#dropping that fucking bomb of information in episode five

[broadway-is-a-thing]

WHHAATTT???????

[incarnateirony]

An anti dressed up as a shipper, an idiot, and a terf all walk into the same bar.

It’s the same picture person.

A lesson.

Warning: if the title doesn’t give it away, queerphobic content comes up in this from the other party being documented.

So, some of you may have watched a twitter exercise yesterday.

It started simple: concern trolling white knight “for the writers” comes in to angrily declare fans doing something tagged in support of them about Destiel was “out of line.” She claimed things like “Misha was gaslit into supporting Destiel”, and pulled all kinds of stunts.

She immediately got on a soap box yelling “I HAVE A LIT CRIT DEGREE, I KNOW AUTHOR INTENT” of course implying she knew better than EVERYONE around her how to read text. She then pulled, of all things, @chill-legilimens​​ ‘ article about the network gods gutting the show out of the internet, and somehow misread it SO FUCKING BADLY -- SO FUCKING BADLY -- she thought it aligned with HER. She argued that fans influenced the writers, essentially, and basically pulled the exact opposite of the very clearly delivered message there out. When it was pointed out we know this author and even sometimes help edit their pieces, and she was, flat out misreading it while bragging about how good she is at deciphering text, it turned into a SHITSHOW.

I had watched her give a large group of queer people 2 days of runaround, while they tried to be polite, and similarly tried to prove everything while she proved nothing. Just preached. After 2 days of them exhausting themselves on her, I came in doing my blunt & savage thing, because fuck civility culture when it’s used by oppressors. Of course, she immediately started tone policing, while herself being an arrogant shitbrick the whole way.

She continued to preach author intent and talk down about “headcanons.” You see, she knew the authors very well. Berens’ name was mentioned in passing, and she came back with. “Who’s Berens? Is that the author of the article?” after Deirdre’s name had been directly cited in associated with it about 15 times.

(credit: @judgehangman​ )

But it gets better. She started pulling the “authors have said Dean is straight.” line. Now, at this point, we had already sourced her at least four pieces of information (quite formally too: SPN Official DVD Collection Season 8 episode 13 creative commentary, Edlund and Sgriccia; Dissent Magazine The Attack Queers Bob Berens review; the books in the office with screenshots, and more.) So we issued one simple request: Okay. Source.

For the next-- I shit you not-- 10 hours she bricked the thread to death, finding any and EVERY rabbit hole she could try to venture down. For the first hour or two a few of us tried to actually debate her newly raised points, but still gave reminder that we were waiting for her source. Every tweet was an opportunity for her to drop a 15 tweet thread trying to derail onto a new topic, and often clarifying she had no idea about any of it (Edlund, Sgriccia, Berens, Dabb--who she couldn’t spell the name of--and Deirdre all became an amorpheous blob in her retelling that she swore she looked at sources and wasn’t convinced, while she crossed all the data and comments about the sources). She tried to challenge that anyone could know all the writers and episodes just because she proved she couldn’t, even when multiple people expressed it to her extremely rapidly with not just author and director listings, but cross references on when they overlapped and major elements (like the 15.20 shot 19 tree being the Kim Manners memorial tree). She randomly babbled about Kripke once. Lied her way through and claimed those sources were vague. Etc.

But at some point, I decided, we’re not playing this distraction game. You wanted a debate, you claim you have a lit crit degree, and thus know the entire art is Argumentation. A source, if you’re declaring knowing author intent. One source. Any time she dropped a distraction tweet, I replied to her thread with things like a list of our sources vs her lack of any and a reminder. I installed a counter ticker. How many times had she been asked to either recant her point or give a single source?

Someone made a list of the logical fallacies she used in the argument. It was two tweets long and still missed several obvious ones. That didn’t stop her. Neither did the dozens of requests for a source or a recant. Onwards, she marched, derailing time and again. She brought in a buddy to try to distract, but he fell out real quick when he realized “the burden of proof lies on the arguer” shot him and her both in the feet in record time and he ducked out. 

Other greatest hits came out like “Dubs (Dabb’s) fanfic books”, and calling the ability to list authors and episodes “headcanons.”

Over time, the dialogue shifted: see, she came in trying the snide “enjoy your headcanons” downtalk, but as time and time again she was pulverized on every point about the show, or the authors, or anything else while STILL never even giving a single source to even her FIRST POINT and running distractions, it became a reality-- she was told, “We’ll enjoy our canon and author intent. You can enjoy your headcanon of... Dabb’s fanfic books and Lord Barons and the writers being collective hallucinations and whatever else in your hot takes about the show content itself” and she FLIPPED SHIT. 

As the ticker for sources approached 100, she started becoming flustered. Before that, even, she started repetitively misgendering Ezra (no tumblr to link in), and Ezra screenshot their bio of they/them and asked them to adjust. Ignored. Ezra linked this request and asked it to be addressed again, and again, and again. 13 times. Ezra linked it 13 times. She even replied to several of them. No avail. No change. Not until literally any and every tweet in her vicinity either had “source?” or “address gender?” for her to reply to did she flee there, and write some giant write-around of “oh, I didn’t see this, sorry” but still refused to actually use it. Or “I’ll use the right one now.” No, just completely strickened pronouns from her vocabulary with Ezra moving forward, after not one mistake, not two, not five, but 13 answers.

At this point, I notice a trend: throughout the entire conversation, she had flip flopped on my pronouns, clearly confused as to what to call me. As I generally don’t care (honestly I prefer he but meh), it didn’t ping me as something to react to while she switched religiously between “he” and “she”. But I realized now, despite all of that confusion: she never once thought to use “they.” Also earlier we found tweets of hers that, while now declaring herself bisexual, she used troublesome wording in the past to blur the line on if she was an ally or, as she phrased it “maybe less than 100% straight in the bell curve” in other conversations.

I mutter about this on the side to Ezra and some friends, but continue on towards the 100 ticker that was the goal to show people in this digital terrarium how disingenuous most people you argue with are -- an exhibit for the class. They know they’re lying and have been caught, but will not cede to admit “oops, I guess I was wrong.” but rather stick, unironically, to their own headcanons about things. After all, they vaguely sorta apologized even if suddenly just refusing to use any pronouns at all on Ezra after that. And she’s so quick to disappear into 15 tweet bombs of distraction trying to play victim for being held accountable at this point, we just didn’t jump to a conclusion on that, alarming as it is.

So. You know. Source.

At this point, she RANDOMLY starts evoking the fact that like, How Dare, She Watched Gay Men Die To AIDS, She Is A Great Philanthropist How Dare How Dare. 

I’m sorry, did you just evoke the blood of our dead to run away from the most basic scrap of accountability in what is literally the first wave of a lit debate because for the last 10 hours you have refused to take the necessary steps to move on to the next point? Did you... just... evoke the ghosts of gay men that were genocided to, essentially, pull up a smokescreen and run away from being party to queer erasure? Or even just? Giving a source? or admitting you were wrong on one point in a debate? Wow, you really just did that. 

Naturally, people involved got pissed. Her Sources ticker hit 100, but at this point, all that haunted her was how completely fucking vile and inappropriate that was in this discussion. 

She got blocked. She then tried to glom onto anyone that hadn’t blocked or muted her and run the same argumentation points she had earlier been decimated in the argument with, while yelling “I ship Destiel too! I wanted them to have sex too! Why does this make me the bad guy?” around the block and hoping nobody actually read the thread. She tried to pitch the “headcanons” point of view again, hoping a new audience would lick her boots. She was, largely, ignored; given a few more comments about her leaving the conversation losing all points and only covered in the blood of our dead she was so proud of; blocked by a few more. (unsurprisingly, if you check her actual tweet history, she seems more invested in Megstiel but)

This is when CommaSameleon -- a professor with two lit degrees and a primary focus in teaching the art of Argumentation -- literally -- stepped in. She initially tried to engage the fact that, well, this woman not only can’t argue out of a paper sack but wasn’t even arguing, she was just running in circles and distracting from all the points and hadn’t addressed a single lit point directly while preaching down at people. But Sam, also, noticed something. This woman kept changing things like “queerphobia” to “homophobia.” Sam mentioned this kinda puts off TERF vibes (I think Sam picked up on the gendering thing herself too.)

Her response? Which she deleted since? But Discord’s embed helpfully saved?

Her inacted non-apologies remain weak, especially in any form of debate be it lit or now queer topics.

Oh I’m sorry, let’s recap her viewpoints: TERF is a slur. “They” is made up and should be avoided at all costs. The blood of dead gay men are a token to use in a lit debate you’re avoiding responsibility in. After this, “authors are headcanons” is suddenly not your worst take, but fascinating that you 13 times didn’t even read the blatant ass screenshot. And I mean, these weren’t subtle or easy to miss these 13 times.

100. She had 100 chances, literally, on a timer, to give a source or shut up with her platforming until she had one. Instead, she chose every rabbit hole she could manifest to disappear into, only to be met by another request for a source, and not moving on until we address the first points. We’ve given ours, now you give yours. Instead, you choose this. This is the hill you choose to die on, rather than admitting, “Sorry, I guess I was wrong” or “I guess I heard that somewhere, my bad.” 100 chances. 13 direct QT requests to address gender which she replied to but didn’t reply to until cornered (and still didn’t, truly, reply to), and “TERF is a slur.” Oh, and after waving around the dead men’s blood she also suddenly Can’t Be A Terf Because She Adopted Two Trans Kids. Lord help those children. Or, you know, the more realistic thing is she’s just manifesting all kinds of bullshit at this point to save face, which is probably why she deleted all the related tweets that show she’s a giant-ass TERF.

So anyway, this is very much a lesson on:

Paying attention to how people manipulate conversation to erase genuine discussion and debate.

Paying attention to WHY they do it. Motivation on methods and tactics will clear up a lot.

Figuring out HOW they try to sound woke about shit and when it’s entirely fucking vile and inappropriate to pull

And by all above points, figuring out that these people are among us, and how NOT to let them influence your conversations.

I don’t care if it’s about a discussion on a ship or show or anything else. People do this. A lot. Extremely dedicatedly, if the 100 asks doesn’t make that clear. 

Stop letting people railroad your conversations with disingenuous bullshit.

So anyway in honor of this I made everyone a gif

Use at will. It’s tagged anti-terf if you want to use the search feature on it.

UPDATE: 

Just went and checked. She went and deleted literally her entire side of the conversation, hundreds if not thousands of tweets. Luckily, Ezra mentioned repeatedly -- and I do trust them inherently -- that they were saving the entire conversation, so that zip file exists somewhere. How fascinating, after she accused us that we would want to delete tweets. Someone realized they had a bad look and giant failure all around.

Also, a related anon that links to an earlier part of this conversation I didn’t even document where she was crying about “cis erasure” [x] This shit went on so long I legit forgot about that.

[guessimjoiningthespidermanfandom]

No One Lives Forever Not Even God

Peter Parker x bisexual!reader

Peter Parker x fem!reader

Peter Parker x black!reader

Peter Parker x villain!reader 

Warnings: Language, Insomnia, mentions of antidepressants, mentions of drugs, drug use, mentions of addiction, mentions of nazis, parental neglect, mentions of the dead, cemeteries, mentions of meltdowns,  corrupt government, mentions of cancer, low self esteem, self destructive behavior, medical testing, thoughts of murder, mentions of injury, and mentions of knives, 

Word Count: 6.1k

Songs: Mother- Pink Floyd, He Can Only Hold Her- Amy Whinehouse, A Pearl- Mitski, Me and My Husband- Mitski, Saint Bernard- Lincon, Why Didn't You Stop Me?- Mistki, Nuestro Planeta- Kali Uchis, You Know I'm No Good-Amy Whinehouse, and Love Is a Losing Game- Amy Whinehouse.

 "I’ve been in a very poetic mood lately. I think it’s funny how anything could be considered poetry and something you relate too. Like Twitter or any other social media and the ongoing gag of people feeling the need to announce the fact that they’re making moves in silence. But that’s what I’m doing, making moves in silence. If anyone is in my business now I’m politely asking you to remove yourself from it before I make you.”

A/N: I only did one proofread so sorry if there are typos and this is just more of an infodump to set up other chapters so enjoy ig. I almost gonna start another series a social media AU let me know if you'd want to be tagged in either of these series.

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Nightmares come while I’m asleep but, when I’m awake the nightmares of the day just come for me then, so really I’m just stuck. I would like to say the antidepressants are working, it's just the insomnia that comes with them isn't working for me. I’m honestly starting to think mood stabilizers would do me better.

Mother, do you think they'll drop the bomb?

I’m not sure I could blame this all on the pills though. I’d have to give some of the credit to the massive bombshell that a certain ex Avenger had dropped on me. 

It's almost like every five seconds a new giant secret about my mom is unveiled to me. Like sure I saw from the video that she’d left me that she had associations with some bad people like Kingpin but nazis? 

SHIELD had apparently collapsed because it was infiltrated by Hydra but it was prevalent while my mom was still alive. Seems like she had worked for or with everyone who was anyone. I’m just gonna give her the benefit of the doubt and assume she didn’t know because up until two weeks ago I didn’t either. 

Her and Natasha had been recruited at the same time and worked together but for someone who claims to have been so close to her you’d think she’d know that she was dead. “She went off the grid and that was the last I heard from her,” is all she gave me with a smile that even I could tell was fake and I’d just met the woman. 

You know when grown folks come up to you and expect you to remember them because they met you once while you were like in the womb that’s kinda my relationship with Natasha. She knows so much about me and I know absolutely nothing about her save for the fact she's a spy meaning she’d be a great liar. 

She used to babysit me sometimes if I could trust what she says that is. Apparently I called her “Auntie Nat”. For some reason no one ever thought it was a good idea to inform me that I had a godmother. Maybe they did and I just forgot. 

I thought they were supposed to take care of you when something happened to your parents. And the one who’s alive is about as useless as the other. It might be fun to have another person that was considered family. Just maybe not a spy at least I’d know she’d walk out of my life so I won’t get attached. 

Mother, do you think they'll like the song?

“Hey mom,” I sighed sitting down in the light dusting in front of her tombstone. “I know it’s been a while and I’ve got a lot to catch you up on,” 

It took a bit of digging before I found what I was looking for in my bag. I ran my fingers along the cold surface of the small jewelry box. There was puffy white glue holding the larger pieces together. 

I placed the box in the grass sitting next to the tombstone. I removed a purple coiled bracelet and sat it next to the box. 

I tucked my legs under my body admiring the piece of jewelry. 

“I brought you a bracelet,” I spoke. “It’s kinda like a friendship bracelet cause I have the other. I don’t know if I should leave it here in case someone steals it,” I laughed. “You’d have to be a real shitty person to steal from a cemetery though,”

I curse so often I didn’t realize I did it until I had already done it. 

“Ah sorry! Excuse my French,” I chuckled.

“I met Natasha Romanoff and she said she knew you. She said she knew me too. I don’t remember her though…” I trailed off. 

For someone who claimed to have a lot to say I sure was at a loss for words. I just didn’t know how to get any of them out. 

“Oh! You’re not gonna believe me if I tell you but I got to meet some of the Avengers. Most of them were new though. You’d know some of them. Like Captain America I wanted his help but he couldn’t provide it,” 

I had a bit of an episode when I was told no one knew where Thor was. I think it was justified though.

 How the fuck do you lose two Avengers let alone the ones that can’t possibly be hidden. One is green and huge and the other leaves lightning bolts everywhere they go.  

Mother, do you think they'll try to break my balls?

“The other is Natasha but I don’t think I really knew that yet. She went by Black Widow. I’m sure you knew that though. You probably know a lot,” 

I wonder how many secrets she never told me about. I mean I could only imagine all the secrets working for the government would let you in on. Like she probably knew about big stuff like the Tesseract and aliens maybe she could’ve known about that. 

“Okay I have a question. I have a lot actually but I think if you answer them I’m gonna get up and run out of here,” I joked. 

“Number one is my middle name Natalia because of your SHIELD buddy? Like it might just be a coincidence but it could also be a godmother typa situation or something,”

It was a running theory. She would’ve known my mom before I was born. And if what I was told is true they’d be pretty close too and Natasha translates back to Natalia and I know she’s Russian. It makes sense. 

Ooh

Mother, should I build the wall? 

“Uh… there’s this boy,” 

When was there not? It seems like there was always someone in my life. Carmen in therapist mode said it’s because I put my self worth into my relationship status.

 “He’s really nice. Like really really nice. Nicer than anybody I’ve ever been associated with. It’s just he’s like…” I didn't know how to put the next part into words. “He’s just too nice. Too nice for me at least. Like he’s such a good person and I’m just me,” 

“And it’s I feel bad,” I sighed. I was getting myself too worked up over this. “Like I keep playing like a game of tug a war with him where I let him in and kick him out again it’s tiring. I don’t even do it on purpose. I feel like we could be something maybe. But I can’t let that happen. I won’t let that happen. It’s a self defense mechanism. At least I think.” 

I do it with everyone. I shut them out before they can get it. The less people you let into your life the less people that can walk out. 

It’s a bulletproof tactic. At least I used to think it was. Never realized people could get hurt including myself. 

“I saw dad,” I informed myself? I guess I’m not sure how healthy it is to have a conversation with someone you know can’t respond and isn't listening. “Like two days ago actually I didn’t say anything I freaked out and ran away. It made me think though,”

Mother, should I run for president?

Made me think about how I’d done so well on my own. Well I’m not gonna take all the credit, most of it was Carmen keeping my ass in line. I haven’t talked to her in a while. I haven’t talked to anyone in a while. 

”I found a small studio apartment in Queens. It was the cheapest one I could find. I’m just renting it like an Airbnb right now. I need to find a permanent place and a job,”

 I couldn’t find a permanent place at my age unless I had full autonomy which leads me to my next topic. 

“So I was thinking about getting emancipated which everything would’ve been a lot easier if you were here then we could just go to court for custody cause you’d win for sure.” 

Mother, should I trust the government?

“I know you never got to know how corrupt SHIELD was but do they like keep tabs on everyone who does anything to them or related to them? Because like I did a little snooping and I know they had files for all the Avengers and other people like Kingpin.” 

I knew I was going to have to do more than sit here and ask a dead person what to do but ranting to someone who couldn’t spill my secrets was a start.

 “I was just wondering how deep it went or if they had hidden stuff on me,” 

Mother, will they put me in the firing line?

It’s probably common knowledge that if you mess with the government they’ll mess back. I’d like to think they were like bees. You leave them alone they’ll leave you alone. Only stinging when provoked. 

But every branch of the government is like a wasp. They don’t die if they sting and they’ll sting you for no reason at all. They just like to see people in pain.

And I’m sure the energy research branch of SHIELD would probably be more than interested in a walking fire bomb that can move things without touching them. 

I mean I’m not going to stop poking things around until I figure out what’s wrong with me. So might as well not complain. 

“So I don’t have many things figured out right now and the whole you and SHIELD thing only confused me more so if you could just like come tell me what to do just this once that’d be great,” I laughed.

 At first I was contemplating if this was weird or not but hearing me say that I now know this is pathetic. It always has been.

Ooh

Is it just a waste of time?

But I didn’t know if I should keep searching. Maybe I should just pretend like I’d never gotten introduced to the world of powers or mutations at all. For all I know Peter, Carmen, Felicia, Wade and I are just normal people who do normal people stuff. 

Sure I wanted answers but I didn’t want to end up like those people who spend their whole life searching for an answer they won’t find any and end up never living at all. 

Like a quote my mom used to say all the time “The brave may not live forever but the cautious do not live at all,” 

She really just used it so she didn’t have to listen to being put on bed rest but it obviously had a deeper meaning and she knew that. 

I keep finding myself stuck on that phrase. That and the whole when the dust settles poem. 

I’ve been in a very poetic mood lately. I think it’s funny how anything could be considered poetry and something you relate too.

 Like Twitter or any other social media and the ongoing gag of people feeling the need to announce the fact that they’re making moves in silence. 

But that’s what I’m doing, making moves in silence. If anyone is in my business now I’m politely asking you to remove yourself from it before I make you. 

“Uh I don’t know if I should even tell you this cause you died before it was even a problem in the first place but…” I blew out a breath digging my feet deeper into the ground.

 “I’ve been clean for like two weeks now. Which is actually a thing I’m pretty proud of right now.” 

I’d stopped using everything except weed, nicotine because those weren’t drugs and even then I used it way less than before. Oh, and my antidepressants too but that’s obviously okay they’re prescribed. 

I hated the word clean made me seem like an addict which I wasn’t. I’m many things but I wasn’t an addict. I just didn’t know of any other words to use. 

I wasn’t an addict but I’d say the lines between recreational use and dependency were blurring just a bit. I had gotten it straight though. I’m good now. The antidepressants are helping. 

Hush now baby, baby, don't you cry

“You have a superpower of just making people feel better immediately. I don’t know if it was the fact you were my mom or what but if you even just put a bandaid on a stab wound it’d probably stop hurting and disappear,” 

I wasn’t even exaggerating there was this one time I got hurt at the zoo and she just kissed it and I forgot about the fact that I even fell. 

I’m not sure how true that is though because I couldn’t actually recall the memory I was just told about it by my mom a few years after it happened. So I guess I remember not remembering then being reminded. Weird. 

“I wanna see the giraffes!” Aaliyah cried, stomping her feet down on the concrete.

This was one of the only times mom didn’t have to work on the weekends and Liyah had to have her way like always. 

“Mom!” I screamed “Tell her you said we could see the lions first,” 

She just sighed. “Well since she’s the youngest do you think you could be nice and let her go first please?” 

