” (ADWD, Daenerys III) and “My bear, she thought, my old sweet bear” (ADWD, Daenerys X).

I selected those from ADWD because to me, that’s when it for sure was deliberately connecting back to the song as Tyrion puts Jorah in the role of the bear:

"That one is part of our show. The bear and the maiden fair. Jorah is the bear, Penny is the maiden, I am the brave knight who rescues her. I dance about and hit him in the balls. Very funny." (ADWD, Tyrion X)

So, we begin the story knowing Jorah is a bear (Mormont), that he’s described as bear/beast, called a bear/bear knight, and then eventually, he’s playacting the bear from the song. Interestingly, the "knight" who fights the bear is acted by someone Martin has called a villain. I could never argue that the author isn’t being intentionally self-referential, he clearly is. However, we do have the fact that Jorah betrayed/molested Dany, and this:

Jorah Mormont's face was dark with anger, but he answered. "To serve her. Defend her. Die for her, if need be."

That made the widow laugh. "You want to rescue her, is that the way of it? From more enemies than I can name, with swords beyond count … this is what you'd have the poor widow believe? That you are a true and chivalrous Westerosi knight crossing half the world to come to the aid of this … well, she is no maiden, though she may still be fair." (ADWD, Tyrion VII)

I’m uncomfortable with the emphasis placed on virginity in the books and hate to use that (or beauty) as a determining factor in which couple the song is “really” about, but we have this line which I see as direct guidance from Martin about interpreting the Dany and Jorah relationship as a straight up version of The Bear and the Maiden Fair. The way it’s presented and challenged indicates that while in a particular dynamic or in a specific scene a character fulfills a certain role, that isn’t necessarily their overall role. To me, looking at the story as a whole, Brienne’s role is true knight, more so than maiden. Just as the idea that Dany is the maiden/damsel is present in her interactions with Jorah, but that isn’t her role in the story as a whole, no more than Jorah is the true knight. (He’s a slaver ffs).

As for the Jaime and Brienne of it, Jaime protecting Breinne from a bear slots him into the knight role, but as they struggle over who is fighting the bear, there’s a play on who is in the knight role and who is in the “maiden” role. Also, Brienne is mockingly called beauty and Jaime is described as a beast, and while those characters are being cruel to Brienne, to the reader, we know Jaime has done horrible things (attempted kid killing = monstrous), and we know Brienne is the purist soul (goodness=beauty), so taking a step away from the superficial, we are getting a layered play on the trope. And yes, Brienne is a virgin and Jaime a knight, we can leave it there, but Brienne is a knight in the truest sense and Jaime is beautiful, so I think the best way to look at this question of who this song is “about” is to accept that the trope being discussed is getting a rotisserie chicken treatment. We’re allowed to see it from every juicy angle, not limited to one. After all, Jorah is a knight and a bear.

Of course, as I already said, since the author likes to reference things without implementing them the way people expect, this doesn’t necessarily mean romantic endgame, but saying that doesn’t mean I’m dismissing Braime because I do think Martin wrote in the romantic stuff deliberately. The whole knights/fools etc is at play in that scene too:

"What are you doing here?"

"Something stupid. Get behind me." He circled toward her, putting himself between Brienne and the bear. (ASOS, Jaime VI)

Brienne is referenced as the maid in this scene, but later she reads like a knight on a quest to save the fair maiden --Sansa. We even get some “The Bear and the Maiden Fair” singing there. If they ever meet, I would expect some beauty/beast discussion to crop up just as part of this continuing conversation about roles, part of the characters revolving through them to allow the author to thoroughly analyze the ideas and evolve what fairytales are/say. In their pairing, Brienne would be the knight to Sansa’s maiden to allow for Martin to contrast Brienne with all of our failed knights.

We get a lot of duality with these characters/their roles which means we can ask, who is the knight/who is the bear and come up with many, many answers. All of them true in a certain light, only to then turn them on their head. Sometimes, a failed knight rises to the occasion, and sometimes the maiden saves the knight, and sometimes, the knights are evil, sometimes the knight isn’t a true knight. Sometimes salvation comes from where you least expect it, and sometimes, rescuers are also a threat. The roles are there, but Martin is playing with them, challenging them, so the multiple ways we can read these characters and dynamics is very much intentional. All of that being said, it’s undeniable that there is one maiden for whom the song is particularly relevant.

Sansa fits the maiden role in a much more overarching way than our other contenders. Not only because she’s a virgin, not simply because of her interest in romance or because so much of her story has been driven by various people’s sexual/political interest in her/marrying her, but because she represents certain attributes, foremost of them, mercy. We get in trouble when talking about how beautiful she is, but it can’t be disregarded because she represents hope, innocence, compassion, peace. Martin made her beautiful not just as a physical thing, rather, because she is representative of ideas; she is the beauty of certain ideals.

The Hound who laughs at killing children is moved to protect her, can’t follow through on his own desire to harm her. Dontos tells her,

"A knight?" Joffrey had decreed that he was to be a knight no longer, only a fool, lower even than Moon Boy. "I prayed to the gods for a knight to come save me," she said. "I prayed and prayed. Why would they send me a drunken old fool?"

"I deserve that, though . . . I know it's queer, but . . . all those years I was a knight, I was truly a fool, and now that I am a fool I think . . . I think I may find it in me to be a knight again, sweet lady. And all because of you . . . your grace, your courage. You saved me, not only from Joffrey, but from myself." (ACOK, Sansa II)

Personification is a thing and even though she is a multidimensional character, I think the way Martin has written Sansa makes it clear that he is calling back to old archetypes here which is why, when you hear “maiden fair,” Sansa is the referenced character in an overarching way, not just in a specific dynamic, not just in a specific chapter or one book, but in the series, this is who she is in a way that no other character is.

Her role in the story is notably the tropey damsel in distress/princess in the tower (in a way that Dany and Brienne are not), and even with the revision of what that means by a modern author, even with the idea growing and evolving into something new, with the girl having far more agency and inner life than in older stories, it’s so clear this is who she is that even her haters know it. They call her a princess in a tower to show their disdain, but all they’re doing is admitting that even they recognize who she is in the story.

And of course, there is the fact that Sansa is referred to as a fair maiden, even in her TWOW chapter, that her beauty is often remarked upon, and that she has some parallels with Persephone which seems pertinent due to the Beauty and the Beast/Hades and Persephone/Death and the Maiden connection:

Petyr cut a pomegranate in two with his dagger, offering half to Sansa. "You should try and eat, my lady."

"Thank you, my lord." Pomegranate seeds were so messy; Sansa chose a pear instead, and took a small delicate bite. It was very ripe. The juice ran down her chin. (ASOS,

LF is her uncle (by marriage), he spirits her away from KL and is clearly intent on making her his, and as we know, he’s orchestrated destruction for her family/the realm, so he fits in here as a kind of Hades (death) to Sansa’s maiden which is relevant considering how loosely related death and the maiden is to the beauty and the beast idea.

However, the thing that feels the most like the author directing us to a specific conclusion must be reading her first chapter in ASOS which might as well be called “the Bear and the Maiden Fair chapter” because we finally get the lyrics to the song, and it’s interspersed into a scenario that is kinda telling a similar story. Sansa wants a beautiful knight (Loras), but is offered a stranger instead (Willas). We’ve also just read a speedrun through all the fake knights/bears/suitors/“love interests” Sansa (or fans) have selected for her:

Sansa wondered if Joffrey knew of this supper. For all she knew, it might be his doing. That thought made her fearful. If Joff was behind the invitation, he would have some cruel jape planned to shame her in the older girl's eyes. Would he command his Kingsguard to strip her naked once again? The last time he had done that his uncle Tyrion had stopped him, but the Imp could not save her now.

No one can save me but my Florian. Ser Dontos had promised he would help her escape, but not until the night of Joffrey's wedding. The plans had been well laid, her dear devoted knight-turned-fool assured her; there was nothing to do until then but endure, and count the days.

[…]

Even so, she must accept. She was nothing now, the discarded daughter of a traitor and disgraced sister of a rebel lord. She could scarcely refuse Joffrey's queen-to-be.

I wish the Hound were here. The night of the battle, Sandor Clegane had come to her chambers to take her from the city, but Sansa had refused. Sometimes she lay awake at night, wondering if she'd been wise. She had his stained white cloak hidden in a cedar chest beneath her summer silks. She could not say why she'd kept it. (ASOS, Sansa I)

So, we have the prince who turned out to be a monster (Joffrey), the guy everyone thinks of as a monster who protects her (Tyrion), a knight who she saved but sexually harasses her (Dontos), a man who threatens her but ended up saving her only to then turn around and be a threat himself (The Hound). See what I mean about multiple roles? My gosh, it’s almost like the author has intentionally been writing variations of the song into Sansa’s story all along, or even, dare I say it, he's written Sansa’s story into a song, only, none of these match up perfectly, so we are still waiting for the true(est) incarnation of this song to manifest into her story.

Or, all of that shorter:

"I CALLED FOR A KNIGHT, BUT YOU'RE A BEAR! (ASOS, Sansa I)

"I prayed to the gods for a knight to come save me," she said. "I prayed and prayed. Why would they send me a drunken old fool?" (ACOK, Sansa II)

So, if Sansa is the maiden of the song, the maiden fair of A Song of Ice and Fire, who is the bear, who’s the knight? More importantly, where is this poor girl’s hero?

Y’all, this is getting ridiculously long. Now, I’ve never not done something for a silly reason like not wanting to appear ridiculous, but I can’t post seven thousand words all at once. tumblr staff will deactivate my account to save me from myself! I will get to Jon and the Jonsa of it all in part two.

[abyssal-debonair]

so here’s what’s been going on:

a couple days ago on July 2nd, TGC, again, retweeted fanart featuring whitewashed characters, this time white skykids. now, I’m not on Twitter much anymore, but I was that day. I was among others who commented how offensive it was for TGC to be promoting artwork that utilized this racist practice. 

at first came the usual opposition, I gave my piece, then the convo died down. thought that was the end of it. by the next day, it picked up again with an incredibly mean-spirited tone — insults, bad faith takes, attempts to shame my friends and I. it was pretty disgusting.

eventually another Twitter user reached out to me and shared a Reddit link. someone had reposted a few of our tweets without censoring our usernames to r/skychildrenoflight (an unofficial subreddit not affiliated with TGC) with full intent to mock and deride us. that post currently sits on the subreddit with over 250 upvotes and over 200 comments, the vast majority of which are so stupid, asinine, and unsurprisingly racist. it explains how the discussion picked up again — the thread had been brigaded, my friends and I were being harassed.

I’m not here to talk about why this is an instance of whitewashing and why it is bad — I have already done that, though it’s overdue for me to make a more comprehensive, eloquent write-up.

Sky is a wonderful game. I love Sky, I love the world, I have invested so much creative energy into it. I love playing music on the game. I have multiple fics in the works. I used to engage with lorechat in Skycord on the regular, enjoying sharing my thoughts and discussing theories with others there. I am always fascinated by the artwork the community produces, even started trying to draw myself. the fanart TGC retweeted the other day isn’t even that bad compositionally — the artist is incredibly talented — the problem is the whitewashing that is all too common here.

I have never been in a fandom where a disgustingly racist practice, among others, was so accepted. I have never been in a fandom that harbored bigots who were so hateful towards the kinds of people Sky normalized, that they were playing as and interacted with. this community frequently proclaims itself as welcoming, diverse, and wholesome, but those words are hollow when many perpetuate bigotry then attack those who call it out, saying “it doesn’t exist here” and “you’re making shit up to get mad at” and “your ancestors would be ashamed of you.”

on that last one, I should mention that the commentary got disgustingly personal. I stated that I was Black in the Twitter thread, which many latched on to. they said I was entitled, never faced real racism, was a child, was pulling the race card, was “the real racist,” was why Black people are not taken seriously in discourse.

I shouldn’t have to mention that I have faced racism irl, including violence, including followed by a police officer on campus in the dark that could have ended poorly. I shouldn’t have to mention the racist harassment I have faced both online and offline. I play Sky and engage with its community because the game gave me the idea that I could escape the world that hated me for one where I felt seen and welcomed. if someone was being hateful, adding more to pile of bigotry I have to fucking live with, I thought I would have the backing of the community to support me when I fought back. I was wrong.

what happened over the last couple of days exposed me to some of the worst the Sky community has to offer and it didn’t even surprise me.

it is well documented how people of color like myself are mistreated in white-dominated spaces. our discomfort is viciously denied as false or exaggerated. we are told to suck it up because fandom is supposed to be enjoyed, an escape, “don’t bring politics in here.” except fandom perpetuates the same problems we are trying to escape from. we are not given a damn break.

[thestobingirlie]

i think the reason why some people write steve as just accepting it when eddie and his friends are dicks to/ about him, or they write him as running away all sad about without confronting them about it or ever really bringing it up, is because the two times we see steve really emotionally hurt by other known characters, he doesn't go to confront them about it. he lets them come to him and then unleashes bitchy and mean steve.

season 1, when he believes nancy has cheated with jonathan, he doesn't confront her, he hangs around with his friends trying to call her out and humiliate her for it, she starts the confrontation, then he gets bitchy about it, a little to her and a lot to jonathan.

season 2, with the bathroom scene at the party and the alley scene the next day. he waits for her to come to him. he leaves the party without her, doesn't pick her up for school. he lets her come to confront him during class and then gets bitchy about what happened

i think the bathroom scene is also where they get the idea that steve would just run away all upset. like, yes he left upset. but a tiny bit of that may have been the toxic masculinity idea of men don't cry. and I think a lot of it was he just didn't want other people to see him visibly upset or crying. billy and tommy had already been harassing him earlier in the evening, and billy had been harassing him at school, if they'd seen him visibly upset or in tears they would have been massive dicks and given him hell for it. he would try to remove himself from the situation to avoid that.

so i think he maybe wouldnt directly confront eddie about him and his friends being dicks, he would wait for eddie to come to him and then let out bitchy and mean steve about it. steve wouldn't necessarily seek eddie out, but he wouldn't just let him get away with it.

i do get that. the only thing is, both of those situations happen either in public, or at nancy’s house.

with s1, i think steve kinda worked himself up when he left, probably had a bit to drink, he tommy and carol got all rowdy, ‘she’s not gonna get away with this’ kinda shit. like he didn’t leave with the intention of spray painting the cinema.

and in s2, i wholeheartedly believe steve is going outside to cry. he doesn’t want to cry in front of nancy, and he’s not about to cry in front of all the guys in his year, so he has to get out. and i think his hurt kinda overrides his bitchy-ness, until nancy comes to confront him to next day, annoyed and not apologetic.

but, anyway, with these fics/au’s, it’s always taking place in steve’s actual house. he has nowhere else to go!!

if he was picking up the kids from hellfire or something, and heard them all chatting shit, then absolutely he would just leave, and then confront them later. but if they’re making fun of him in his actual house? i think he’s retaliating pretty fucking quickly.

i do suppose it depends what was said, just how hurtful it was, but i think in a lot of these fics he’s not close enough to eddie to be hurt the way he was by nancy, so mean girl king steve is popping out, and later he’ll have a little cry in the shower or something lmao

[impunkster-syndrome]

Why would you support endos? What do they do and why are they such a controversial topic right now? I'm out of the loop.

"Endos" is short for "endogenic system" in plural spaces. It just means "a system formed without trauma as the starting factor." It doesn't mean a system without trauma at all, just one that did not form from it.

The reason they are (supposedly, but more on that later with my personal thoughts) contraversial is the idea of all plurality coming from trauma. The research on plurality as a whole is very limited and often focused on DID (Which is often also overlapping with RAMCOA survivors who form DID due to programming), so the research we already have is already angled towards systems that view their existence as more medical and disordered than other systems.

I got professionally diagnosed as of December 2022 with Dissociative Identity Disorder. My introduction to plurality was a DID system who let an alter harass and threaten me and then escape consequences through refusing to practice system responsibility. At the time I was a supposed singlet and I was apprehensive about them for a while because of that experience that was borderline traumatic (These people tried to involve me in weird shit that was not appropriate for my age and that alter had a history of using witchcraft with the intent of killing others. As a baby witch, I didn't know better and many spaces are weird about education). So, my introduction to plurality was Not Great In The Slightest.

I met a system on a minecraft site that introduced me to plurality in a not super medical way, which helped me find them. I had been a system unknowingly for over a decade and a few years at that point. That system framed plurality in a way that made it not inherently scary of an experience and helped me adjust to suddenly knowing I was a system. The idea of plurality not needing to be from trauma is actually what I needed to get started on my road to diagnosis. It allowed people to come out and for me to start learning. My protector even lied his ass off to me saying that we were not disordered to allow me time to adjust and not have to confront trauma immediately with why I exist. Surprise! I'm not the original.

With plurality, overall I just think it is never my place to say which systems are real enough to exist or not. Medical plurality is underresearched. There's not enough research on endogenic systems. A super medical-only framework of viewing plurality often leads to people trying to categorize who has it worse and who is therefore the one allowed to speak over others. Oppression doesn't work that way. Forcing it to harms everyone and makes trauma into a dick-measuring contest.

There's problems with the endogenic community itself, but the community is not the same as the identity. Terms like "Anagenic" and "Nosgenic" (Both genic labels for eating disorders) leave a bad feeling with me for how people treat physical disability that can kill you, source and canon call dangers, the lack of discussion about systemic oppression and ableism, and more. But those are not inherent to endogenic systems as an identity.

I would rather accept them and be wrong later on than smugly say an entire group doesn't exist and make trauma into the defining factor of a system and be constantly afraid of people threatening my existence as a "valid system" for existing in a different way than me.

[sophieinwonderland]

I'm going to reiterate my point: good faith doesn't matter if it hurts other people. Using it to cope? Find a coping mechanism that doesn't hurt people. They exist, I promise.

Sometimes the right thing isn't easy, sometimes healthy coping mechanisms are harder, healing isn't easy. It doesn't mean it's ok to use that as a reason to hurt people when you know you're doing it. Trace also perpetuates a lot of transphobia, I've seen that first hand.

So... where would you say that leaves tulpamancers?

I'm not invested in the trace discussion but it bothers me that the exact arguments you're using are arguments I've seen used against myself and other systems like ours. I wouldn't even know this was supposed to have anything to do with the trace debate at all were it not for the last sentence. Everything else could have just as easily been directed at us. And I'm not even talking about debates over terminology. But just our very experiences.

Do you know how many people have had the arrogance to assert that my existence is unhealthy? How often we've been told that we're hurting people by claiming to experience the things we know that experience?

For the former, this seems to be a primary talking point from anti-tulpas. This idea that society should get to decide what is and isn't healthy for us. That wanting to be plural or trying to induce hallucinations through imposition is dangerous, even though most tulpamancers report positive health benefits.

And for the latter...

I remember someone not too long ago in the plural community who was bullied and harassed incessantly for their spiritual plurality. They were told repeatedly that claiming to be a system without trauma was hurting trauma survivors. So they stopped calling themselves a system. Then they were told that even claiming to be plural at all was hurting trauma survivors.

The host was sent into derealization spirals, questioning her own existence, and even wondering if she should try to get rid of her headmates because she was so focused on not harming others. She ultimately was driven out of the plural community.

So what is right in this situation?

It's true that there are people, that there are trauma survivors, who feel deeply insulted by our existence, and feel the idea that you can be plural without trauma invalidates their own trauma. I don't doubt that me repeatedly demonstrating that you can be plural without trauma is going to be harmful to some of them emotionally. So what do I do when my existence can cause harm to others?

Should I stop existing? Give my host permission to dissipate me and the others because people on the internet are upset? Should I pretend I don't exist? Shut myself off? Should we lie and pretend to be traumagenic to spare the feelings of others?

I think sometimes, the right thing may be something that causes harm.

Maybe harm isn't direct, nor is it the intention, but it can be a byproduct.

Again, this isn't about the trace debate. I don't feel like it's my place to have an opinion on that.

But this is my own resolution.

I'm going to keep sharing my experiences.

I'm going to keep sharing guides and practices to help other tulpamancers achieve things that most of society considers unhealthy.

And yes, I'm going to keep indirectly harming people who oppose us all the while. I'm not trying to hurt people. I'm not going out my way to cause harm. But just existing as myself will hurt people. And I still firmly believe without a shadow of a doubt that I am doing the right thing.

[mariacallous]

Once, when I was younger and would dress somewhat outrageously, I caught a stranger recording me on his phone as I danced on the tube, on my way to a gay club. The video never surfaced online to my knowledge – perhaps he simply sent it to a group chat – but for months I looked over my shoulder when dancing.

Turning strangers into online content for the purposes of comedy and entertainment has become a global pastime. And we lap it up. A drunk person relieves themselves in the street, a loved-up couple gets a bit steamy in a supermarket, a man is in his own world loudly singing out of tune on crowded public transport – the content is endless.But the line between lighthearted teasing and digital harassment seems to be getting thinner by the day.

Recently, a 64-year-old, retired man, Michael Peacock, was filmed dancing enthusiastically at Fabric nightclub in London. The video was uploaded online with the caption: “Yo I’ll never be going Fabric again.” The intention was clearly to laugh at the man’s dancing, and the clip also invited a range of homophobic and ageist responses, with the man in question reporting to Vice that his “heart sank” when he saw tweets about himself.

None of us can expect a legally protected right to absolute privacy when we step out in public. There are, however, basic ideas that we’re all supposed to hold around respect and dignity, which mean we should not invade others’ personal space through intrusion or fixed observation. It’s an unspoken code that is evaporating at a time where there are rewards to be gained by selling out another person’s privacy, making them go viral.