“Fine,” I huffed. I wasn’t doing it for Liyah, I was doing it for mom. Even a blind person could see how tired she’d been lately. 

Liyah laughed at me sticking her tongue out. She’s such a brat.

“You’re so dumb.” I rolled my eyes at her.

“I know you are but what am I ?” She teased hitting my shoulder before running away.  

I took off after her. She may have been fast but I knew I could catch up to her. 

I almost had her when my foot got caught on something. It launched me towards the ground and I put my hands down to catch myself but I still hit my knee.

I slid on the concrete scuffing my leg. I didn’t scream because that would make me weak and it didn't hurt that bad. I just bit my lip and stood up. 

I didn’t want to limp but it hurt too much to put pressure on my leg. 

Liyah had beat me back to mom and when I reached them she was already apologizing. 

Fake.

 She was just scared to get in trouble. I wasn’t gonna snitch on her anyways. 

“Let me see it,” Mom asked, grabbing my arm, pulling me to sit down on a stonehenge. 

She reached into her purse and pulled out a first aid kit. She always had everything in her purse. It was kinda like a super power. The black Marry Poppins. 

She wiped the scrape with an alcohol wipe and I just barely hissed. It didn’t even really hurt anymore. 

She placed a bandaid on it, smoothing her hands on top of it before placing a kiss there. 

“There,” She wiped her hands on her thighs before standing up “All better?” 

I nodded my head and we went off to see the giraffes because I’m nice like that.

“In case you were wondering, Aaliyah still always gets her way even now. I’d say she’s got me beat on the manipulation game honestly,” 

It’s fine though I taught her everything she knows not everything I know. I could still get one over on her if needed. 

Mama's gonna make all of your nightmares come true

“I found your pendant, the SHIELD one. Which I guess makes all of this real no matter how much I want it to be fake. I just want this to be a poorly written book where I wake up and the past five years were all a dream,” 

God knows how much I meant that. Well maybe I didn’t mean it too much because some people I’ve met in the past five years are people I don’t think I could survive very long without. Even though I kinda exploded on everyone so maybe I’m gonna have to test my theory on how long I can really survive. 

“Hey Doc,” I greeted pushing up the door of the restaurant. 

“Hey sweetheart, how ya been?” He queried.

“I’ve been better,” 

“I hear ya,” He nodded. 

Once we were in the back of the restaurant aka his office. I pulled out the diamond. Doc knew everything about everyone and anything. He could also make a duplicate of anything you gave him. 

“Whatcha got for me?” He asked, rubbing his hands together. 

“This, I’m not sure what it is,” 

I placed the bird pendant on the desk. I found it in a shoe box filled with my mom's stuff. 

“I was wondering if you knew,” 

He lifted it up to his eye to get a better view, His eyesight so bad that his glasses were practically a magnifying glass. 

“It’s a crest, I don’t think I’ve seen this before it’s most likely from a government branch,” He placed it back down on his messy desk. “I can do some more extensive research for you if you’d like,” 

“Yes, that’d be great,” 

“Stop by again tomorrow and I’ll fill you

I wish I never went back to Doc’s place or found out about flash drive, Vulture, SHIELD, any of it. Just when I thought my life couldn’t get anymore fucked up the devil came out the woodworks and spit in my face. 

Mama's gonna put all of her fears into you

“I remember all that testing they did after I agreed to do whatever Stark needed me to do sooo badly. I still don’t really know what he did- or he’s doing with all that DNA and other stuff he’d gotten from me,” 

Aren’t the Avengers and by default Tony Stark products of SHIELD so wouldn't that mean whoever’s behind all of that could’ve been the one to tell Tony about the fire thing in the first place. 

That had been the main thing about the whole Stark situation that I still couldn’t figure out. Someone needs to tell me how he found out and they better tell me now. 

“There are multiple lacerations 1-2 inches lining the upper and lower abdomen,” The doctor lady announced to her assistant. Before moving her cold hand away from my side pushing my shirt back down. 

Okay that’s chill nothing I haven’t had before. 

“We’re gonna have to do another X-ray is that okay?” Her assistant asked. I wasn’t going to bother to learn their names. I was planning to stay that long anyways. 

What’s the point? They’re just going to come back and say the machine is broken and then do another blood test. 

“Yeah sure,” 

I was led into a much bigger room than the last. There was much more machinery too. 

I was strapped down to a cold blue cushioned table by leather straps. Straps weren’t really necessary, not like I was planning on lashing out and mauling anyone. 

I closed my eyes when the flashes of the machine went off. Apparently I had fractured three of my ribs and bruised my sternum. 

You’d think they’d let me go now but noooo they need more blood and then when they were done drawing blood. 

They had to hook me up to a machine to monitor- I don’t even fucking know what they were monitoring. 

I just know I had all the pads with wires on my temples and chest and everywhere else. It reminded me of that one time I had to do a sleep study. 

Except they didn’t have holographs to read off and fancy probably government funded tech then. They sure as hell didn’t have all this whispering either. Or maybe they did and I was just unconscious.

Still I didn’t even want to actually be here and I was cold for once. 

“How much long do we have here?” I groaned.

“Not much longer. We just have and MRI left,” 

Yeah right. I was gonna be in here for the rest of my life

“I could probably go back there if I wanted answers,” I spoke quietly. 

“But I don’t want the government in my business like that well at least just not more than they probably are already at least and the tests are so invasive,” 

Mama's gonna keep you right here under her wing

That’s not the only invasive thing in my life. Or should I say was in my life? I don’t fucking care really.

 My dad was somehow the strictest and the most lenient person ever. I think he just wanted control.

 I used to blame his alcoholism for everything he did but no really he’s just a shitty person. A shitty person who likes to beat on women and take doors off the hinges. 

“You are so pathetic!” My mom screamed at my dad. 

 They had been at this all night. For so long that I’m seriously contemplating jumping out of this small window right now. 

Sapphire had no qualms sleeping on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor. Aaliyah and I however were still wide awake. 

I’m not sure exactly what was going on in her head but I’m assuming we're still up for the same reason. To kill our dad if he even touches our mom. 

I had a kitchen knife in hand as I sat on the bathroom sink. I always had a knife every time my dad started yelling a little too aggressively just in case but this time felt different. Like I was really prepared to stab him this time. 

I didn’t know what it was but something felt off. 

“Are they done?” Aaliyah asked, rubbing her eyes. The apartment had fallen silent. 

“I don’t know. Stay here,” I hopped down off the sink. 

I should’ve known she wasn’t gonna listen to me. The kitchen was empty which means they must’ve moved to their room.  

The next moment was the sort straight out of a family sitcom except the family was falling apart and the kids were going crazy but otherwise it could’ve very well been an “oopsie” misunderstanding moment. Where the younger child asks “Are mommy and daddy getting a divorce?” 

Then the oldest child pulls them into their body and whispers “I dunno kiddo,” or “No they’re just going through a rough patch,” anything like that.

 Except it wasn’t that. That wasn’t what she said and that wasn’t what Aaliyah asked me. 

God how I wish that was what she asked me. 

I have a bad habit of acting before I think. I opened the door opening my mouth to let out the words in my brain. 

“You’re dying? How are you dying?” 

They both turned to look at me like they were just noticing they weren’t alone. 

My mom sighed moving closer to me grabbing my arm. 

“I’m- Im not no ones dying,” 

The door creaked as Aaliyah pushed her way into the room. 

“But you said ‘I need you to step up you need to know how to handle it when I’m dead’,” She paraphrased cleaning out the cuss words. 

“It didn’t mean literally dying right now,” 

Now I could see how this could be us just jumping to conclusions from like two sentences but she had been weird lately. Like she’s always traveled a lot and been secretive but lately she’s been extra secretive. 

And I could tell the secret wasn’t to protect herself so whos to say it wasn’t the fact she was currently dying. It actually makes perfect sense. 

I’m starting to wish I wasn’t always right. Stage 4 Lymphoma. Basically we should go coffin shopping pretty soon. 

If only she wasn’t so selfish and would get treatment for it. She couldn’t leave me here by myself. Who’s gonna take care of us if she dies.

 I’d thought about it before and I decided I’d take on the role of caregiver for my sisters but then it was only a what if situation. 

Wade has cancer and he’s not dead but that’s only because he got pumped with like super drugs shit. 

Now I just needed to find some super drugs and figure out how to get her to take them. 

Fuck Cancer and fuck my dad. Why couldn’t he have gotten the diagnosis instead of my mom. A life for a life type beat. 

I guess that wouldn’t have made for a good tragic backstory would it. And what fun is life without a tragic backstory.

 My only question is when does the backstory end and when does the actual plot begin because clearly I’m not there yet. It’s only tragedy after tragedy.

 Maybe that is my story, just pain and suffering. Someone has to be the butt of the joke. 

She won't let you fly but she might let you sing

“You always told me to surround myself with people who you could block out the rest of the world with. Peter’s like that so was Olivia she was one of those people for me. When we weren’t yelling at each other or crying, I mean. Still wish you could’ve met her though,” 

“AH YES!” I exclaimed, pumping my fist. “I found it,” I waved the joint in the air.��

“Alright come sit down then,” Olivia laughed, patting the seat on the couch next to her. 

“Shit,” I muttered. “Where’s the lighter?” 

She just laughed at me again. Before reaching into my pocket and slipping it out. I couldn’t help but smile at how intimate that action felt for no reason at all. 

I quickly and lightly pressed my lips to hers muttering a quick “thank you,” 

About three minutes had passed and I could feel the weed taking course through my system. 

My head was in her lap until I abruptly shot up gasping at the beginning of Super Rich Kids by Frank Ocean. 

“Dance with me,” I pleaded it didn’t take much convincing because here we were twirling around. Although it was much more giggling than dancing. 

I bumped my leg on the glass coffee table and immediately apologized making Liv and I laugh so hard I almost peed my pants.

I was laid out on the soft white fur rug with Olivia laying her chin on my chest. I ran my hands through her hair. 

It was actually very easy there were no knots my fingers just glided smoothly through. 

“I mean shit,” I breathed “I know I can’t run from the rest of the world forever but until then? Bitch you can call me Flash cause I’m zoomin’.” 

She giggled at that before speaking up.

“You don’t have to run you can just stay here with me forever,” 

Her words were so genuine it made me want to cry. She basically just said “I love you” in more or less words. 

“You know what? I think I might,” 

She gave me a tired smile, turning her head to place a kiss on the top of my breast. 

I smiled back at her and how adorable she looked right now. I just want to kiss her for the rest of forever. 

When I glanced back down at her I could hear her breathing slow and her eyes had fluttered shut. She was asleep. 

I felt all warm and fuzzy and at peace and I couldn’t tell if it was the weed or if it was just being in Olivia’s presence. 

I wasn’t ready to say these words to her when she was conscious yet maybe I’d never be ready but I’d say them now. Just to get them off my chest. 

“I love you,” I whispered. 

I never really felt comfortable saying that to anyone. Probably a result of not hearing it enough as a child or something. My family’s never been affectionate anyway. That’s fine because I wasn’t my family, I was my own person. 

Stroking her hair gently before drifting off to the land of dreams myself.

So much for forever huh? 

It’s funny to think how I took times like that for granted if only I knew those were some of the only moments of normalcy I’d get for a while. I’d spent too much time thinking about what could’ve been with almost everything. 

So much so that I didn’t take much time to actually be. Now I feel like I’ve made it to the point of no return. Not mentally but like with everyone else around me. I think I pushed people too far away this time. Not so sure I could get them back. 

“Uh I can't really remember what I’ve already told you so I’ll run through it all. This vigilante or superhero Spiderman started doing his thing then I got caught up in his mess.” That was most definitely an oversimplification but what do I look like telling my mom I was a well known thief. “Then his relation to Tony Stark got extended to me so now I kinda do stuff for him but I don’t work for him.” 

I don't work for him he might think I do, but in reality he works for me. I had almost everyone at the compound wrapped around my finger. 

“I don’t think I really wanna work for anyone. I was offered to be an Avenger in training but that isn’t really my style. I will use his gym though.” I rambled on. 

It was kinda weird how easy it was to rant to my mom like this because not like she could voice her opinions about anything. I guess I hadn’t visited in so long that I forgot what it was like. 

Mama's gonna keep baby cosy and warm

“Oh!” I exclaimed remembering a very important factor that I left out. “Then we have the whole Staten Island fiasco that I told you about. I remember telling you that. I’m still searching for answers on how I did that too,” 

Like some real answers not that radiation BS.

“Your phone’s broken,” I pointed out the cracked screen sitting on the wood. 

“Oh shit!” Peter cried “May’s gonna kill me this is the second phone I’ve broken this month,” 

I came off way calmer than I was feeling. I’m surprised I wasn’t running around screaming right about now. I was probably just paralyzed in fear. 

How do you react in a situation like this in the first place. 

“Okay how long are we going to be sitting here? What are we waiting on?” We’d be up here looking down at the fire crackling underneath the pier for like 15 minutes now. 

“I don’t know actually,” He sighed. 

“Uh…” 

How was I supposed to respond to that? That was the driest response to anything in the history of the world.

 “Well since I’ve already pinky promised I won’t spill your secret can I ask some questions while we wait for you to figure it out?” 

“Sure, go ahead,” He nodded, shaking his arms. 

“Okay number one did you think I had died or something because if someone burst into flames in front of me I’d probably think Satan was coming for me. I’d cry too,” I laughed but had to stop myself as the stabbing in my ribs ran through me. 

“No, I didn’t think you were dead, you had a pulse,” He pointed out “Maybe I could’ve thought you were dying though. And I wasn’t crying,” 

Liar. He so was crying. 

“Aw you don’t have to lie I think it’s cute,” I teased if I didn’t feel like my body was falling apart I might’ve poked his side.

“Alright, second question: do the webs like come out of you? Cause that’s kinda disgusting,” 

“No, I make them with chemicals ‘n stuff. I’d explain the science to you but I’m not sure how much you’d care.” 

I let out a small laugh knowing what feeling would come if I laughed too hard. 

“I mean you could explain it ‘m just not sure how much of it I’d understand,” 

We both laughed at that. 

“On the topic of the webs what’s there integrity like how well do they hold up or like how long,” 

“Uh…” He blew out a breath running his hands over his face “As far as I know they last up to two hours. That is unless someone cuts them or something,” 

I couldn’t help but wonder if Thorn was one of those someone’s to cut the webs maybe I was the only someone. I didn’t really need to ask the question. Aaron had already answered the question for me when he told me about the deal at the ferry. I just wanted to see what Peter would tell me honestly. 

I spent the rest of the night asking questions and cracking jokes. I was talking for so long I didn’t realize how late it’s gotten. 

It should be a world record how fast I managed to fuck up 5 friendships. Well it’s my personal best at least. Only took like 4 minutes. 

I feel like that’s all I do is just fuck up everything. I used to believe there was a difference between being fucked up and being a fuckup but the older I get the more I realize that there isn’t. 

It’s like someone built a self destruct button in my head and every time something good happens to me I feel the need to run away. 

Like Peter he’s literally perfect he's smart, respectful,  adorable, and selfless. He’s literally a fucking superhero for godsake. 

I was trying so hard not to fall asleep. I really was but all the Trigonometry chapter was doing was mixing with the sound of rain outside and triggering the urge to fall into a deep sleep. 

“Okay,” Peter tapped his textbook with his pen. I wish I could be confident enough to do math with a pen. 

“So sin is equal to the opposite of whatever angle you’re trying to find so first you have too…” 

He droned on, I knew he was talking about the math problem lying on the bed in front of me but I wasn’t listening. Maybe if I sat at the desk I could actually be paying attention right now. 

“Y/N?” 

“Hmm?” I sat up on my elbows yawning.

“Are you tired?” 

I just hummed again. Until I realized what the question was. I reached for my phone and it was already 9:03 that woke me up for sure.

“Oh shit! I gotta get back,” 

Not like I’d get in trouble or anything but Carmen would get on my ass about the fact I didn’t come back when I said I would then she’d make something out of nothing. 

I scrambled around trying to find all my things to put them back in my bag.

“Wait it’s raining though,” Peter pointed out.

“Yeah,” I chuckled “It’s New York it’s always raining,” 

“Yeah but it’s cold and wet and dark so if you tried to skate you’d probably get hurt,” 

I knew what he was doing and it was working because frankly all his excuses were shit because one I don’t get cold and two I could just walk and there are lights everywhere but I was gonna stay anyway. I was too tired to argue right now. 

“May!” Peter shouted.

“Yes?” She called back. 

“Can Y/N stay for the night?” 

“Yeah if her parents are okay with it,” 

That’s how I ended up wearing some shirt with some dumb science pun sitting on the couch watching Aladdin for like the millionth time ever. I was singing along to One jump ahead  when I felt eyes on me. 

I turned my head but before I could make eye contact with Peter he acted as if he was watching the movie the whole time.

“What?” I giggled. Fuck, I hadn’t like genuinely giggled in the longest time.

“Nothing,” He replied, turning back towards the TV again. 

This time I was the one to stare at him wondering what was going on in his head. Not even the fourth song in and I was already yawning struggling to keep my head up.

 This goes to show how much willpower I had because I couldn’t even stop my eyelids from falling shut. I deserved to sleep though I’d been exhausted lately. 

There’s only like 6 people on this planet that I trust enough to fall asleep around and surprisingly Peter had become one with like 5 months of knowing me.

 I would still trust him if given the chance I’m just not sure how much he trusts me right now. I understand though. I don’t deserve anyone’s trust. 

Taglist: 

@tomdiddlyumptious​

[currentfandomkick]

Marinette did not sign up for this part 10: Mari plots plotting

So long time no post. I live. Ish. Also finally figured out readmore on mobile, so yay. Will take forever to edit posts now though. Explanation at the bottom First part here previous part here. Ao3 here

Marinette wanted to go on record that Mandeliev did not, in fact, give her an extra day or so to study for the test. Why? Instead, she was told she may do a paper on the application of physics in gymnastics and principles of evasion in urban areas and how to combine the two to maximize one’s ability to run away from akumas and other dangers.

Or as Nino put it: “I am tormenting you into running better, the eight page essay.”

Alya dubbed it the “Run Better Paper.”

Aurore said it should include more formulas when Marinette showed her the draft. (as Adrien would complain about lack of theories and how she should have used this advanced formula she’d never heard of instead and then Marinette would have to forcibly stop him from taking over her paper. Again.)

Kim had taken to keeping her in his hoodie, escorting her to the bakery and didn’t leave her alone until Adrien said it was his “Marinette Anxiety Watch” shift.

Which she would like to go on record, is just plain mean to say. She has Liar 100% under control when world ending things and metaphorical bomb drops aren’t happening to her constantly.

—-

Bruce tried to contact Diana and Arthur again. Hal was off world, and therefore useless.

Why?

As his missing son hadn’t contacted them yet. Was still in the Miraculous team’s custody. And he saw the footage of Robin—Damian—being hunted by a lving shadow, an element casting swordswoman, and a strategist that seemed to know exactly what to do to keep Robin cornered in battle. The living shadows—Chat Noir—tried to kill his son with Cataclysm.

That was when they were in public, and had Hal watching over them.

He didn’t want to think about what the kids might do unsupervised to someone that tried to kill Ladybug, openly stalked her civilian self, and apparently tried stalk her again, in broad daylight. And possibly may have revealed her secret identity…

From the comments, it seemed that the Parisians hadn’t connected his sons aliases to the pair, writing it off as “Copy-cat Vigilantes” thankfully. And none of them were revealing more than “so the Fashion Disaster tried to go after Chat and Ryuko’s civvie… Not A Smart CopyBird” was the most he was able to get.

His children, on the other hand…

——

“I Fucking KNEW IT!” Tim yelled. “I knew it was her!”

“But,” Jason smirked. “You didn’t tell us.”

“Soup girl, baby bat!” Cass said gleefully.

“Wait, we both talked to her—and you didn’t say you thought it was her either Cass!”

“So what I’m hearing, if my ears don’t deceive me,” Jason continued. “Is that you all lost too.”

“What—“

“Wait a minute!”

“No way—”

Cass shrugged. She was the least invested in winning. She got to meet soup girl, who is very nice and her parents are safe for Baby Bat.

“We don’t have proof,” Dick pointed out. “Didn’t you say something about her being a mouse?”

“I—”

“Well—”

“Yes.” Cass cut through Tim and Stephanie’s waffling. “She is.”

Dick rubbed his forehead. “How many secrets can one kid have?”

“Five?” Jason said without much thought. “Limit is definitely five.”

—-

“Let me get this straight,” Miss Sting began, watching Ladybug very, very carefully. Rena and Carapace were busy that night and couldn’t act as the team’s Common Sense Filter in person. and texts only went so far.

So the job fell to Aurore. To talk (probably Marinette) Ladybug out of a Very, Stupendously, Inconceivably Bad Idea.

“You want to trust Robin—the kid who tried to kill you—to contact his mother—an assassin—to talk strategy about how to take down Hawkmoth’s civilian life’s business, not kill him, and trust that they won’t kill you?”

“…I’m bringing Chat with me.”

“Ladybug.”

“What, do you want me to use a Lucky Charm to prove this is our best bet?”

“You know what?” Miss Sting threw her hands up. “Yes, yes I do.”

“Fine.” Ladybug threw her yoyo skyward. “Lucky Charm!”

A red, spotted ball with an 8 on it came down.

“… you have got to be kidding me.”

Ladybug shrugged. “Uh, Magic Eightball, is it okay to trust Robin with this?”

One shake later and the floating die window read “Without a Doubt.”

“Give me that.” Miss Sting scowled, shaking as she asked. “Should she bring someone besides Chat and Robin—like someone from our team or Wonder Woman or Aquaman?”

The ball answered “Outlook not so good.”

Miss Sting glared at the magic eight ball. “I can’t believe this!”

Ladybug shrugged. “Lucky Charms are Lucky Charms—and I gotta go.”

Miss Sting checked her beeping spinning top. Someone was just akumatized.

“Re-charge first!” Miss Sting yelled before swinging ahead.

—-

“Oh, hey, when’s Demon Spawn going to contact us?” Jason asked as other bats calmed down.

“He’s not answering his communicator.” Bruce growled. “Hal took it earlier.”

The bats paused at that.

“Well then. Trackers?”

“Disabled—what? We didn’t need anyone crashing the apology and he ran off before I could stop him,” Dick defended. He is not Damian’s keeper. Just his Batman (as yes Bruce, he is Damian’s Batman and Damian is his Robin. Current masks not-withstanding).

“Then how are we supposed to find him?” Stephanie asked as the room grew uneasy.

No one answered that.

“How’s this,” Tim began. “Me, Steph and Cass agreed on who Hawkmoth probably is, each of us has a different set of evidence for it—and I’m counting breaking into his evil Liar and the cameras catching him mid-act a few minutes ago as absolute proof.”

“I’m sorry, you did what!” Stephanie leaned over Tim’s shoulder to see. “Oh shit. Isn’t that guy—”

“One of her friends? According to their private Instagram accounts, more like partner in crime and possible Chat Noir. I mean, he’s the one that calls her his “everyday Ladybug” and voices Chat Noir in everything." Tim answered idly. “My money’s on him not knowing at all.”

Bruce twitched. Then began to add ‘stalking social media feeds’ to his to-do list tonight.

“So,” Tim stepped forward. “I suggest we send this to the Wonder Woman and ask for Robin’s comm to be returned, and failing that, I bugged the video so anything they play it on, we get access to its IP and can find where they are.”

“Have Oracle go over the bug, just in case,” Bruce told them. “In the mean time, the rest of you suit up for the night. Gotham needs its vigilantes.”

—-

Marinette wanted to go on the record that her plan (to keep the bats away) was going well. Deciding what to do with Mu—R—Damian. Damian. Damian and his offer, was a challenge.

For obvious reasons, Green Lantern, Wonder Woman and Aquaman were against her asking a bunch of assassins for their help. Chat has more than a few reservations. Carapace, Rena and Miss Sting gave her looks for that plan.

But.

But it would work. She needs more information on how to make the plan burning in the back of her mind work. It’s a lot of chaos (and she may thrive in chaotic battles but this wasn’t her usual battlefield, and her team didn’t know who they were going up against for once). And Marinette? She needs to know its not just her doing this when its so out of her depths.

So despite literally everyone and their disagreements she had Chat on her right side with Damian on her left, meeting up with his Crazy, Semi-Immortal mother. And possibly his Immortal, former Black Cat candidate, grandfather.

Why?

As Marinette isn’t trusting the likely cult that makes up the Gotham Ghost Gang (Batfam if you like them) when she can get real advice and vague directions to immortal and allied (loyal and terrifying) assassins.

And yes, she wasn’t sure if Liar was wrong or right when they said it was a bad idea too.

But fuckit she’s already got Kaalki at her shoulder, looking a bit bored at the deserted rooftop that Kaalki chose for their meeting.

“داميان*,” the woman smiled at her son. “It’s good to see you.”

“Mother,” Robin greeted. “This is Ladybug and Chat Noir. Ladybug wished to speak to you about potential strategies to take down an enemy outside of battle without violence,” Damian stressed.

“I am well-aware of the Kwami and their Chosen, اِبْن.**” The woman spoke calmly. “The League of Assassins formed to act as the Black Cat to restore the world to balance and un-burden the Order with its maintenance.” The woman offer Ladybug her hand. “I am Talia al Ghul, and I am at your service, with or without violence Ladybug.”

Marinette took her hand. “Thank you Talia. Our target being directly exposed like I planned would have…” Ladybug trailed off, thinking over the ramifications not only to Adrien, but to the whole of Gabriel’s brand, workers and all that worked with them. “Some intense ramifications I’d rather avoid.”

Talia nodded her head, waiting for more information.

“I believe its possible to topple them without affecting their employees by uncoupling them from their business, but doing so is, well, stocks and economics isn’t my strongest point.” Ladybug admitted a bit sheepishly.

“I would suggest,” Talia began, “to create a bit of chaos in the stock market. Perhaps a rumor here and there, let investors pull out and grab the abandoned stocks quickly. Consolidate them under one owner and become the company’s owner.”

Marinette twitched a bit at that. “That… sounds complicated.”

“Oh, but it isn’t. My son knows just how to that, or did you forget our lessons?” Talia asked coolly.

Damian twitched at Marinette’s side. “I did not.”

“You know,” Chat chimed in. “I do know a few things about those things. If its general chaos, well…” Chat’s face twisted in a way Marinette forgot he could do after that Chat Blanc episode.

“… I will take that into consideration.”

“Anything else?” Talia asked, watching Ladybug and her son. Specifically, how her son seemed glued to the girl’s side. “I am certain my son is able to take out your target, if all else fails.”

Damian scowled at Marinette’s side.

“However, I do believe that whatever is happening, whatever has you active, might require a more… experience hand.”

Damian brushed against her side. Code for ‘Possible Danger.’

“Thank you for the offer,” Chat moved in front of Marinette. “But mi’lady and the Guardians have that much handled.”

Talia’s eyes shifted from Chat to Ladybug, staying on her. “Is that so?”

“Yes. I merely needed more information on how to execute this type of plan, that’s all!” Ladybug almost, almost slipped into Marinette while Liar, while silenced for the moment, prodded the back of her mind. “I want to minimize collateral damage as much as I can, to everyone. The kwami already said they get to chose the target’s punishment.”

“Ah, I see.” Talia relaxed then. “You are following the kwami’s wishes. I will respect their wishes as well, Chosen.”

Marinette categorized this interaction as one of the “not too horrible, but will avoid a repeat” once they left.

—

*Damian in arabic

**son

so we have Talia now as a Player, sort of. she plays by her word pretty well so hopefully its a cameo more than anything else.

any ideas on how JL will handle the video, and if Miraculous Team should see it and freak out or only LB and keep on the dl while JL assissts in her Chaos Plot?

End of update. Will have to repost from ao3 on my phone now as desktop tumblr is being exceptionally rude. Tags always open, just takes me a bit to do—sorry to vixen for vanishing from tags

TAGS:  @heldtogetherbysafetypins @laurcad123 @raisuke06 @chaosace @jeminiikrystal @toodaloo-kangaroo @kris-pines04 @bisha43rbs @izang @dreamykitty25 @emu-lumberjack @vixen-uchiha

[floralseokjin]

— crystallised 06 (m)

crystallised /ˈkrɪst(ə)lʌɪz/ (verb) make or become definite and clear 

Six weeks, that’s all it takes to forget about the threesome you shared with your boyfriend, Yoongi, and your past... fuck buddy, Seokjin. After all, it’s no big deal. Yoongi and you are doing better than ever, there’s no reason to regret such a night shared. That is until you hear some gossip in the library one day, and then slowly, little by little, everything starts to fall apart... Can you begin to make sense out of all this confusion, or is it too late? 

pairing; kim seokjin x reader  genre/warnings; fluff, fluff and more fluff, smut in the form of dry humping, and did I already say fluff???? here, have some more  words; 10,481

sequel to; memoirs of a mistake and lostmyhead

chapters; 01 ⤑ 02 ⤑ 03 ⤑ 04 ⤑ 05 ⤑ 06 ⤑ 07⤑ 08 ✓

Seokjin ended up staying the night. It was inevitable really. You weren’t letting him go after you’d only just got him back. Not like he wasn’t dropping enough hints though. Could stay like this forever, he’d murmured hot in your ear, your body smushed to his as you lied down on the sofa, watching Netflix again. Some things, you realised, wouldn’t change and actually, it turned out Seokjin and you had already practically been acting as a couple anyway. It was just now he had his arms around your middle, hands woven together and his mouth on your neck. Lips too. Yeah, the kissing fest was still happening. You wouldn’t be able to tell anyone a damn thing about what had happened in the last three episodes of The Vampire Diaries if they asked. 

Spend the night didn’t really have a question mark after it. It was Sunday anyway, neither of you had work and just the thought of doing nothing all day with Seokjin seemed like pure bliss. Your plan had been to call Lina tonight and gush about everything, but you guessed that could wait until tomorrow night. You’d just have to evade her messages until then, because keeping information like this from your best friend was killing you, but also, maybe you weren’t ready for the “Oh, my God, it was all down to ME,” I told you so’s… 

You got ready for bed in the bathroom one by one, almost giddy when Seokjin came out in just his t-shirt and boxers. Knees practically vibrating against one another as he got into bed next to you. His side. You were finally sharing your bed with him again, and then you were a tangle of limbs, his body glued into yours. His legs warm against yours, chest warm, body heat encasing you with the help of his arms. This was it. Pure bliss. How it was always supposed to be. 

In the safety of your bed, surrounded by darkness it was easy for even more confessions to slip from Seokjin’s lips. There were funny ones. Thoughts that slipped into his head. Like how he’d been unreasonably jealous of every guy who’d checked you out at the gym. How your ass had looked quote, “fricking delectable,” unquote, with a side helping of bum squeeze to go with. “Been wanting to do that forever,” he sighed in complete and utter content. You giggled, revelling in it really. How could you not. It wasn’t like you hadn’t ogled him while he was squatting or doing press ups… He was very happy when you let that slip… It was cute to fill in the missing gaps, but there were also unhappy confessions too. Ones that made your heart pang with sadness. 

Every time he’d pined for you. Not far from him, but still deeply out of reach. Like how he’d hated seeing you cry after your argument with Yoongi the night of that party. He was awkward and he didn’t know how to comfort you, but that was because he wanted nothing more than to tell you the truth. The truth about his feelings, and how he thought you should be with him not Yoongi. When he’d walked you home and you’d made to kiss him, (so he had realised) it took him everything not to give in. He knew you were upset, vulnerable and he didn’t want to take advantage of the moment. It wouldn’t be right, but the hug was the best sensation he’d felt in all his life. Then you’d turned up at his door after the breakup. Like some sign from the heavens above he was making a mistake with Jemma, and even if he could only have you as a friend, even if it hurt like crazy to hear you talk about Yoongi, it was okay. Because he had you in some kind of form. The best form. Just you. 

With your glassy eyes, you both began to reminisce into the early hours of the morning. Muffling your laughter at some points because it got too loud and your neighbours would hate you. 

“Was it just me, or when we went to watch Endgame did you get distracted remembering back to that time you gave me a hand job? It was the exact same screen room too.” He spoke into the darkness. Just when eyelids were getting heavy, legs still tangled together, your head on his chest.  

“Oh, my god.” 

“No. Not even in a perverted way. I thought of that as our unofficial first date for the longest time.” He was trying to be funny, but that was actually really cute. You’d held hands for the first time that night. You’d done so as a joke, teasing him. Actually, he’d been adamant it wasn’t a date, not a fan of your jesting. You understood why now. He was afraid you didn’t feel the same. 

“I remember we held hands as we walked back to your car.” 

“Mm. I liked that.” On cue you felt one of his hands find yours to slip them together, kissing the top of your head at the same time. You smiled to yourself. “Let me take you on an official first date.” 

“Where do you have in mind?” The smile was still on your face, could hear it in your voice. 

“Zoo.” He replied matter-of-factly. 

“Zoo?” 

“You pretty much stood me up last time.” Silence. The memory came back to you instantly.  “–annd you don’t remember…” His tone was light, playing with you, but nope, you wouldn’t have it. 

“No, wait!” You exclaimed, turning around in his arms to find his face. Your eyes had long adjusted to the dark, you could make out the greatly amused grin on his face easily. “I do remember! I just didn’t think you were serious.” 

You hadn’t actually figured out what he was trying to do when he’d asked you out back then. You’d been too distracted anyway… Too excited for your date with Yoongi… 

“So serious. So jealous. So sad.” That didn’t help either. He was messing around but it still made you feel all not good inside. 

“Seokjiinn.” You whined. 

He laughed, arms wrapping around your middle to squeeze you to him. “No, but I do really want to take you to the zoo on our first date.” He pecked your mouth, ridding the pout that had formed. “Let’s go Tuesday. We can skip class.” 

“Oh,” you cocked an eyebrow. “You’re making me skip classes already. You’re a bad influence Kim Seokjin.” 

“And what are you going to do about it?” He grinned, voice now a little croaky from lack of sleep. Sexy though. 

.

.

You both did manage to get a few hours sleep in the end. Voices were sleepy, conversation waning off and then eyes were closed. You woke up first. Your body clock didn’t seem to realise when it hadn’t had eight hours sleep. So here you were wide awake on five. Seokjin was still dead to the world though. Hooked around you like some sort of monkey. You wanted nothing more than to stay like this forever, but you forgot the cost it came with. Excessive heat. Maybe you hadn’t woken up naturally… Anyway, somehow you wriggled free, Seokjin not even stirring as he rolled onto his back. You took a moment to study him. Cute in sleep, gigantic lips pouting naturally, forehead slightly creased, like he was dreaming of something serious. The events of the night before were truly sinking in. This was actually happening. You and him. 

You didn’t want to wake him just yet. No. You had a better idea. You were sure you had the right ingredients to make pancakes. First, a quick detour to the bathroom to empty your bladder and brush your teeth – hair too. You knew you looked this unkempt in the morning, but Seokjin wasn’t used to it anymore. Silly of course, like he gave a shit. You tried to keep as quiet as possible when you started finding and weighing ingredients, aware that there were basically only four walls in this open apartment, if you didn’t count the bathroom. Which was just about hiding Seokjin out of view, the jutting wall part of your kitchen storage. 

Distracted from mixing as you messaged with Lina back and forth, (she really did love bitching about this one coworker…), you nearly dropped your cell into the bowl when you read what she came out with next. 

Lina (9:58am)  So are we just gonna ignore the fact u probably fucked Seokjin last night? MAYBE you’re doing it right now  Sorry my bad for interrupting 

So much for evading her messages. Impossible, and now look. 

You (9:58am)  Wtf  im making pancakes like i said  …………. but yeh jin might be in my bed  we didn’t bang tho  we’re taking things slow 💖💘💗💕💞💓💝

Lina (9:59am)  YOU BITCH  WJY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME 

You (9:59am)  i was going to tell you last night :(but got distracted  come over later???? i’ll text u 

Lina (10:00am)  So you actually made a move at the party??  I KNEW IT 

Strange. You’d taken it as a given that she had. Especially with the very direct accusation… Or maybe she just knew Seokjin and you couldn’t keep up this ~friends~ bullshit for any longer. Someone would cave, especially after Brian’s party. A ticking time bomb but no one blew up after detonation. Thank God. 

You (10:00am)  🤔🤭🤫😶

Lina (10:00am)  YOU BETTER SEND HIM HIME TINIGHT  I NEED to know the details  Have fun being a sexy housewife making pancakes  😘

You (10:01am)  hehe 🥰 << me rn 

You were so preoccupied, you hadn’t heard Seokjin waking up, jumping a little when his arms wrapped around your middle, face nuzzling your neck as he hugged you from behind. 

“Where did you go?” His voice was thick with sleep and whiney. 

Putting your phone down, you tried to fight your smile, but nope, this was really happening, and it was better than you could have ever imagined. “I’m making breakfast.”  

“I wanted to cuddle,” he whined again. Sounded cute. “Literally been dreaming about it forever. You’re evil.” 

“Am not.” You laughed, twisting in his grip. “We cuddled all night.” 

Facing him now, you wrapped your arms around his neck, an amused grin on your face. You didn’t think it was possible to cuddle all night, but hey, you’d been proved wrong. You should’ve known. Seokjin was as determined as ever. Only now softer. You liked soft. You liked him.

He squeezed your waist, a pout already formed. “I want more.” 

“Patience, bitch,” you hummed softly, bemusing him for a second before he chuckled. You leaned up to kiss him. “Haven’t brushed my teeth,” he murmured. 

You rolled your eyes. “Like I care.” There were some things you’d waited long enough for, even without realising, and you’d be damned if you didn’t take every opportunity you had to kiss him. One of you had brushed your teeth, that’s all that mattered. 

It wasn’t a showy kiss, mostly slow and lazy. Definitely indulgent though. You almost clung to his bottom lip each time you grazed against it, feeling warmth whenever his breath shook. You felt warmth in the way his hands gripped you too. Safe but free in his hold. Giddy when one wrapped around the small of your back and his fingers grazed the top of your ass. It was exhilarating to feel him touch you so casually. A little tiny niggle of frustration too, because why hadn’t he been doing this from the beginning? You both were fools, but not anymore. 

“What you making?” He murmured when you both parted, curious. 

A hand slid around your hip as you turned your back to him again, picking up the wooden spoon in the bowl to begin to mix again. You gave him a tiny shrug. Not wanting to make a big deal. “Pancakes.” 

He sighed like a king. “Spoiling me already.” Your tut in response choked out when he tapped your ass playfully, wondering off to nose through your cupboards. “Don’t burn them.” 

He found what he was looking for. A box of cereal on the top shelf. “Seokjin,” you chided gently as he grabbed a bowl from the draining rack. “Cereal? Really?” No way could he have room for two breakfasts. 

He grinned goofily. “Appetiser. The starter.” 

You stared him down, practically calling his bluff, but nope, there he went, shaking the cereal into the bowl. Milk following. That’s when you laughed. You couldn’t help it. “You’re nuts.” 

“Yeah, for you.” 

You scoffed quietly at his comeback, a small smile on your face, unable to hide your happiness, and went back to mixing your pancakes. Yeah, it would take a little time getting used to that cheesiness. You needed to step up your game. 

If you were joined at the hip before, it wasn’t nothing on you now. Not that dating changed much overall. If people had already thought you were together, that was only affirmed as you held hands around campus and kissed goodbye at the door of your next classes. Lina was super happy you’d finally admitted your feelings to one another. And not in a gloating way either. Like a piece of fan fiction, she said: The girl who tamed a fuckboy. Yikes, how basic. Sounded like something from Wattpad. You much preferred the trope “Two idiots finally realise their feelings for one another.” Fit you both perfectly. 

Surprisingly, there were no I told you so’s from her, just a rare guilty look as she confessed she felt “kinda to blame.” Her distaste for Seokjin in the beginning may have hindered your view. You did after all keep your hook ups a secret for so long. But no, you reassured her, that was all on you. Despite the great sex, originally the idea of people knowing you’d given into Kim Seokjin was, how should you say, unappealing, but you’d soon (ish) seen how judgemental that was. If anyone was to blame for the delay, it was you. Not that you dwelled on that anymore. 

It was the little things that made you vibrate at a high frequency. Sheer happiness just doing doing the most mundane things. Being able to land a kiss on Seokjin anytime you wanted. Binging so many shows it was probably unhealthy now, yet it didn’t matter with his arms wrapped around your waist. Lying in his bed watching him grow frustrated as he gamed at his desk. Taking him shopping with you and hearing him whine in complete and utter boredom… It all brought you joy. There was no awkwardness, no trying too hard. It just all came naturally. You worked perfectly like this. 

The Pet names started. The first time was when you’d been in near tears on the zoo date. Hating the way the animals were all so far from home and trapped. Seokjin had felt beyond guilty, a distraught, panicked look on his face as he apologised for even thinking of taking you here as a first date. He even said sorry for being shit at comforting you, but as soon as the Baby, please don’t cry had rolled so casually from his tongue, so endearingly in fact, and gentle and soft, he’d done his job perfectly. It was your turn to comfort him. No matter what, your first date wasn’t a complete blow out. You got to feed a giraffe and watch the guy you were crazy about lose his shit over a cute little deer. All while skipping class… Couldn’t get much better than that. 

And for someone who’d never been on a proper date before, Seokjin sure made up for it with you. You tried the fancy dinner route. Found out it wasn’t for you when you accidentally rubbed the eyeliner from your right eye. Seokjin thought about waiting until you realised, but inevitably couldn’t do it to you. Although you were sure it was because he couldn’t hold his laughter in. You both enjoyed simpler, less showy outings, and of course you planned stuff too. When you took him to the gig of one of your favourite groups you thought his head was going to explode. He complained his ears hurt all the way back home. You took the time to rinse him on his own music taste. 

“It’s okay, next time Taylor Swift goes on tour I’ll get you tickets,” you teased. To which he scoffed. 

“You seem to forget I work in a gym. I listen to whatever comes on the radio.” 

Of course you had a comeback. Quick and witty, you were an unyielding duo. “You seem to forget earphones exist.” 

.

.

You weren’t one for posting your life on social media. In fact, you didn’t really post on there much at all. Mainly because you sucked at aesthetically pleasing photos on Instagram and regretted every time you overshared on Twitter. And yes, by oversharing you meant an I’m tired after a full day of classes and a shift at work… Seokjin was little of the same, but the first time he uploaded a selfie of you two (a highly unflattering one at that, but hey ho) you may have melted… Made it all feel so real. 

Caption: Me and my baby 🤧💞 80 likes

You: Yes! You’ve finally given in to that emoji life 🤗😍😭 Seokjin_Kim: Yes! You’ve finally learnt proper grammar (Capitalising correctly) 😘  itsholly: so cute!!!  JungHobi: @Joon94 @San_deul That’s it guys… we’ve lost him to luuuv 🥺 hi_itsbri: Legit?! Congrats man!  Seokjin_Kim: @hi_itsbri Legit! Much appreciated!  Seokjin_Kim: @JungHobi So glad I’m free ^_^ Joon94: RUDE  Joon94: @Seokjin_Kim  San_deul: @Seokjin_Kim Nice try. You live with me 

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.