Cases such as Peacock’s might seem obviously cruel or unwarranted, but clearly not everyone sees it that way. After all, most of us have recording equipment in our pockets, designed not only to capture but to disseminate content in an instant. It takes active thought to see that what’s going on is too often a kind of antisocial behaviour: a rigorous policing of fun, spontaneity and expression, a disciplinary mechanism for social conformity.

Sometimes recording is not as spontaneous as spotting a stranger you think is ridiculous and snapping: in our age of YouTube and TikTok there are also the curated setups where a stranger becomes a supporting character in a skit they’ve not auditioned for. Like Candid Camera for generation Z, it’s commonplace for strangers to be pranked or misled for the purposes of content. These pranks usually have less sinister or malicious intent than spontaneous recording, but the feeling of being degraded is often the same, with uploaders potentially monetising the content.

For instance, a Melbourne woman who was made to participate in a “random act of kindness” TikTok without her knowledge, described being filmed without her consent as “dehumanising”. A friend of mine, Kyle Skies, recently fell victim to a YouTube prankster, in which he was provoked by a series of annoying questions. The video is incredibly funny (there’s no argument about that) but Skies didn’t see it that way.

“I had just run for and missed the train so I was already flustered and annoyed, and then that happened to me. I don’t know if my anxiety was kicking in but I was ready to fight,” he tells me. “I wanted to slap him but I had to think about where I was as a tall black man.” Though he felt he was being set up, he was still not prepared to see the video online. “My cousin sent it to me, because he’s of that age group. He was laughing, saying, ‘You’re so funny.’ But it didn’t feel nice. I got a bit of anxiety and my heart started pounding, I wasn’t ready for it.” Skies is powerless here – so long as footage is taken in public and does not reveal certain personal data, such as your bank details or medical history, you generally do not need the subject’s consent (though a professional production company making a prank show would certainly get written permissions from its subjects).

There are, of course, instances where recording strangers can be in the public interest: state abuses of power, such as police brutality, jump out. But we do need to start thinking more carefully about this dog-eat-dog culture of public spectacle. Take the example of someone, who appeared to be a school age child, filmed shouting at passengers on a commuter train this month after seemingly being asked not to vape. (It was viewed several million times on Twitter.) Many would argue that if you behave offensively, and cause a public scene, then you forfeit any right to expect a dignified social code of privacy, and that there should be appropriate social consequences for this behaviour.

Few people who negatively commented online seemed to consider that they might have been watching footage of a minor. Or that the intense gaze of multiple recording devices could have overwhelmed the subject, whose response was likely escalated by a defensive need to stand their ground and not look weak in front of the cameras. Their behaviour was certainly not appropriate, but what does it mean when bystanders can witness a young person vaping on the train and their first thought is to ridicule and humiliate? Would the incident have played out differently without cameras and the incentive to create content from other people’s meltdowns? And even if their behaviour was bad, was it really in the public interest for it to be shared, when the behaviour was simply disrespectful rather than violent or bigoted?

Until such practices become social faux pas there is the chance that you could step outside and become someone else’s ticket to social media stardom. The use of mobile recording devices has empowered us in many ways. Beefing up privacy laws to prevent the filming of strangers in public would be undesirable, not to mention unworkable. What can change is social and cultural – reacting with grace to each other’s embarrassments, and minding your own business more.

[nicnacsnonsense]

The more I see and think about what seems to be the prevalent fan interpretation of how Stede and Mary’s marriage fell apart — that Mary tried but Stede didn’t — the more I hate it. It’s just wrong and honestly kind of gross on multiple levels.

Firstly from a basic plot and character level this does not align with what we see of Stede as a character over all, and is just objectively not true. The first flashback we see of Stede’s previous family life is of Mary having a conversation with the kids about their farm animals and Stede attempting to join in. Plus his idea to create a ship in the first place was obviously an attempt to try to make life less miserable for them. You can say that his efforts were misguided at times and that he had a tendency to shut down and withdraw when they were ill-received, but you can’t act like he didn’t try at all.

Then there’s the ableism of looking at someone who almost certainly has some kind of CPTSD from years of being harassed and abused specifically for being soft and emotionally vulnerable and saying he just should have been more open about how he felt. And yes, I understand that mental illness is an explanation not an excuse and that Stede can’t expect people to be responsive to what he’s feeling if he doesn’t tell them about it, but I need everyone else to understand that it’s incredibly hurtful and dismissive to see someone who isn’t being as open and vulnerable as you think they should be and write them off as not trying. Not to mention I haven’t seen a single person (outside of a handful who were responding directly to things I said; love y’all) point out how Mary — due to understandable and valid frustration and possibly even trauma of her own — created a space that was very hostile toward Stede sharing his feelings.

Then for a second go round on the ableism train, there’s the fact that Stede and Mary’s marriage was clearly suffering pretty severely from communication issues, but we’re not treating this a thing that can happen and that both parties need to work together to address. Instead we’re just going to put all the blame for being bad at communicating on the autistic(-coded) character. Fantastic; a real classic that one. That’s not to say Stede doesn’t play a part; he definitely has an issue where when they miscommunicate he will passively accept blame and shut down rather than actually trying to get to the root of the issue. But Mary doesn’t try to resolve any miscommunications either, instead immediately assuming selfishness or other ill-intent on Stede’s part and lashing out at him.

And finally, thematically this ends up creating a pretty terrible message. Their marriage is clearly supposed to be emblematic of the oppressive society that the both of them live in. So when you say the problem was that Stede didn’t try in his marriage it necessarily means that the reason Stede didn’t fit into the aristocratic society is because he didn’t try hard enough. And that’s already gross on its own without following through to the implied he would have been able to fit in and make it work if he just tried hard enough. Absolutely hate that for him 💖

The problem with Mary and Stede’s marriage is that the were both shoved into a role that they didn’t want and weren’t suited for and as a result frequently showed up imperfectly. And they both tried very hard to make it work, but it didn’t and it never would have no matter how hard they tried because fuck patriarchy, fuck colonialism, fuck capitalism, fuck oppressive systems of power. Thank you for coming to my Ted talk.

[deepdarkdelights]

Solar Eclipse (Hoseok x Reader)

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

Word Count: 16.9k

Warnings: 18+, Yandere, Stalking, Obsession, Forced Relationships, Fear, Panic/Anxiety, Devious Intentions, Talks about Mental Health, Mentions of Suicide, Dub Con, Forced Implants, Death, The Afterlife, Heights, Jumping from Heights

I do not condone the acts displayed in this story nor do I believe any members of BTS would actually engage in this type of behavior. This is simply written for entertainment purposes and should not be taken as a reflection of my own values, opinions, or morals. 

Preview:  His smile drifted away, it was like watching the moon slip over the sun into a solar eclipse. The Hoseok you were left with was one that had a cold, stricken expression that bled disbelief.

This look on his face, although more genuine than anything else you had seen, was capable of sending your entire body into a panicked frenzy. Something in the back of your mind was telling you, no, begging you to run. The instincts that had been fostered in you from generations before were telling you this man was dangerous, and you were better off fleeing than sticking around to see what would happen. 

“I dare you, say that to me one more time baby and you won’t like what happens next.”

A/N: This was supposed to be 10k...how did we get here. This story was heavily inspired by Beautiful Accident and Wonderful Nightmare! Both amazing movies I recommend that never fail to get me in my feels. I hope you enjoy this wild ride! See you in the comments! 💜💜💜

Your hands were hurting again.

The light from your computer screen was blaringly bright, causing you to momentarily cease your endless scrolling and remove your glasses from the bridge of your nose. You pressed your cool fingers against the warm flesh of your eyelids and tilted your head back against your seat, giving yourself a moment to relax. 

The once cacophonous tapping of another keyboard suddenly halted as your assistant leaned forward in her seat, sliding her laptop shut. 

“You okay, boss?” She asked, her brows pinched together in concern. “Is it a migraine again?”

You exhaled deeply through your nose as you flexed your fingers in an attempt to dispel the ache from them. You were far too young to already be experiencing so many aches and pains. 

“No, I’m just tired.” You admitted as you folded your glasses up and pushed them aside. 

“That’s because you work too much, honestly do you ever sleep? When was the last time you went home?” She chuckled in amusement.

“Ha ha ha, very funny. I’ll have you know I’m faithful to my sleep number, I come home to him every night.” 

“Him? You refer to your mattress as him? Somebody hasn’t gotten laid in a while.” She snorted. 

“I could have you fired for that, that’s sexual harassment you know.” You shot back, amused yet annoyed she had hit a little too close to home. 

“Please, you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself if you fired me.” She laughed, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

Before you could shoot back your response, an abrupt knock on the door stopped the both of you in your tracks. Without saying anything, she rose from her seat and began to cross the room. Knowing she would be able to handle it for you, you reclined deeper into your office chair and slipped your phone out of your desk drawer to sort through your endless amount of notifications. 

You didn’t look up as you heard the door click shut, two sets of footsteps approaching your mahogany desk. 

You could hear somebody clear their throat, their breaths coming out rapidly as if they were anxious. “Y-your coffee, miss.”

Without looking up you merely held out your hand, the warm cup slotting itself into your waiting fingers. You mumbled out a rough thanks as you continued to scroll through your phone, rolling your eyes at the amount of missed calls you had from your mother who, despite knowing your work schedule, persisted in calling you during your office hours. 

You could faintly hear your assistant walking the man to the door, whispering a soft, “Thank you, sweetie,” as the door clicked shut. 

“Really?!” She hissed, once she was sure the man was gone. “You didn’t even look at him!”

“Who? The coffee boy? I didn’t think it mattered.” You said with a shrug, taking a sip from your coffee.

“That wasn’t a coffee boy! That was your intern, jackass!”

“He’s just an intern, Jenny, he won’t be here for long. None of them last around here anyways.” 

Jenny sighed, flopping down into the seat across from you with a pout. “The poor thing was so nervous, you really should be nicer to him. He has such a sweet smile…”

“Oh no, don’t you start one of your schemes again. I don’t have time for men and the last thing I need is for you to start playing cupid. And didn’t I tell you to stop hiring people just because they're attractive?”

“Sweetie, I don’t know if you’re aware, but you're not as young as you think you are. When are you going to settle down, huh? Find a husband, have some cute kids for me to dote on.” 

“Jesus, you’re starting to sound like my mother. I don’t have the time for marriage or for kids, not when I’m busy with this place.” You replied with a stiff tone, this was not the first time the two of you had this conversation. 

“I’m just saying you’re hot, rich, and a CEO, you could literally have any man you want.” She pointed out, the tips of her fingers pressing together in the shape of an arrow. 

“You literally just called me a Sugar Momma.” 

“I mean, they do have websites if you're interested…”

“Okay, you win, I’m leaving early. I can’t deal with your obnoxious ass anymore.” You said, standing up so quickly your chair shot back and turned on its wheels. 

“Jenny: 72, You: None.” Your assistant laughed, adding a point to her imaginary scoreboard.

“I was going to say call me if you need anything, but please don’t.” You chuckled, grabbing your blazer from the coat rack and sliding it around your shoulders before picking up your purse. 

“Don’t worry boss, I’ll hold down the fort.” She said, giving you a quick salute as she stood and began to gather her things. “Don't let the door hit you on the ass on your way out.”

You pressed your lips together tightly in an attempt to hide the hint of a smile on your mouth as she exited your office. She was the only person you talked to like that, you were a rather antisocial boss. You tended to come off as cold and callous to your employees, but in reality you just really didn’t like talking to others when it wasn’t necessary. It had taken four years for you and Jenny to become as close as you did, in fact she was the only person you could truly call your friend. 

You had grown up in an isolated world, one filled with tutors and home schooling as you were groomed to take over one of the branches of your family's business. You had siblings, but you rarely ever saw them. They too were consumed by their work and their families, in fact you were the youngest of them and couldn’t remember a time where all of you lived together in one household. There were four of you in total, you only saw each other at holidays and your parents annual Christmas gala. You were by no means close.

You had grown comfortable being alone and frigid. It was safe and it was efficient. 

Your entire life had been one of isolation, the only amount of warmth bleeding into the bleak monotone schemes of your world was Jenny. And the amount you had let in was minimal. 

It was better being alone, you told yourself. 

You adjusted your purse on your shoulder as your office door swung shut behind you. The building was still fairly active, everyone was in a rush to complete their work before the sun completely dipped below the horizon. That was something you enjoyed about your building. The walls were littered with floor to ceiling windows allowing the ochre tones of sunlight to bleed into the bright white and concrete interior, soft dappled light dancing over hard edges. 

You paused for a moment by the windows, your eyes fluttering shut as you felt the warmth of the sun caress your face, its fleeting light still permeable through your closed eyelids creating a golden halo in your vision. You gave yourself two breaths worth of silence and stillness before your eyes snapped open once more and you hastily made your way to the elevator that would send you to your floor of the parking garage. 

You waited patiently for the elevator, one of your legs extended in front of you as you rolled your foot from side to side on the precarious talon of your red bottom heels. Once you heard the doors sliding open and the familiar ding of the elevator you raised your chin slowly, your eyes half lidded in boredom as you met the expressions of your employees. There were two of them inside the metal contraption, their eyes wide in alarm at the sight of you. You tilted your head slightly to the side, and like you had cracked a whip they scuttled out of the elevator and hurried past you without a word. 

You huffed in annoyance to yourself as you headed inside, you had no idea what their problem was and you pondered if there was any reason to write them up for their bizarre behavior. Perhaps not. 

The elevator hummed as it steadily dropped floors, the soft music effectively worsening your mood. You hated elevator music. 

As soon as the doors slid open you jetted out of them, your heels tapping noisily in the quiet garage. You slid your bag from your shoulder and busied yourself by trying to find your keys. You hissed to yourself as you tripped and almost went flying, multitasking and heels did not go together. You stopped for a moment, opening your bag wider as you tried to find the little ring of keys buried in the depths of your purse. 

The second your fingers brushed the cool metal you released an annoyed breath, throwing your purse back over your shoulder as you flicked through your key ring, grasping the fob that went to your car.

Despite having what you had previously been looking for, you did not move. Instead, you looked around warily, pivoting on your heels as you scanned the area around you.

You could have sworn you heard footsteps.

You waited silently for a few more moments, listening for signs that another person was there with you. 

You heard no other breaths, nor the sounds of approaching or retreating footsteps.

You weren’t going to wait around any longer just to find out you were wrong. 

You swiftly made your way to your VIP parking spot, unlocked the doors, and threw yourself into the car while making sure to lock the doors as soon as you were seated. 

Your mother had begged you for months to get a bodyguard. You were a young woman with lots of money and the heir to a massive enterprise. You should not be walking around as if you were a normal person. It was only now that you were beginning to think that your mother was right. 

Not wanting to dwell on dark thoughts any longer, you pushed your key into the ignition, and peeled out of the parking garage a little faster than normal. 

As your anxiety slowly drained from your body, you began to feel the effects of lack of sleep. Jenny was not wrong, you were considering the fact that maybe you had a touch of insomnia. Either that or you were simply a workaholic. Honestly, it could be both. 

You switched the radio on, picking a classic rock station and dialing the volume up to the point you could feel your leather seats vibrating beneath you with each clash of the drums emanating from the speakers. 

But even that was just barely doing its job. Your eyes were still stinging like they had been moments before at your desk. You were undeniably as exhausted as you were a safety hazard. You clenched the steering wheel harder, the flesh of your skin pulling tightly over your knuckles as you attempted to stay awake. It wasn’t that far of a ride, you could make it home. 

But that thought didn’t stop your eyelids from drooping shut, it was nearly impossible to keep them open, they were so heavy you were struggling to reopen them every time you blinked. 

Your eyes stayed closed much longer now than they had before, and upon opening them again a scream of shock bubbled up your throat. 

A flash of black fur shot across your narrow vision as you frantically spun the steering wheel and slammed on your breaks. A band of horns beeped behind and beside you as you swerved dramatically into the next lane.

Your car had been mere inches from swerving right in front of an eighteen wheeler. 

Your hand fluttered frantically against your chest, your heart pounding back against it in shock. 

You had almost died. 

You gathered yourself up before stomping down on the accelerator and speeding away, dodging the massive vehicle you had almost hit in the opposite lane. The shock of adrenaline you were experiencing from that frightening event was more than enough to keep you awake now. You only had one goal in mind and that was to make it home in one piece. 

The minute you slid back into your regular parking spot you allowed yourself to slump back into the driver's seat, blinking wildly as you recalled the sight of the headlights and the cacophony of car horns from moments prior. You really need to get your shit together. 

~~~~~~~

By the time you made it up to your apartment the exhaustion had returned full force. You toed off your shoes tiredly, stumbling over them with an annoyed grunt as you threw your purse down to the floor. You could really do without your sudden lack of coordination. 

Far too tired to even care, you immediately began stripping your clothes off at the front door. You carelessly threw your blazer aside and shimmied off your skirt as you began to walk, leaving a trail of clothes behind you as you headed for your bedroom. The housekeeper would deal with it in the morning anyways, it didn’t matter where they ended up. 

Your pajamas from the previous night were waiting for you at the foot of your bed, folded up into a neat little pile contrasting greatly from your current care for your clothing. You happily sighed as you pulled the creamy, cashmere sweater over your head and stepped into a pair of silk sleep shorts. This was what you had been waiting for all day. 

That, and the bottle of Cheval Blanc tucked away in your liquor cabinet. 

You ran your fingers through your hair tiredly as you made your way to the kitchen, the sound of your bare feet patting against the floor echoed down the long, empty hallway. 

You wasted no time, eagerly pulling open your cabinet and retrieving the expensive bottle of wine along with a crystal glass. You eased the cork free from the bottle, allowing it to roll over your granite counter as you poured the wine into your glass, the liquor bubbling as you filled it to the very top. You were a guilty self medicator, that was for damn sure. 

You hurried back into your living room, wine glass in one hand and a small tray of macarons in the other. There was one thing you were certain of, you were definitely going to drink your fatigue away and indulge in your favorite cookies until you passed out on your couch. You deserved it, after all you were a CEO, an overworked one at that. 

So, there you sat, taking languid sips from your glass and delicate bites from your cookies as you began to catch up on a show you hadn’t had the time to watch in weeks. It was incredibly relaxing, the soft hum of the TV, the feeling of your favorite blanket wrapped around your bare legs, and the soft tapping of rain against your windows. You were set on not moving for the rest of the night. That was of course, until you had to pee.

You groaned in frustration at the thought of having to move, but the call of nature was much stronger than your will to remain sedentary. You leaned forward, setting your food and drink on the coffee table before you violently kicked your legs, fighting your blanket as you attempted to untangle yourself from it. 

The second your toes touched the lush carpet beneath you, a shock of lightning suddenly splintered it’s way through the sky, shards of light refracting through your windows and lighting up the dim room. The soft rumble of thunder followed soon after. 

You froze at the sight, the light rain still tapped against your windows, a dull contrast to the sudden shock of light you had witnessed.

But, what was even more unexpected, was the sight of dark fur and glowing jade eyes staring back at you. There was a cat sitting on your balcony. That should have been impossible, there was no possible way that cat could have made its way there, your building was pet free. 

The sight of its slick coat of black fur tugged at your heart strings. He must be so cold, stuck out in the rain like that. In fact, he looked almost exactly like your childhood cat you had loved to dearly growing up. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to let him in, let him get dry and warm and fill his belly. 

With a new goal in mind you carefully made your way to your sliding glass door, not wanting to spook him too badly lest he jump. The drop would not be a survivable one. 

Despite your valiant efforts, the minute the door clicked and slid open he jumped up onto the fencing and rails that surrounded your balcony. 

“Hey, no, no, no, just stay right there, kitty.” You cooed gently, taking slow and careful steps in his direction. 

The cat fixed you with a penetrating gaze, his bright jade eyes trained on you, watching every step you made as his tail flicked from side to side behind him. 

“That’s a good boy, just stay right there.” You hummed, your hands held up in a show of no malintent as you carefully approached him. “Come on, I just want to help you.”

Just as you were within grabbing reach, your fingers mere inches from touching his silken fur, he lept away, settling on the ledge against the building. He was dangerously close to falling off, the distance from the ledge to the ground far enough to make your toes and fingers tingle. 

“Fuck.” You hissed. 

The cat remained there, his gaze still trained on you. Those bright eyes seemed to be beckoning for you to come and join him, to meet him up on the ledge. 

You quickly shook out your hands and feet as you stared back, your vision tunneling in on him. You could feel the cold air nipping at your bare flesh, goosebumps raising on the skin of your thighs. You could do it. 

You wiped your palms against the fabric of your shorts before grasping the metal railing and carefully lowering yourself over to the other side. You could feel the wind stronger now as it swirled around you, a flash of light overtaking the sky once more as a steady rumble of thunder bounced off of the surrounding buildings. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” You mumbled to yourself, taking in a sharp breath through your nose as you attempted to calm yourself. Just don’t look down, for the love of all that is holy do not look down.

You steadily rose up on to your toes, shimming your way over as you held on tightly to the railing. The sliver of stone beneath your toes was slick from rainfall, as was the metal of the railing beneath your tense fingers. The closer you got to the cat, the further away it seemed to be, either that was the truth or the reality of how high up you were was messing with your head.

The thought you had from earlier suddenly came rushing back to you, the drop wouldn’t be survivable. What a sobering thought. 

You had come to a point now where you wouldn’t be able to hold onto the railing anymore, not if you needed to be able to reach the cat. So, with a shaky breath you released your grip from the railing one hand at a time and quickly latched onto the stone architecture surrounding the windows. The only thing keeping you from falling was the tiny inches of stone beneath your arched feet, and the architecture you were desperately clinging to. 

You slowly turned your head, your gaze meeting the cat’s once more. It’s eyes were almost mesmerizing, there was something about it that was telling you that you needed to get him, that you just needed to pick him up and stay with him. You had no choice but to retrieve him, you felt like you would die if you had to leave him all alone on this ledge. His eyes were drawing you in, causing you to spiral downwards into their hypnotic depths. You needed him. 

He was not moving anymore, he was settled down on his back legs, his tail flicking out dangerously over the edge of the building. You were certain that you could reach him if you tried. 

You slowly lowered yourself into a crouch, releasing your one hand from the side of the building as you reached out, the other hand still holding onto the stone of the window. You leaned forward as calmly as you could, your arm burning from the stretch as you slid over slightly to grab the cat. 

This time the cat did not move away, it remained still, waiting for your touch. 

Both of your arms were completely spread out, your fingers just barely holding onto the building as you finally made it within grabbing distance. And then, it all fell apart.

As soon as your fingers brushed his midnight fur, he jerked away from your touch causing your feet to slip out from underneath you, and your weak hold to completely detach from the wall. 

And then you were falling.

A violent scream ripped its way free from your throat as you went airborne, the last thing you could see was the penetrating emerald glare of the midnight black cat as you plummeted towards the ground. 

No one would know that you had never intended to end your life when you stepped out onto that ledge.

Unwillingly, you had. 

~~~~~~~

You never felt the impact of the ground, and when you opened your eyes you did not find your body mangled or feel any pain. In fact you were no longer even in the city. 

You were already standing, and you were all alone. You turned frantically, spinning as you tried to find out where you were. There was nothing all around you, just cloudy skies, stretching fields of tall grass, old dilapidated fences, and a dusty road of dirt and rocks beneath your feet.

And then of course, there was the bus stop sign beside you. 

You approached the sign in curiosity. The closer you got the more you noticed how strange everything was. Despite there being stones beneath your feet you didn’t feel pain, and the environment wasn’t cold or hot, it was just neutral. And, it was extremely silent. Not a gust of wind blew, no crickets hummed, and there wasn’t a single chirp from a songbird. There was nothing. 

You leaned your upper body forward, looking from side to side for any signs of life. Both ways you could barely see anything, the field seemed to disappear into thick clouds of fog that were impermeable to your sight. 

You decided in that moment you were better off looking for signs of life than you were waiting for them to come find you. But, to your surprise, the second your foot touched down onto the dirt road a bus came rumbling down the road and screeched to a stop in front of you. 

The doors slid open and light flooded the space around you. You squinted as your eyes adjusted to the exposure, your hand creating a visor on your forehead. 

“You getting on or what?” A voice called from inside the bus. 

“Me?” You asked pointing to yourself.

“Of course you, does it look like I’m talking to anyone else?” The voice huffed in annoyance. “I’m already running late. I'd prefer if you didn’t hold us up any longer.”

“Running late?” You whispered to yourself. “And where will you be taking me?” 

There was silence for a moment and then suddenly a raucous laughter that made you jump. “Where am I taking you?! That’s a good one. Come on, let's go.”

You blinked slowly in irritation, the last thing you needed was to be laughed at and dismissed like a child when you had serious questions that you needed answered. 

“Come on newbie! Today!” He yelled, causing you to jump in fright before scurrying onto the bus. 

Upon entering you were met face to face with the bus driver. He had fair skin and pitch black hair with an amused, gummy smile on his face. Apparently, he thought you were hilarious. He said nothing to you this time, he just merely jerked his head in the direction behind him, signaling for you to find a seat. 

Once you turned to face the passengers of the bus you realized it was far longer than it appeared from the outside, in fact it looked like it stretched farther beyond what you could see with copious amounts of passengers. 

The passengers themselves were of all sizes, races, and ages. You could see mothers holding infants and elderly couples cuddled up to one another. Some people seemed to know one another, others looked sad and lonely like the little boy a few seats back. 

You were incredibly confused. 

Unsure as to where you should sit, you finally decided on sitting next to the little boy. 

The second you sat down, you felt his gaze train on you and his little body shift closer to you. 

“Hi,” He whispered, his fingers curling around the fabric of your cashmere sweater and tugging, “My name is Minho.”

You have him a soft smile in return with a gentle whisper of your name. 

“Where’s your mommy, Minho?” You asked, curious as to why this little boy was all alone. 

“I’m going to meet her now.” He replied, with an excited smile, his legs kicking out energetically before he suddenly calmed down. “I wish daddy came with me.”

“Why didn’t your daddy come with you?” You asked, your eyebrows pinching together in confusion. 

“He said I had to go alone, he can’t come with me for a while. He said I’ll be happy with mommy, that I’ll feel better with her.” He said sadly, his lower lip pouting as he rubbed at his teary eyes. 

“You’ll feel better?”

“Mhm, I was sick for a long time. Daddy said it was time for me to see Mommy, he told me it was okay to go to sleep.”

Oh, oh no. Everything was suddenly starting to make sense. You quickly looked over your shoulder and caught sight of the elderly couple you had seen earlier. 

“Hey! You two! What were you doing before you got here?!”

The older man looked up at you with a kind smile as he continued to rub his wife’s shoulder. “We were driving down to visit our son, he was never too good about coming up to see us. Some bad weather hit, we couldn’t see out of the windshield very well. Next thing you know we’re rolling over the guard rail and down the side of the hill!”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!

“You! Where were you?!” You yelled at the woman seated across from you. 

“Hm? I went in for surgery, what’s it to you?” She asked with an annoyed grimace on her face. 

“What’s it to me?!” You echoed with a hysterical laugh. You were fucking dead that’s what it was! All of you were!

Your thoughts were racing a hundred miles a minute as you tried to gather yourself, your heart beating frantically as a sick feeling settled in your stomach. You needed to get off the bus, you needed to get far away from all of these people. 

Without thinking you lurched to your feet and gripped the cord above your window, yanking it harshly to signal the bus to stop. 

The bus halted immediately, sending you stumbling forward into the back of the driver’s seat. The bus driver met your panicked face through the reflection of the mirror, a curious light to his pitch black irises. 

“So, we’ve got a challenger? I knew you’d be a stubborn one.” He sighed, hitting the button that sent the doors swishing open. “The guy in charge is out there, you can voice your complaints to him.”

You were far too shocked to vocalize anything, your feet just blindly leading you to the doors. You stopped for a moment, looking over your shoulder to get one quick look at Minho. His little legs were still kicking out in front of him.

“Bye miss!” He called with a little wave and a smile, spurring you off the bus with a quick wave in his direction.

Upon stepping foot off of the bus, you were faced with a dimly lit four way intersection that looked like it had been abandoned for years. You quickly headed towards the center of the road as you caught sight of a tall man waiting for you. 

His face was relaxed, a neutral expression taking over his features. He was dressed fairly well for a man standing in the middle of nowhere. You took notice of his crisp three piece suit and the high shine of his shoes. He was obviously someone who was important, if the bus driver had indicated anything by his statements.  

You didn’t waste any time to hurl your questions at him. “I’m dead aren’t I?! Who are you?! What is this place?!”

“Relax.” He commanded, his voice immediately sending a wave of calmness crashing down over you. 

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, before reopening them and waiting in silence for his response. 

“My name is Namjoon, this is the crossroads.” He said, gesturing to the four intersecting roads surrounding you. 

“That is Life,” He said, pointing to the road behind you, “That is Punishment,” the road to his right, “That is Reward,” the road behind him, “And that is Retrial.” The road to his left. 

“Right, that’s fantastic, how do I go back down that road.” You blurted out, pointing to the road behind you.

“Normally, you don’t. But luckily for you, or not so luckily, there was an error made.”

“An error?” You asked. 

“Yes, one of our reapers made a mistake. You aren’t scheduled for processing for quite some time, someone by the same name, sixty years of age, was scheduled for processing today.”

A reaper? What reaper? You hadn’t exactly seen the classic skeletal face cloaked all in black with a scythe in hand had you? Your face screwed up in irritation as you flicked backwards through your memories from earlier that day, trying to remember if you had seen anything that remotely resembled a reaper. 

And then it hit you. 

“That fucking cat!” You screeched, spinning around as you dramatically yelled into the void around you. 

Namjoon winced his posture slightly wilting at your realization. “Yes, that was one of our newer reapers, Taehyung.”

“What kind of operation are you running here? Do I look like I’m sixty years old to you?” You yelled, the panic quelling up in your chest. “You’re going to fix this aren’t you?!”

“Of course! I take my job very seriously!” He shot back. “The only issue is, I can’t send you back to your life just yet.”

“And why not?!”

“Time is a very sensitive and precious thing, as a woman of business I am sure you understand. The other woman still needs to pass and be processed, the events that lead to her demise must be tailored perfectly and set up with the correct timing. Only then can you return, once she is passed with the correct timing the two of you will switch. You can live again and she can be sent down the proper road.” 

“And how long will that take?”

“A few weeks.” He replied vaguely, his body tensed as he waited for your response.

“Weeks?! And what will I do during that time? Do you expect me to follow you around everywhere?”

“Thankfully, no. In the time being, I will have to put you somewhere else, some other place and time. Are you willing to do that?”

“Yes, I’m more than willing. As long as I get my old life back, I don’t care what it takes. Just make it happen.”

“You will, in due time. But listen to me very carefully, you have to follow every aspect of this other life perfectly. You cannot act out of character, you have to act exactly as everyone expects you to. You cannot have contact with anyone from your previous life as well. Understand? If you can’t do that, then you can’t go back.”

You swallowed harshly, a sense of anxiety creeping up inside of you. You had no choice but to accept, your life and had been wrongfully ended far too soon. If that meant doing whatever Namjoon asked of you, you would do it. 

You gave him a swift nod, your hand clenching up into fists.

“Perfect, I’ll have Taehyung escort you down that way.” Namjoon replied, pointing down at the road to his left, Retrial.

Upon hearing his name, Taehyung appeared. He was tall, with honey skin, midnight black curly hair, and bright green eyes. 

The fucking cat. 

Taehyung met you with a sheepish grin and an embarrassed wave, hesitantly coming to your side. He looked nothing like the reaper you had been anticipating. If anything he was a sad excuse for a reaper with the bashful attitude he was presenting you with. 

“Did you really have to use the appearance of my childhood pet to kill me?” You asked, your voice dripping with venom as you crossed your arms over your chest, your bare foot tapping in annoyance. You weren’t exactly the picture of intimidation you normally were.

“I’m sorry.” He replied softly, bowing his head forward in an apologetic manner still refusing to meet your burning gaze.

“I’ll be checking in with you every now and then, please, try to play along with this life.” Namjoon begged, a serious expression evident on his face. Not only did he appear serious, but you could tell he  was also stressed. The fuck up Taehyung had made was evidently a big one. 

“I’ll try my best.” You replied, you knew you had to, or else there was no going back. 

Namjoon gave Taehyung a quick nod, and with that gesture Taehyung grabbed hold of your hand and began to lead you down Retrial. From your perspective, each road was identical, this one too was dusty and littered with stones leading into a seemingly never ending fog. 

The reaper beside you was quiet, his gaze pinned ahead as he focused on his task, leading you down the path of Retrial. 

If only you had known how much of a trial this life truly would be. 

~~~~~~~

You were boiling hot. 

You could feel a mattress beneath your back, one that was far softer than you normally liked. Your body was swaddled with thick blankets and sheets that were sticking to your sweaty skin. You groaned in irritation at the feeling and attempted to bat away the blanket and turn onto your side. 

A sudden grunt behind you had your heart stuttering to a stop, your entire body frozen as you came to the realization that that was not a blanket you had just smacked, but somebody's arm wrapped around your waist. 

Slowly, you turned onto your side to see who was in your bed. The moment you flipped your body over you were met with deep brown eyes that were just barely open and the sight of a lazy smile as your body was suddenly dragged forward and pressed tightly against the strangers. 

A sharp scream bubbled up past your lips as you threw yourself backwards, smacking the man’s hand away from your body as you fumbled out of the bed. In your haste your foot was caught in the mess of blankets, sending you tumbling backwards off of the bed, spurring another cry from your mouth. 

“Baby?” A voice called, it was raspy and deep from just waking and wrought with concern. 

You quickly yanked the sheets off of your sprawled out form and ushered yourself to stand on shaky legs. The man in the bed was propped up on one elbow, the sheet slipping down off of his chest to settle and pool at his waist. He was absolutely shirtless, revealing a stretch of honey skin and a toned abdomen. 

Holy shit, what the fuck was going on?

“Baby, what’s wrong?” He asked you again, this time he appeared to be more alert, all signs of sleepiness dissipating from his body. 

Worried from your lack of response, he rushed to stand up, the blankets falling away to reveal he was clad in boxers. 

What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck? It had to be illegal to have thighs like that, right?

“Stay right there!” You yelled, throwing your hand up in fear as he ignored your command and quickly began to approach you. The closer he got the more steps you took backwards, tripping over stray clothes on the floor until the wall at your back stopped you from retreating any further. 

The man, clearly ignoring your pleas to be left alone, walked right up to you. He was so close that his bare chest was pressed up against you effectively sandwiching you between him and the wall as heat flooded your cheeks. His hands fluttered around you worriedly, checking you for any signs of injury before he rested his hand on your forehead checking for a temperature. 

“Are you sick, hunny? You’re acting...off?” He asked, petting your hair in anxiety as he tried to meet your gaze. 

“Don’t touch me.” You finally said, brushing his hands off of you once more as you attempted to slip away from him. 

“Why are you acting like this?” He asked, obviously confused before a sudden smile overtook his features. He had a sweet smile, one that made his entire face light up in joy. “It reminds me how you used to act around me all those years ago. Are you trying to get me going this early? We really shouldn’t, you know, I have to be at work soon.”

Holy fuck, what kind of person are you now? 

The man in front of you pulled you out of your stupor at the feeling of his hand on your jaw as he leaned down to your height. 

Realizing what his intentions were, you let out another scream of fright and shoved him away, darting for the bedroom door. As soon as your hand gripped the doorknob you ripped the door open and slammed it shut behind you. 

You leaned your head back against the wall as you rested, you hand over your heart, taking shallow breaths as you attempted to collect yourself. 

That didn’t exactly go as planned.

With your eyes closed you didn’t see the incoming form running up to you until it collided with your legs, winding around you tightly in excitement. 

“Mommy!” A little voice cried. 

Your eyes snapped open in surprise as you looked down at the little child wrapped around your legs. Despite his small and non threatening form, you couldn’t stop the scream of fright that escaped you as you unlatched him from your legs and raced to the first open door you saw, yanking it closed behind you and twisting the lock shut. 

You were in the bathroom. Finally, a place where you could gather yourself. You stood at the sink, resting your forearms on the counter and your head in your hands as you breathed in sharply through your nose. You needed to get your shit together and stop panicking. 

You couldn’t help but feel cheated, panicked, and pissed all at once. Not only had you died, made a deal with some crossroads entity, but now the life you had been plopped in for the time being was the complete opposite of your previous one and you had not a single clue as to how to navigate it. 

You let out a few more huffs before standing back up and raking your fingers through your hair. A sudden sparkle of light caught your attention, causing you to pull your left hand free from your hair. There was an engagement ring and a wedding band on your left ring finger. You hissed at the sight of it, your entire body shuddering. 

You were married and a mother. 

“Are you fucking serious, Namjoon?!” You whispered to yourself in the bathroom, knocking your head back against the wall three times in frustration. Jenny would be having a field day if she knew about this. 

Jenny. 

You wondered what her reaction was, when she heard that you had flung yourself from your balcony. You wondered if she blamed herself for sending you home early even though it wasn’t her fault. You wished you could tell her you hadn’t done that to yourself, that it wasn’t her fault. You just hoped that she was okay and that she wasn’t crying over you. 

You could get through this, you had no other choice. It was time to get your shit together. 

You straightened your spine and shook out your hands with a deep breath before you unlocked the door and swung it open. Standing outside the door was your “son.” He was practically the spitting image of your “husband” who had yet to leave the bedroom. He was staring up at you, with big brown eyes, as he raised his arms up and clenched his hands in a grabbing motion. 

You knew what that meant. You plastered on a forced smile as you bent down and picked up the small boy before settling him on your hip. He easily nestled his head into the crook of your neck, his eyes fluttering shut as he basked in your warmth. 

At least he was cute, you could manage that.  

You curled your arm securely around his back as you walked into the kitchen, your bare feet padded dully against the cool tile of the floor. 

“Are you hungry?” You softly asked the little boy. You could feel him nod into your shoulder slowly, his fingers curling around the collar of your sleep shirt. 

You carefully unhooked him from your clothes and gently set him down in one of the chairs at the kitchen table. He whined in refusal, reaching out for you once more before becoming distracted by a coloring book that had been left at the table. 

Unsure as to what exactly you should make for the young boy, you searched the kitchen cabinets before settling on toast. Simple and easy. As the bread sat toasting, you decided to investigate the new environment you had been put in. 

You could tell you were still in the city, just a different section of it. You could see the towering skyscrapers through the windows of the apartment. This apartment was definitely not your own. For one, it was much smaller with a completely different layout. And, it looked to be in disorder with toys scattered everywhere in the living space. It certainly was not to your standards, but you could manage it for a few weeks as Namjoon had instructed. All you had to do was follow this life perfectly, and it couldn’t be that hard. Right?

You pulled yourself away from the windows, the drop off sending a familiar shiver down your spine, and rushed back into the kitchen to finish up the breakfast for the boy coloring away furiously at his book. 

Once you had the plate situated in front of him, you caught sight of a wallet on the opposite side of the table. Without hesitation you rounded the table and snatched it up, rifling through the items inside until you caught sight of what you were looking for. An ID. 

“Jung Hoseok.” You mumbled, the name tingling on your lips and echoing in your mind. So, this was your temporary husband. 

“What are you doing?” A voice asked from behind you causing you to jump in fright. 

You pivoted on your heels to face the man, your husband, Hoseok. Despite the fear his voice evoked in your body, he was presenting you with a blinding smile. One that sent chills throughout your body for reasons that were unknown to you. 

“Hoseok?” You said, although it sounded more like a question. 

“Hoseok?” He chuckled, “What did I do, am I in trouble? What happened to Hobi or hunny?” 

Well shit, you were already fucking things up weren’t you?

“You know if you need anything you can always ask me, baby. No need to go sneaking around.” He said, his smile still pinned to his cheeks as he struck you with a penetrating gaze.

He said nothing for a moment, he just stared at you with that smile in absolute silence. It was so quiet you could hear the blood pulsing through your ears and the soft ticking of the clock in the corner of the room as you tried to avoid his gaze. Despite the high position you once held in your previous life, you had never been very good with eye contact. He was really testing you today. 

He remained quiet as he grabbed the wallet from your hand and slipped it into his pants pocket before straightening his jacket out. 

“Jihoon, you’re going to be late for school. Go get ready.” Hoseok said, his voice and face still appearing cheerful as the little boy shuffled out of his chair and darted down the hallway to his bedroom. 

You didn’t know why, but you were struck with the feeling that something was very wrong here. 

You remained motionless as Hoseok raised his hand, cupping the side of your face rather gently, much softer than you originally expected. 

“You’ll be good for me while I’m gone, won’t you baby?” He whispered, his lips lightly brushing your cheekbone as his fingers gently swiped over the smooth skin of your cheek. 

You said nothing, you merely nodded in agreement so that he would finally release you and leave you alone to process what you had gotten yourself into. 

Without warning, he pressed his lips to your own in a hard kiss spurring a cry of surprise from you. You attempted to pull away from him only to find his hand at your back, keeping you pressed close to him as he sighed against your mouth, a shudder shaking through his body. His grip was becoming stronger, borderline bruising the more you squirmed against him as he tongue swiped over the flesh of your lower lip. 

“Ew! Daddy!” Jihoon yelled as he reentered the room, fully dressed for school with his little backpack slung over his small shoulders.

Hoseok pulled away from you with a laugh, allowing you to stumble away from your supposed husband, your hand cupping your mouth. You took back whatever you had thought about Jihoon before, he was your saving grace. 

“Sorry buddy, Daddy just loves Mommy so much!” Hoseok said, his voice full of glee as he gave his son a quick hug before standing up again. “I’ll see you after work.”

Hoseok headed to the door, stopping for a moment to look you over one last time. “I’ll be seeing you later as well.” He said with a wink before exiting the apartment.

Thank fuck he was gone. 

Jihoon quickly approached the now closed door, sliding his shoes on and reaching for the door knob. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” You asked as you watched the young boy open the door.

“School?” He asked slowly, his little brows furrowed in confusion. 

“By yourself? No, give me a minute to get dressed. I'll walk you to the bus.”

“Mommy, you can’t!” He cried, causing you to come to a stop. 

“I can’t? And why not?” 

“Because, you never do.” He replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

What kind of mother was this person? She didn’t even walk her own kid to the bus to make sure he didn’t get kidnapped? Jihoon was so young, he couldn’t have been older than six by the looks of him. He was practically still a baby. 

“Well I am now, wait right there Jihoon.”

You were still dressed in the baggy T-shirt you had woken in, the fabric rumpled and hanging loosely over your shoulders revealed a fraction of your collarbone. It didn’t take a genius to figure out this was Hoseok’s shirt. You hissed in annoyance and ripped the shirt from your body, filing it into a corner of the bedroom. 

The closet was filled to the brim with clothes, both yours and your “husband’s.” You swept the various suits and shirts aside until you stopped at your own clothes. You found it strange the amount of formal attire Hoseok possessed and your lack of it. Your side of the closet was filled with comfortable clothes, the only “formal” attire you owned was a wedding dress tucked all the way in the back of the closet and stored away in a plastic case. 

You sighed in frustration, settling on a pair of leggings and a large hoodie. One that was, presumably, your husbands as well. Did this woman have no desire to take pride in her appearance? Apparently not. 

“Come on, Jihoon!” You called with a clap of your hands as you made your way to the front door where he waited, his small hands wrapped around the straps of his backpack. 

Jihoon didn’t say anything in response, he merely held up his hand and slipped it into your own. He was a cute kid, a perfect reflection of Hoseok, but eerily enough you could see your own features reflected in him. 

You released a deep breath through your nose, pushing those thoughts to the back of your head. You needed to focus on getting him to school for now. 

The door clicked shut behind you as the two of you began making your way out of the building. The weather was still warm, not that much different from what it had been in your past life. It was nice, being able to take in the fresh air for a moment and be able to process what exactly you were going through. 

Jihoon had taken the initiative for the both of you, considering you had no idea where the bus picked him up for school everyday. His hand was still clutched in your own, his arm outstretched as he walked quickly in front of you. He was talking a million miles per minute, the most random things leaving his mouth. And, just when he was about to get to the point, he would find something new to distract himself. 

“Oh, Mommy! Look at that butterfly!” He was painfully cute. 

“Oh, it’s very...pretty.” You said, unsurely. At first glance, the creature was beautiful. It’s wings wide yet delicate, painted with bright colors like paint splatters on a fresh canvas. But, it had a large chunk missing from it’s right wing. The injured wing fluttered every now and then with the gentle breeze. The poor thing was trapped in the flower bed it was lying in, it would never be able to fly again. 

You were pulled from your reverie as Jihoon tugged on your arm sharply. He beckoned you to lower yourself down to his height. As soon as you had settled down on your haunches he threw himself against you in a tight hug, squeezing you twice for good measure. 

“Bye Mommy, I love you!” He yelled before pressing a kiss to your cheek and turning on his heels, darting towards the school bus. 

You stayed there for a moment, your hand frozen on the spot he had left a kiss. So, that was what it was like to have a family. To have someone love you. You had never had that before. 

You rose back up to your feet, taking a moment to gather yourself back up again. You could see there was a park nearby, and getting yourself over there seemed like a good enough idea. You didn’t want to go back to the apartment just yet, you still had no idea what you were supposed to do. You didn’t like the thought of just waiting at “home” for Jihoon, or worse, Hoseok to come back. 

Jihoon was easy, predictable. But Hoseok, he was uncharted territory. A raging sea you didn’t know how to navigate. 

Damn you and your incapability to foster stable relationships. 

It was only day one of this temporary life and you were completely out of your depth. A husband? A son? A stay at home mom? You had and were none of these things, but now you had every single one of them. Whether you wanted them or not. Namjoon gave you orders, and if you wanted to survive, you had no choice but to follow them. You had to play along.

You walked slowly, tiredly, through the park. The tips of your sneakers were dragging against the ground, kicking loose stones off to the side. A few weeks he had told you, just how long exactly was that? 

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t hear the incoming footsteps approaching rapidly. It was the feeling of fingers gripping your shoulders and violently spinning you around that finally caught your attention, a cry of shock escaping you. 

“What are you doing?!” A voice cried, their hands shaking you to garner your attention. 

The sun that had blinded you finally lightened as it slipped behind a thick cover of clouds, disappearing out of sight. You could see now, and the man that was holding you so tightly was none other than Hoseok. 

“H-Hoseok?” You stuttered, your hands gripping his wrists as he ceased to lessen his hold on you. What was he doing here? He had left for work no longer than half an hour ago. 

“Did you hear me? I said, what are you doing?!”

“I’m going on a walk? I just dropped Jihoon off at the bus.” 

“You did what?!” He yelled, his face stricken with panic and a deep, hidden anger. His hold on you was only becoming stronger, near bruising as he shook you once more. 

“Hoseok! Stop it, you’re hurting me!” You yelled, taking a step back from him. 

That seemed to do the trick, his voice quieted and his hold became much lighter than before. What the fuck was wrong with him? Why was he acting like you had just committed a crime. 

His eyes slipped closed as he took a deep, calming breath, his shoulders rising and falling with the motion. “Baby, you don’t leave the apartment. You know this, we’ve been over this.”

“What?” You asked, utterly confused. 

This seemed to shock Hoseok, his brows raising and his eyes widening. The both of you were standing there, a gap between the two of you as you stared at one another with equal states of confusion. You not knowing what he meant, and him wondering if you were experiencing some sort of memory loss. 

“Come on, I’m taking you home, you need rest.” He finally said with a gentle smile, he was firmly set on the idea that you must be sick from how strange you were acting. 

You didn’t trust him or that fake smile he was giving you. Something was going on here, and it was terribly wrong.

“No.” You said firmly, taking a step backward when he tried to grab hold of you again. 

His smile drifted away, it was like watching the moon slip over the sun into a solar eclipse. The Hoseok you were left with was one that had a cold, stricken expression that bled disbelief. 

“What did you say?” He asked you, slowly. 

“I said, no.” You spat back, your voice sharp and firm despite the tingles of fear and anxiety creeping through every muscle in your body. 

This look on his face, although more genuine than anything else you had seen, was capable of sending your entire body into a panicked frenzy. Something in the back of your mind was telling you, no, begging you to run. The instincts that had been fostered in you from generations before were telling you this man was dangerous, and you were better off fleeing than sticking around to see what would happen. 

“I dare you, say that to me one more time baby and you won’t like what happens next.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Hoseok.”

That did it. As soon as he took one step in your direction, you spun around and booked it like a track star. You paid no mind to where you were going, not caring who you had to shove aside to clear a path for you to get away. You were trusting your gut, and it was screaming at you to get as far away as possible. You could hear Hoseok behind you, yelling your name and telling you to come back, but you paid him no mind. You just knew that this was your one and only chance to get away from him before you lost it. 

Everything he had said and done had raised red flags in your mind, the way he talked to you and touched you, it was all wrong. It was possessive and dark, whether he intended it to be or not. 

What husband doesn’t allow their wife to leave their home? What father lets their six year old child walk themselves to school? What caring man demands you obey his every will? There was something wrong. 

You couldn’t hear Hoseok behind you anymore, the crowd had thickened substantially the further away you got from the park and the deeper into the city you were. People were staring at you strangely as you shoved through the crowds, grunting in annoyance as you squeezed yourself through them. 

The crosswalk was fairly empty, you could make it through and keep going, you had no time to stop and question how far away Hoseok was. So, you broke through the final band of people and began to sprint through the road, despite the sudden cries and warnings that were being shouted behind you. 

Fuck, there was a reason the crosswalk was empty, wasn’t there?

You turned your head to the side as you ran, only to come face to face with an oncoming car, coming in so fast you knew it wouldn’t be able to stop. No matter what you did, it was going to hit you. You threw your arms up in front of your face, blinding yourself as you squeezed your eyes shut and prepared yourself for the impact.

But it never came. 

“Day one and you’re already fucking things up, aren’t you?” 

The sounds of the city had fallen silent, there were no more car horns, no people talking, nothing. It was dead quiet. You slowly peeled your arms away from your face and opened your eyes.

Namjoon was there, still dressed in that three piece suit of his as he leaned up against the hood of the car that had almost hit you. He looked beyond pissed with you. You looked around, taking notice of your environment. There were people still looking at you, their faces frozen in shock and horror. There was a bird above you, it’s body frozen in midair with its wings spread wide open. And there was a little girl on the corner of the street, her popsicle stuck freefalling a foot above the ground. 

Time had been suspended.

“Namjoon! You don’t understand, this life you put me in, I can’t do it! I’m not a wife or a mother, I can’t do it! And my husband? There’s something wrong with him, I don’t know what but he isn’t right in the head.”

Namjoon rolled his head back, a sharp sigh leaving his lips before he righted himself and pressed his fingers to his temples. 

“You need to go back.” He simply said, his frustration evident.

“I just told you I can’t -”

“It’s either you go back to him and play house for a few fucking weeks, or I take you back to the crossroads and process you!” He snapped. 

You jumped in surprise at the sudden intensity of his voice. When you had first met Namjoon he was calm, collected, even a little embarrassed at the mess up that had occurred. Now, he was frustrated. 

“I told you before, you need to follow this life perfectly, you cannot let anyone know that anything is amiss. That means you need to be Jihoon’s mother and Hoseok’s wife. Whether you like it or not, that’s reality. So, you need to decide right now what you are going to do. Are you going to grin and bear it for a few measly weeks, or are we both leaving right now?”

You remained quiet for a moment. You already knew what your answer was going to be before you even opened your mouth. You needed to stop panicking and start thinking efficiently. What was a few weeks of unease and fear in comparison to years of your life you would gain in return. It was a good investment. 

“I’ll do it.” You finally said. 

“Good,” Namjoon breathed a sigh of relief as he popped off the hood of the car, “No more fuck ups, for my sake and yours.”

And then he was gone, disappeared into thin air. 

The world was moving around you again, and you were no longer standing on the crosswalk but instead in the middle of the sidewalk as the crowd of people that were previously waiting to cross the road dissipated and made their way to the other side.

And then, those same hands were on you again, but this time they pulled you into a warm chest, crushing you like a boa constrictor in a desperate hug. 

“You scared the shit out of me!” Hoseok cried, his hand settling on the back of your neck as he pulled your head into the space between his neck and shoulder. 

How ironic, you had scared him. 