After that, it didn’t take you long to start double dating. Seokjin wasn’t brave enough to accompany any of your friends yet, despite Lina being adamant her and Jimin wanted to hang out, but you went plenty with Sandeul and his girlfriend. You favourite was the time you went to the VR arcade with them. You’d never laughed so much in you life—nor felt so scared! You also seemed to hang out with Hoseok, Namjoon and their girlfriends a lot, who preferred to stay in most of the time, eating take out or drinking some. It was on one of those occasions that Seokjin adorably got moody because you laughed at Hoseok too much…

“What’s up with you?” You asked, coming out from the bathroom to see Seokjin still sitting on your sofa with the same frown he’d had since you’d left Hoseok’s place. 

“Nothing.” 

You sighed and bounced into the seat next to him. “Are you in a sulk?” As if it wasn’t obvious. 

He shook his head. “No.” 

“Jiiin!” His name left your mouth in a whine as you pounced on him, climbing onto his lap. Despite his one word answers, he reached for you hips naturally. “You’ve been acting strange since the ride back to mine.” You paused to side eye him, sounding snippy yourself now. “Maybe you should’ve just gone home…” 

“No,” he answered immediately, clinging to you tighter. “No. It’s nothing.” You raised an eyebrow, waiting for an explanation. He hesitated. “Do you think Hoseok’s funnier than me?” 

You stared at him for a moment, a bemused look on your face, because no, that couldn’t he it. Could it? How adorable. “What kind of question is that?” 

“Is that a yes,” he pouted, dropping his hands from you. His jaw tightening. 

“Not at all. It’s a reply of confusion.” 

He sighed. “You’re delaying” 

You had to laugh then. He was being ridiculous. Was he really self-conscious about it? Hoseok was a funny guy, he knew how to entertain, but it wasn’t something you took notice of much. You leaned in, making sure Seokjin was looking at you and spoke slowly. “No. I don’t think he’s funnier than you.” 

It didn’t work. In fact, he averted your gaze to look down at the arm of the sofa. Pout in his voice. “You were laughing all night at him. Ignored me when I said something. I’m used to the guys brushing off my jokes and never laughing, but you…” 

Wrong. You had not been ignoring him all night, but he sounded so dejected you really did think he believed it. You cupped his cheek. “I always laugh at your jokes.” 

“Yeah, probably because you think you have to.” Voice a mumble, you rolled your eyes. 

“Have I, or have I not always thought you were funny?” You’d been laughing because of Seokjin for as long as you’d known him. Even when you didn’t want to admit it. “You’re much funnier than Hoseok. Namjoon? No question. Never met someone so unfunny.”

Seokjin actually managed a little smile at that. Your lame attempt at being funny yourself.

“Yay. That’s what I want to see. A smile.” To emphasise, you pulled the corners of his mouth up with your thumbs.  

“Get off,” he grumbled, but there was now a gigantic grin on his face. “I just need to make sure, y’know? My humour is all I have.” 

You scoffed. “Shut up.” 

“Okay, humour and face.” 

You leaned in once more, tone sincere. “You have way more important qualities.” 

“Great.” He sighed. Fairly dramatically. “Now you’re calling me unfunny and ugly?” 

But mouth already open in argument, he was kissing you with an amused chuckle, not knowing you’d never let him forget the day he worried Hoseok was funnier than him…

.

. 

After a few weeks the novelty of going outside wore off, and soon you were back to staying in. Sharing time between homes, although yours was the preferred, living alone and all. It got pretty domesticated some nights, cooking together, back hugging him as he cut onions because you complained it made you cry. When you said you binged TV too much, you weren’t playing. Somehow you’d completed The Vampire Diaries and were onto The Walking Dead now. Zombies made you a bit uneasy, but actually you found yourself getting quite into it. So into it you searched spoilers ahead of time, too guilty to tell Seokjin your secret. It turned out he was doing exactly the same thing behind your back… You’d both found out your favourite character was soon to die, and reading it had already emotionally broken you, so for now, binging was paused. 

Not that you had much time these days. College was kicking up a notch. You had a final piece that needed to be finished by the beginning of February that was a large percentage of your grade this year and Seokjin seemed swamped with assignments and tests. Along with a part-time job, it was a struggle to find some time to spend together. And that’s how Seokjin convinced you to join the gym again. It was a hard no at first, but he put up a good argument… You could hang out together while he worked and you found not everything was completely body destroying there… You could keep up a worthy enough pace on the treadmill. Look somewhat passable on the elliptical… They were both also very great vantage points for some light viewing (perving) of your man… Squats really were invented for him. Just no one tell him that because he’d get a big head… 

Caption: The only plus side of going to the gym 🏋🏻‍♂️🍑🤤🥵 43 likes 

Linaa: GROSS  Linaa: can you not publicise your weird kinks 🤮 You: @Linaa were you or were you not going on about Jimin’s booty two nights ago ????  You: @PJM tell your girlfriend to shut up  PJM: Guys 😩😩 me and Jin really don’t deserve this  Seokjin_Kim: WHEN DID YOU TAKE THIS?! 

He may have seemed outraged but that wasn’t what he sounded like over text two minutes later… 

Jin💞 (5:47pm)  So I hear you have a thing for my butt   ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

“You know I can’t control myself,” you told him later on that night when he’d come over, pinching said butt as you hugged. 

“Stoppp,” he whined, bottom lip jutting out but he didn’t sound very believable. 

“What? I can take full advantage of butt squeezes now.” It wasn’t like he hadn’t been doing the same. You try getting to sleep with two hands cupped firmly around your ass. It got annoying after a while… 

He shook his head slowly. Like he was disappointed. His arms still slung around your waist though and a small smirk itching its way across his mouth. “Twisted. Should’ve known… I still get nightmares.” 

You met his eyes, a glint in them. You knew exactly what he was referring to. To avoid all the crude details, let’s just say an experiment might have occurred…to see how much pleasure one could derive from the prostrate gland…  “Shut up. You’re the one who brought it up, so like, obviously you enjoyed it.” You moved in slowly as you spoke, looping your arms around his neck, a grin on your face. 

He sighed your name quietly. “I’d enjoy anything if it was with you.” Dead romantic over some anal fingering. No sarcasm. It really was. You lips were centimetres apart. So close you could almost taste him, but then he pulled away abruptly. “But that’s besides the point. You obviously told Lina–mfphh!”

You couldn’t wait any longer. Kissing him was your favourite pastime, and well, there had been a lot of kissing this past month. Lots of cute kissing. Chaste or stolen. Soft and gentle. Slow. Fast. Lots of fast kissing. Messy and wet. Eager, sometimes impatient. Lots of heavy breathing, warm bodies and ruined underwear on your part… Although Seokjin had his fair share of problems in that area too. An overactive erection. Taking it slow didn’t mean you couldn’t kiss until you were overheating, grind until you were shaking… Grope until you were moaning. 

You were straddling him on the couch doing just that when you heard a voice calling outside your door. Sounded like your mom but god, that would be the worst thing ever. 

“Yoo-hoo! Are you in?” 

Nooo. It really was your mom. Who needed a cold shower at a moment like this? You were pulling away from Seokjin immediately, hazy mind clearing like magic. No one wanted to be caught getting frisky by a parent. It had happened once a couple of years ago and you in no way wanted to relive that. 

“My mom,” you groaned at Seokjin, answering the puzzlement on his face. 

It quickly turned to panic. “Oh shit. What?” You nodded, quickly getting off him to make your way to the door. “Where are you going?” He panicked harder. 

“To open the door.” You laughed. “Can’t leave her out there.” 

He jumped up. “Hold on. Hold on. My dick”s half hard.” Luckily he did remember to keep his voice down, shoving a hand down his pants. “Shit. Try fully hard.” 

“Hide it.” You hissed, not bothering to check what he was doing as you turned your back to him and ran for the door. He was a big boy (HA), he’d work it out…or not… 

You took a deep breath, smoothing down your hair as you composed yourself and pulled it open. “Hello mother. You do realise most normal people ring the doorbell.” 

“I did.” She sassed you right back. “You took too long.” Really? You must have missed that…too distracted. Oops. She walked inside, stopping when she saw Seokjin stood awkwardly by the coffee table. “Oh.” 

You took a glance at him, eyes wide, like a rabbit caught in headlights. You mean, it could’ve been the erection, but also, this was the first time he was coming face to face with your mother. You’d been too flustered to realise that before you’d flown open the front door. Hadn’t had time to reassure and ease him. Poor guy. 

“Mom, this is Seokjin.” You introduced, walking towards him for some moral support. 

“I know who he is.” She smiled at you, before turning to him. “It’s so nice to meet you finally.” Ugh. That was right. You’d spent a lot of time talking about him these past few weeks. Mostly done subconsciously when you were still in the “friends” phase. Yeah. You didn’t think she bought it either… Especially when you told her you used to “be involved” in the past but things didn’t work out. What? You couldn’t call it hooking up could you… It was a nicer way of putting it. Sort of. She’d been eager to meet him for a while now, ever since you’d started dating. Probably why she’d shown up without notice… 

“Hi.” Seokjin smiled. You moved closer to him. Reassuring him without touching him directly. 

“Even more handsome than his photos.” 

You groaned loudly. “Mom, you’re embarrassing him.” And you. For multiple reasons. Yes. She had made you show her pictures. 

She shook her head. “Nonsense. What are you two up to then?” 

She was looking at Seokjin when she asked so he really had no choice but to reply. “Uh… Uh, we were just… just hanging out.” The smile on his face didn’t look too natural. You nudged him. Hopefully enough to settle him. 

“Seokjin had a late class so he’s only just come over. We were gonna watch some TV.” You helped instead. 

“Oh. Sorry for interrupting.” Like hell she was. “You’re a business major, right?” Seokjin nodded, curious as to how she knew. Uh oh. “My daughter’s told me all about you.” 

“She has?” He sounded surprised. Good surprised. Like a lot of gloating could come of it later surprised. And of course, even when he was still inwardly shitting himself, he turned it around, charming your mother expertly. “That makes me nervous.” 

“Only nice things of course.” Your mother reassured. “She never shuts up about you.” 

“Mom!” You exclaimed. This had been what you were dreading. You changed the subject real fast. “What are you doing here anyway?” It worked. 

“Leftovers.” She replied, pulling out a plastic Tupperware box from her purse. “Your dad was cooking again and thought we were a family of ten.” You chuckled, taking the container from her. Classic. You were sure he’d always thought that. You mom took another look at both you and Seokjin, a smile on her face, before she spoke again. “Well, I’ll leave you both to it.” Seokjin couldn’t help himself and laughed at her choice of phrase. You elbowed him. Childish fucker. 

“Thanks for the food, Mommy,” you smiled sweetly. 

She laughed. “Oh, now you’re nice.” 

“I’m always nice!” 

“That’s what she tells me too,” Seokjin piped up, making your mother laugh.  

“Nice meeting you Seokjin. Eat some too.” She told him, directing her head to the container.  “Sorry for my husband’s cooking.” 

He chuckled. “Nice meeting you too.” 

You followed her to the door, nodding in agreement when she told you she’d see you soon. Like you said, life had been busy. You were spreading yourself thin, but not thin enough to go visits your parents. 

“That went well,” Seokjin said as soon as you closed the door. He sounded relieved. 

“It did.” You agreed, placing the leftovers on the kitchen counter before walking towards him. 

“Didn’t have time to overthink too much. Which is odd considering I was hiding a terrified boner.” You chuckled, wrapping your arms around his neck. He reached for your waist. “It’s gone now, thank the lord.” 

“You’ve been overthinking it?” 

He nodded “Yeah. Meeting parents is a big deal.” That made you smile. Cute. “Thanks for talking about me so much though. It definitely worked in my favour.” 

There it was. One simple gloat. He couldn’t help it. You pushed at his shoulder. “Shut up.” 

“Okay, I’ll keep my ego down.” He laughed. “Whew. Meeting your mom, huh. It’s getting serious.” 

“Giving you permission to back out now.” You rolled your eyes, but despite playing it cool you couldn’t help but feel giddy at his words. Serious with Seokjin. It was all you’d ever wanted. 

He scoffed, leaning down to place a kiss on the tip of your nose. “Never. You’re stuck with me now.” 

You tried suppressing your smile but failed. You managed to sound casual though. “Doesn’t seem like a bad thing.” 

He smiled back and you hugged him to you. Couldn’t help it. He squeezed your middle as he pulled away to speak. “Maybe it’s time you met my parents soon?” 

Oh boy. Serious it was. 

Not surprisingly, Lina couldn’t comprehend the taking it slow aspect. She knew your history with one another. Heard a few stories she’d rather forget. The fact you were starting from the beginning again – well, you’d never really started from the beginning in the first place, but y’know… The fact you were waiting boggled Lina’s mind. 

“I really did think you’d last a week holding out.” She said tonight, girly night in taking a turn with boy talk. Check you two out, couldn’t last an hour without talking about your men. What had you both become? 

“Like how come you don’t have all this built up sexual tension going on? It’s a love story like no other. You both waited so long to get together, you should be tearing off each other’s clothes. Going at it animal style.” 

“Oh, my god,” you laughed. “Okay, maybe too much wine for you.” You took her empty glass and placed it on the coffee table. She had never been able to handle wine. It turned her into a different person. Tonight, one who was very passionate about Seokjin and you, it seemed… 

“It’s not that I don’t want to have sex with him.” You explained. “Of course I do. But…” You paused, face flushing a little. Maybe the wine was getting to you too. “I know when it finally happens, it’s going to be amazing. The waiting is only going to make it better.” 

That made you both giggle, giddy from the wine and sex talk. Lina reached over for some chips, crunching loudly as she thought something over in that (drunk) head of hers. “Maybe he lost his dick in an accident in between?” 

“He didn’t lose it in an accident!” You laughed. It was like you hadn’t gone into full detail about last night’s vigorous palming activities not half an hour ago. He still had his dick alright.

Lina shrugged, stuffing her face again. “Maybe he has stage fright…” 

She really was determined to get an explanation. Jesus, who’d have thought she’d wanted you to have sex with Seokjin this much? “I don’t know, I find it cute,” you shrugged yourself. He definitely wasn’t suffering from a case of stage fright. He’d had a healthy case of Erection every time your tongue slipped into his mouth. “Romantic.” You mused. “It’ll happen when the time’s right. Until then, we’re building this whole other layer to our relationship.” 

If truth be told, you’d never felt like this in a relationship. All the others seemed like a joke looking back. Even with Yoongi. You’d been searching for these feelings with the wrong guy. Too dumb to see you could have everything you’d ever wanted with Seokjin. You’d never felt this comfortable. This happy. He really was the other half of you. You didn’t care how cheesy that sounded. Even if maybe you wouldn’t admit it to him yet. 

“Yet he hasn’t made it official…” Lina couldn’t help herself. Muttering under her breath but loud enough for you to hear. 

“Will you stop,” you told her. She was also waiting “patiently” for Seokjin to put a label on it. You, not so much. At this point you knew you were both serious. You were in a relationship, just not technically confirmed, and that was okay. Even if you were yet to call him your boyfriend out loud. (Read: You really wanted to.) 

“What?” She feigned ignorance. 

“Being negative. Me and Seokjin are happy. Everything’s amazing.” 

Lina couldn’t stop her smile then, seeing your grin. “I know. I like seeing you like this. I’m just… You know me, I’m suspicious of everything.” 

“Suspicious when it comes to Seokjin.” You corrected lightly. 

She laughed but didn’t deny. Baby steps. She’d gone from despising the poor guy to practically ordering you to make a move in a year, so it was definitely getting somewhere. You wouldn’t forget she’d referred to you both as a “love story like no other” in a hurry though… You wouldn’t let her forget either!   

“Oh, by the way,” she began, changing the subject – kinda. “We haven’t had a chance to double date yet… My parents are out of town for the weekend. What do you think about this: Lina’s Fancy Dinner Party. Got a ring to it, right?”

“I’m shitting myself. I’m actually shitting myself.” 

“Will you calm down,” you laughed, hooking your arm with Seokjin’s as you stood in the doorway to Lina’s parents’ house. “You’re going to have fun.” 

He’d been dreading this night ever since you’d told him about it a couple of days ago. It wasn’t just Lina and Jimin now, she’d also invited Yumi and her boyfriend, Taeil. The impending doom was real and the whole Uber ride here had been pretty amusing. You’d never seen him so nervous. It was cute. He really, really wanted your friends to like him. Not that they didn’t already, but could you tell him? No! He wasn’t listening. 

“Fun? I’m pretty sure all your friends hate me.” He muttered, before his eyes widened comically. “This isn’t some kind of satanic sacrifice, right?” 

“You’ve seen too many horror movies,” you tutted. You glanced at him, sighing softly when you saw the pitiful look on his face. Despite the jokes he really was anxious over this. You unhooked your arms and rubbed his back before straightening the collar of his dress shirt. This was a fancy dinner party after all. There was a dress code, and you weren’t complaining. Seokjin looked hot all fancy like this. 

“Only Lina had some… misjudged opinions on you, and it’s past tense for a reason.” 

Seokjin pulled a face. He still wasn’t too sure about that, but the kiss you landed on his mouth seemed to help. 

“They’re here!!” Interrupted by the clicking of the door and Lina’s loud voice, you broke apart. “Found them kissing on the doorstep!”

You rolled your eyes and clasped Seokjin’s hand, giving it a supportive squeeze. “We hadn’t even rung the doorbell yet. How did you know we were here?” 

“Porch light.” She replied flatly, pointing at you both and stepping aside to let you in. “None of that once you get inside. This is a sophisticated dinner party.” 

“Got you,” you nodded, walking into the lounge to find Yumi, Taeil and Jimin already sat around the coffee table. “Here I was thinking it was some type of orgy…” 

“Now that sounds like a party,” Taeil cheered. 

Everyone laughed at that – apart from Lina of course… and surprisingly Seokjin, who looked too scared to even think about joking around… Or perhaps he just didn’t want to piss Lina off. Suck up. 

.

.

“Get a room you two,” Yumi teased, wiggling her eyebrows as she watched you and Seokjin from over her wine glass. The dinner had been a success – Lina could actually cook. Who knew? Not you because you ordered takeout every time you hung out – and swiftly after that you’d moved onto entertainment. In the form of drinking games. Seokjin had seemed to loosen up by then, actually beginning to enjoy himself without any nerves. He and Lina had a few conversations. He’d even made her laugh which you thought he got rather smug about… After a good old game of beer pong (which wasn’t very fancy at all) you quickly moved onto ‘Never have I ever”, which of course had turned the three of you girls into a cackling mess. Things were said, things were confessed, and you were sure the guys didn’t know how to handle the details. 

Now it was getting late, you were all winding down, sipping on wine or beer. Lina and Yumi were sharing the sofa with Jimin and Taeil, and Jin and you were curled up on the love seat. Definitely a little drunk, giggling and flirting together. His hand casually up your dress a little as he stroked your thigh. 

“Surprised they got out of one long enough to come here,” Taeil commented. 

“What do you expect? It’s only been a few weeks. They’re fresh in the feels.” Yumi almost pouted, turning to her boyfriend. “Babe, do you remember when we were like that?” 

“How long have you been together?” Seokjin asked, and you kissed him on the cheek, proud he was making conversation. You’d been hanging out with his friends so often now it was normal, so it made you happy to know the same was beginning to happen with yours. 

Taeil grinned and got Yumi into a bear hug, rubbing his cheek into hers as he answered. “One year, one month and 8 days. Want me to add the hours, baby?” 

“Shurrup,” she shook him off her, but she was grinning from ear to ear at his dramatic display. 

“Hey, Lina. Will that be us one day,” Jimin teased, draping his arm around her shoulders.

She played nonchalant, sipping on her wine. “Possibly.” Jimin just laughed, greatly amused by his girlfriend’s antics. It was obvious to anyone that she had fallen for him hard. Despite her cool façade. 

“You guys were together before though, right?” Taeil directed the conversation back to you and Seokjin. 

Your eyes widened, unsure on how to answer. “Uh, kinda.” Little did he know that every single thing you’d both answered during ‘Never have I ever’ had been about one another. Poor innocent Taeil…

“Big history,” Lina explained, puffing out her cheeks as she exhaled. They were bright red. She was drunk. Could tell by the way she was keeping everything that came out of her mouth short. 

“I was there when they first hooked up,” Yumi added excitedly. “Well, not actually there. I was at the party.” Valid correction. “I didn’t know until a few months later though.” A pause. 

“Honestly though, it was such a shock. Who would have thought it?” She continued. You shifted a little uncomfortably. You were never good with attention. “You and Kim Seokjin. Mind blown. I always thought you’d rather take a vow of celibacy than get dicked down by. Kim. Seokjin.” 

Okay. So everyone was drunk, and here you were feeling like you were sobering up now. The sound of Jin’s laughter beside you eased you a little. “Let’s quit with the full name talk.” 

Everyone laughed bar Lina, who turned her head to Yumi. “That’s why she kept it to herself for so long. He was her dirty little secret.” 

“Hardly,” you piped up. You got she was kidding around, but for some reason you felt defensive. “Just know what you guys are like.” 

“Well I think it’s cute how you guys decided to give it a proper go,” Jimin smiled. “You’re good together.” 

Before you could say thanks, Lina was butting in. “I didn’t say they weren’t good together. They are! All we have to do now is wait for Seokjin to pop the question…” 

“Marriage?” Taeil asked uncertainly.