~~~~~~~

Hoseok hadn’t even taken the risk of walking you back home, instead he flagged down a taxi and ushered the both of you into the back seat. The ride was spent in silence between the two of you. You sat there, the side of your head pressed against the window as you listened to the music from the radio and the feeling of Hoseok’s hand on your thigh keeping you immobile. 

You allowed him to grip your wrist when the cab arrived outside your apartment and when he dragged you back inside. It seemed so much darker now after you had been outside. You really didn’t want to be trapped in that small apartment with just you and him and no Jihoon to protect you. 

His hold didn’t lighten until he had dragged you into the bedroom you had woken up in the morning. It was then that he pressed his hand against your shoulders and shoved you backwards on the bed, quickly climbing on top of you as you began to flail your limbs wildly in surprise. 

“Calm down, hunny.” He cooed, a genuine, sadistic smile on his face now. All the other smiles before had been so fake now that you had seen this one. This one was beyond thrilled. 

You flinched as you felt cold metal encircle your wrist and snap shut. He had you handcuffed to the bed, there was no running away now that was for sure.

Your heart was thumping frantically in your chest, your limbs shaking as the adrenaline that had once faded was flooding through you again. Your instincts had been dead on accurate, you should have kept running when you had the chance.

“Baby, baby, baby,” He laughed, tilting his head to the side as his eyes shone with glee. “I haven’t seen you in so long, I thought you were gone.”

You were shaking beneath him as his eyes traced over every inch on your body, his fingers playing with the loose strands of your hair. 

“You’ve been acting so different today, almost like how you were when we first met all those years ago.” He hummed, his face pressing closer to yours as he lightly brushed his lips down the side of your cheek before stopping to press a kiss at the curve of your jaw. 

You flinched to the side in discomfort, spurring a delighted giggle from his lips. 

“As fun as it is to have you like this again, that doesn’t mean I can let your bad behavior go unpunished. You left without my permission and you said no to me, I can’t have that baby, I just can’t.” He sighed, the puff of air against your flesh spurring goosebumps to rise in response. 

“So, be a good little girl for me, and don’t move.” He instructed, pressing a lazy kiss to the bared column of your throat.

“You’re in timeout, a couple hours to yourself should help you think long and hard about what you did today.” He laughed, pulling himself off of you and retreating towards the bedroom door. 

“I’d think of a good way to apologize to me if I were you.”

And then he was gone. Once the door shut you could feel your heartbeat steadily falling and returning to normal. “Play house,” Namjoon had said, “Grin and bear it,” he told you. You weren’t so sure if those sentiments applied to your situation anymore. 

It was confirmed, you were married to a sadistic sociopath. 

Hoseok had left you chained to the bed for hours on end like the asshole that he was. You were rightfully scared of him, like you had previously thought, he was unpredictable. One moment he was kind and gentle and the next he was angry and after that he was filled with a corrosive glee.

How were you supposed to make it through the next few weeks like this? It was impossible. 

All you could do was lay there, stewing in anxiety as you were drowning in your never ending stream of thoughts about your fate at the hands of your so-called husband. 

By the time you heard the front door unlocking the sunlight had completely shifted in the room. The light was now entering at a different angle casting long, dark shadows over the room. It looked like the light was being chased away by the tendrils of darkness curling at its soft edges. 

You could hear a loud thud coming from the main room and the sound of little footsteps approaching the bedroom quickly. 

“Mommy!” A voice called before the door was shoved open. Jihoon. “Found you!” He giggled, kicking his shoes off before scrambling up the side of the bed and crawling over to you on all fours. 

Jihoon seemed undeterred by the sight of your wrist bound to the headboard behind you as he curled up against your side, his head resting on your shoulder as he wrapped his small arms around you. A chill traced its way up your spine, this wasn’t the first time he had seen his mother like this. No, this was common for him. 

Jihoon was already prattling endlessly about his day, much like he had on the way to the school bus that morning. His chatter suddenly came to a stop as he ran out of things to say, instead he let out a little hum and asked you: “Daddy put you in time out?”

“Yeah, Jihoon, Mommy’s in time out.” You replied, your jaw clenched and your eyes pressed shut. 

“I told you, you can’t leave. Daddy always finds you.” He said, nodding his head in agreement with himself as he began to play with your hair.

Your eyes snapped open, you head turning to the side to look at Jihoon. That definitely meant something, didn’t it? In fact, how had Hoseok found you at the park in the first place? Or on the sidewalk you had run to?

“Jihoon...how does Daddy find Mommy?” You asked him.

Jihoon continued to play with your hair, his tongue poking out of his mouth in concentration as he twisted and knotted your hair in a sloppy braid. “Your boo boo.”

“My boo boo?” 

Jihoon stopped his shaky braiding for a moment, meeting your eyes as he grabbed your free hand and led it to the back of your neck. That was when you felt it. 

Right there, at the nape of your neck, was a small bump beneath the flesh. You smoothed your finger over it a few more times in disbelief, making sure that what you were feeling was actually real. 

He had microchipped you, like a dog. 

A pit settled itself into your stomach as the reality of your situation finally hit you. The life you had been injected in was far more dark and twisted than you had first thought. This went beyond overprotectiveness and time outs, this was a clear show of obsession and possessiveness. In Hoseok’s eyes, you belonged to him. 

And, upon having that realization, your husband returned home from work. 

The bedroom door had been left wide open, giving you a clear view of Hoseok entering the apartment as he shimmied his jacket off of his shoulders and loosened his tie. Your arm curled around Jihoon tighter, pressing him even closer to your side like he was a life preserver, the only thing keeping you from being dragged down into the dark trenches of the sea. He felt safe to you. 

The minute Hoseok looked up and caught sight of the two of you, the bleak and tired look that adorned his features drifted away and was replaced by that same fake smile, the one that never reached his eyes but lit up his entire face. 

“There’s my two most favorite people in the world!” He called, pulling a laugh from Jihoon who raised his arms up in a gesture suggesting he wanted Hoseok to hold him. 

Traitor. 

Hoseok bounded into the room, lifting Jihoon up from underneath his arms and spinning him around before settling himself on the bed beside you with Jihoon on his chest, excited giggles shaking his entire body. 

It startled you how normal this would have looked from the outside, minus your hand being cuffed. To anyone else it could have looked like any other family spending time together after a long day. A stay at home mother with her busy husband and their young son. Oh, how far that was from the truth. 

“You hungry, buddy?” Hoseok asked, tickling his son's sides. “How about take out tonight?”

“Yeah!” Jihoon agreed enthusiastically. 

“What do you think, Mommy?” Hoseok asked you, pivoting his head to the side, his dark eyes fixing you to your spot. 

Play along. 

“That sounds good.” You nodded, attempting to do some damage control from your actions earlier that day. 

“Good answer baby,” Hoseok smiled, popping Jihoon off of him as he slid over to you, fishing the keys to the handcuffs out of his back pocket. His thumb gently stroked the reddened flesh of your bound wrist before freeing it. He held your wrist in his hand for a moment before pressing a long kiss to the irritated flesh. 

“Behave.” He whispered into your skin, looking up at you through half lidded eyes before he flipped his switch again and bounced off of the bed in glee. “C’mon Jihoon, you can pick where we order from!”

~~~~~~~

The air had been thick with tension for the rest of the night, unbeknownst to Jihoon who was too excited to be with both of his parents to realize that there was anything wrong. 

Jihoon had become a buffer between you and Hoseok, the little boy seating himself between the two of you on the couch with his food in hand while his legs kicked back and forth excitedly. A little hum of happiness left him with each bite of his food, completely oblivious to the dark look Hoseok was sending you over his head. 

You had somehow managed to equally piss him off and excite him all in one day. You were scared of what it would be like when Jihoon had to inevitably go to bed, he wouldn’t be there to protect you anymore. 

There were few things you had been scared of in your previous life, and they were normal things for a person of your stature. You had been scared of being mugged, being kidnapped for ransom, having someone break into your apartment, or becoming a disappointment to your family. 

Most of those things could have been remedied with a bodyguard. Never in your entire life did you ever think you would come to rely on a six year old boy, your “son,” to be your protection.  It was strange how much could change, all in the course of one night, one mistake. 

Once again, you had found yourself cradling Jihoon to your side, his body relaxing under your touch as he snuggled up against you. He gently guided your hand away from your lap, and onto his head, a sign that he wanted you to play with the short strands of hair. 

You pulled your hands away from your legs and allowed your son to lay his head down as you softly stroked his hair in a calming, soothing motion. The light of the television was flickering, casting a blue glow onto his young features. His eyes had fluttered shut, his long lashes casting smooth shadows against the skin beneath his eyes. His breath was coming out slower now beneath your touch, the rise and fall of his chest becoming slower and deeper than before. 

Jenny had been right about one thing, you would have had cute children. When you went back, a part of you was certain that you would miss Jihoon. Your little protector. 

You jolted at Hoseok’s unexpected touch, his arm sliding behind your shoulders as he moved closer to you on the couch. An annoyed whine sounded from Jihoon at the sudden motion causing him to press his face against your legs in an attempt to escape whatever was disrupting his sleep. 

Hoseok leaned closer, his warmth seeping into your side. He joined your hand on Jihoon’s head, lightly smoothing over his hair before speaking. “I think it’s time for bed, little man.”

“Noooo!” Jihoon whined, “I wanna stay with Mommy.” 

“Not tonight, buddy. You need to be a big boy and sleep in your own bed.”

“I don’t wanna!” He cried. 

Sensing an impending tantrum, Hoseok scooped Jihoon up into his arms and cradled him to his chest. He started rubbing his back in slow motions, bouncing lightly with each step that he took. Miraculously, you could see Jihoon’s eyes begin to droop shut, his fatigue returning in full blast. 

Your parents never did that for you. 

You watched as Hoseok retreated into Jihoon’s room, presumably to get him ready for bed.

Shit, your bodyguard was falling asleep. 

Your body moved before you could think, flinging itself from the couch and sprinting for the bedroom. You couldn’t think of what to do, you knew that as soon as Hoseok was done with Jihoon he was going to come after you and you didn’t know what to expect. So, you did what any other grown woman would do. 

You hid under the covers. 

Your heart was beating loudly in your chest, the sound echoing through your ears as you squeezed your eyes shut in fright. All you could do what lay there and wait for him, you were doing nothing but delaying the inevitable. 

When you heard his footsteps rounding the corner you tried to slow your breathing, forcing your chest to rise and fall slower to make it seem like you had fallen asleep. If he bought it, then maybe he would leave you alone. 

Unlikely. 

He did the exact opposite. You could hear him close the door behind him, shuffling around the room as he got ready for bed. Your breath hitched in your throat as the lights flickered off, and the mattress dipped beside you from his weight. 

It was dead silent in that pitch black room, the only sounds you could hear were the ringing in your ears, your breaths, and his. 

You flinched in surprise when he latched onto you, dragging you backwards into the warmth of his bare chest. 

You tried your best to remain calm, to breathe lightly, and to not move. But Hoseok was no idiot, and you were daft if you thought you could fool him. 

“I know you’re awake.” He whispered, his nose pressing against your hair as he took in a deep breath, sending a sharp chill down your spine. 

He remained quiet for a moment, his arms wrapping tighter around your body. The feeling was the same as if a boa constrictor was curling around you. Slowly increasing the pressure, tightening its grasp in an attempt to squeeze the life out of you. Slow, calculating, and intimate. 

The arm that had looped around your middle lightly drew backwards, allowing his hand to slide beneath your shirt and rest on the bare skin of your waist. 

“I think I know a way you can make it up to me.” He mumbled with his lips pressed against your throat. 

His palm smoothed over the skin of your lower abdomen, just above the hem of your underwear as he buried his head into the crook of your neck, lips and tongue tracing over the bared flesh. Like a little lamb you had found yourself caught in the jaws of the predator, one snap away from the clutches of death. 

You remained frozen from a blend of shock and fear, all sense of fight or flight leaving you and rendering you immobile. Every nerve in your body was screaming at you to move, to pull away, to throw yourself off of the bed. But your muscles were tense, frozen in a state of pure anxiety and fear, you knew nothing more than the thought of keeping still like a rabbit in the face of danger. 

He moved to the side, dragging you onto your back so he could settle himself on top of you. He braced himself with his arms on either side of you, caging you in with no room to escape. He gave you no warning of what he was thinking of doing, he merely swooped down and pressed his lips to your own. 

A muffled squeak rattled in your chest, your heart suddenly thudding louder than before like an alarm sounding to wake you up. Your hands moved first, sliding onto his chest and barely applying any force, struggling to push him back. His skin was warm and smooth against your palms, an alluring honey shade that you would have been enamored by like you had been that morning, had you not been exposed to his true nature. 

“Hoseok.” You said, finally breaking free of his kiss. 

Your call of his name had the exact opposite effect of what you had hoped. A deep groan rumbled in his chest as he pressed his hips against yours, effectively pinning you to the mattress beneath him. 

“Hoseok!” You tried again, trying to grab his attention. 

“That’s it baby, keep saying my name.” He sighed, expertly rolling his hips against yours. 

Oh. Oh no. 

The sudden wave of arousal that washed over you was unwelcomed and even more frightening than anything else. You weren’t even in control of yourself anymore, that was what his presence did to you. 

“Play along,” The words that Namjoon had told you were suddenly echoing in your mind. 

Your breath got caught in your throat as he pressed himself closer to you, you could feel the smooth roll of his hard length pressing against your core, light sparks of pleasure tingling throughout you. Shadows of fear still crept around in the back of your mind, the nape of your neck throbbing in a twisted reminder of the chip that lay beneath the skin. 

Hoseok was in his own world, hell bent on teasing you until he grew tired of it. He shifted his weight onto one arm allowing his hand to delicately trace up the length of your body. His fingers just barely brushed your thigh, trailing upwards to trace the hollows of your hips before settling on your waist and rising up over the barrel of your ribcage that was exposed so nicely for him from your arched spine. 

You were laying there, helpless for him, frozen from a state of arousal and fear that was blending perfectly into its own dark, tempting cocktail. You pressed your lips together firmly, smothering any whine that tried to force its way free from you when he pulled back, the motion of his hips stilling as he played with the hem of your shirt. You didn’t know if you wanted to yell at him to go away, or scold him for stopping. 

Either way, you didn’t have much say on the matter. 

He tilted his head from side to side, his dark eyes tracing over your form from head to toe. A small smirk tugged at the corners of his lips as he watched the heavy rise and fall of your chest, your wrinkled shirt, and the way your thighs and hips jerked from the loss of his touch. You looked adorable to him, he couldn’t deny the powerful feeling it gave him to see you so helpless beneath him. He was sick, and he loved it. 

His fingers were still tracing the hem of your shirt, like he was contemplating removing it despite the both of you knowing it was inevitably going to come off. Hoseok was an impatient man, that much you could tell. He firmly gripped the bottom of your shirt and began to roll it up agonizingly slowly, that satisfied smirk still pinned to his handsome features. 

“Whaddya say, hunny? Should we give Jihoon a sibling?” He laughed, his tongue flicking out to swipe over his lower lip at the thought of getting to see you full with his child again. He would be a liar if he said the thought didn’t turn him on. 

All of the blood rushed to your face, your thighs tensing reflexively against him where he was settled between your legs. 

“Is that what you want?” He hummed, hands settling on your hips and roughly pulling you down the mattress against him. “You want me to fill you up again, sweetheart?” 

You didn’t get a chance to even consider answering his lewd question, a sudden shock of lighting and a deep roll of thunder caught the two of you off guard. The once pitch black room had been lit up by the blast of light, the windows shaking from the boom of thunder. 

And then, there was the sound of crying and little footsteps. 

Hoseok hung his head backwards in distress before rolling off of you with an annoyed whine echoing through the room. “God fucking dammit.”

“Mommy! Daddy!” Jihoon yelled before throwing the door open and scampering up over the foot of the bed, his little face wet with tears as he scrambled over the sheets and settled himself in between the two of you. 

If you had questioned it before, you weren’t questioning it now. Jihoon was your savior. 

“Jihoon, it’s just a little thunder, it’s nothing to be scared of.” Hoseok said, his voice a little sterner than normal, most likely from his case of blue balls. 

“It’s scary!” The little boy rebutted, “I wanna sleep with you!”

“Jihoon -”

“It’s okay you can sleep with Mommy and Daddy tonight.” You cut Hoseok off, opening your arms for Jihoon to snuggle into. 

The look on Hoseok’s face would have been humorous if you didn’t know you were going to have to pay for it eventually. 

Everything came with a price, eventually. 

~~~~~~~

Hours melted into days, and days slowly migrated into weeks. You had begun to lose track of how much time you had spent in this other life of yours. But you knew you couldn’t stand it for much longer. 

You could handle Jihoon, you liked Jihoon, you could stand even being there because of him. Hoseok...he was another story. He never hid his true intentions from you, that was for sure. But the more time you spent trapped inside that apartment the more you began to feel like you were going to lose yourself.

Sometimes you could forget what Hoseok really was, and other times he made sure to remind you. In this life, whoever this person was before you took over, they had never left the apartment since Jihoon was born. That was six years of their life spent trapped within these walls with no one to talk to except for two people who were only home for a few short hours a day. 

It was isolating. It wasn’t unlike the lonely life you had lived before in those regards. 

You were trapped, chipped, and alone. Any attempt you had made to leave by yourself, for any reason, had been swiftly thwarted by Hoseok. The knowledge of the tracker embedded in your neck reminded you that there was no point in running anyways, he would always find you. 

You tried to remind yourself that this would all be worth it in the end, that you could handle these weeks if it meant getting your old life back. But as each week passed, you weren’t so sure that was true any more. 

You were in a cyclical hell that you couldn’t manage. 

You had opened the door one day at the sound of someone outside it, it had been a new neighbor, a young man with full lips and an unusual laugh. Your heart had soared at the opportunity of being able to speak to someone other than a six year old or your possessive husband, but that had been quickly thwarted. 

Hoseok had pulled you back into the apartment and exited into the hallway, shutting the door behind him with a grim glare.

You never spoke to that neighbor again. 

Hoseok had become more needy as each week passed and you had taken to sleeping in Jihoon’s bed with him as often as you could, feeling protected by the boy you called your son. But your distance didn’t help in any manner, Hoseok was becoming more aggressive and more irritable. Not with your son, never with your son, but with you. 

He grabbed onto you more, touched you more, kissed you harder, and eventually forced you back into sleeping in your bedroom. 

You faked an illness for a few days to keep him at bay. That was how you got to this point. He was desperate. 

Hoseok was taking you on a work trip, just you, without your son. It was a city or two over, you would be staying at a hotel and having dinner with his coworkers there that same day. He was a desperate man calling for desperate measures to be alone with his wife. That meant that you had no more excuses and no Jihoon to protect you. 

Jihoon had cried when you said you had to go away with Hoseok, he didn’t want to go and stay with Hoseok’s mother, he wanted you two. And that part of your heart that had grown to accommodate him was slowly breaking with each tear that rolled down his cheeks. 

You would be lying if you said you didn’t love him. 

You knew that you weren’t the best mother, you didn’t know what a good mother was like. Yours was efficient at best. So you dug down deep for what maternal instincts you had, held him close, dried his tears, and kissed his chubby cheeks. 

And you told him you loved him. The first person you ever loved. 

So, that was how you found yourself here, at a table with a bunch of boring men and their partners talking about their work with Hoseok’s hand gripping your thigh, his finger rubbing circles into the skin beneath the length of your dress. 

You were incredibly bored of this ordeal. All of these men were business executives and their concepts of how to run a business were rudimentary at best. It took everything in you to keep your mouth closed to not correct them in front of their higher ups and embarrass them for the everyday mistakes they were making. 

“Play along.” Namjoon had said, so that was what you did. 

Although you may be a mother now, you would always be a business woman and a successful one at that. They didn’t deserve your expertise. 

Your eyes lazily drifted away from the table, zoning out as their voices became reduced to a low rumble. And that was when you saw it, a flash of black fur and glowing jade eyes on the ledge outside the window. 

Taehyung. It was time. 

Your heart leapt with joy, a smile carving into your once stony expression. You could go home now, you could finally wake up from this nightmare. A sharp squeeze to your thigh grounded you, a pit rolling in your stomach. You had to get away from Hoseok. 

He was staring at you, confused by the sudden appearance of your joyful grin. 

You leaned close to him, whispering lowly, “I have to use the ladies room.”

“I’ll take you.” He replied, going to scoot his chair away from the table. 

You gripped his forearm, bringing him to a halt. “No, this is important for you, I’ll only be a moment.”

He stared at you in silence, assessing you and trying to figure out what you were getting at before he spoke. “Behave.”

You nodded quickly before excusing yourself from the table and rushing down the hallway. You had seen a large balcony on your way to the restaurant on the top floor, it was only a little ways away. 

As soon as you stepped foot onto the balcony, you saw him. Taehyung was there, resting on the balcony as the sun slowly drifted away behind a cover of clouds, a gentle rain was beginning to tap the marble floor beneath you. 

You approached him quickly, your heart pumping in time with the gentle rumble of thunder above you. Taehyung came to a stand on the railing, the sharp drop off beside him glaring at you. 

“We have to do it this way, again?” You asked, your hands wrapping around the railing beside him as you peered over. You were even higher now than you had been the first time, sharp tingles were shooting through your hands and feet as you stared down at the streets below. 

Taehyung stared at you in silence, his eyes blinking slowly twice. You would take that as a yes. 

So, you carefully sat yourself up on the railing and turned, allowing your feet to dangle over the ledge. You watched in horror as your heels slipped off and went plummeting down to the ground. It took them a long time to meet the pavement, it would be a long fall for you.

“Fuck, are all of you reapers this dramatic?” You hissed at the cat. He looked amused at your predicament. 

“Okay, let’s do this thing.” You huffed, reaching your hand out to touch the reapers silky midnight fur. 

And that was when you heard the panicked call of your name. You looked over your shoulder, your eyes meeting Hoseok’s. His face was ashen, his hands held up as he attempted to approach you. Your eyes caught sight of his phone held up in one of his hands, a blinking dot on a grid staring back at you. He had accessed your tracker. 

“Baby, what are you doing?” He asked you, taking small, slow steps in your direction. “Come here, let’s talk, okay?”

“You can’t stop me,” You replied, “I won’t do this any longer.”

“You don’t know what you're saying, you're just stressed and scared. We can get through this.”

“I know what I’m doing, Hoseok. I’m done, my time is up and I need to go.”

“And what about me? What about Jihoon?” 

Jihoon. A chill spread through your body, your eyes suddenly stinging. You didn’t know that would be the last time you would hug him or say goodbye. He didn’t know that was the last day he would have a mother. 

“Jihoon will be fine.” You said firmly, Taehyung was creeping closer to you now at the same pace that Hoseok was. Your time was coming to a close, Hoseok was trying to compete with death. It was obvious who was going to win.

“I won’t let you do this.” He snapped back, frustration, desperation and fear taking over him as he flung his phone aside and began to run to you. 

“You don’t own me.” You spat back.

And then you grabbed Taehyung and clutched him to your chest before slipping off the edge of the balcony, Hoseok’s fingers just brushing your skin before you plummeted off the side of the building. 

Death was easier. 

~~~~~~~

First, there was darkness. 

And then there was the sound of monitors beeping around you.

Your eyes felt as heavy as lead, refusing to open on your command. And for a small, brief moment, you were afraid that when you opened your eyes he would be there. You were afraid that you had missed the window and you were trapped with him again.

But when you did manage to open your eyes, the person sleeping in the chair beside you was Jenny. 

You did it. 

Everyone was surprised by your survival and your recovery. The fall you had should have shattered your bones, mashed your brain, drained you of your blood. But you survived with minimal injuries. Some people called it a miracle, others thought you were a medical mystery. 

And Jenny though you were stupid. 

“What the fuck were you doing on that ledge? Were you that drunk or are you just that fucking stupid!” She yelled through her tears. 

“Both.” You answered, your face completely deadpan as she rained down a series of hits to your arms in retaliation. 

You laughed through it until she finally calmed down, a huffing mess in her chair beside you. “In all honesty, there was a cat on my balcony and I was trying to save it.”

“Oh my god, you are that fucking stupid aren’t you?” She said, shaking her head. “If you want a cat’s attention you lure it with food you dumbass! You are the dumbest smart person I know.” She sighed into her hands. 

The two of you remained quiet for a moment as she collected herself and you took in the room around you. There were no cards, no balloons, and no flowers. 

“So, I guess none of my family could clear some time in their busy schedules to come see me.” You said, quietly. 

Jenny raised her head, sympathy etched into the features of her face. “Do you want honesty, or do you want me to sugar coat it?”

You bit your lip in thought before making up your mind. “Honesty.”

Jenny took in a deep breath before scooting her plastic chair closer to your gurney. “Your family is...distancing themselves from you for the time being.”

“Distancing?” You echoed in confusion. 

“The media hasn’t taken too kindly to your...accident. Every tabloid is talking about the woman who has it all trying to throw it away. The public isn’t very happy with you at the moment.”

“The same wouldn’t be said if I had died.” You mumbled, because that was the truth. Nobody cared until it was far too late, their true intentions hiding beneath their masks of sorrow. It didn’t matter how much money you had, you had never been happy, and had your accident truly been an attempt well, maybe it was only a matter of time. 

“And what does my family think?”

“They aren’t too happy with you either. Your mother and father have put on a face for the public, wishing you a speedy recovery, but they left you a memo. They aren’t ready to speak with you yet, not until you do something to find your way back into their good graces. Your siblings, on the other hand, have said nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

You had forgotten how lonely this life was. Thoughts of Jihoon tugged at your heart strings, his little whispers of “I love you’s,” your after school snacks and cuddles, and the soft voice he used when he would wake you up in the morning with a gentle: “Mommy?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you!” Jenny said quickly. 

Your brow wrinkled in confusion before you felt it, the cool, wet, glide of a tear rolling down the side of your cheek. You were crying. 

“It’s not you, Jenny. I’m just thinking about someone I love.”

~~~~~~~

You had returned to work almost immediately upon being discharged from the hospital. Jenny called you stupid, you called it trying to return to your only family. You knew you shouldn’t care about their opinion, not when they so clearly showed their disappointment in you and their lack of care. But they were all you had, they were your family, your blood. They made you what you were.

Right?

So there you were, back to wearing those red bottom heels, those tailored suits, and those glasses you hadn’t touched in so long, hidden behind your desk in your office. 

You had kept your cool and your composure when you entered the office, doing your best to show you were unfazed by the shocked stares and the hushed whispers between your employees. You kept your composure only to throw your office door shut and slump against it with panicked pants for air. 

No matter how hard you tried, you knew you were never going to be the same anymore. Not after your fall, not after the crossroads, and not after Hoseok. You were broken in ways you couldn’t even comprehend. 

Even now, sitting at your desk, eyes trained on your computer, your finger swept over the skin at the nape of your neck, mindlessly feeling for the bump, the tracker that was once buried there. You were only met with seamless skin and irritation from the constant rubbing. You wouldn’t be surprised if you ended up rubbing the back of your neck raw. 

A soft knock to your door had you sighing in relief, you needed some respite from the thoughts that were racing a million miles a minute in your mind. You were mentally exhausted from everything you had gone through. You removed your glasses, pressing your cool fingers to your eyes. Your hands were hurting again. 

There was a loud crash as the door clicked shut, the sound of liquid spilling violently all over the floor of your office and the thick, strong odor of coffee. And then, there was the shocked gasp of your name.

A familiar chill traced down your spine at the voice, your heart kicking into overdrive. No, it couldn’t be. You rose from your chair causing it to spin away, your breathing quickening as you began to panic. 

It was Hoseok, standing there in your office in a puddle of coffee.

Jenny’s words from all those weeks ago came flooding back into your mind. “The poor thing was so nervous, you really should be nicer to him. He has such a sweet smile…”

You stepped backwards in fear, your world suddenly crashing down on you in one fatal swoop. 

He called your name again, a similar panic on his face as he crossed the room in distress. “Please! You, you have to help me! I don’t know what's going on but it feels like my head is being torn apart!”

Tears were rushing down your cheeks in endless rivers now. You had walked so far backwards that you were pinned against the tall windows behind you with nowhere left to go. 

“I have two lives, two sets of memories running parallel in my head and I don’t know what’s real and what isn’t!”

You closed your eyes, your body shaking and shutting down the closer he got. And then his hands were on your shoulders, shaking you in his grasp as he began to hyperventilate. 

“Where’s Jihoon?! Where did he go?! He cried, his body trembling in tune with your own as he was bombarded with memories he knew and ones he didn’t. He was too close now, his body pressed tightly to your own in that same suffocating manner as he panicked, his mind being torn apart for reasons unknown to him, holding onto you to ground himself.

You were beginning to understand now amidst the haze of panic. Namjoon had said he was putting you in a different place, in a different time. He had never said in a different life. You hadn’t become someone else, you had been moved six years forward in time. Those painful weeks you had lived through with the guise of them being temporary had all been for absolutely nothing. You were doomed to live out the life you had been trapped in. 

It was fate.

“Where is our son?!”

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

hi I’m here to review the Clementine comic. it’s not good.

Does this even need an introduction? You know why I’ve gathered you all here today. You know the comic exists, and you probably know that it’s not great and we’re all upset about it. 

Myself included. I am not okay. At all. 

Skybound could’ve literally spit in my face and I’d come out feeling better than I did reading this comic, because this comic is an insult to the original Telltale games and Clementine as a character. 

This comic is a fancy fanfic. Glorified fanfiction. It’s not canon, and Skybound and Tillie can pretend that it is, but it’s not. Bold of them to assume we’d just accept this from people who didn’t work on the original games and never wrote for Clementine before, and based on this comic alone, any chance of us taking it seriously is gone. 

I’m gonna go through every single page, every panel, of this comic and give you my review. So I guess if you’re worried about spoilers [though at this point why would you?] then be warned, spoilers for the entire comic ahead. 

I also wanna add that I have nothing against Tillie Walden. I know a lot of dingdongs are harassing her on insta over this comic and that’s not okay. You telling her how much you hate her isn’t going to change anything. If anything, you keep being assholes to her and she’s just gonna block everything out, even things simply critiquing her work in hopes that it helps her improve. 

You’re allowed to be upset about the comic and share your feelings about it, but don’t take it out on the actual human being like that. Besides, like I’ve said before, if Tillie wasn’t gonna make the comic, Skybound would’ve found someone else to do. This was coming no matter what because Skybound wants that coin. 

That being said, I’m not going to hold back my opinions on this comic. Skybound and Tillie made this comic, they put it out there and asked for money for it, therefore I’m allowed to explain why it’s garbage as well as ponder over the questionable intent and whether or not Tillie actually has played these games. Y’know, it’s like how I have nothing against Kent, but sometimes he says things I disagree with and well, y’know how it goes. 

Alright, this is gonna be long, so let’s go--

The first few shots we get are of the school, two people sleeping, and Clementine’s empty bed. Nothing super note-worthy, we have no idea who is sleeping in the beds, it’s just there to establish that it’s early and everyone’s still asleep. 

The drawing of the school looks fine? Not super accurate, but I can give it a pass since it’s a few years later, I assume. What I can’t give a pass is how you managed to already mess up on the first page of your comic. 

Because..... why are you implying that Clementine’s room is upstairs? First of all, seems kinda dumb to put Clem, who has only one leg and has to walk with crutches, upstairs. Also, if you’ve played TFS and paid any attention to where her room is actually located [the dorms] then you’d know there isn’t any stairs leading to their floor. It’s the side building next to the admin building, you walk through the door, go down the hall, take a left and their dorm is right there sooo..... 

Oh right, it’s probably done this way so that we can have such a suspenseful moment where Clementine is sneaking out while the others are asleep and her foot makes a creeeeeeakk that could wake everyone up, thwarting her plans of abandoning everyone quietly so she doesn’t have to deal with any consequences. 

Because yeah, Clementine is sneaking out with all of her supplies because apparently, she’s been planning an escape from this place for a while. 

And just look at how gosh darn happy she is about it. You can’t see or hear me, but know that I’m laughing. Don’t worry, I will talk about her abandoning everyone later.

But first, I have a gripe with Clementine's design in this comic. It doesn’t look like her. This art of her right here is the most accurate we get throughout all 12 pages, and it’s the best looking, too. 

Moving on, she slams the door shut while this walker changes faces and hair between panels, so that’s cool. I will say, I like the idea of the Ericson crew putting spikes on the door. That’s fun. 

Though Clementine slamming the door shut while trying to sneak out seems counter productive but it fits with the theme this comic has of inconsistency, so it works. 

Next we have Clementine going to what I believe is the fishing shack by the river, and she’s going through some things that she’s stashed away, telling us that she’s been planning this escape for a while. 

Oh good, she has a map. Well at least now she won’t get lost out there in the woods while she makes her escape... also that last panel with her profile.... why does it look so funny? Like this page of the comic doesn’t look too bad, but there is something off putting about her eye there and how she has zero expression. 