“No, you idiot,” she laughed. “Girlfriend! They haven’t made it official yet.” You felt Seokjin freeze beside you. You didn’t dare look at him. Lina was in deep shit when you got home. Wrath over text was a scary thing. 

“Oh, well no rush,” Taeil shrugged. “It took me two months to ask Yumi to be mine.” 

“That’s true. Remember?” Yumi directed at you and Lina. “I was getting pretty panicky.” 

“Awh, I’m sorry babe.” Taeil apologised. You all wrinkled your noses as they kissed, thankfully distracting the conversation long enough for it to change. 

Surprisingly thanks to Lina herself. It was her groan that did it, as she buried her head into Jimin’s shoulder. “My head hurts and I need to stack everything in the dishwasher.” 

“Didn’t you say no more wine a few nights ago,” you chuckled, throwing a cushion at her. She yelped dramatically. When you put your hand down, Seokjin clasped it, entwining your fingers. You snuck a smile his way. Knowing he wasn’t too traumatised by the direction of tonight’s conversation relieved you.  

“Yeah Lina. C’mon. Lightweight,” Jimin prodded her. “We can clean up everything in the morning.” 

“Noo. I think I’m going to be hungover tomorrow.” She whined. “Can someone help?” 

“I will,” Seokjin offered. Shocking you, and everyone else in the room while he was at it. “Maybe some water will help you too?” 

.

. 

“Lina doesn’t hate me,” Seokjin sang in the back of the Uber. En route to his place. 

You were wrapped into him, warm, cosy and a little sleepy. You couldn’t wait to crash out in bed. “Oh?” This piqued your interest though. He just sounded so pleased. 

“Uh huh,” he murmured, kissing the top of your head. “We talked while in kitchen.” Oh okay. So he had ulterior motives when he helped her load the dishwasher. “She’s just suspicious of me. I get it. I don’t have the best track record. I think I put her mind at ease though.” He squeezed you happily. 

Even though you were curious about their conversation you didn’t pry. “She still embarrassed you in front of everyone though.” And you… She still wasn’t let off the hook regardless of how drunk she was.  

“It’s fine,” he sighed. “She put my mind at ease too. Told me I was worried for no reason.” 

You frowned. “Worried? About what?” 

“Asking you something.” Your heart stilled. Oh shit. He squeezed you again, murmuring in your ear. “Wanna take this further. These last few weeks have been amazing, huh?” All you could do was nod. You were getting all hot, cheeks a rosy hue no doubt. Forgetting the Uber driver could probably hear everything despite Seokjin’s low voice. Not that you really cared. 

“I already think of you as my girlfriend. Just too scared to call you it. In case I jinx things. In case you’re secretly sick of me already.” 

You managed to give him a tiny scoff. Voice shaky. “As if.” 

“So…” He whispered. “Will you do it? Be my girlfriend?” 

You swallowed, composing yourself and glanced at him. “You’re really asking me in the back of an Uber?” 

He grinned. “I spot a moment and I’m going for it. Lina’s orders.” 

You laughed, cupping his face. “You know you don’t have to listen to her, right?” 

“I know,” he nodded. “She was just right this time.” 

You turned, resting the back of your head on his shoulder. “I’ll only be your girlfriend under one condition.” 

“Hm?” He placed another kiss on the top of your head, both arms wrapped around your chest. 

“You’ll be my boyfriend.” 

He hummed in contemplation. “That doesn’t sound too bad. May have to think about it for a few hours or so though. Maybe a night–ooff.” 

You cut him off with a whack to the chest, twisting around to face him again. “It’s a yes or else.”

He curled his tongue against his cheek. “That’s hot.” You waited patiently. “Of course it’s a yes.” 

.

.

“Wait. Wait, wait,” Seokjin half panted, breaking away from your mouth. It was a wonder you’d made it as far as his bedroom, let alone his bed. As soon as the Uber had dropped you off, you were on one another. It had finally happened. You were Seokjin’s girlfriend. He was your boyfriend, and now everything was right with the world. 

“Let me do something.” He reached for his phone in the back pocket of his pants, rolling off you to unlock it and start clicking away. “Check your phone.” 

On cue it pinged, still in your purse which had been slung on the floor. You sat up and rushed for it curiously. Laughing along the way because what was he up to? You laughed even harder when you read the notification. 

Kim Seokjin sent you a relationship request. 

Facebook official, huh? Check you two out. He came up from behind you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, his breathing still a little heavy. You had quite literally kissed his face off. “Was just gonna ask you like that but I thought it might me too lame.” 

“Aw. That would’ve been cute.” 

“Fuck,” he cursed, looking regretful. “Second guessing the Uber now.” 

“Shush.” You murmured, leaning back to kiss him softly. “I liked that too.” You were sure the driver really appreciated the cringe fest too… 

Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping. 

The noise from both your phones interrupted you this time. You begrudgingly pulled away, looking down at the screen. 

Jung Hoseok commented on a post you were tagged in: HOLY SHIT  Jung Hoseok commented on a post you were tagged in: IT’S HAPPENING IT’S HAPPENING IT’S HAPPENING  Hwang Lina commented on a post you were tagged in: FINALLY thnk me later Seokjin 😘 Kim Namjoon commented on a post you were tagged in: marriage next 😉

Seokjin read them over your shoulder, laughing at your idiot friends as you groaned. “God. You’ll get scared away before we even start.” 

He hugged you closer, kissing your cheek. “Not a chance in hell. Wanna elope?” 

“Shut up,” you giggled. Despite your joking around, you didn’t think you’d ever been happier. You wanted to tell him that but then his mouth was on your earlobe. He knew that was your weakness. He was on his back and you were straddling him as soon as his tongue slipped inside the shell. If he wanted to make you all hot and bothered, a heads up would’ve been nice. You definitely weren’t tired anymore. Even more so feeling his hands drag up your thighs where your dress had ridden up. You viewed him from above, realising you must’ve tugged at his shirt a little too hard already. It was stretched around the collar, a button undone. He looked amazing. You tilted your head to the side. “Did I tell you how hot you look in a dress shirt?” 

He paused to think. “Hm. You may have mentioned it a couple hundred times.” As he spoke he grabbed your butt, pulling you down to level with him. You giggled, letting him kiss your face like something possessed. He paused before he got to your mouth, murmuring sweetly. “You looked beautiful tonight.” 

You pouted. “Don’t use big words to brag on my shitty vocabulary.” 

He looked at you questioningly, amusement dancing in his eyes. Maybe you were still a little tipsy. That paired with the giddiness of tonight’s turn in events and it really felt like you were floating on a cloud of happiness. But it was really Seokjin’s body. Firm and large underneath you. 

You really couldn’t get enough of his mouth. His taste. You think you’d kissed him way over a couple hundred times since you’d gotten (back) together. He argued and said it was more. You didn’t know, you had trouble keeping count. You couldn’t get enough of him. All perfect and pretty and amazing. He was yours. For real this time. Confirmed. Boyfriend. You smiled into his mouth at the thought again. 

“What?” He chuckled, grin just as wide. He knew what. He felt it too. 

“Tonight is the best night ever.” 

“You’re drunk.” 

“Am not.” You quipped. “You’re drunk.” 

“Am not.” His lips were mashed with yours. “I’m just really fucking happy.” 

You slipped your tongue into his mouth, not caring if you turned it sloppy. You wanted it to be messy. You wanted to just let yourself go. To give into every little feeling of pure joy you had in your body. It was wet and warm and sticky, and Seokjin’s hands were naughty. They slipped up your dress, over your ass, rubbing the flesh and pinged your thong with two of his fingers. Your stomach flipped. It wasn’t the first time he’d touched you like this in a while but it was the first time he’d been so blatant about it. The snap of elastic stayed ringing in your ears as you moaned. You uncontrollably rubbed against him. He grunted into your mouth and something throbbed. 

You broke away from his mouth with a pop, sitting up on him wobbly. “You’re naughty, Kim Seokjin.” You scolded.

He just looked smug, a shit eating grin on his face. “Not anymore than you are.” Had you pulled at his hair without noticing? It looked a little wild. Regardless, you were getting distracted again. His hands still up your dress, gripping your ass as he rubbed you against his crotch. He was fully hard. You felt it strain against his pants and press into the pulsing between your legs. 

“Mario is watching us,” he whispered. “Wants to be me.”

“Ew.” You wrinkled your nose. You’d forgotten all about that creepy figurine. 

“Want me to turn him around?” 

You shook your head. “He can watch.” If truth be told you couldn’t bear it if Seokjin got up right now, even if he was coming straight back. You circled harder into him, such a simple pleasure never feeling so good. Moisture grew and collected in your thong. Barely. You were a few minutes away from spoiling his dress pants. He held your weight as you leant back, letting you grind to your heart’s content. 

“Does it feel good? Grinding on my dick like that?” 

“Mhmm.” It was all a moan. Couldn’t think to do anything else. Such a simple way of words but it had you burning up. You’d missed what his mouth could do to you. You’d missed him like this. Memories came back, swarming the front of your mind. Clouding it. So when you felt gravity leave you, back landing on the mattress with a silent thud, you were momentarily stunned. Pinned down, wet and horny. 

“What are you doing?” You gasped, which flew into a moan when you felt his crotch thrust into you.

He spread your legs, dress riding up even more, bunched up around your waist. “Protecting your modesty. Mario’s a pervert.” To give it to him, he really did want to sound causal, but his voice was strained, breathing hard and you rubbed against him shamelessly. 

It was odd. You were beyond frustrated. Craving him like you never had before, but this became enough. Feeling him solid against your barely covered core, starting to thrust into you like he was actually fucking you. It was hot. It was working. It was enough. Just as pleasurable as his dick would be inside you. 

Needy and raw. Messy and crude, but just so amazing. Pent up feelings finally getting their own way. You clung to him, wrapped your legs around him, rutted against him obscenely until you were a moaning, sweaty mess. Simulating sex desperately, because you needed him and wanted him any which way. 

Seokjinnn,” you whined, unsticking yourself from his mouth to catch your breath. Back arching as he gripped your legs from behind the knee, thrusting forward hard. 

He was panting, sweat collecting between his brow which was furrowed in effort. “C-can you cum like this?” 

“Y-yeh,” you nodded eagerly. It was great you were on the same page. Sweet relief was close. It tingled through your body and curled your toes. You were so turned on you’d cum from anything right now. “Can you?” 

“I think so,” he breathed into your cleavage. Mouth now distracted with kissing the tops of your breasts. Your nipples were painfully hard, desperate to be freed from the dress and desperate to feel his tongue. But not tonight. “Actually.” Seokjin knelt up, shaky hands undoing his fly and pushing his pants down to the middle of his thighs. His erection strained against the underwear and you throbbed at the sight. 

“Now I can,” he grinned goofily. He moved closer, and you flattened one of your legs to the bed, letting him slide in between it and the one still folded at the knee. “I’m so hard,” he laughed breathlessly, a hand reaching down to grip his dick. You followed, unable to help yourself. Squeezing tightly. Greedily. “Fuck.” He sounded impatient and desperate, rushing to thrust into you once again. You moved your hand to his hip, holding it tightly as he held onto your knee, gaining leverage to begin rubbing into you hard. “This feels so good.” He astounded and you nodded wildly in agreement. 

You were close. Not long left, and as soon as he began circling into your core, swollen and dripping by now surely, that was it. The final push. “Don’t stop.” You begged, reaching for him any way you could. “I’m g-onna… I really am…” You trailed off, laughing in disbelief.  

“Yeah?” 

You nodded again, words now failing you as the heat built up, body shuddering to its orgasm. Seokjin didn’t relent, circling harder as you came, until he couldn’t take it any longer and collapsed onto your body. 

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” He was spent. Exhausted, sweaty and near orgasm himself. You shifted a little so he didn’t rub against the sensitivity still hot between your legs and let him finish off on the inside of your thigh. You could tell by how his body stiffened, a moan like grunt dragging from his throat. You moaned back, wrapping your arms around him tightly as he burrowed his behind your waist. You clung to one another, both masses of sweat. Heavy breathed and unable to talk for a little while. 

It was Seokjin that came to first surprisingly. Despite practically dying to get you both to cum. He laughed into the crook of your neck, and you looked down at him curiously. He rolled off you a little. Hair stuck to his forehead.  “Jesus fucking christ. Feel like a teenager just done humping my pillow.” 

You raised an eyebrow. “You don’t do that anymore?” 

His eyes widened. “You do?” 

You nodded as you wriggled free from him fully and pulled down your dress. Your underwear clung to you. You felt extra sticky now that you’d cooled down. “It’s a valid form of masturbation.” 

“Well, shit. You’ll have to show me sometime.”

You laughed, sitting up. Seokjin stayed lying down, looking up you with the softest look in his eyes. He was definitely exhausted from all the humping. “Shit. Sandeul isn’t here right?” You hadn’t thought about that before, severely distracted as you’d rushed into the apartment. 

“I dunno. I can’t remember if his door was closed or not.” Jin rolled onto his back, shimmying his pants up. “Oh well. Not like he wasn’t used to it before. Won’t take him long to adjust again.” He shot you a smirk and you giggled. “Wanna shower or something?” 

You groaned. It was too late to shower, and you were tired again, but there was no way you could stay like this. You jumped off the bed, grabbing your stuff that had a permanent home at his place already. “I’ll clean up quick and get ready for bed.” 

“I’ll go after you.” He pulled a face, adjusting his crotch. “Bit gross.” 

Laughing, you stopped beside him and placed a kiss on his cheek. “Wanna go first?” 

“Nah. It’s fine.” He smiled. “I need a moment anyway. Whew.” 

On your way out you paused by Mario, twisting him to face the wall. You winked in Seokjin’s direction. “For next time.” 

.

.

You were tucked up in bed trying to stay awake on your phone when Seokjin came back from his shower. “Near naked?” Damn. What did you do to be gifted with such a sight. You’d seen him come out the shower a few times since you’d gotten together, towel slung around his waist, or watched him get dressed before you went out somewhere, but he hadn’t gone to bed in just his boxers. He better watch it, you’d jump his bones again. 

“I’m so hot.” He moaned. Tell you about it. Although you didn’t think he meant that type of hot. “That was a bigger work out than the gym.” 

“Not used to it anymore.” You teased, pulling up his side of the duvet so he could get in. As soon as he did you were attached to him, cuddling up. “You lied to me by the way,” you murmured, pulling away as you dragged your hand down his chest. 

“Hm?” He looked confused. 

“Remember you said you didn’t have abs anymore…” 

He took a moment to think before he scoffed. “That was ages ago, but these are not abs regardless.” 

“Are to.” 

“Are not.” He tried to pull the comforter up, attempting to cover his body. “This is just normal. I mean, I can try and get them back for you?” 

“Shut up,” you exclaimed. “Really, Seokjin?” You clung to his neck. “I don’t care about things like that. I like you any which way. I really like you.” You emphasised, placing a lingering kiss on his cheek. 

“Get off,” he chuckled. You could feel his grin underneath your lips. 

You buried your face in his neck instead, showering it with little kisses. “I think you’re hot, Hot, HOT anyway.”

He was laughing loudly now, grabbing your elbows to try and push you away. “Tickles,” he whined. “You’re crazy.” You sprung from him as soon as he began tickling under your armpits. Relenting instantly, head falling back into the pillows with a cry. 

“I think you’re hot too,” he whispered, leaning over you, mouth now on your neck as one of his hands ran up your side, cupping your boob gently. “Grinding on me. Making me lose my shit. Only you could make me cum like that… In my fucking underwear.”  You giggled, squirming under him as he growled and nibbled your earlobe. You were heating up again, a fool to his words. But of course your body had to betray you. A yawn escaped. You didn’t even know you’d been holding it in. 

“You’re tired,” he commented, pulling back to push stray strands of hair away from your face. 

“Mmm,” you admitted, eyes heavy and begging to be closed. 

He kissed the tip of your nose. “Let’s go to sleep.” 

There was no point arguing. Besides, it just felt too good being wrapped up in Seokjin’s arms once he’d flicked the lamp off. “Goodnight girlfriend,” he murmured in your ear, shaking you a little when you only hummed in response, half asleep. “Say it back.” 

‘Goodnight girlfriend.” 

“Nooo,” he whined, squeezing you. 

You giggled, entwining your hand with his. You were just teasing. “Goodnight boyfriend.” 

Written 2019. Reworked/Edited 2020 Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2020

[softbuckismykink]

The Last Goodbye

So I read that^ and came up with a story and I started writing it... Then when I was about to post I realized opps I read the pronouns wrong... Can’t be bothered to change my story though...  so here it is... :)

Not an x-over just borrowing characters from another show. To play Buck’s ex is Clay Spencer from SEAL Team. Now I didn’t watch the show pass like episode ten in season one so I don’t know much about the character or his origin story. I’m just borrowing him cause I can’t be assed to create an O.C. just for a one shot.  If you happen to have knowledge of how military/navy works please suspend your disbelief, I did research but honestly it’s just me reading wikipedia so I more than likely have gotten the elements concerning SEAL training and other military stuff wrong. You are warned. Don’t get offended.

Another Warning: This is a Buddie fic but it includes intimate scenes (not sex) between Buck and Clay, if you are a Buddie purist, this is your warning. 

X-posted on  AO3

Inspired by a tumblr post by @theladyandthewolves​ (Sorry I forgot to add, I did the linky link thing in AO3 but forgot to add it here)

Summary: In which team finds out Buck has a husband, when said husband turned up out of a blue and asked for a divorce. 

********

We were almost beautiful A broken piece of art put on display But we were never possible Another perfect moment thrown away I know somebody out there will love you They'll be the forever we never were 'Cause we were everything that's right at the wrong time

I didn't wanna lose you Leave you with a broken heart But wherever we are, we're miles apart I know that we tried, but this is the last goodbye

Life is going good for Buck. He’s back at 118. His team forgave him and his best friend forgave him, and he’s on his way to forgiving himself. 2019 felt like a sucky year for him with the bombing, recovering from his injuries, the tsunami, the lawsuit, Eddie’s street fighting, Bobby’s being exposed to radiation and weeks of worrying about his found!father dying of either radiation poisoning, aplastic anemia, or some kind of cancer.  

Of course there’s no guarantee that 2020 is gonna be better, but Buck likes to feel optimistic about these things. He has to be since it feels like the rest of his found family are the gloom and loom type, so it’s his job to keep the spirits up or they’ll all fall into despair. He said as much to his team as they gather around the side of the fire truck, just having arrived for their shift.       

“No seriously look at what happened last year. I got that injury and I was admittedly surly for a while--”

“Oh you were more than surly, Buck.” Hen commented.

“Okay I was, but that’s not my point. My point was I not my usual happy self and you guys were all just affected by it. And I feel like it’s my fault.”

“Not everything is about you, Buck.” Eddie said, shaking his head, though clearly amused.

“I’m just saying, I’m on to something here because all bad luck started with me being injured last year. So this year part my new years’s resolution is to generate enough positive energy to drive away all the bad luck you guys attract.”

“Yeah right, we are the trouble magnets,” Hen gestures to herself and the rest of the crew, “not you who’s pretty much in competition with Chim for the Idiot with the Most Death-Defying Experience Award.”

“Of course, I mean Chim is still winning in that,” Buck said smugly, “which pretty much proves my point.”

“Okay, Buck. Whatever lets you sleep at night.” Chim shook his head, with a laugh.

The good natured ribbing continued until they all noticed a man standing by the entrance of the station. Dirty blond curls and a full beard, in tight henley and cargo pants, he looked out of place among the clean shaven firefighter crew but he walked inside with so much confidence that you’d think he owned the place. 

“Clay what are you doing here?” Buck asked as he walked towards the scruffy looking man. 

“Hi, Evan.” The man greeted as he met Buck half way, giving Buck a tight hug and, to the young firefighter’s surprise, a kiss on his cheek. Buck could feel the stares bore onto his back. “Sorry to drop in on you at work but I don’t have you phone number or home address.”

“You mean to tell me that years of working with CIA and you can’t even get my contact info?”

“I work as their muscle Evan, I don’t do the intelligence part.”

“We both know that’s bull, Clay. You speak six languages, you are more than just the muscle.”

“And you basically thought me five of those, though I speak nine now, not all fluently but I get by.”

“And you are still arrogant as ever.” Buck sighed, some things never changed. 

“Can we talk privately?” Clay asked when he noticed the peanut gallery behind Buck.

No. Buck thought, he didn’t really want to do this here in the station but it’s only the start of his shift and he can’t really leave so he said, “I can’t leave but we can talk inside, I got a couple minutes so it better be quick.”

***

Buck lead the man to the relative privacy that the locker room provides. It’s all glass enclosure and anyone from outside can see in but he knew his colleagues would know not to bother them or listen in. 

The moment they were inside the room, Buck turned his back towards the other man, taking a moment to close the door and gather his thoughts. Fucking Clay Spencer, six years and the man still has the ability to turn his day around, making him feel all out of sorts. Buck took a deep breath before facing his husband.

“Not to be morbid Clay, but I figured after I rang that bell the next time I’ll hear about you was when I get a death notification from a CACO officer.”

“Yeah I thought so too.” Clay admitted with a slight grimace. They were young, only 19 when they got married, but they both thought they’ll be together forever. “I mean I did promise ‘till death do us part. I always thought I’d at least fulfill the death portion of that promise. But I also thought I wouldn’t meet another person I’d want to marry again and I did. Her name’s Stella, she’s a grad student at Hudson State.”

“And now you want a divorce.”