And it turns out that rustle was a walker, and Clementine is super inconvenienced by this and gives us our first piece of witty dialogue.

Yeah you dumb walker, can’t you see Clementine is busy running away from home and abandoning all of her loved ones without a single goodbye so she doesn’t have to witness the consequences of her selfish actions?? Gosh, so rude.

Just a heads up, the dialogue in this comic is stilted, emotionless, and bland. The words have no flow, no charm, and never feel like they should be coming out of Clementine’s mouth. Then again, the upcoming graphic novels this is tied to are for young adult/middle graders so I guess we have to dumb everything down so their baby brains can process it. 

.....Why does her face look like that? Also, interesting that she decided to move her ponytail to the other side of her head.... which is a thing that happens throughout this comic, her hair will randomly change sides. 

I believe it’s a metaphor for her changing and inconsistent personality. 

So yeah, Clementine is just making off with the supplies she gathered [I’m sure Ericson doesn’t need ‘em anyway] and she’s just so gosh darn annoyed at all these small inconveniences bothering her.... because it’s just too early for this. 

.....Again, why does her face look like that?

I’m sorry, like I get it, Tillie’s style is supposed to be purposely messy yet minimal but it doesn’t work. When you do a comic in a more messy style, usually it has charm and heart put into it. Effort goes into the messy look, and when things are minimal, that usually means more clean, yeah? So you put them together and just..... that is nothing resembling Clementine’s face. 

Can we just--

Look at canon Clementine’s face. Look at the way her eyebrows are shapes, how wide her eyes are with her eye lashes. The dirt on her skin, the lines-- there is so much personality in her features. It doesn’t matter if she’s wearing a neutral expression or she’s expressing anger or joy or sorrow or whatever. 

Now, is it fair to compare a model of Clem from the games to the Clem in this comic? Well, I assume that if Tillie is doing this comic, she would use references from the game to ensure that Clementine is recognizable, especially now that she’s no longer wearing her signature hat. 

So why does she look like this? Why do I look at these drawings of her face and see nothing but a pair of eyes, a nose, and a mouth? You might as well draw me a simple smiley face. And I get that it’s a comic, and it’s a lot of work to draw the same character over and over again and you gotta cut corners somewhere, but maybe put some effort into the close up shots of her face so that we can actually see it’s her? 

Other fan artists have made comics in their styles that shine bright with Clementine’s personality, so what happened here? 

Anyway, surprise..... it’s not a walker annoying Clementine. 

........Why does AJ look like that??? I’m sorry, I hate to do the same thing I just did but--

Just because you put Clementine’s hat on AJ that doesn’t automatically make it him. I just.... wow. This feels like there wasn’t a single reference involved, like if someone gave Tillie a basic description of AJ and she just did this. 

But appearances aside, what is AJ saying? He says that he knew it, that Clementine’s leaving and I cannot stand this dialogue. It’s unnatural. Again, I know you wanna dumb it down for all of us because I guess we dumb.... but this conversation does not feel natural. 

“I knew it. You’re leaving.” “AJ....” “I’m coming.”

Even if you changed it to, “I’m coming with you.” it would sound more natural. Hell, he doesn’t even question WHY she’s leaving, he just stands there like “I’m coming” like??? I’m sorry, have you ever heard a single word this murder baby has said? I assume you have because I assume you actually played TFS, right? Soooo.... what happened here?

.....whY DO THEIR FACES LOOK LIEK THAT KSAJDLKJAS:LKDJLKASJD:L--

So now we’re getting into it.... into the bullshit. 

Clementine tells AJ to go back to the school, and AJ says that she wasn’t even going to say goodbye..... and then more bad dialogue that sound unnatural when you try to fucking read it. 

First off.... AJ’s reaction to Clementine attempting to leave is barely anything. Again, I hate to keep questioning if you actually played TFS, but AJ would throw a fucking fit if he caught Clementine out here ALONE like this, attempting to leave. 

And then he says “Like last time? You were going to come back?” this sentence makes my brain hurt. I just.... “Like last time, right? You’re coming back?” UGH

Wow, I feel nothing. 

I’m sitting here watching these two imposters with fucked up faces who are supposed to be Clementine and AJ and I feel nothing. 

I’m not even going to comment on the faces anymore. You can see it. You know. 

So yeah... AJ tells her the #1 rule, and reminds her that she promised.

Y’know.... she promised that she would never leave him again? Remember? At the McCarroll ranch? That flashback that was in TFS? The one you would watch if you played the game? 

Why is she looking straight at me when she should be looking at AJ as she says this? Is this Clementine’s way of telling me she’s sorry for what a shitty direction this is taking? I wouldn’t know because her face isn’t doing anything. Just because you draw a couple of tears that doesn’t mean I’m feeling the emotional heartbreak you’re attempting to convey. 

I don’t have enough middle fingers for this.

Well, my hat’s off to you. Ya did it. Ya fucked up everything single part of Clementine’s character in the span of two pages, I’m almost impressed. 

First off, the baby thing is weird. Why is she calling him that? She’s never called him that, which you should know.

Second, she’s not happy and that’s why she’s leaving. Clementine isn’t happy, and AJ can’t make her happy. Ericson can’t make her happy. So she’s going to go out on the road to.... what, be unhappy by herself? 

I’m sorry, but apparently we need a few reminders here of who Clementine is, because this isn’t her. 

This is Clementine. 

Clementine fought for years to find a home, something she hasn’t had since she was an eight-year-old girl before the apocalypse. The motor-inn wasn’t a home, the cabin wasn’t home, the ski-lodge, Howe’s, Wellington, Richmond, Prescott, none of them were home. 

She struggled for years, dealing with trauma after trauma while out on the road. She went from group to group, watching people she cared about die and she was powerless to do anything about it. Whenever she let her guard down and become comfortable, it bit in her in the ass and left her heartbroken.

She was there when AJ was born. She grew close to Rebecca while she was pregnant, she let herself do that even after everything she went through with Christa. Clementine had a bond with AJ even before he was born, and after Rebecca died, she did what she could to keep him safe, despite play choice. 

She cried when she thought AJ died and when she found him in that car again. She swore to protect him, to raise him right and love him. All they had was each other. 

And when she joined the new frontier and AJ got sick, she risked everything to save him and she was devastated when they took him away from her. When she found out he was alive, she is willing to go as far as helping Lingard overdose [INJECTING HIM HERSELF IF SHE HAS TO] to figure out his location. She did shitty things to find him, she killed people at McCarroll Ranch to find him again. 

Clementine raised him and he is her family, do you understand that? She went to hell and back for him, she taught him how to protect himself, and even though she made mistakes she sacrificed everything for him. She promised him that they would have a home of their own one day, she talked about how much she wished for a world where she didn’t have to worry about fighting and killing and AJ could just be a happy kid. 

She fought for Ericson, she watched her friends die or become mutilated by someone from her past. She allowed herself to be vulnerable enough to pursue a romantic relationship with Louis or Violet because she felt safe with them, felt safe at Ericson because it’s their home now. 

And when Clementine was bit, she thought she was going to die but she still fought to make sure AJ would be safe and happy without her and it was heartbreaking. She’s dying and the only thing she cares about is AJ. Not herself, not what’s going to happen to her after she dies or turns... no, she tries to make AJ smile again, she makes sure he remembers the rules, and she tells him that she loves him. 

Then he cuts off her leg, and she survives. AJ saved her fucking life, and she got to wake up at home and live to see her family again. She got to push AJ on a tire swing, she got to eat a hot meal and laugh with her friends, she got to make plans with her lover/best friend for what’s next for Ericson, and she got to talk to AJ and tell him the truth... and she asked him if she did a good job, and he’s honest with her right back. 

Hell, she tells him to keep her hat. Her iconic hat. The one thing she has left of her father, possibly her more cherished item. She lets him keep it. 

The last time we see Clementine, she’s happy. She’s sitting on the steps by herself, staring at her family with such fondness in her eyes and a smile on her face because she finally did it. She finally found a home where she can breathe. She has a bed to sleep in, she has AJ with her, she has a boyfriend/girlfriend who loves her and who she loves back, she has friends she can rely on. 

Clementine smiles, and lets out a small laugh. 

She doesn’t have to run anymore. 

And now you have the balls to tell me that AJ and Ericson don’t make Clementine happy anymore. 

She abandons everything to go back out on the road again, and that’s proof enough for me that you don’t understand a damn thing about Clementine or her journey. 

“ I don't even know the person I'm talking about... It's like all we have in common is the same name.” 

....Anyway.

Wow, Clementine found a car and kept is stashed. How lazy and convenient for this bullshit plot. 

And this is the part where I have to tell this comic to fuck off. 

What, you think if you throw in an incredibly inaccurate flashback next to a current pair of hugging Clem and AJ that I’ll feel anything but anger? That flashback is a slap to the face. It’s snowing, but the only time we’ve seen snow is in S2 when AJ was a literal new born, so why is he that big? Is that supposed to be from ANF because that ALSO doesn’t look like that AJ, and that’s not the outfit Clementine had on... AND there was no snow. This is cheap and meaningless. 

Any fan of the series who has played through the games could tell you this. 

So.... AJ runs into the woods and then we get this garbage.

This comic is awful. It misses the point of everything TFS, and the rest of the series, stood for. There is no heart here. I feel no happiness in reading it, and I don’t detect any passion behind it. It’s a lifeless comic that retcons everything in order to throw AJ away and start fresh with a new adventure for Clementine that makes no sense because the cow isn’t profitable unless it’s milked. 

This isn’t canon, and it won’t ever be canon, and honestly? At this point, I have no faith in the graphic novel trilogy. It will take a lot to do a turn around from this, and I don’t even know if that’s possible. 

Again, to reiterate, I don’t have anything personal against Tillie Walden herself. She’s just doing her job, and from what I’ve seen of her as a person, she seems like a sweetheart. I don’t want anyone giving her shit because I think the comic isn’t good or that you agree with me. All of my anger is directed at the comic itself, her work, not specifically her.... and a little bit at Skybound, because they’re the reason this is even a thing in the first place. 

So yeah.... there ya have it. 

[ilikekidsshows]

The Marinette and Kagami Sub Arc Breakdown

Okay, it's finally done, the big analysis, where I tackle a topic I've wanted to write for simply because it's a topic I personally find interesting and fun, AKA, The Best Sub Arc in the Entire Series So Far, AKA, How Marinette Proved Without a Shadow of a Doubt that She'd Never Be Like Chloé And We Stan.

One of the most interesting parts of the Marinette and Kagami rivals to friends sub arc is that it's one of the aspects of the show that directly connects to Marinette's past as a victim of bullying and is, in a way, about her overcoming that past. Not many things in the show remind us of the revelation in 'Origins' that Chloé had been bullying Marinette for years before the show's timeline, especially since Chloé became pretty declawed as a school level threat as the series went on to the degree where I think many people watching forgot that she used to hold a lot more power, and Marinette used to be wary of her.

But, the reason why Marinette being a bully victim is important in her arc with Kagami is this: people who have been victimized don't necessarily recognize it when they're victimizing others, and I believe that Marinette shows signs of this mentality in the show, particularly in season three. I'll illustrate how Marinette's ex-bully victim mindset informed the early stages of her relationship with Kagami and how Marinette overcame her internal biases when it comes to Kagami and her behavior towards Kagami.

In 'Origins', when Alya quotes Majestia's by now immortal line, she also says something that is very much what someone who has been victimized would identify with: "That girl over there is evil, while we are the good people." While Alya was very accurate that she and Marinette are good people, she didn't really know much about Marinette at this point, so she was actually pretty much guessing. The reason why this line is important is because it relies on an assumption that a moral binary exists on the bully-victim scale, instead of these roles being dynamic and socially formed. If you’re a victim of a bully, the bully is evil and you are a Good Person.

Some people who've been systematically victimized think on some level that them being victims means that they can never be instigators, that they're automatically morally pure because the person who victimizes them is the evil one. This is a very typical argument in social justice circles, where a person who is victimized for one thing might say bigoted things about another group and claim that they can't be a bigot because they suffer from bigotry. The simplest example I can give is white women refusing to accept that something they've said about black women could be offensive to black women specifically, because "how could a victim of sexism be racist". Now, what happens between Marinette and Kagami in the show is nowhere near this level of victimization switcheroo, but it still has that false binary in that Marinette thinks that her actions have more moral justification than they actually do.

The interesting thing about how Kagami is introduced is that her future role as a love rival was downplayed in ‘Riposte’. Her Akumatization was because of family issues and the idea that she might be attracted to Adrien came from Marinette's jealous grumblings while she was rescuing him from Riposte (I'm mostly referring to the "She doesn't deserve you" line). Outside of that little bit, 'Riposte' comes across as a pretty standard Victim of the Week episode, instead of setting up a romance sub arc. As such, Marinette already viewing Kagami's Riposte form as a romantic rival serves more as foreshadowing rather than it actually forming their relationship.

Then we get to 'Frozer'. Marinette doesn't really know much of anything about Kagami at the start of this episode, as we can see in her mental image of Kagami as a cackling mean girl. Because Marinette doesn't really know Kagami at this point, when Adrien tells her he's thinking of asking Kagami out, her mind gives a placeholder mental image of her, seemingly based off of Chloé, another rich girl with a (supposed) crush on Adrien. This is the episode that establishes Kagami as a romantic rival to both the audience and Marinette, and Marinette’s negative mental image of Kagami establishes the idea of this rivalry being antagonistic. However, because this setup happens in Marinette's headscape, it's actually a one-sided antagonism.

Kagami isn't actually antagonistic towards Marinette in 'Frozer', but there is a certain assertiveness and physical presence to her in the episode that Marinette, as a former bully victim, might find imposing. Kagami gets in her personal space, because she's telling Marinette something she's sure Marinette doesn't want the boys to hear, but to Marinette, the body language could have come across as threatening. The way Marinette stares at Kagami throughout the scene with a deer-in-headlights look can indicate more general startlement or a sense of foreboding. And the episode ends with Kagami kissing Adrien on the cheek, establishing her as a threat in Marinette's eyes. From Marinette's view, Kagami's behavior in 'Frozer' confirmed her fears about Kagami, that she was a rich bully.

This interpretation of Kagami informs a lot of Marinette's actions in 'Animaestro'. Here we see just how much Marinette has started to view Kagami as the new Chloé in her mind. Even when the actual Chloé shows up, Marinette is more ready to side with her than Kagami. And why this happens is because Chloé actually accidentally enforces the idea that, because Marinette is a Good Person, any person who works against her happiness is a bully and a Bad Person. While we could argue that Marinette has no reason to listen to anything Chloé says, we have to remember that Marinette has been lowkey hoping Chloé would become a better person in episodes like 'Antibug' and 'Zombizou'. When they both agree that Kagami has to go, Marinette could have taken it as another sign that Chloé's not all bad, or Marinette could have simply come to the conclusion that Kagami is actually worse than Chloé, and so teaming up with Chloé to take her down is justified.

It's important to note that 'Animaestro' chronologically takes place right after 'Chameleon', another episode where Marinette thinks she's morally justified in practically bullying someone because they're acting in a way she disagrees with. Because Lila was revealed to be able to dish back the same, if not even worse, that Marinette could unleash, Marinette never learned that her behavior at the start of the episode was bullying and therefore bad. Lila "justified" Marinette's actions after the fact because she was actually a bad person all along, so Marinette doesn't need to feel bad about basically harassing her. If Lila had just been someone who fibs for fun, with no malicious intentions, Marinette's behavior would have been completely out of proportion.

This is why the approach Chloé and, by extension, Marinette take against Kagami is so vital. With Chloé hatching a scheme that was so much like one Marinette would put together, the lines between Marinette and Chloé were blurred in this episode. Simply because it was such a convoluted plan might have also been why Marinette didn't seem to realize the implications of what she was trying to accomplish. I mentioned during my liveblog of this episode that Marinette doesn't seem to consider that, since the plan was to publicly humiliate Kagami, the plan working would have meant hurting Kagami really badly. I also pointed out that, because the trap triggered for the wrong target, this fact didn't really register with Marinette completely, since she merely noted that of course Chloé would have a bad plan. The plan was bad because it failed, not because it was morally wrong.

However, even though we didn't see it happen in the episode itself, what happened at the movie premiere did alter Marinette's perception of Kagami. Most likely it was contrasting Kagami to the actual Chloé and realizing that she had been mistakenly attributing Chloé's traits to Kagami. The change in Marinette's perception is clear in her panic spiral when she realizes Kagami is her partner for the game in 'Ikari Gozen': "She's brilliant, strong, cute!" Marinette would never spell out all of Chloé's better features in such a way, which means her stance on Kagami has moved away from seeing her as The New Chloé.

Even though Marinette doesn't see Kagami as a bad person at this point anymore, she does still consider her strictly opposition. She refuses to work with her, preferring instead to sabotage her and her chances with Adrien, just this time without the attempted humiliation. This is mostly because Marinette sees Kagami and thinks she has it all: looks, confidence, influence, a connection with Adrien. Marinette is absolutely convinced that if they won the contest, all attention would be on Kagami and she'd be sidelined in favor of her. It's easy to think that a little bit of sabotage is okay when Kagami seems to have such an unfair advantage.

Unfortunately for Marinette's peace of mind, the point of 'Ikari Gozen' is to dissuade her of the notion that Kagami is fortunate in every way possible. We can see that Marinette thought that sabotaging the game was fine because Kagami had so many advantages because, as soon as she discovers that Kagami is friendless and has no connection to Adrien outside of fencing, she feels very bad for what she was trying to do. Marinette didn't actually want to hurt or upset Kagami. In 'Animaestro', Marinette didn't think about Kagami's feelings at all in relation to how Chloé's scheme might make Kagami feel, but this time she is thinking about them, she simply misjudged them at the start. She thought her purposefully throwing the contest would be a minor setback to Kagami, not what it ended up being: a betrayal by someone she was hoping to befriend.

I noted during my liveblog of this episode that Marinette's relationship with Adrien also started with a misunderstanding where Marinette first saw Adrien in a more negative light before that impression was proven to be false and they became friends. The development in 'Ikari Gozen' mirrors what happens in 'Origins' in that Marinette first has a false impression of Kagami, but is ultimately proven wrong in her assumptions and becomes friends with her. Marinette nominating herself as Kagami's friend even in her phone call with Tomoe suggests that Marinette recognized a similar need for friends in Kagami that she's seen in Adrien.

Marinette has gotten over seeing Kagami as an opponent in 'Desperada', where we see how Marinette reacts to Kagami and Adrien enjoying an inside joke together: she is miserable. Marinette recognizes the similarity between Kagami and Adrien and, rather than making her mad with jealousy, it makes her feel defeated. While Marinette's perception that Kagami was put together and perfect was taken down in 'Ikari Gozen', 'Desperada' shows us that she still thinks she can't measure up against Kagami, although now it's for the reason that she can see the connection between Adrien and Kagami and doesn't think she has what it takes to compete with that.

'Love Hunter' is the episode where this new sense of insecurity comes to a head. When Marinette's hair falls out of its usual style, it signifies her letting down her guard and enjoying both Kagami and Adrien's company, because Adrien and Kagami are both her friends at this point. However, when Marinette is reminded that there are things that Kagami and Adrien experience that she can't relate to ("It's not every day we can escape from everything they expect from us"), she hastily ties her hair back into the usual twintails, her insecurity forcing her to put her walls back up again.

Marinette is in emotional turmoil throughout the episode, allowing Adrien and Kagami to have what could constitute as an ice cream date alone at first, only to interrupt Kagami's attempt to kiss Adrien a few minutes later by whisking Kagami away to help solve the Akuma situation. This is why Marinette wanted André to pick the ice cream blend, because she started to project her relationships with Adrien and Kagami onto the ice cream too much. Marinette values her friends' happiness very high, high enough to stand aside when Kagami refers to their similarity as the reason she and Adrien are made for each other. Marinette does respond to Kagami that choices can be hard, so her standing aside is also about Marinette simply not acting at all, either to allow Kagami to go for Adrien unchallenged or to pursue Adrien herself. The choice between Adrien and Kagami was too much for her. Marinette being indecisive is of course a major character flaw I've discussed on this blog repeatedly, so the idea that it might have played a role here too makes sense from my perspective.

So far the Marinette and Kagami arc has been about Marinette learning not to subject other people to the kind of treatment she gets from Chloé, overcoming the temptation to turn into a bully to protect herself, and also making friends along the way. But there is still more ground that can be covered with this immensely interesting relationship. This is actually why I feel we really need to see Kagami and Marinette interacting after Kagami and Adrien break up. Because Marinette still has unresolved feelings about Kagami and not just Adrien after the season three finale.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Delight in Misery (ao3) - part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8 (interlude)

The Lotus Pier was a free and unrestrained place in comparison with the Cloud Recesses, and there was no similar prohibition on raising pets. This was a good thing, largely because Lan Wangji had recently started to think of his little found family primarily in animal metaphors.

It was, he concluded, because of the way Mo Xuanyu followed Jiang Cheng around like an imprinted duckling, with stars in his eyes and an unfortunate tendency to try to emulate his actions while possessing exactly none of the temperament required to pull any of it off.

Indeed, watching him wheezing his way through a threat to break Jin Ling’s legs was a sight worth seeing, especially with Lan Sizhui patting him on the back and encouraging him when he temporarily got stuck stuttering on the word ‘legs’.