“We were over years ago we just never got around to signing the papers for it.  I’m getting married in June so--”

“So what you figure you’d come to my place of work, greet me with a kiss like we last saw each other only this morning, not six years ago and what? Demand that I go sign the divorce papers so you could go on living your merry life?”

“Look Evan, I was an ass. Heck I still am, but I wasn’t the one who left. You did.”

“Let be real, we both know I couldn’t stay.” Buck said, because it was true. DADT was repealed but the prejudice lingers. When the instructors learned that yes Evan Spencer was related to Clay Spencer and no they weren’t brothers or cousins, well let’s just say things get ugly. “I was just holding you back. Being a SEAL was your dream.”

“And there was a time that it was yours too.”

“No, I-”  It never was. I did it to be with you is what Buck wanted to say but he knew that’s unfair to both of them so he said instead, “I did it because I don’t know what I want back then. But I what I did figure out is that I was never built for that kind of life, Clay.”

“I know. You were always too soft.” Clay commented. Buck glared which didn’t escape his husband’s notice. 

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way, Evan. I’m glad you never went through with the training. Of the two of us, you were always the saint--”

“And you are just digging a deeper hole, Spencer. You should quit while you’re ahead.”

“I should, but you know that’s not really my style.”

“You saying it’s mine?” Buck challenged, eager for a fight for some reason, but Clay didn’t rise to the bait.

“You’re putting words into my mouth Evan.” Clay step in closer to him, invading Buck’s personal space. “I never thought any less of you when you quit training. I was actually relieved that you did. You were so determined when you told me you wanted to be a SEAL and I couldn’t say no even if I wanted to. So much. Cause I knew it would break you in ways that I never wanted for you, in ways that would take the best part of you that I loved so much. It was why as much as I hate him, I had Dad pull some strings to get you out of your contract and discharged. I didn’t think you’d take that as a cue to walk away.”

“You think I’m fragile, Clay but I’m not.”

“No,” Clay denied, stepping even closer, close enough that Buck could feel the other man’s breath against his cheek as the SEAL look him in the eye and explained, “I treat you like you are fragile, because that’s how you treat something that’s precious. I’ll admit to that. But I know you are strongest person I’ve ever met, Evan. I loved that about you.” 

“Then why did you let go?” Buck said, his words are demanding but his tone is all but resigned.

“Why didn’t you stay?” Clay parried back, equally yielding. They both knew the answer to each other’s question, love isn’t enough to keep them together and that’s their reality. That doesn’t negate the magnetic attraction they felt towards each other.

The SEAL stepped even closer, their foreheads within a hair’s breadth of the other, as their lips slowly gravitated towards each other. Buck felt the brush of the other man’s dry lips against his own. The touch is so painfully familiar, but gone was the spark his memories insist had once accompanied such intimate gesture. Still Buck felt nostalgic and he was just about to give in and press back when he heard a knock. They sprung apart and Buck turned to the person at the door. Buck saw his best friend leaning against the doorway arms tight cross against his chest. 

“Buck, Cap wants you for the stand-up meeting.” Eddie said tersely informed Buck while glaring at the other man. “Upstairs kitchen. Five minutes.”

“Okay, I’ll be up in two Eds.” Buck nodded with a strained smile. “Thanks for letting me know.” 

“I don’t mind but you gotta hurry or Cap would get pissed.” Eddie said before walking away, but not without directing one last glare at Buck’s visitor.

“Did he just call you, Buck?” Clay asked as soon as Eddie left the room.  “You change your surname back to Buckley? Since when?”

“Not that it’s any of your business but about two years ago after the DOD finally let me back stateside, before I started at the fire Academy. Just for work and my direct deposit bank, for now. I never got around to doing it for anything else. I guess I have to now.”

“You don’t have to. No law requires it of you.” Clay made to close the gap between them again only for Buck to step back. “It would be an unnecessary hassle.”

“You are getting married, Clay. To another person. You don’t get to act possessive and ask me to keep a name I’m half way to dropping.” Buck shook his head, clearly Clay hadn’t change a bit, still one with the need possessively attach his name to everything. The sound of a ladder truck returning reminded Buck of the meeting he was called to, “Look I really need to get going. Give me your phone.”

“Evan I-” Clay started but at the firefighter’s impatient glare, he reluctantly hands over his phone. Buck quickly typed in his contact information.

“There you have my contact number.” Buck handed the phone back and turned to leave, saying over his shoulders, “I also put in my mailing address, so you know where to send in the divorce paper.” 

“Wait, Evan--” Clay called after him, most likely noticing that Buck never put in his home address. “This is a P.O. box.” 

“Where I get my mails delivered to and I know you know how that works.” Buck walked away before the other man could launch another protest.

***

“So Buck who’s the hunk of meat?” Hen asked as soon as Buck reached the landing of the upstairs loft where the kitchen is located. His crew gathered around the kitchen island where Bobby was preparing breakfast, not at all looking like they are about to have any kind of job related meeting.

“I thought we were doing stand-up meeting?”

“No that was just Eddie here letting out the green eyed mons--Ouch!” Chimney’s explanation was interrupted by Hen elbowing him in the sternum.

“You look like you needed a save so I intervened, I didn’t know I’d be interrupting something.” Eddie remarked, a touch snidely.

“You didn’t interrupt anything. Clay was just um, saying goodbye.”

“I didn’t know friends say goodbye with a kiss.” 

“Clay’s not exactly my friend.”

“Well, he’s not family not with that kiss. What is he an ex-fling? A phase? Is that why he calls you Evan?” Eddie asked eyebrows raised and suspicious.

“Yeah I wondered about that too, we thought you said everyone just call you Buck.” Chim said, scratching his head, “I mean even your sister calls you Buck.”

“Not exactly an ex. And he’s not a phase!” Buck protested, offended at the word phase. At the surprised looks that his friends are giving him for his unusual outburst, he mellowed, shrugged and said, “I mean Clay is Clay. He always called me Evan. Ever since high school.”

“Why?”

“Um, Clay didn’t like that the name Buck is short for Buckley. Some sort of caveman reason I guessed.”

“Okay so the guy is more than a fling then?” Eddie prodded, not letting the topic die like Buck had silently asking him too, with his pointed looks. So much for best friend telepathy.

Buck sighed, resigned to admitting something he has been mum about ever since starting at 118. “Clay Spencer is my husband, or rather my soon to be ex-husband, he’s filing for divorce so.” 

It took a moment for his words to sink in and 

“Wait, what the fuck?! You were married?! And you didn’t tell us?!” Eddie asked sounding a little furious.

“To a man?!” Chim added, confounded and unable to think.

“And now you’re getting a divorce?” Bobby said calmly but the twitch of his eyebrow and the way he straightened up clearly betrayed his surprise.

“Wow my gaydar’s needs readjustment,” Hen shook her head, frowning. “I just thought you were hetero-flexible not full-on freewheeling.”

His team spoke one after another, all shocked at his revelation which granted was a little unexpected coming from him, a reformed self-diagnosed sex addict who’s afraid of commitment. 

“So what happened?” Hen asked being the first one to recover from the shock of Buck’s surprising revelation.

“Between Clay and I?” Buck asked then continued at Hen’s nod, “Well we were together since freshman year, in high school. Um- we bonded over having absent fathers. I thought we’d be together forever but Clay also wanted to join the Navy like his Dad, so we’ve always kept our relationship low key-ish until DADT got repealed. After that, we said fuck it, and got married. My dad got so mad when he found out, which was more because we were only nineteen back then, not because it was so gay which didn’t help of course but yes more because we were just kids when we got married,” Buck explained trying for casual, as he sat himself in the couch. “Anyways Clay enlisted and got into SEAL pipeline program. I got in a year after him, but I had to quit, we separated, the rest they say is history.”

“So that’s why two you broke-up? Because you quit SEAL training?” Bobby asked leaning on the railing across the couch Buck was seated at. Besides the captain is his best friend, Eddie, who has a blank look on his face that Buck couldn’t even begin to decipher. 

“Um he wanted to be a SEAL and I knew I was just holding him back so...” Buck trailed off, noticing how his team look at him with pity in their eyes, “Shit guys don’t look at me that way I’m not some broken piece of glass okay?”

When the pitying looks continued, and Bobby moved as if to comfort him, Buck said, “No, seriously guys, I’m okay. I’m not at all broken up about this at all, so you guys shouldn’t be either. Me and Clay were done years ago. It’s just we got lazy and didn’t get around to signing papers until now.”

“You don’t have to put on front with us, kid.” Chim said moving on to sit in the couch beside his while Hen moved to sit beside him. “We are family, heck you are practically my brother.”

“Chim’s right, Buckaroo. It’s okay to be not okay. We won’t think any less of you if you for it.” Hen added, laying a comforting hand on his shoulders.

“I’m seriously fine. I mean I’m not gonna lie and say it never affected me or that  it didn’t hurt. Because I did, years ago when first broke up, cause I really thought we were forever. But now? I’m not even sad or anything.”

“But if you are, you know that we are here for you, right?”

“I know that Bobby. And I appreciate it.” There was a prolonged silence that lingered for  a couple of minutes as they all just looking for words to say. Eventually Chimney, as always, broke that silence with a joking remark.

“Okay but seriously how did you land some one that hot?” Chim teased Buck.

“Chim seriously?! Your bi is showing.” Hen smirked. 

“What? I’m just saying that is one beast of a man. I’m just wondering what he saw in our Buck.”

“Hey, quit it hobbit,” Hen slapped her best friend in the arm, “Our Buck here is equally as beastly looking if not more.” 

“Hen, not that I don’t appreciate the vote of confidence because I truly do, but I don’t think ‘beastly’ is a look I aspire to project you know.”

“Joking aside, did you really go through SEAL training? Did you mean like BUD/s?” Chim asked, curious about Buck’s past but knowing the younger man would rather not talk about his soon-to-be ex-husband. At  Buck’s nod Chimney asked again, “Isn’t that only for Enlisted Navy?”

“You said you weren’t in the Navy.” Bobby added, confused.

“I wasn’t, I mean not really. I mean technically I was one but only for like less than 180 days? Which meant I got like an ELS.” Buck tried explaining, only garnering more confused looks. “Entry-Level Separation. I entered the program through SEAL Challenge Contract. I got through ‘Hell Week’ at BUD/s but I DOR’d a week after that. So it was like only give or take 155 days before I DOR’d. Which was why I don’t claim to be in the Navy because I barely was in it.”

“DOR?” Hen asked.

“Dropped on request. Clay I guessed heard about it when he was in SQT,” Buck started but had to clarify again, “er SEAL qualification training. Anyways, the instructors were about to shuffle me into the fleet as an enlisted sailor, which is usually what happens when a SEAL candidate drops out. But suddenly I got an offer that the brass would waive my Navy Enlistment contract if I would agree to work as a civilian linguistic analyst attached to a joint operation between the DOD and DEA that’s based in Chile. It was an unusual offer but I figured Clay’s father who’s a retired SEAL pulled some strings. I took the offer and spent four years bouncing around between bases in South America doing translation work.”

“Wait you said you bartender’d in South America, not Schneider’d you way through it.”

“What’s Schneider’d? And when did I say that?”

“Cocaine Wars,” Bobby said as if that alone explains it but of course Evan ‘as far as I’m concerned the world started when I was born’ Buckley didn’t get that reference, so Bobby had to explain further, “Schneider is the name of the actor who is an undercover DEA agent working in South America. And you told me when you were pulling that worm out of that guy who ate a lot of sushi.”

“I wasn’t an undercover agent, I only did translation work in a black site in South America but can’t actually say that in front of strangers so I said the first appropriate thing that came to mind.”

“Bartending is the first thing that came to mind?” 

“Well no not the very first thing... um stripping was actually but that seemed inappropriate too?” Buck said, scratching his head. At the incredulous looks he is getting from his team he defended,  “What?! Bartending is believable job I could have been doing. I mean Bobby did believe it.” 

“That’s not what--” Chim wanted to explain but was interrupted by the sound of the alarms going off. 

****

“You were awfully quiet after me telling you guys about Clay.” Buck said as soon as him and Eddie were left alone in the locker room. “You barely talked to me all day too. Is there a problem?”

“No.” Eddie replied, abrupt and clearly not wanting to talk about it but at seeing Buck’s pleading gaze, he relented, “Okay I admit I was a little upset because I thought by now we told each other everything. But then I get a slap in the face and realize I don’t know you at all. I mean I didn’t even tell me you were married.  Or that you ex-husband is a slimy squid.”

“I’m still technically married. And I believe military term is frogmen not squid.”

“Well maybe  in the Navy, in the Army they are slimy squids.” Eddie huffed.  “Seriously though, Buck. Why didn’t you tell me? I mean we talked about our exes before. You told me about Abby. You know about Shannon. Heck I even told you about Alex from boot camp. So I don’t know why you thought you couldn’t tell me about your ex-husband Clay.”

“It’s for the same reason you didn’t talk about your ex-wife back when I first asked you.”

“You asked me that before we got really close. And she’s not my ex-wife, she was my wife. There’s a difference.”

“Exactly, she wasn’t your ex-wife. Just like Clay isn’t my ex-husband. I didn’t talk about him like he is my ex because he isn’t.”

“You were separated, you said you didn’t see each other for six years.”

“I know that. I know in my head we are over and truly broken up,” Buck said while gesturing to his head then he laid his hand on his chest, “But here. Well here it’s stupid, because here there’s hope. So I didn’t talk about him like he’s my ex because then it would be like admitting that it’s truly over, no takebacksies over. I was over Clay but I guess I hadn’t reach that point where my heart’s willing to acknowledge it.”

“You dated a lot after him though, that’s like more than acknowledging it. That’s moving on.”

“It’s adapting a coping mechanism. An unhealthy one at that. I had a long list of one night stands because felt rejected and needed validation. Plus I like having sex but I was determined not to let anyone in again. Then I met Abby, who made me realize I crave intimacy not sex, she made me feel safe to love again, but she left before I could commit to loving her. Which was fortunate cause I don’t know how would get over it if she left me after I learned to love her.”

“I don’t think loving someone could be learned, Buck. Either you do, or you don’t.”

“Maybe so. But my point was I didn’t talk about him cause I thought I wasn’t over him yet. And I would have when I’m ready. I didn’t know when I just knew that talking about him before that would be like--”

“Like poking an open wound.” 

“Yes exactly like that.” Buck picked up that metaphor and expounded on it. “What I didn’t realize was that wound long scabbed over. And I left it thinking that if I picked on it, it would bleed again. Only to find out today that it’s all healed.”

“What was the kiss then?”

“The what?”

“The kiss I interrupted Buck.”

“I’m not sure but it felt like a goodbye.”

“I’m not an expert, Buck, but when he kissed you it looked more than just goodbye.” If Buck didn’t know better, he’d say Eddie sounded jealous as he said, “He’s all over you.”

“He isn’t. He kissed me but I’m telling you now, that kiss doesn’t feel like it meant anything to him. Or me. It’s not like what you think.”

“If you say so.” Eddie looked to Buck tryin g to see the truth in his eyes.

“I say so.” Buck said determined as held the other man’s gaze for a few moments, before looking away and shyly admitting, “Besides there is someone else I like.”

The words linger in the air between them as their eyes locked on to each other’s yet again; and slowly they gravitated towards each other without either knowing it. Their foreheads touched, nose brushing. The moment their lips brush, Buck felt the tingle in up his spine making him slightly weak in the knees. He held on to the older man’s waist to help himself stay upright. Eddie lifted his hand to caress the back of Buck’s head as he leaned in to deepen the kiss. Buck can’t help the moan the escaped his lips. And Eddie took that as an opportunity to slip his tongue and explore the younger man’s mouth.  If it was up to Eddie it would have gone further further but Buck pulled away.

“I’m not--” Buck shook his head, trying to clear it from the haze. “I like you but you were just widowed, and I still need to get divorced.”

“Okay, but just so you know this,” Eddie said gesturing at the air between them, “this is gonna happen. I’ll be asking you out as soon as you drop the name Spencer.”

“Not if I  asked you first.”

“Fair enough. As long as I get to eventually marry you, that’s fine.”

“Sure as long as you don’t expect me to take your name.”

“Maybe I’ll take yours instead. Edmundo Buckley has a nice ring to it don’t you think.”

“Yeah, definitely.” Buck managed to spat out with a straight face. They both look at each other in the eye before laughing out loud at the name.

Fuck Edmundo Buckley sounds ridiculous, maybe just this once Buck would take one for the team and take Eddie’s name anyway. Evan Diaz after all sounded way better. 

[losingmymindtonight]

Trope: Losing Powers

Peter had been gone for 28 days, 17 hours, 43 minutes, and 27 seconds when F.R.I.D.A.Y. finally got a hit on his location.

Tony knew that because he’d had the counter running across every free screen for weeks.

There was no time wasted when the notification came in, not a second for gathering or regrouping or slowing to breathe. Just Tony, pushing the team forward with one-minded desperation. Steve scrambled to keep up, shouting terse orders and jogging just behind Tony as he stalked towards the Quinjet.

It took 3 hours and 16 minutes to get to the kid’s location. 4 minutes for everyone to organize. 7 minutes to advance on the heavily guarded research facility. 19 minutes to take out the guards, break into the winding hallways illuminated by fluorescent lights. 2 minutes for Tony to smell the blood.

It was all over the kid’s cell. The walls, the floor, the exposed pipe in the corner. Fresh and old, small smears and massive puddles. It was everywhere he looked. Blood, blood, blood.

Peter was in the center, strapped down to a medical table by fucking zip-ties. He’d been stripped down to a stained pair of boxers, hair longer than Tony remembered it being, eyes duller than he’d remembered them being. The kid let out a deep, guttural whine when the door opened, face twisting in a flinch, like he was expected a blow.

“Peter,” he breathed, staggering towards him, disengaging his gauntlets in his rush to touch, skin-to-skin, to offer the comfort he’d been deprived of for way too fucking long, “Peter.”

Glazed, brown eyes stared back at him. His pupils were blown. Drugs? Fear? The kid squinted like he was struggling to see him. Drugs, then. Maybe. Probably. “Mister Stark?”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s me. It’s me, buddy.”

Peter’s head dropped back, lungs deflating. A delirious smile curled across his face, words lazy with relief. “You’re... a little short for a Stormtrooper.”

He blinked, brain still preoccupied with the metallic scent of blood aching in his nose and the incisions littering every visible inch of the kid’s skin and the fact that he could map every single one of his ribs and how sick he looked, how delicate and fragile and very not like the Peter he knew.

Then, he forced out a chuckle. Act normal, act cool. He had to hold it together for Peter. That was his only job. “Of course you’d make a Star Wars reference.”

“‘S my best quality.” The words must have sparked the kid’s memory, because some of the exhaustion on his face faded, and a thrum of panic took its place. He jerked against his restraints, chest heaving. “Mister Stark, I have to tell you something. I-”

“Shh,” he created a small knife with the suit’s nanites and started sawing through the zip-ties, carefully not to nick Peter’s already raw skin, “we can go through all that later, okay?”

“No, you don’t-”

He set a restraining hand against the kid’s collarbone. “Does this information put us in imminent peril?”

“No-”

“Then hush.” He finished with the zip-ties around his wrists and ducked to his ankles. “How bad are you hurt?”

“I dunno.” Peter’s voice was faint, eyes fixed on the ceiling. “Stopping feeling it weeks ago.”

Oh, Peter.

“Okay,” he choked out, wishing he was strong enough to hide the way that statement cut through his bones, “that’s okay. We’re gonna get you to the Quinjet, get you pumped full of the good stuff, and Helen’ll take care of you.”

“I don’t know if she can,” Peter whispered, voice broken.

“Hey,” he returned to the kid’s face, cupped his cheek, “none of that. Whatever she can’t fix, we’ll fix. Together. Okay?”

For a few beats, Peter just stared at him, wavering between his fear and the intrinsic trust he had in Tony.

The trust won. It always did.

“Okay.”

“Good boy.” He finished with the zip-ties, reengaged the gauntlets, but kept his helmet lowered. One of his arms slipped under the kid’s knees, wary of the dark bruising flaring across the left one, while the other went to support his back. Before fully scooping him up, he paused. “Ready to blow this joint?”

Peter rested his head against the suit’s metal shoulder, voice a tired murmur. “So ready.”

“Good.” The kid was light. Way lighter than he remembered him being. He tried to make a joke of it as he walked to the door, his precious cargo cradled closely to his chestplate. “We’ll have to get a burger in you ASAP, squirt.”

For some reason, the comment made Peter choke on a sob. “Y-Yeah. I guess.”

Despite how much the sound of the kid crying hurt, he consigned the reaction to the hysteria of being freed rather than anything more serious. He could still remember the plane flight back from Afghanistan, sitting against the wall, feeling something tickle his face and reaching up to realize that they were tears. Rhodey kneeling in front of him, concern written all over his expression. Are you okay, Tones? He’d shrugged. I don’t know.

He’d locked himself away in the bathroom for the breakdown, waited out the episode before stumbling back to his seat and staunchly ignoring Rhodey’s stares. Peter, on the other hand, just turned his face into Tony’s shoulder and quivered, teeth digging into his lip as he cried.

“It’s alright.” Tony soothed, moving silently through the smoky halls. Which side had set off the smoke bombs? He couldn’t remember. “You’re safe now.”

Peter nodded, short and sharp, hiccuped on a sob, then coughed.

At first, Tony thought he’d just worked himself up enough that his lungs were rebelling. He’d done it before. Or it could’ve been the smoke, although it had dispersed enough that it wasn’t bothering him, even without the helmet.

“Easy,” he muttered, catching a glimpse of the exit in front of them, “we’ll be out of here soon. A little sunshine’ll do you good, I think.”