Jiang Cheng, for all his faults and imperfections, could be terrifying when he wished to be, the blood of the battlefields of the Sunshot Campaign forever impressed upon his bones; with Zidian to hand, he could look commanding and fearsome, decisive and harsh, and with his sharp looks and sharper scowl, he cut a fine picture - even if Lan Wangji knew the truth, that behind all that sharpness was the soul of a grumpy marshmallow.

Mo Xuanyu, with his wild thatch-like hair that couldn’t be controlled no matter their joint efforts and even wilder and far more questionable taste in appearance, couldn’t hope to match him, and really ought to stop trying.

Naturally, Jin Ling looked about as convinced about the threats as he ever was when Jiang Cheng said it, meaning of course that he didn’t care one whit, but despite their initial concerns, he took to Mo Xuanyu quite well. Lan Wangji was initially puzzled by it, given their conflicting personalities, but Jiang Cheng insightfully (for once) pointed out that it was most likely that Jin Ling was willing to forgive quite a lot in exchange for having another person dressed in Lanling Jin gold around to make him feel less awkward about it.

The two of them together were two little goldfinches strutting around in a sea of purple – or, perhaps more accurately, two golden roly-poly puppies bounding around, tails wagging, trying to befriend the Jiang sect’s army of sleek haughty purple cats. They were accompanied, of course, by a small, gentle crane with a most un-Lan-like taste for spicy fish with radishes and absolutely no head for water travel.

(They were working with Lan Sizhui on that. He lived in the Jiang sect now; he couldn’t spend his whole life being seasick!)

“What does that make you, then?” Jiang Cheng asked when Lan Wangji – after incessant prodding – mentioned his thoughts on the subject of their growing nest. “Master Rabbit?”

Lan Wangji glared, but didn’t object to the characterization; regardless of his personality, there was good reason to make the association. This was largely because Lan Xichen had recently embarked on a mission to capture the rabbits Lan Wangji had been – not raising, precisely, because pets were forbidden in the Cloud Recesses, but feeding on occasion when he had the time. He had brought them to Lan Wangji’s new “residence” at the Lotus Pier as a housewarming gift.

(Lan Wangji had no intention of moving out of Wei Wuxian’s bedroom, of course, but Jiang Cheng had long ago exercised his authority as sect leader to clear out the rooms just beyond it to create a small additional courtyard for him, in which he could exercise and meditate without being too far from the main quarters of the Jiang sect leader. As a result, the only change involved in his new, public, and above-board decision to reside in the Louts Pier was adding a new entranceway to make it appear as though they lived in separate albeit adjoining houses rather than living together in just one. Of course, it being the Lotus Pier, the new entranceway involved constructing not only a gate but a new bridge…)

“What exactly are we supposed to do with a bunch of rabbits?” Jiang Cheng had demanded at the time, staring down at them - there were rather more than Lan Wangji had remembered there being, but he supposed that was the nature of rabbits.

“I have no idea,” Lan Xichen had replied, smiling broadly. “But Wangji likes them.”

Lan Wangji had pretended that neither of them existed, and also that he was urgently needed elsewhere.

Later, Jiang Cheng had cornered him, demanding an explanation or else the rabbits would be sent down to the kitchens to be repurposed, and Lan Wangji had reluctantly confessed that they were from the burrow first established by the two wild rabbits Wei Wuxian had caught for him all those years ago.

Naturally there was no more talk of repurposing after that, and three sets of rabbit coops – far more than the rabbits Lan Wangji actually possessed required – mysteriously appeared in his small courtyard the next day.

“Wouldn’t want the stupid things to drown,” Jiang Cheng had grumbled when confronted with the evidence of his sentimentality. “If they attacked your garden and tried to burrow down they’d only hit water, and then where would we be? Awash in bunny corpses, that’s where, and that’s just unsanitary. I have a duty as sect leader to preserve the public health, you know.”

Lan Wangji had initially had some difficulty determining what type of animal Jiang Cheng was. He was as prickly as a porcupine, as standoffish as a hedgehog, as fickle as a cat, as graceful and vicious as an angry goose…

Recently, however, Lan Wangji had met a merchant from the south who had been selling a type of bird he called zishuiji, or purple swamphens – the merchant claimed that they were descended from the famous zhanniao, the poisonfeather zhen bird noted for their purple bellies, scarlet beaks, and deadly venom. Although Lan Wangji was moderately certain that the man was exaggerating for the sake of a sale, he had found himself compelled to purchase several sets to house in one of the empty rabbit coops, now moved to be placed in the main courtyard, nominally to be nearer to the waterways but mostly so that they’d be easily accessible to everyone - and, of course, to subtly harass Jiang Cheng.

It turned out that zishuiji could apparently be treated in much the same way as chickens. They were highly adaptable, but thrived best near water; they were generally shy around humans, but vicious in defending their territory, capable of biting and mobbing when provoked; and they preferred to raise their eggs with company –

Truly, he had found the right bird for Jiang Cheng.

(Not to mention the euphonious imagery of a purple hen strutting around with its purple lighting, zishuiji with zidian...truly, a picture meant for the ages. Lan Wangji determined at once to make a painting of it and insist Jiang Cheng hang it on some wall. Maybe even one of the ones in the main hall, where strangers could see.)

“Some of these are getting used for food,” Jiang Cheng insisted with a glare. “Some of the rabbits, too. There are no rules against the killing of livestock here, you hear me?”

Mo Xuanyu fell in love with them immediately – Jiang Cheng’s theory was that he was entranced by their iridescent feathers, while Lan Wangji’s view was that he recognized the innate Jiang Cheng-ness of them – and quickly took charge of their care, although Lan Sizhui and Jin Ling routinely assisted in collecting eggs.

Jiang Cheng reluctantly admitted, after some time, that the purchase had been a good one, if only because it served to settle their little awkward duckling into place, finally allowing Mo Xuanyu some sense of stability, as if having some type of small duty for which he was responsible was all he needed to believe that he wouldn’t be forced back to Lanling or to Mo village, his original place of origin, which he somehow feared even more than the backstabbing snakepit of Koi Tower.

(“You need to stop calling him a duckling,” Jiang Cheng said, quivering with laughter. “Do you know that could also mean…no, I’m not saying it. Anyway, he’s such an impressionable brat. Did you see what he did with that make-up he bought? He really does look a bit...”

From this, Lan Wangji inferred that the nickname was both extremely apt, extremely unfortunate, and had permanently stuck.)

In fact, despite initial concerns, it had been surprisingly comfortable to bring Mo Xuanyu into their lives at the Lotus Pier.

He was grateful and happy to be there, which helped; Lan Sizhui was welcoming, and Jin Ling somewhat reluctantly accepting, each for their own reasons, which helped more.

Best of all, he was at just the right age to be a regular disciple, and the current Jiang sect was especially welcoming to outsiders, having been cobbled together from a wide range of previously rogue cultivators and the small handful of survivors of the previous sect’s massacres. It improved Mo Xuanyu’s mood tremendously to be around boys and girls his own age, doing the same thing as them, without the weight of Lanling Jin’s expectations on his shoulders even if he sometimes wore their colors.

“He’s never going to be the most martially inclined,” Jiang Cheng opined after a small period of observation. “But he might make a decent administrator.”

Lan Wangji glanced at him sidelong in silent question, since Mo Xuanyu had not displayed any especially notable scholastic talents either. He had started cultivating fairly late, although obviously not as late as Jin Guangyao, but he lacked the other man’s genius for organization and management. Moreover, while his studies did admittedly exceeded the low bar set in Lan Wangji’s mind by Nie Huaisang’s miserable performance, that was a very low bar indeed.

(Nie Huaisang wasn’t stupid, he reminded himself once again. He was in fact extremely clever. And yet, even knowing what he knew, it was so easy to forget…)

“He’s kind and thoughtful of the well-being of others,” Jiang Cheng said, averting his gaze and pretending his cheeks weren’t tinting red. “Calligraphy and math, people skills, that can all be learned, but at least he has the important part down…I told you to stop doing that.”

Lan Wangji ignored him and continued to smile.

“Freak,” Jiang Cheng muttered, then shook his head. “I can’t believe anyone actually listens to you. Least of all me!”

Lan Wangji rolled his eyes. That part was Jiang Cheng’s own fault – he’d been using Lan Wangji as a sounding board more or less from the beginning, and started making him do some of his paperwork as soon as he’d been regularly awake for more than a shichen at a time under the barely plausible claim that it was good for him to exercise his hands. Now that Lan Wangji was officially out of seclusion, Jiang Cheng had promptly shoveled even more work at him – despite the fact that they were supposedly at each other’s throats.

The Jiang disciples that had not been in the loop – most of them, to Lan Wangji’s mild surprise – adjusted quickly, especially after they noticed the long-suffering expressions on the faces of Jiang Cheng’s immediate deputies. They had remained wary for a while, possibly expecting Lan Wangji to seek to implement the Lan sect rules at any moment, but after a time he had managed to win their confidence through his efficient administration and respect for their customs.

He did…rather a lot, actually. He reviewed the sect’s accounts along with Jiang Cheng, managed certain negotiations, oversaw the continuing reconstruction efforts, reviewed submitted proposals –

All things that the Lan sect did as well, but which had never come to him before. Lan Wangji suspected that in many cases, they did not even come to his brother or his uncle, who were nominally in charge of such things; the Lan sect disdained such worldly affairs, while the Jiang sect embraced them.

Although while he was on the subject of being above worldly affairs, it occured to him that he had not had an opportunity to take Bichen out recently, and it would be good to do so. He would need to come up with some excuse to insist on Jiang Cheng accompanying him for a night hunt sometime soon, some reason that would stand up to scrutiny from the outside.

As for convincing Jiang Cheng himself, however, that would be no problem.

“We are going night-hunting soon,” he informed Jiang Cheng, who looked appalled by the very thought.

“You’re joking, right?” he demanded. “Do you know how much work we have to do? The yearly update with the dyer’s guild is –”

“Not for another two months, and preparation typically takes only two weeks.”

“Reconstruction –”

“Does not require constant supervision at this stage.”

“The – there’s training –”

Lan Wangji attempted to convey his feelings on the validity of that excuse entirely through his facial expression, and it must have worked because Jiang Cheng crumbled at once, grumbling to himself.

“Who’ll we leave the children with?” he tried. “Especially with Xuanyu being so new – oh, all right. It’s weak and I know it, you don’t have to give me that judgmental look of yours.”

“If Jiang Wanyin believes that his skills have gotten so rusty that he would be unable to keep up…”

“I’m going to break your legs,” Jiang Cheng hissed at him. “I’m going to – to – oh, wait, actually, there is a reason we can’t go just yet. We’re expecting honored guests!”

Lan Wangji arched his eyebrows.

“You wouldn’t have seen the report yet, it’s still on our desk,” Jiang Cheng said. “You know of the Baixue Temple, right?”

Lan Wangji looked askance, indicating that he had of course heard of the temple, a renowned place of learning, but that he presumed that that was not what Jiang Cheng meant and also that perhaps Jiang Cheng would like to get to the point at some time before their deaths from old age.

“Fuck you too,” Jiang Cheng said conversationally, having learned the nuances of Lan Wangji’s expressions by now. “It was attacked recently, and rumor has it that it was Xue Yang that did it. Yes, the same Xue Yang who did the Chang clan massacre, the one the Jin sect was protecting before they washed their hands of him.”

Lan Wangji frowned.

“They made it through with relatively minimal casualties,” Jiang Cheng assured him. “Out of luck, mostly – when Xue Yang disappeared before his trial, the Nie sect made sure word got out everywhere, and Lianfeng-zun, who might’ve quashed it, even helped spread them, instead. From what I understand, Xiao Xingchen and Song Zichen returned to Baixue Temple to make sure it wouldn’t be attacked over their part in Xue Yang’s initial arrest, as it later turned out to be - truly, evil is mundane and predictable. They led the defensive efforts and saved many lives.”

Xiao Xingchen and Song Zichen –

Lan Wangji had heard Jiang Cheng speak of them before, of course. Rogue cultivators of considerable fame, who had refused all offers to join any of the sects, major or minor, but instead professed a desire to start a cultivation school of the old-fashioned sort, valuing affinity and merit over blood relation.

Not that that was what had caught the attention of Lan Wangj, or of Jiang Cheng for that matter.

Rather, it was said that Xiao Xingchen was a disciple of Baoshan Sanren, the famous immortal that lived secluded on the mountain. That made him Wei Wuxian’s martial uncle, and both of them were shamelessly interested in all things relating even tangentially to Wei Wuxian, however indirectly.

Jiang Cheng had sent several invitations for a visit back when the Chang clan disaster had happened. None had been accepted, which was probably all for the best – he had had to stop inviting them on account of how they’d angered the Jin sect over the matter.

(It had caused Jiang Cheng no end of nightmares, the feeling of complicity in a massacre just like the one that had destroyed his own sect sending him into a spiral of self-hatred, questioning his own morality and righteousness, wondering if his ancestors were judging him and finding him wanting, wondering if Wei Wuxian was –

It had not been a good time, a thankfully temporary reversion back to the bad days closer to the start. But Jiang Cheng was better now.)

“Why accept an invitation now?” Lan Wangji asked.

“They’re planning on hunting him down, I think, and having learned a little bit from last time, they want to get as many allies on board as possible in advance,” Jiang Cheng said, and shook his head at the depressing need to account for worldly politics when seeking to live a righteous life. A lesson hard-learned, for both of them. “They wrote to me first, this time. In return, I plan to indicate that they are welcome to come to the Lotus Pier to try to convince me – we’ll agree to help them, of course, but it’ll be nice to share a meal with them. Maybe some stories.”

“Mm,” Lan Wangji said. “And entertainment, of course.”

Jiang Cheng looked at him.

“We should take them night-hunting,” Lan Wangji elaborated, and Jiang Cheng scowled at him.

“There are oxen less stubborn than you! Donkeys! Geese!”

Lan Wangji was not a goose. A crane, perhaps, like Lan Sizhui – gentle and graceful and well-educated, with a sharp beak that most people overlooked.

He suspected Jiang Cheng would argue instead for the goose.

“I will write to my brother,” he said, opting to change the subject. “Xue Yang is a sensitive subject for his sworn brothers, as you know. It would be best to prepare him should they resume their fight with each other.”

“Oh, that’s just what we need,” Jiang Cheng grumbled. “Lianfeng-zun and Chifeng-zun at each other’s throats again…did I tell you about the series of small but extremely irritating disasters that happened that time I was at Koi Tower? The room flooding, the too-thick incense, the – the thing with the cat –”

“I also recall you coming back from a night-hunt with Chifeng-zun with an expression suggesting that someone had put the fear of death into you, yes,” Lan Wangji said.

“It’s Chifeng-zun. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you avoiding any circumstances where he could have the same talk with you!”

Lan Wangji did not deny it. As he was not a sect leader, he could avoid such things with much greater ease than poor Jiang Cheng – who was glaring again.

“You should try harder to get along with him,” he remarked, and Jiang Cheng’s eyes narrowed even further. “You have many things in common –”

“Lan Wangji. You are, as A-Yuan’s father, permitted to set up as many playdates for him as you’d like. You are not permitted to do the same for me.”

Lan Wangji nodded, indicating that would give that all the consideration it deserved, namely none.

Jiang Cheng made a sound not unlike the whistling of a boiling pot.

Lan Wangji decided that a triumphant but timely retreat was appropriate.

[nagito-kissmaeda]

I don't know if I've Talked to you yet? But may i get Nagito with a Talentless! S/o who's a Degradee. So whenever He Gets angry and Talks about her because of her talent. She's attracted to it. But is able to hide it for a while. But one day she slips up ane admit she likes it to hajime and nagito happens to overhear it. (I'd love a Nsfw Fic) if your open.

ミ☆ Thanks for the request! This was very interesting for me to write because i dont usually make Komaeda so.......mean. It does get pretty filthy so i hope that’s okay ahah.  Word Count:  2882

Warnings: Fem reader, no pronouns, explicit sexual content, degradation, possessive behaviour

You’re not sure that Komaeda’s insults are having their desired effect.

Generally, the other students of class 77-B treat you perfectly well, even kindly. You’d braided Sonia’s hair for her once when it was windy and getting in her eyes, after that she seemed to take a liking to you and started inviting you to eat lunch with her in the main course building. At first you were very nervous, shaking as you lurked in the doorway, holding your bento box between your quivering hands. 

But then, “Good afternoon, everyone! I’d like you all to meet my new friend!” Sonia said brightly, and everything sort of fell into place.

Everything except Komaeda. 

Presently, he has you backed up against a wall, one hand pressed up beside your head. He’s quite a bit taller than you, and has to crane his head down when his lip curls up in disgust. You aren’t really sure what his problem is, but he finds a way to antagonise you almost every day. Like he’s trying to convince you to snap. It isn’t working, but it is doing something else.

“How much did your parents pay, huh?” He whispers, voice eerily delicate even as his eyes burn with vitriol, “How much did you sacrifice just so you could pretend to be worth something?”

Your mouth has gone dry. Your eyes flit around his face, trying too hard not to focus on the subtle movement of his lips. 

“Ah, are you too afraid to answer? Afraid of what I might think of you?” 

You are not afraid. 

Komaeda leans in closer, lips curling up in a snarl, “you mustn’t concern yourself with such things.“

You are something far worse than that.

“My opinion of you will remain less than dirt regardless of your answer.” 

You are aroused and a pathetic little moan breaks away from your mouth at the feeling of his breath on your face, at his closeness, and the way he leers down at you like you are nothing more than a nuisance to him. His tongue darts out of his mouth to wet his lower lip and you whine . 

He laughs, mistaking the sound for one of fear, “The only reason I don’t pull you from our classroom and lock the door behind you, is because Sonia seems to enjoy your company. I’m sure her little fancy will not last long.” He smiles, “so make the most of the honour while it lasts.”

Komaeda leans back from you, and it feels like you can finally catch your breath again. Trying your hardest to ignore the way your heart is racing and just how wet your panties are getting. He does not seem to notice, lips curling up in a smirk that makes your breath hitch as he turns on his heel.

He did not notice the effect he was having on you. Far too concerned with trying to get you away from the rest of his ultimate classmates before you have a chance to dirty them with your pathetic presence. After all, even he was above you and that was saying something. Komaeda leaves you quivering in the hallway and heads back through the open door of classroom 77-B, but the sound of running feet brings him pause. He closes the door most of the way, leaving it open enough that he can watch through the gap without you noticing. 

“Hey.” Hinata says breathlessly, coming to a stop where you are still leaning against the wall, “I saw Komaeda bothering you, are you alright?” 

Komaeda scoffs. Hinata is just as much a problem as you are, always hanging around Nanami-san like it’s his given right. 

“Huh?” You say, still noticeably shaking, “oh I’m fine.” 

Komaeda smirks. If asked, he would claim that he only harassed you for the good of his fellow classmates; he would not admit the exhiliarion he feels in the moments when he finally gets to be better than someone. When he has you up against a wall like that, when he talks down to you like that. He feels something in his gut. A twisting that feels almost euphoric. 

Hinata huffs and crosses his arms, “look, that guy's an asshole. I can see you shaking, did he threaten you or something?” 

“No! Not really? I’m just…..uh…..” Komaeda can see you twisting your hands with nerves, his brows draw together in confusion, “I think I…like it…” 

Hinata balks, “wait. What?” He hisses, and Komaeda is thinking something very similar.

“When he’s mean to me like that.” You breathe, chewing on your lower lip, “when he has me up against the wall I...feel...good…” 

“No. Stop. Please.” Hinata exclaims, waving his hands in front of his face, “look, we’ve got to get to class. I don’t want to hear anymore about this. Okay?” 

Komaeda’s breath is caught in his throat as he watches the both of you walking back down the hall. Horrified at the tightness in his crotch. He whirls around and leans back on the wall, cupping a hand over his mouth to hide his heavy breathing. 

Those little noises you were making, the way you were shaking beneath him. 

This had not been his intention. 

Though, he supposes he can entertain the idea. Just to see how you react. It might even be fun. 

*

A few days later, you are back in the mostly vacant classroom with Sonia and Ibuki, the latter is in the middle of painting the nails on your right hand. 

“I know you said you don't really like this colour, but it glows in the dark, so that makes up for it, rigggggght?” Ibuki says; her nailpolish skills are lacking so your fingers are a bit of a mess, but you’re having fun anyway. 

“I think i might scare myself tonight when i turn the lights off and my fingers start glowing.” you laugh, Sonia titters politely behind her hand, but her expression quickly changes. 

“Oh.” She says, looking over your shoulder, “Hello, Nagito.”

You freeze. Throat going dry. You are not prepared for another encounter with Komaeda. 

“Ah, Hello. It’s nice to see the both of you.” He says. It does not escape your notice that he purposefully didn't even acknowledge your presence. 

“Don’t get too close naggy-waggy.” Ibuki replies, tongue sticking out as she starts painting the nails on your other hand, “I must focus on my art!”

A shiver runs up your spine when you feel the warmth of another body behind you. Komaeda leans over your shoulder to look down at your nails as Ibuki paints them, you can feel his breath on the side of your neck, you can smell him. He smells really good, why does he have to smell so good?

“You’ve improved a lot since your last attempt, Mioda-san.” Komaeda says, you can practically feel the words on your skin.

Ibuki laughs, “Kaz was a very good sport when I spilled it all over his arms! Plus! He was glowing for three days straight and i actually think it looked pretty sick!!!” 

“You're very lucky to have someone as wonderful as Mioda-san do your nails.” Komaeda breathes, you turn your head just a little. His face is so close to yours, his lips quirked up in the corners just enough that you know he is mocking you. Then, as he finally begins to stand back up again, he whispers in your ear, “after all, you’re just a pathetic reserve course student, aren't you?”

You feel his lips brush against the shell of your ear, and you swear it can't be intentional, but a shudder runs through you so powerful that you accidentally bump the nailpolish out of Ibuki’s hand. 

You are too busy trying to help her and Sonia clean up the mess, to notice the way Komaeda looks back, hands in his pockets and smirking at how easy it was to rattle you.

Yes, he thinks. This will be fun. 

*

It continues like this for some time. Komaeda is always lingering close to you, whispering in your ear. He’s always loved watching you squirm, but now it feels like he is doing more often, more shamelessly. After weeks of what feels like almost endless torment, something finally snaps. 

You’re dashing down the hall at lunch, it’s a decent walk from the reserve course building to the main course, so you really have to put the leg work in if you want to spend any real time with Sonia before heading back over again. You round a corner and run headlong into Komaeda. The universe has a hilarious sense of humour.

“Ah.” He starts, cocking his hips to the side while staring down at you, “What rotten luck.”

You glare at him, “Rotten luck, indeed.” 

Komaeda laughs, “Is that so? I’m quite sure this is the highlight of your day.” You stiffen as he leans down by your ear, his long fingers coming to rest on your hip, “You do so enjoy it when I mock you, after all.” 

You feel his teeth on the side of your throat, not really biting, but pressing down just enough that you can feel them. You release a shaky moan, digging your nails into your palms.

“Just like a reserve course student to revel in my touch; in whatever form it comes.” His hand grips tighter, you can feel his nails pressing hard against your skin, “I could bite down so hard that you bleed, and you’d still moan, wouldn’t you?” 

You would. Oh god you would. Your legs are shaking, you can feel his warm breath in your ear and you’re becoming painfully aware that this is happening in the hallway. You swallow as your eyes dart open to the supply closet behind Komaeda. He grins saccharinely as he follows your eyes, grabbing you by the hand and tugging you down the hall. Before you have a chance to ask what is going on-

The door to the supply closet clicks shut, and you are suddenly very aware of your situation. It takes you eyes a moment to adjust to the dim light, but when they do, you can see the utter hunger in Komaeda’s eyes. You swallow.

“How...how long have you known?”

“Known what?” He asks, feigning innocence.

You huff, “don’t make me say it!” 

Komeda crosses his arms, “no, I seem to have forgotten. I’ll need you to remind me.” 

You avert your eyes, scowling down at the ground, “how long have you known, that your degradation turns me on?”

He grins, “Almost a month.”

Your head snaps back up in horror, “So you’ve been toying with me on purpose this whole time?” You scoff, “What am I saying, of course you have been.”

“You’re lucky that I pay attention to you at all.” He breathes, and your heart starts racing at the jangle of a belt buckle.

This can’t be happening.

“You should be worshipping me.” Komaeda purrs over the sound of a leather belt being tugged through its loops. Your legs are quivering.The snick of a button coming undone, the sound of a zipper, and the thump of your knees hitting the floor all happen within seconds of each other. 

Komaeda chokes on a laugh. “I thought I would have to ask you to kneel.” He pulls his cock out of his boxers, already half hard as a smirk crawls up the side of his face, “But it seems you already know your place.” 

His cock is very pretty. Pale and slim with a blush red tip that you can't help wanting to suck on. 

“Don’t worry.” Komaeda whispers, “I have very low expectations for someone as talentless as yourself. I’ll be impressed if you even manage to make me come.”

Arousal shudders through you at his words, leaning forward and giving the head of his cock a cursorly lick. His breath catches in his throat. Such a pretty sound, you want to hear it more. One of his hands curls into your hair as you open your mouth wide and take the whole head in, sucking gently before bobbing your mouth halfway down. 

“ Ah! ” Komaeda hisses, hips stuttering deeper into your throat, “What an honour for you... aha ...to have an ultimate’s cock in your mouth, what a privilege .” his words break off into a laugh, wheezy and breathless as you take him all the way down, tears prickling in your eyes as it becomes harder to breathe. His head thumps back against the wall of the closet, cock pumping harder and faster into your open mouth as his nails dig into your scalp. You can feel drool running down your chin and dripping down to the floor, keening and moaning around his cock as you lathe the underside of the head with your tongue. 

“Who...Who knew...that this would be your one use…” Komaeda stammers, hips twitching and rolling into your mouth over and over, “is this your talent? Aha! Is sucking cock your talent?”

You make a noise of affirmation, unable to form words as he keeps relentlessly fucking into you. One of your hands slips up under your skirt and into your panties. It isn't surprising how wet you are, moaning unabashedly as you circle your swollen clit with a finger. 

“Ah... Ah! Look at you!” Komaeda exclaims, voice high and breathy as he tries to hold back another moan, “Being used like this turns you on, doesn't it? I wonder if one of those reserve course boys could do this to you.” he laughs breathlessly, “I wonder if you would let one of those reserve course boys fuck your mouth in the supply closet.” he grins down at you, eyes wild and almost unhinged, “I dont think you would, would you? I think you only want me, isn't that right?”

“Yes…” you manage to slur around him, circling your clit faster and faster, “nghh...only...you”

Your assertion only spurs him on further, hiking on leg up over your shoulder and pressing the heel of shoe hard into the wall behind you, hips stuttering forward with no discernible rhythm. You moan deep in the back of your throat and curl your arm around his thigh, feeling the muscles flex below your fingers as fucks into your mouth with unbridled desparetion. For all his talk, he seems to find your blow job abilities pretty competent.

“Don’t... ahh! ...Don’t stop-“ he groans, teeth gritted together, sweat dripping down his brow, “I...I’m gonna…” 

You’re close too. Your fingers pressing hard on your clit, circling almost brutally as you take his cock further down your throat. You can’t help but peer up at him, lording over just how thoroughly ruined he looks. Usually so neat, so clean. He looks like a perfect mess and it makes you keen around him, hips grinding harder into your own hand as you get closer and closer.

“You’re mine...all mine” Komaeda rasps, twitching and moaning, “Your mouth is mine to fuck...no-no one else can— AHHH!” 

His head collides with the wooden wall so loudly that you’re almost worried it hurts, and then he comes hard down your throat. You aren’t far behind, knees shaking and shuddering under your weight as you come tumbling over the edge, absolutely soiling your panties. There’s a filthy mixture of cum and saliva dripping out from your mouth that you swallow as best you can with Komaeda’s softening cock still in your mouth. The foot he had up against the wall slowly drops, resting gently on your shoulder instead as he catches his breath. You can see his chest rising and falling, his eyes gently closed. He’s cute when he’s not being such an asshole. 

Finally, he pulls his hips back and his cock slips out of your mouth, there isn’t too much of a mess on that front, at least nothing you can’t wipe away with the back of your hand, but your panties are another story. You’re just going to pray that they dry off a little before you have to go back to class.

Komaeda slides his leg from your shoulder and leisurely starts tucking himself back into his pants. You aren’t really sure what you’re supposed to be doing, so you just sit on the floor and wait for him to finish.

He hums, reaching down and tilting your chin up with a finger, “maybe you aren’t entirely pathetic.” he surprises you when he leans down and slots his lips against yours, flicking his tongue into your mouth, “if I’m able to make time in my busy schedule, I could shove my cock somewhere else next time.” 

You moan audibly, nodding your head with probably a little too much gusto.

Komaeda grins, all teeth and gums, and says, “I look forward to it.”

So do you.

[nimedhel09]

Other Fairy Tail headcanons noone asked for

Yes, I have more. Again, be prepared for the longest post, but also for probably some Frenchisms and inaccurate English.

- Human-hating-and-eating dragons existed long before the war, but they were few, as human meat wasn't that good for most draconic tastebuds... Most of the dragons preferred to just ignore humans, as they were seen as lesser beings by a big part of the dragon population.

- Dragonof and Montes Secreta are a rare show of dragon-human symbiosis. The dragons protect the territory from invading forces, be they human, dragon or otherwise, and the humans take care of the dragons and feed them.

- Dragons and dragon slayers hoard. What exactly depends on each individual's interests.

-> Natsu likes to hoard stuff that makes him think of his friends... or that belonged to his friends before he hoarded them.

-> Gajeel hoards metal (because food), comfy stuff (mostly cushions, pillows and sheets) and he began hoarding books when he began to form a friendship with Levy.

-> Erza, of course, hoards her armor and weapons. She has a very difficult time parting from any of her belongings, which is why she always over-prepares for quests. The slayers and herself realize the origin of her "problem" when her parentage is discovered.

-> Rogue collects frog stuff. He had a passion for frogs as a child (seems like a headcanon I share with @pencilofawesomeness hehe) that never really went away. So each time he goes on a quest and sees anything ressembling a frog? He buys it. Frosch has many maaaaany frog onesies, in all the colours imaginable, as they also share Rogue's love for frogs, but her favourite is the pink one (yes, in my head, Frosch is a girl).

-> Sting hoards jewellry and gems. He loves the colours and the sparkliness.

-> Laxus collects music. He does not realize he hoards it until he hears the other slayers talking about their hoards and realizes he has a lot of vinyls in his house.

-> Erik/Cobra hoards miscellaneous stuff that catches his eye for longer than 5 seconds. Usually, it's small and he got in the habit of hiding everything in places he marks to find later, since he never had the stability of having a nest/cave/territory that belongs to him until after he was pardonned with the rest of Crime Sorcière.

-> Wendy hoards tea sets. She loves them, she loves to look at them, and each time she can find one that calls to her, she'll buy it and add it to her hoard. She also has a special tea set for visitors. It is the only tea set that people other than her and Charle/Carla can use or touch. Noone outside of the slayers, exceeds and Levy know that.

- The god and demon slayers also have biological modifications to get closer to the creatures they have the ability to "slay". Gray has little horns that his hair hides, he has night vision, which makes his eyes reflective in the dark (something that has freaked out a few guild members and people he had to fight against) and his teeth are very SHARP, although they're smaller than dragon slayer fangs and narrower.

- Juvia has had a very stern talking to by Cana, Mira and Erza about her harassing of Gray. Gajeel was not happy to see her so despondent afterwards, but when she explained what happened, he gently told her that it was something she needed to hear, because her behaviour was not OK. She still struggles with obsessive behaviour, low self-esteem and anxiety, but she gets help from Mest.

- Gray and Juvia have a talk when Juvia realizes that she does not want to be that person, and they finally get to have a healthy friendship. No romance, though, as Juvia finally grows out of her unhealthy obsession with Gray and realizes that's not what love is supposed to be.

- As a coping mechanism for... everything, Juvia bakes. A LOT. And she offers her confections to everyone in the guild. You know she is having a bad time if she brings a lot of pastries, and if it lasts for more than a day, it's very bad. Mira and Gajeel have developed a system without meaning to when that happens. Mira works on getting Juvia to cheer up and Gajeel gets her to open up to him.

- Mest never turned Brandish against August. Nuh-uh. No sir, he definitely did NOT. Also no pedophilic thoughts about Wendy. He finds her warm and adorable and he loves her as a little sister, thank you very much. He was also head over heels about Lahar and it took years to get over his death. He is understandably very weary of falling in love. He also develops a crush for Macbeth/Midnight after Crime Sorcière was legalized and the members came to mingle with Fairy Tail more often.

- Most of the members of the younger generation, at least, are not heterosexual (because sexuality is a freaking continuum, people). I might expand on this at a later date if anyone is interested.

- Jellal and Erza have a very serious talk and both work on their Tower induced trauma for years before they decide they might want to try a romantic relationship. Jellal is the one that has the most difficulty healing from the past and seeing Erza as a person instead of his saviour/deliverance/light and stops putting her on a pedestal.

- Erik talks to Kinana about Cubellios and how he thinks she might be his lifelong friend. Since Kinana has bad amnesia, she asks Mest to help her retrieve her memories, and, although everything is still quite hazy, she remembers her attachment to Erik. They slowly work through her memories, but Erik is very respectful and does not push Kinana into anything, he just wants to know her, and, maybe, if that could happen, his friend back. They end up slowly falling in love.

- Juvia is like a little sister to Gajeel. He is very protective of her, and she is the only reason he joined Fairy Tail. They stay close through the years, and Juvia ends up being the godmother of Gajeel's and Levy's children. Juvia is understably over the moon and spoils the heck out of her nephew and niece.

- The original appearance of most of the Celestial spirits is quite different than what it is nowadays. Leo/Loke's original appearance is closer to his Eclipse Celestial Spirits ark than his current one. He is a fighting spirit, after all.

- As there are 88 (accepted) constellations in the sky, there are 88 keys. The silver and gold ones are the most known, but there is another set: the platinum keys. Those keys are as powerful as the gold keys, but not much is known about them.

- Since opening a key gate demands so much magic power, celestial wizards have slowly decreased in numbers. Celestial magic is coming closer to becoming a lost magic every year. It does not help that Celestial wizards are so often used by dark guilds as sacrifices for dark intents.

- Many civilians think that, because there are "light" guilds and "dark" guilds, some magic powers are considered dark and light too. Which, in turn, makes them afraid of any kinds of magic that is not in the accepted definitions of "light". That's one of the reasons why Freed, Mirajane and Bickslow hated their born magic for so long. It took them years or even decades to stop the self-hate, with the help of their friends and family.

- Since the awakening of his etherious nature, Natsu has been terrified of losing control. Which made him train harder and subtly distance himself from the guild. Of course, the other slayers, Erza, Gray and Lisanna saw right through him and Lisanna confronted him about it and he spilled the beans.

- NaLi is a thing. They're very cute together. Natsu is not interested by sex (yep, he's asexual), but he loves the proximity with Lisanna so sometimes they do have sexy time, but not often at all.

- Mira is a big gossip, and she does the shipping thing, and she does try to imagine ship-kids, but when someone tells her they're uncomfortable/they don't want kids or she sees that she makes them so, she stops and apologizes and never does it again. Because Mirajane is a respectful friend that does not push her friends and family to follow patriarcal societal rules, thank you very much.

- Gray inherited his devil slayer magic genetically. So he was born with it. But it was dormant or sealed until Silver awakened it (it makes more sense that way, in my mind).

- Fairies did exist, but they are extinct in Earthland. They do still survive in another dimension with other elf-like beings (because I said so and because I like the idea of a Sidh in-universe, because travelling to parallel universes is a thing, so there!)

- Talking about that, there's a difference between parallel universes (Edolas) and dimensions (the place where Angel's "angels" dwell). A parallel universe is a different kind of world on the same "wavelength" as the one Fairy Tail exists, and a different dimension is in the same universe, BUT on a different level (you know, the 2D, 3D and so on, and so forth). But because I do not want to go full-on-nerd-mode-that-will-never-stop-talking-about-the-thing, I'll stop here.

- Minerva and Rogue are a couple and you cannot tell me otherwise.

- Talking about the saberkitties, that guild desperately needed to heal after Jiemma. It took them a lot of work to get to a level where everyone began to trust in their guildmates and the guild itself. Minerva is the one that had the hardest time, as she was the daughter of the abusive jerk and his favoured and longest victim.

- She also had the hardest time after Tartaros, because it took months for her to have a human body again. Sting, Rogue, Orga and Rufus were there every step of the way for her. She loves them with all her shriveled little dark heart.

- She stays a badass with some violent and cruel tendencies, but she's mostly awkward, nowadays. She feels most comfortable with Rufus and Rogue because they're calm and quiet. She also adore Frosch.

- It took Yukino months to decide that she might possibly want to rejoin a guild. She goes to Sabertooth to confront her bad treatment and the trauma from her excommunication and has the longest talk with Sting, although she sees that he's far from his cocky, rambunctious, confident self (because Tartaros + losing his dad + Minvera stuff going on). They have a heart to heart and Sting apologizes profusely about how he acted until the Eclipse gate thing. She accepts his apology, but still hesitates to rejoing the guild. Noone pushes her, but Sting asks her to at least stay around for a few days so that the other guild members can see her. She does, and gets apologies from everyone. However, she does not see Minerva, and since she was one of the biggest offenders when it came to bullying in the guild, she really wanted to confront her, but the situation is explained to her. Yukino rejoins the guild after a few weeks of hard thinking, and patiently waits for her very needed conversation with Minerva, although she does not push for it when she knows that things must definitely not be easy for the spatial mage.

- Orga is half Fioran and half Encan. That's why he weats the clothes he does, and has the tatoos. The facial paint he has during the GMG is because of a warrior tradition from Enca. He goes to visit his maternal family at least once a year. Although noone outside of his friend circle (which was noone during Jiemma's tenure) knows of that tidbit about his background.

- Freed, Rufus and Lucy are all from high society, but they never mingled or even talked. Freed's father was very strict and rarely allowed him to go to parties because he was never good enough, and then when his magic realized itself, he was too ashamed of the creature that was his son to even consider it. Rufus, on the other hand, was too young, but he saw Lucy from afar. He just never talked to her. Freed only knew of Lucy's name, but Lucy wasn't aware of him at all, because she would do anything to not do a good impression.

- Talking about Lucy, she is very sensitive to any kinds of comments about her physical appearance due to a childhood with the pressure of having to look like a perfect breedable doll, due to her father's expectations and just high society. Because she was seen more as an asset than a human being. And even though she rebelled about all the expectations, she internalized them still. She still struggles about it.

- Another thing she struggles with is: independance and freedom. Two things she never really had until she decided to flee her home. That's one of the reasons she kind of lets Natsu drag her on adventures too, because making decisions for her life and having the responsibility of her own destiny freaks her out and gives her major anxiety. She even had panick attacks about those.

- Lisanna had a very hard time getting used to Edolas, but also getting used to being back to Earthland. Her siblings and close friends (aka Natsu and Happy)? Even more so. Lots of angst and not believing it to be true and stuff. Also, she had quite a bit of difficulty reconnecting her Earthland friendships. She tended to see the guild as their Edolas versions for a while. But now everything's fine.

- The Raijinshuu bonded over their eye magic and their respect for Laxus, because he was the one to help them and make them join the guild.

- Laxus, under his not-approachable, cocky veneer, is just a very awkward sweetheart that has no idea how to interact with humans outside his three friends. He exudes big introvert energy and you cannot tell me otherwise.

- After the war, Laxus is lost. He does not know what to do without his grandpa. But the guild has to go on, so he tries to hide his grief and buries himself in work, because there is a lot to do. Of course his team sees it and with a lot of coaxing, he does properly mourn Makarov. He also goes to Porlyusica to talk about him and get help with his lungs (because there's scar tissue caused by the bane particles still there).

- For weeks on end, Erza and Laxus talk about who should be the next master, even though Laxus does not even want to take on the role anymore. And because no consensus is reached with just them, they decide to have a guild poll and let everyone choose their favoured candidates (could even be someone else, they do not care). In the end, poor Laxus still ends with the responsibility, and when he discovers all the paperwork his grandfather left, he nearly has a breakdown. Fortunately, Freed comes to the rescue, and when she hears about it, Lucy also helps. Lucy gets closer to the Raijinshuu and the new master that way and Freed, Laxus and her talk at length about their childhood, expectations and the verbal abuse they had to live through.

- When he discovers the amount of money that team Natsu makes the guild lose every single mission, and the destructiveness of most of the guild members, he decides to change that with the help of other guilds. The new Council, hearing this, jumps on the opportunity to try and get the guilds more involved because they do not want to keep on dealing with Fairy Tail nonesense. They have better things to do.

- Hisui gets more involved in the politics of the country and tries her best to make relations better with their neighbours Bosco and Seven. Since Bosco was hit the worst by the forces of Alvarez, she also organizes humanitarian missions that she sends to all the guilds in Fiore. Getting missions from the crown is a never seen before occurrence, but she thinks that it's a cause important enough to get involved. Her project pays, as relations with Bosco thrive after that.

- This also makes the population more curious about the other countries of Ishgar, as Fiore has always been mostly self-sufficent and autocratic.

- The Raijinshuu + Laxus (also, I hate that Laxus isn't officially part of the team and they're just his followers, come ooooon!) is actually the strongest team of the guild, but since they're not official, well... it's not official. Even without Laxus, the team is very efficient and rarely destructive. They have the advantage of all the members being quick thinkers and all of them are quite strategic, and if Freed tells them to do something, they do it without question. And even though Laxus is very powerful, he is also very analytic when he goes on missions, and even in fights. (Yes, I have a bone to pick with team Natsu when it comes with how they operate. Also, that particular way they work? Well, makes Lucy and Wendy not blend with them very well)

Ok, I think that's it for today. I might add to my list of headcanons, because I have MANY (too many to count).

Here's a little list of things I'd like to tackle at one point or another:

- where all the (time travelling) dragonslayers originated from and how they came into the care of their dragons

- Fairy Tail ships, sexualities and the why (aka, why I think nearly none of the characters are straight)

- Acnologia's backstory, but done in a way that does not make him one-dimensional, because the King of dragons deserves it, thank you very much

- Why I dislike the characterization of the cast, and what would have worked better from a narrative point of view (from my point of view as a reader, writer, someone who LOVES character development, but also maybe a bit someone who's actually studied literature in Uni)

- Maybe also ways for the magic system to actually have consequences? Because in the canon material, we've got nearly nothing for the main cast and I am annoyed.

- And probably some more worldbuilding, because you know I LOVE me some worldbuilding. I also think way too much about stuff, so yay?