He’d expected the kid’s coughing to abate once they got into fresh air. Except... it didn’t. If anything, it was getting worse. He jogged up the ramp to the jet, ignoring the team’s questioning looks, and made a bee-line for Cho.

She met him halfway, eyes already cataloging Peter’s visible injuries. “When did the coughing start?” She asked, guiding them over to a medical bunk.

Tony deposited Peter carefully, letting the suit leak away and pressed his bare palm against the kid’s shoulder, a silent reassurance. “Two minutes ago, maybe?”

“It was probably the smoke. His body’s struggling to adjust.” She shoved an oxygen mask into his hands. “Here. I need to check out these incisions.”

He knelt by Peter’s arm, lightly setting the oxygen mask over his face and brushing a few curls out of his eyes in the process. “There, buddy. Just try to relax.”

Peter groaned, another agonizing cough cutting the sound off short. His expression was twisted up in discomfort. Tony glanced over at Helen as he scrambled to keep the mask pressed firmly over the kid’s face, feeling strangely frantic. “He’s in pain. Can we fix that, please?”

She nodded, stepping back. “I brought his pain meds. Let me just-”

“No,” Peter rasped, shaking his head violently enough that it spurred him into another round of coughing, “no, don’t.”

“You don’t have to be brave about this, Pete, it’s alright to need-”

“Can’t.” A wheeze. Peter winced. “You’ll... You’ll overdose me.”

Cho scoffed. “Peter, I’ve been treating your metabolism for long enough to-”

“They took my powers,” Peter rasped, cutting Tony off. “They-”

The end of the sentence got lost in another round of wheezes and gags, but it had been enough to get the point across.

Tony’s frantic eyes met Cho’s surprised ones.

He shook his head, desperate not to believe it. “That... it can’t be...”

“It makes sense, Tony,” she murmured, shock melting into thoughtful understanding, “his muscle mass is severely depleted, and his healing factor hasn’t been working properly. Some of these wounds are days old, and they’ve only just started to heal.”

No. No. “Could just be malnutrition.”

“Maybe. But we should trust him.” Cho glanced over Peter with concern as his breaths got shorter. “It’s better to assume the worst so we can prepare for it. If he’s really lost his powers, that means that any medical issues he had before would be back. Is there anything-”

Tony’s eyes widened, symptoms clicking into place. God, he was so fucking stupid. “Shit, Cho. He had asthma. Has asthma. He... He has asthma. Really bad, I think.”

Understanding fell across Cho’s face. Her eyes darted to Peter’s heaving chest, then up to the ceiling. Her voice was terse. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., do we have any albuterol on board?”

“Yes. It is located in Medical Locker 12A.”

Cho was moving all at once, grabbing tubing, a mask, a dark black box that Tony assumed must be something important, and a handful of other things. She put them together with the kind of familiarity he imagined didn’t come only with being in the medical field, she’d done this before, often enough that each action had become muscle memory, but he didn’t comment on it.

“This is a nebulizer. It’ll get the albuterol into his lungs more effectively than a rescue inhaler at this point,” she explained. Her voice softened as she finished assembling everything, eyes landing on Tony’s. “He has to sit up.”

“On it,” he replied, slipping behind Peter and settling his back against his chest, shushing him gently as he tried to gag in another breath.

Cho handed him the nebulizer’s mask without another word, and he tossed the oxygen aside in favor of the new setup. 

“Just do your best to breathe, Peter.” Cho flicked on the machine, and it hissed. There was a surprising amount of sympathy on her face. “I assume you probably know the drill.”

The kid nodded, then dropped his head had against Tony’s shoulder, staring up at him like he was an anchor, something to tether him to Earth.

“Hey,” he whispered, desperate to fulfill the role Peter was so obviously imploring him to take, “you heard Cho. Just breathe. The meds’ll help soon.”

They did, too. Five minutes later, and Peter was slumped against him, breaths deep and borderline greedy, eyes shut with exhaustion, Cho was prepping an IV of plain-old morphine, supplies laid out to clean the dozens of wounds scattered across the kid’s body, and Tony was still holding the kid, one arm braced around his chest and the other holding the mask to his face.

The nebulizer stuttered, and Cho gently slipped it out of his hands. “We’ll do another treatment in 20 minutes or so, just to be safe. Are you feeling better now, Peter?”

“Yeah,” he breathed, eyelids fluttering open. He stared at Tony, expression full of guilt, “I’m sorry.”

“For what? Scaring the shit out of me? Yeah, you should be.”

Peter let out a wet laugh. “You’re gonna be doing this a lot now.”

“Doing what?”

The kid gestured at himself. “This. My body’s stupid. Can’t even breathe right. I step wrong and I sprain my ankle.” He glanced away, cheeks red. “‘M useless.”

“First of all, you’re not useless.” He used his free hand for force Peter’s gaze back to his face. “And second of all, you’re talking like I’m not gonna fix this. Which I am, by the way. You’ll be back to Spider-Manning and scaring the shit out of me in increasingly inventive ways before you know it.”

“What if you can’t?”

“Do you doubt me?”

“No, of course not.” There was something needy in Peter’s eyes. “But what if you can’t?”

He studied him silently, picking each word with caution. “Then I guess I’ll add a rescue inhaler to the list of things I keep in my pockets at all time. No biggie.”

That seemed to relieve whatever fear had been lurking under the kid’s skin, because he sank back into his chest and didn’t even flinch when Cho placed his IV. “Thank you, Mister Stark.”

He smiled, warm and fond. “I am gonna fix it, though. Just saying.”

The kid’s eyes fell shut again, mouth quirking up in amusement. “Of course you will.”

[mst3kproject]

602: Invasion USA

 This is not the 1985 movie with Chuck Norris.  I suppose I should watch that one someday as an Episode that Never Was, but for now we have this.  Its basic purpose is the same as that of Rocket Attack USA, to scare the audience into patriotic loyalty, and it shockingly manages to be even worse at it.

A bunch of people are sitting around in a bar talking about the universal draft when an unnamed country suddenly declares war on the United States, and… well, that’s it, really.  Stock footage of anti-aircraft guns fires on stock footage of planes. Stock footage of atom bombs is dropped on stock footage of cities.  Stock footage of warships crosses stock footage of oceans.  All while the so-called characters watch it happening on television and remark on how they can’t believe this is real… no wonder, since none of it is happening in the same dimension they’re in.

I refuse to call Invasion USA a movie.  It doesn’t qualify.  It’s more like four newsreels in a trench coat and a fake beard, trying to pretend they’re a narrative.  Take, for example, the part where Boulder Dam is destroyed.  We see stock footage of the planes.  We see stock footage of the dam.  We see stock footage of a mushroom cloud.  And then stock footage of a flood.  The closest this comes to interacting with the characters fleeing from it is that we see the flood footage back-projected behind their car, and then the camera rolls over and we cut to some of their possessions which have been tossed into a river.  It’s all so obviously a juxtaposition rather than a series of events.  You can’t help but roll your eyes.

The nearest this comes to being interesting or exciting is some of the stuff we see in the military stock footage.  The audience doesn’t exactly feel involved in this – it’s just film of random Things Happening so it doesn’t tell a story, except in retrospect when the TV news anchor tells us what’s supposed to be going on, but there are some spectacular plane crashes and so forth.  Of course, then you remember that none of this is special effects.  You’re watching real human beings die gruesome deaths.  That sucks the fun out of it pretty fast.

It’s not until the last twelve minutes that we get anything that might be called a special effect.  The bad guys nuke New York, and while what we see looks nothing like the aftermath of an atomic bombing, there is an actual miniature building that falls apart, dumping Styrofoam boulders on our heroes.  This is followed by a mediocre matte paining, but one that still does the job its meant to do.  It’s actually kind of a shock, since up until now the war has seemed to go on all around this room but never to enter it.

That’s one halfway-effective moment out of an entire seventy-three minutes of film, however, and the rest is all garbage. Not only is there the endless stock footage, there’s also the bad guys.  They’re never identified as Soviets, though they speak with Russian accents, because the film-makers didn’t want Invasion USA to be a self-fulfilling prophecy (thus making them more sensible than the people who made The Interview).  Much is made of the fact that they’re wearing American uniforms, but the one time they try to make a plot point out of it, a guard sees through the ruse immediately. The real reason is once again to avoid mentioning a country, and so they can use the stock footage of American soldiers to represent both sides.

The baddies espouse ideals of equality, freedom, and peace, but the only ones we actually meet are a couple of bullying, alcoholic rapists. This serves its purpose but the writers apparently see no contradiction between portraying ‘bad’ characters as drunks and having the ‘good’ characters sitting around drinking for half the run time.  I guess whether alcohol is good or bad depends on how nicely you’re dressed and what shape of glass you’re drinking it from. Not to mention that the psychic who can be seen as a bully and a rapist based on what he does to the other characters’ minds, but I’ll get back to that.

How long the whole war takes to happen I have no idea.  A few days must have passed, since a guy drives from San Francisco to somewhere in Arizona, and somebody makes a reference to ‘months’, but the way we keep cutting back to the same people in the same bar gives the impression that the invasion of America happens in about twenty minutes.  Maybe this is intentional, since the story, of course, ends with the revelation that it was alllll a dreeeeeeam.  Or maybe everybody was just too incompetent to show us time passing.

The ending attempts to work on multiple levels and is shit on all of them.  First, there’s the ending to the narrative we’ve been watching.  This isn’t really a story, since there’s no plot as such, merely things happening that the characters cannot possibly do anything about. They’re powerless in the face of these overwhelming events, and once the factory owner is shot after refusing to build tanks for the invaders, it doesn’t take the audience long to realize that this fate will be pretty universal.  Sure enough! The rancher is drowned when the flood from the broken dam sweeps him away, along with his wife and kids to make it extra-tragic.  The politician is killed in the attack on Washington.  The reporter is shot for picking a fight with a bad guy, and his girlfriend leaps out the window to her death.

Then of course they wake up back in the bar, and learn that it was all a dream, or rather a vision, instilled in their minds by a psychic who hypnotized them with swirling whiskey!  I’m inclined to be slightly more forgiving of this than I normally would be, since it was sort of set up and at this point there’s really nowhere else to go.  It’s still an obnoxious way to end a story and there’s a reason your high school English teacher told you not to do it.  Some dialogue establishes they all had the same vision, and then the psychic informs them that this is what the future will be if they don’t take steps to avoid it.

Uh, excuse me, what?  Nothing we’ve just seen suggests that any of these five people were in a particular position to save the world.  They can do small things – the woman goes to get a job at the blood bank, the factory owner decides to make tank parts instead of tractors, and so on (are tractors not important?  Call me a commie but I’d rather my tax money be spent on feeding people than on blowing them up).  But none of this will prevent the invasion we saw and could only make the slightest of differences in its outcome.  Are the five of them somehow crucial in a way the narrative didn’t bother to make clear?

Of course, that’s not actually the point here.  The real moral of the story is that we all need to do what we can to grease the wheels of the war machine, or we’re gonna end up calling each other Comrade.  So… what was the psychic’s goal, here?  Did he just decide to scare the pants off these people because he was annoyed by their opinions about the draft?  Or is he going from bar to bar, instilling this vision of the future in every person he meets one at a time?  And of course we have only his word for it that it is the future. The bartender does call him a con man, and for all we know he made the whole thing up.

What about the woman and the reporter, who saw themselves falling in love and then being tragically separated?  They didn’t consent to that.  The illusion of the relationship, with all its emotional, psychological, and sexual consequences, was forced upon them by an outside influence.  They decide to use this second chance to pursue it in a situation where it might not end in tragedy, but who’s to say it’ll work without that background?  They would have every right to object to this violation of their minds… as would the others, who saw their families die and their homes destroyed.

The final shot gives us a quote from George Washington: to prepare for war is one of the most effectual means of preserving peace.  I don’t know if Washington ever said that but if he did he stole it.  Si vis pacem, para bellum is a Latin adage, first attested in Vegetius, although versions also appear in Plato and Sima Qian.  It’s as old as humanity, and attributing it to Washington is just one more attempt to tug on the patriotic heartstrings.  Of course, if you consider the Romans, the Athenians, and the ancient Chinese… yep, this is something said by empire builders.

You know what movies like this have taught me?  That propaganda film-making is really hard.  If you want to deliver a message without annoying the audience then it has to emerge naturally from the story being told, rather than being imposed upon it like, say, the save-the-oceans message in Gamera vs Zigra. Then the story also has to make sense outside of that message, it has to feel like it would be worth telling even if the moral weren’t attached – Pacific Rim has a moral about working together, but it’s also just enjoyable to watch.  Invasion USA is not like that.  It exists only to shove its message down our throats and it isn’t even any good at it.  Fuck this stock footage montage pretending to be a movie.

[heechulhamster]

Deception I - Do Kyungsoo

Do Kyungsoo x Reader

Playing the part of a high-end prostitute to the country’s biggest mafia leader was no easy task. Specially when you do it as an undercover intelligence agent working for the government. And even harder when his keen-eyed assassin has his eyes set on exposing your lies.

Mafia!AU, Spy!AU, Angst, Mature Themes and Language

Prologue - I

CHAPTER I

Lavender, rose, sandalwood - you doused the bath of all scents within your reach. The amount of aroma and bubbles already overwhelmed the whole room, possibly even up to the hallways. Yet it still wasn’t enough. No amount of soap nor bath bombs would make your senses forget how he smelled. Nothing at this moment could make you feel clean from his touches.

You grabbed the loofah and started scrubbing your skin again. It’s probably chaffed now at the amount of stress and force it faced yet you still kept cleansing. Desperate to get his presence on your body away and forgotten.

At this point, tears don’t flow out your eyes anymore. The prolonged experience had made you immune to most human emotions. It was a matter of desperation, a manifestation of how lethargic you’ve become to your current situation. This wasn’t the job you dreamt of, nor the one you signed up for - but then you remember that your job entailed and encompassed so many things that you couldn’t even draw the lines yourself.

Every touch of his skin on yours was like acid that burned and stung. His lips that unabashedly shed kisses on your body was uninvited and numbed you down even more. You can’t help but remember what a vile person he is - how many lives died due to his greed, the women that he made feel like objects, the children that work under him and their futures that he ruined. It’s as if all your senses just deter his presence and you want to push him away. But you remember that what you’re doing is for them, the lives that was lost, the women that were disrespected, and the future of those who work for him. You’re doing this to help take down this vicious empire that Mr. Jung built for his satisfaction.

It’s been six months since you received the assignment, a case file consisting of a whole binder. The operation has been on for months, yet they’re opting for a new approach. They realized that it would be easier to take down a man like Jung Sungki if he’s distracted. And that was your primary role, an aberration in attempt to make him have a blind spot. Another was extracting information from the man.

It’s been five months since you’ve posed as a high-end courtesan in one of his favorite nightclubs, altering your overall appearance by the way you dress, talk and act. Everything went according to plan when he paid a huge sum of money to get you home, act like his trophy girl, and own you. And since then you’ve leeched so many information and intel, luckily the Sungki just couldn’t get his mouth shut when he’s intoxicated. And he’s intoxicated most of the time.

Others would envy you for the life that you currently have. You didn’t even have to ask for the designer bags and couture clothing that he gives you, but it's not what you really want. Knowing very well where his money comes from, you would rather not have him spend it on you. But that’s what she craved, that’s what Ashley wants - and Ashley was who you are to him.

Ashley is the woman who dreamt of lying down in a bed full of cash, who craves having red bottom stilettos on her feet and designer dresses hugging her body. And she would do everything just to get that, even including being the toy of the country’s most wanted criminal. And ever since you accepted the assignment that the government gave you, you’re Ashley and you’re owned by Mr. Jung.

So you stood up from the bath when you realized that the filth is just in your mind. That no amount of scrubbing nor soap will cleanse you. Because the more that you play the role of Ashley, the more that you’re disgusted with yourself. And this operation seems nowhere near done, just yet.

Your sleep was the only sanctuary you had from all the horror your life was right now. It was only there where you could be yourself, where you could separate Ashley from your existence. There you could reminisce the memories of your life, your old one that is. The childhood that reminded you of innocence, one that was now far lost. The youthful smile was now exchanged with a mask, a face full of deceit. And the hands that used to be occupied by kaleidoscopic dolls and toy kitchenware now yields a handheld, recoilless gun. Your family and friends in your hometown that used to be of constant presence but now seem to be so far-off from your contact. Yet all these memories are vivid and alive in your dreams. In your sleep, your mind holds these mementos close and tight before the various existences and roles you play wipe them off the face of the Earth.

If only you knew what you got yourself into when you were eighteen - a promising college student who aced most of her subjects. You don’t even know how they found you. How one unassuming day after the meeting of the debate team, you were excused by your principal and a man clad in business attire. You have no idea how he knew your background, your former excellence at archery. All you know is you’re far too intimidated by the way he said that your country needs you. And the next thing you knew, you’re dropped off at a training facility with a luggage full of your belongings. The subsequent years filled with training of various sorts, how to shoot a gun and be exceptional at doing so, how to manipulate people, and the gruelling practice on raising your pain tolerance.

Now, you’re five years in the said job - calloused and desensitized by all the operations you had to encounter. The two years of training barely left a human soul in your system. You lost yourself to being an undercover teacher in a school that apparently was a marketplace for child trafficking, a secretary of an unlawful businessman, among others that made you lose yourself. You’ve been called Glenda, Therese, all other names that almost deleted any memory of your own - and now you’re Ashley.

Today, you’re supposed to go to the mall. You’ve already asked Sungki for his black credit card, which it only took a few teasing and touches before he so willingly gave. But you’re not actually up for an episode of reckless shopping that will leave his bank broken. It’s the third Wednesday of the month, which means you needed to send back an intel report to the government. Usually done by a clandestine meeting when you’re let outside the walls of the mansion, with a neatly folded thin piece of paper riddled with ciphers that they need to decode.

Today you held a pen where you lodged a recent receipt of names and the amount of drugs that they bought that you sneaked out of a folder. These people who surrounded you were dumb enough to print an evidence of their transactions in black and white, and you were sly enough to retrieve it discreetly. Today will be an easy transfer of intel.

Or so you thought.

“Out to exploit Mr. Jung once more, I see.” The man sat beside you in the black bulletproof SUV suddenly spoke in his trademark flatly disapproving tone which you chose to disregard.

“You see, it makes me curious how shallow your conscience is. To just deliberately leech off money from someone without any remorse.” He continued.

You would’ve just disregarded him, but then you remember who you’re supposed to be. How would Ashley react to this obnoxious man sat beside her? Ashley is feisty, upfront, perverse and rebellious. So you decided to form some sort of rebuttal.

“You know what? Why don’t you just mind your own business and fuck off?” You said in an irritated tone which earned a scoff from D.O.

“Well, to my utmost dismay, you’re my business today.” D.O. spoke in a disinterested tone. “I don’t know why I’m even sent with you in this pointless and vain shopping spree of yours.”

“Why does it have to be you? Where’s Yunhyeong?” You asked him. Yunhyeong is one of Mr. Jung’s men that are usually assigned to you. You like him a whole better than D.O. who’s nosy and inquisitive, Yunhyeong mostly doesn’t even mind what you do and you easily sneak away from him.

“He took a day off.” D.O. simply answered as he looks outside the car, towards the road as he drives between trees that lined the mountains. Mr. Jung’s mansion was obscure and far away from the cities, as it is his prime locations for his transactions. This just makes it harder for you to move around freely.

You were almost thankful for the silence that enveloped the both of you in the car until he spoke again, “I always hear you going out for shopping yet I only see you with what Mr. Jung gives you. What do you hide in these shopping trips, Ashley?”

Here was he again with his inquisition. D.O. is a keen observer, he always points out the suspicious things you do around. Like a crow intensely sleuthing on its prey, waiting for its signs of weakness and its death. But now he’s far more aggressive in imposing his belief that you’re not just a prostitute taken in by Mr. Jung’s lustful acts. The past few days flooded by his snide remarks on who he things you are, now a tiger ready to pounce on your flaws. D.O., which you’re sure is not is real name as most of the people that surround you don’t use theirs, have been working for Mr. Jung for the past 6 years. He slowly rose from being a mere hitman to being one of his most trusted people, some might even consider him Sungki’s right hand.

“I prefer those days when I knew you to be quiet and apathetic, nowadays you just can’t keep your mouth shut.” You answered with all your might, and that was enough to silence him for the rest of the ride.

Usually, Yunhyeong was never attentive to what you do. You could pull off any trick up your sleeve during your trips and still he wouldn’t give two fucks about you. That’s why you liked him when he accompanies you, his impassive nature just lets you slide a note - sometimes even files to Jane. But today you face an extra challenge on keeping any action undetected in D.O.’s radar.

On days like this, Jane usually poses as a store attendant in one of the lavish fashion houses in this luxurious mall. Dressed for the part with her business blazer with interlocking C’s, bearing the expensive logo of the said brand the government was able to slide her in. You would simply give her the report, or whatever intel you had on hand. Maybe on the counter, or sometimes even as you pretend to skim and search around the store. But you know that wouldn’t work today, for D.O.’s eyes are that of an eagle’s.

“Good morning, Ashley! It’s nice to see you again today.” Jane welcomed you in her professional tone, playing her part in this charade. To which you responded by a gleeful tone before you started to explore the vastness of the store.

The real you wouldn’t bother spending hundreds of thousands just for a luxury bag with at obnoxiously placed logo. The mere thought of spending Sungki’s money, that of which was obtained in expense of the blood and life of other people, for a handbag that you wouldn’t even find use of disgusts you. But it’s an action that needs to be done if you really want to see the demise of this despicable man. So you continued on looking around, from the splendid one of a kind tweed jackets to the renowned leather purses.

“Is this new?” You acted happy and amazed as you loosely inspected a beige jacket, looking Jane in the eye.

“Fresh off the runway from the most recent collection Ma’am.” She said with a smile.

“Can I try it on my size, please?” You said as you scratched your left ear with your right hand, a sign for her that you two are being watched and she needs to take you in a safer place before giving the intel. She nodded and headed off not before instructing you to follow her.

The pen was safely tucked on the insides of your dress, and you’ve already devised a plan in your mind on how you will give it to Jane. She led you to a secluded fitting room with a lounge inside, D.O. almost followed you but he was warned that no male patrons are allowed inside. Sighing a breath of relief, Jane still proceeds on the act - a protocol you both follow just in case any bugs or recorders have been strapped on you.

You entered the fitting room after she gives you the right size of the jacket you just asked. It was there where you took off the dress you were wearing. You found the pen that you have lightly sewn on the sides of the garment, and with the pointed end of your earring you aptly cut the threads, eventually freeing the pen. Placing the pen on the corner of the fitting room, the side that can be quickly seen by Jane, you wore your clothes again. But to further the efficacy of your disguise, you still fitted the jacket and went outside of the fitting room.

“D.O., what do you think?” You asked him as he sat on one of the lavish cushions of the store. He just shrugged in apathy, and you’re relieved that it meant that he’s not being curious about anything you’ve done in the fitting room.

“Aww, you’re speechless. I think I’ll take this.” Turning to Jane, who now has the silver pen lodged in her breast pocket. You just smiled knowingly to each other.

“Ma’am, there’s a new classic bag in stock that would surely go with your tweed jacket. Would you like to give it a check?” Jane suddenly interjected, and you were quick to take cues.

“I absolutely would!” And she led you to a black quilted bag, which you pretended to inspect and ponder on buying. But it ended up on your shopping list along with the expensive jacket. Jane wouldn’t lead you on buying this if there’s no particular reason behind it.

The sound of Sungki’s credit card being used and abused just revolted your senses. You wish there was a way that you’re not using his ill-gotten wealth in the guises of pleasure, but this was the role that you’re supposed to play in this dangerous chess game.

You’re thankful that D.O. was back into his unassuming and disinterested self on your way home. His disparaging remarks and accusations replaced by silence and judging looks that you could easily pay no attention to. Because you found it extremely challenging to come up with smart clapbacks to the words he throws at you. And you’ve been trained to turn off your emotions and be logical over the flick of a button, but D.O. is highly intimidating. With his big downturned eyes that change from apathetic to dark and malevolent in a snap, you always find yourself intimidated in his remarks. What usually takes you a fraction of a second to respond leaves you silent for almost a minute, scrambling to find a rebuttal as smart as his accusations. And if there was someone who could affect your mission, it surely was him.

He used to be nothing but apathetic towards you. Your first month barely even marred by glances from his pair of notorious, unforgiving eyes. You’re not even able to remember a single instance that he talked to you or paid attention to your existence. The ever concentrated, meticulous, assassin-turned-associate, clad in his usual black dress shirt and coat, most probably always carrying a trusty gun or two underneath. A lack of attention that you reciprocated as you focused on leaching out information from Mr. Jung. His personality and being unfamiliar and vague to you because D.O. didn’t have a profile on the case file.

A whole month of preparation before you infiltrated Jung Sungki’s favorite bar, you immersed yourself in watching stolen footages of his ring. Reading the prepared profiles and summaries on what to expect and how to handle people that will soon surround you. How the intelligence agency got hand of such information was something you weren’t sure of. But amongst the twenty assassins, wingmen, and other associates - D.O. was someone the agency wasn’t aware of. And his sudden unexpected presence combined with his unforeseeable actions was enough to crack your hard shell and knock some sense of agitation in your veins.

The turbulence with him started when he gave you an unwelcoming look when you sat on Sungki’s lap during one of their meetings. It was common for him to ask his women to be with him at all times, so it was unclear to you why D.O. gave such a judgemental look when you were there. But you tried to be unfazed and remember as many details from the conversation and transactions transpiring in front of you.

Since then, snide remarks have been thrown left and right from his mouth. Making you feel unwanted and unwelcome, but you didn’t train two years to back down from mere talk. You took it as a reminder that eyes are all around you and whatever step you take, you need to think twice and plan thrice.

The moment you arrive back on your room, the black boxes of new exorbitant articles of clothing carried by some of Sungki’s men, you hurriedly opened that of the unassuming bag Jane almost forcibly made you buy earlier. Thin white wrapping paper was the first thing you saw when you lifted the cover, which after further inspection contained nothing and you quickly put it away. You opened the bag itself, your fingertips scanning the exquisite leather flaps - to no avail. The last place to look for was the warranty card. You opened the small envelope - and there, just beside the card itself was a thin paperlike material that was no bigger than the size of your thumb.

You pulled it out, revealing a very smooth and clean surface. You hurriedly went to your dresser table and lit a candle, promptly putting the paper near its flames.

“**BB4&”

After reading the message, you quickly set the small material on fire with the light of the candle - eventually turning into white ashes that you just blew away, getting rid of any trace.

The two stars meant an instruction was to be given to you, by agent BB4, and the & meant it was an important reassignment. And you just wonder why you’ll be given such a cryptic notion for a mission that is going relatively well for you.

But then you remember that as all things fade, so does interest. And Jung Sungki is a powerful man enough to change his women weekly. You were lucky enough to stay five whole months, you’ve heard that some only last weeks, some even days. And the momentary nature of his connection to you was a news slapped on your face today.

It was usual for him to go out on clubs, bars, or colleagues and associate’s parties. And ever since you entered his life, you’ve always been the accessory attached to his arms and ornate his lap during such social events. The trophy, the jewel, the diamond that he parades all around his friends and foes in attempt to make them jealous. But today, it looks like the spot you used to secure was occupied by someone else.

You stood mere meters away from the table, watching these despicable and vile men smoke their tobacco and play poker. Watching them laugh on their unwarranted jokes and try to intimidate each other with their display of artillery, men, and women. A bunch of monkeys fooling themselves as allies when they have knives against each other back, ready to betray anyone and everyone for the sake of power and wealth.

An unusual position for you to be among Sungki’s bodyguards, just standing there and watching as his new blonde stunner sat on his lap. Using her golden locks to try and tickle the suit-wearing man she sat on, making him laugh as the repulsive smoke of cigar escaped his mouth.

It’s a loss on your perspective, as you barely hear the transactions carried on by not so silent whispers across the table. You used to have the front seat on whatever deals he has under the table, and you were keen enough to note everything. But today, a new woman replaced your spot. And was a reminder that your spell on him can quickly be lost and never regained, so you need to do your job fast and well.

“Looks like your time here is fast ticking.” You heard a sudden whisper by your right ear, and that voice unmistakably belonging to D.O.

“Shut up.” You tried to fake being affected, as that is what Ashley should feel. But the real you felt a sense of relief if this mission shall be over for you, the constant presence of disgraceful people around you starts to seep in within you like a fresh tomato on a pile of rotten ones.

“I told you, it wouldn’t take long before he finds another girl to fuck. So what on your deck of cards now?” D.O. continued on trying to infuriate you, you know real well what his true intention was - to try and prove that you’re not just a prostitute Sungki randomly picked up from a club.

“I’m going to go back to the club, take all the Chanel and Prada he so graciously bought me and find another man with a heaping bank account. Is that what you want to hear from me?” You whispered back to him.

“Back to your supposed job, I see. But we both know very well that’s not what your real job is, don’t we?” You could feel his rare playful smirk beside your ear even if you don’t look at him directly, the tone of his whisper gives out his amusement in the way you act startled in his words.

“Stop playing your shit, D.O. If this is your way to get me to fuck you now that Sungki is done with me, I don’t come for free, and I don’t come cheap.” You tried to sass him out.

“If I’m going to pay for someone to fuck me, it surely wouldn’t be you.” and his quick reflexes got you stunned as he shifted from your right ear to the other. “Though I have to admit, you’re way more attractive than her.”

And it was one of the rare times that you had to admit that the cat got your tongue.

Three more hours spanned that you just stood there, waiting for whatever transactions were guised as a play of cards. You spent the whole time just forcing a smile on the new men that surrounded you, irritation building up in the back of your mind. Of all times a new girl can take your place, of course it’s the day when Sungki deals with new groups. The room was filled with people that you haven’t seen before, none of the familiar faces of the drug syndicates from Mexico nor the representatives of the Hong Kong triad. You never would’ve said this but at the span of those hours, you wished you were sat on his lap as the woman he knows by the name Ashley - then you would’ve been able to recover intel on who these people he is trading with.

The mere thought of new connections stir up the sense of social justice in your guts. New transactions only mean more chaos, more people suffering for his power, wealth and satisfaction. And you just couldn’t sit nor sleep in the expensive shit he buys you knowing that you barely tried to do your job.

So if things don’t go the way you planned it, there should always be a contingency plan.

The minute hand of the clock just hit the quarter to three in the morning when you discreetly walked your way out of your room. It’s the right time where Sungki’s just fell deep into deep sleep, probably well distracted with the new cocotte in his arms. In this new plan of yours, her presence makes it better as a distraction. As you casually strutted down the carpeted halls of his mansion, you were attentive to any of his men’s presence yet relaxed enough to not draw attention.

And you knew very well who you wish to keep under the radar from, silently hoping that he’s now fast asleep in his room.

It wasn’t like any of his men would accuse you of treachery but D.O., most of them couldn’t even look you in the eye. Like the invincible Medusa among men, they wouldn’t dare to get on your bad side knowing that you’re currently the apple of Sungki’s eyes.

The hallway that you barely roamed was now beneath your feet, his office wasn’t even guarded in the wee hours of the night. Most people wouldn’t assume a threat coming from inside the mansion’s walls. But here you are, trying to lurk at Sungki’s unmanned office at almost three in the morning in an attempt to gain information that you weren’t able to grasp earlier.

Your heart was silently trembling in your chest the moment you closed the doorknob, the dark activating all your other senses. The room was void of any sound of breaths, no sound of footsteps except yours, so you figured it would be safe to turn on the lights.

Blinking in the sudden lighting, your eyes quickly searched for any files that looked like any of those earlier. Sungki was dumb enough to keep a list of the people he interacted with before, it wasn’t far off that it’s a mistake he’d repeat. He’s highly complacent of the people surrounding him, confident that all are sheep on his favor. But you’re a wolf in sheep’s clothing ready to bite the shepherd’s back.

You hurriedly made your way to the desk, scanning over the folders to determine which looked old and which seemed new. Realizing that none of those currently on the top are new, you tried to pull some of the drawers. And the very first drawer you pulled bared an image that triggered some sense into you.

Sungki’s drawer was always the home to his beloved pistol, a Desert Eagle always encased in its black velvet box. But the sight before you was a bare and open black velvet lined box that has an outline of the said gun. There’s something wrong, no one picks up that gun, Mr. Jung seldomly holds a gun with his own hands.

You closed your eyes, letting your senses once more go into overdrive. And it was only then when you heard subtle blows of air behind you, a sound of careful breathing just coming from behind your back.

“Looking for something?” And you swear this was the worst day on your current mission.

Slowly turning your head to your back, D.O.’s unforgiving figure slowly registered in your eyes. His hands behind him as he stood there wearing his trademark stern look.

“I was… I was just looking for money.” You reasoned out almost breathlessly. You want to say you’re breathless because it would’ve been a very Ashley thing to do. But you know very well that it’s you yourself that’s stuck in this dangerous predicament/

“Money? As far as I know his card is still in your possession.” His face still void of any emotion, and you’re sure that your face is painted white in nervousness right now.

It could all end here, your assignment, the whole mission to take down Jung Sungki, and even your life.

“I’ll ask again, why are you here?” And the gun would’ve fit perfectly on the black velvet box now appeared before you. The grip was firm on D.O.’s hand as his finger rested perfectly on the trigger, the muzzle facing directly your eyes.

Your military training quickly kicked in, you noticed that the barrel was empty and the chamber contained no bullets. Another quick scan of the eye and you saw that the magazine release button was towards the back, signifying that the gun was indeed empty.

“Shoot it. Your gun’s not even loaded.” You tried to chuckle a bit to intimidate him.

“Hmm, smart observation.” His left hand that was in his back was now presented beneath his right, holding a load of magazine before chucking it inside the magazine well. “Do they now train whores in the club to know whether a gun is loaded or not?” He asked with his sarcastic smile.

D.O. took another step closer towards you, the barrel of the gun now pressed firmly on your stomach. The soft lining of your nightgown made the cold metal be felt by your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

He lowered his lips close to your ear, “Who are you really, Ashley? And I’m going to ask for the last time, why are you here?”

[dashielldeveron]

Viper II: Ad Quod Damnum

Viper AU: a Mob!Tom Holland AU in which you are a political author, Tom’s personal lawyer, and eventually his consigliere.

Warnings: swears, the law, blood, misogyny, drug mention, talking about human trafficking, mention of rape, mention of FGM, mention of forced pregnancy.

Summary: You’re doing your best to be good, both ethically and professionally, but the streams start to cross. You’re not getting noticed for your work, but it’s not quite the same as before.

After pulling your sleeves down, you buttoned your coat over the bloody, ashy handprint on your dress. “What can you see?”

Firelight reflected off of the lenses of Tom’s binoculars. He licked his lips, his breath visible in the cold. “Not a whole lot. Boost me up.”

“Mr. Osterfield might be more suited for this,” you said, but you helped Tom up the next rung of the fence to Crosscreek anyway. Still supporting Tom, you turned towards the throng of neighbourhood residents outside the gate, where Harrison was questioning people as nonchalantly as possible to find any witnesses to the blistering blaze in a section of Crosscreek. “It’s not Ms. Pham’s house,” you said, peeking through the bars, “Hers is on the west end.”

“Of course not,” said Tom. He adjusted the sights. “It’s one of the D’Aleos’ houses, their headquarters outside the city.”

“What the—the D’Aleos? The D’Aleos have a camp here?” You stepped to the side to try to get his attention. “You sent me blind into another mob family’s territory without even telling me—”

“We needed the key codes to infiltrate the house,” Tom said, not tearing his gaze away from the fire, “S’pose that won’t happen now. Maybe another location, then.”

“I’d rather go into Fratelli territory than D’Aleo,” you said, slumping against the fence, “At least they’re polite.”

“I can’t make out more than silhouettes, but it looks like more than the fire department’s there.”

“Bomb squad?”

“Not for one that’s already gone off.” Tom jumped down from the fence and held out the binoculars. “You check it out.”

You took them and climbed up without Tom’s help, since he didn’t offer it, and Harrison approached while you wrapped your free hand around one of the frigid, metal spikes. No one in the crowd had seen the bomb go off, but some had seen the process of explosion. The ground floor of the D’Aleo house had exploded, and the upper storey had collapsed with the growing flames. Certainly seemed to be the case—the only thing left untouched was the chimney, standing tall amidst a steadily rising pile of ashes.

You got down and returned the binoculars. “Was anyone inside when it blew?”

Harrison raised an eyebrow. “How’s that matter? How would I have that information?”

Christ, this desensitised mob. “I don’t—”

“They may blame you,” Tom said, stowing the binoculars in a pack, “You’re the most recent person given the codes. Better watch your back, Viper.”

“Watch my—did you account for this when you sent me?”

“You’d better watch your tone. It sounds like you’re accusing me,” said Tom, scowling, “which you have no right to do. Not exactly a promising start to your career.”

Your phone went off in your coat pocket, but you didn’t move under Tom’s glower until he barked at you to answer it.

Glory Pham: Explosion in my neighbourhood. Am fine. Still meeting tomorrow at 0900 hrs. If not arriving with biscotti from Davey’s, do not bother to arrive.

Tom read the text over your shoulder, his nose twitching as his frown deepened. “This woman thinks awfully well of herself to demand that from a business partner. Reply cordially but make no mention of fulfilling her request.”

Sending the text off, you stowed your phone away, and Tom directed his attention towards Harrison. “Contact D’Aleo; tell him we’re open for pecuniary support if he wants it. Don’t tell him we know about it in any terms other than what’s on the news. Make nice. Then contact the Fratellis and—hang on,” Tom said, turning towards you and slowly crossing his arms, “That woman has your phone number.”

“Correct,” you said.

Through the bars of the fence, firelight illuminated half of his face, morphing constantly into shadow. He opened his mouth to say something but shut it again. Scoffing, Tom returned to his conversation with Harrison with his arms tightly crossed over his chest. “Tell the Fratellis that the D’Aleos are gonna come at them for help. If you can, persuade them to deny them. We need to provide a narrow window of support; I’m gonna need a favour from D’Aleo soon.”

“He’s not going to like that,” said Harrison, jotting down notes on his phone.

“Tell me something I don’t know. If—”

“Excuse me, sir,” you said, stepping a bit closer to them to include yourself in the conversation, “Weren’t you going to tell me something?”

Tom’s fingers curled into the hair at the nape of his neck, and he, scrunching his eyes closed, gave a weak, dismissive wave. “Go home, Viper,” he said, “I don’t need you.”

***

Tom flipped his pants pocket inside-out and wiped his reddening knuckles on it. “Drop him,” he said to the two capos holding a middle-aged man who had once been quite pugnacious but now was still, save for the heaving chest, “He’s disoriented and won’t try anything. Leave. Text Maccabruno that we found him.” He stuffed his pocket right-side-in again, and the capos dropped the bastard onto his knees on their way out.

Tom unbuttoned his suit coat, and when he spoke, his voice was even but weighed with fury. “Where’ve you been for the past five months, Wright?”

You clicked your pen and held it to your legal pad. Neither man paid any attention to it, but that was the point: you weren’t to be noticed until you were told. You perched on the arm of Tom’s chair behind his desk, your legs crossed at the ankle and your skirt hitched up a little too high for a secretary Tom wasn’t keeping around to fuck.

“I haven’t been anywhere significant. I’ve stayed in Queens, as promised.”

“Then how come I haven’t seen you since before the New Year?”

“I’ve been,” said Wright, gulping. He waited a moment. “Depressed.”

“Fuck off; we don’t all have the luxury of retreating to whatever opium den you’ve been hiding in when we have a depressive episode. You can still do your fucking job and be depressed,” said Tom, who was still unaware you were the highest-functioning depressed person he had in his circle of acquaintances, “Other Queens contractors have had to pull your weight, and what’s more, I’ve been more than generous in letting your property go relatively untouched, considering you haven’t the motivation to keep up the protection fee. You owe me.”

Wright pulled at the rope tying his hands behind his back. “I can’t deny that, Mr. Holland, but I can’t pay—”

“I’m more than aware of that,” said Tom, and he tossed his suit jacket over the back of a chair and began to roll up his sleeves as he strode towards Wright, each step a hollow clunk on the hardwood floor.

Instead of writing the dialogue, you jotted down the physical reactions Wright had to whatever Tom did. Words you could recall later, but a twitch, a glance towards the window—you might not remember.

Besides, you were recording the exchange. Early on you had decided that Tom wouldn’t tell you everything, out of spite or negligence, so, inspired by your initial gift, you had given Tom a potted cactus for his desk. In the potting soil, you’d planted (bah-dum, tsh) your first major investment with your new income: the highest quality recording device on the market. When you got back to your flat each evening, you’d go through the daily file, type it, and sort it according to what case it helped. Tom would be livid if he knew, but like he’s going to rummage through cactus dirt.

You’d also invested in a flask—not for alcohol; you never drank—but so that Tom’s men (and the idiots you ran into out in the city) would never offer you drinks. You swopped out your liquid every now and then, but currently, you were on a pink lemonade kick. You kept it on an easily hidden holster around your waist, along with your wallet and phone. Carrying around a purse was too cumbersome in addition to your rucksack—which lay carefully under your feet and was itching to be pried open so that you could slam Wright into the ground with its contents.

“Get up,” Tom hissed, and when he prodded Wright’s knee with his foot, Wright sat upright, tilting his head back and exposing his neck. “C’mon, are you following along? You still with me? Use your voice, not your head.”

“I am,” said Wright, clearing his throat with difficulty.

“Head clear enough to keep going? Then you have two minutes.” Tom turned halfway towards you and gestured loosely towards Wright, who coughed bloody phlegm onto the floor. You dug the folder out of your rucksack and handed your legal pad to Tom when you passed him.

“What, you’re gonna let your fucking secretary read me my punishment?” Wright scowled when you stopped in front of him, clear of spitting distance. His sclera was blossoming into a deep vermillion, and it struck you that red looked nice against dark eyelashes. “You’ve gotten lazy in the months I’ve—”

“If you had to lose a finger, which one would you choose?”

Bafflement flashed across his face, and before he could question it, you asked him the same again. This time, he said the pinkie on his non-dominant hand and flexed his fingers behind him, steeling himself.

“Interesting choice,” you said, taking the knife Tom handed you and flipping out the blade, “Most people say that, and it really shows how little the American public knows about human anatomy. Do you know the difference between precision and power grip?”

Wright flicked a worried look towards Tom and back to you. Interesting how they all turned to Tom for stability once you started talking. Wright shook his head.

“Precision grip involves the pinching motion with your thumb, index, and middle fingers. The distal two joints are the only ones being used,” you said, shifting the file to your side, “Power grip uses all fingers and the thumb as they wrap around an object. It uses all of your joints, and the ring and little fingers do most of the work. What they lack in precision, they make up for in strength, the little finger being the strongest. Holland.”

He took your file and held it loosely by his side, his gaze never leaving you as you rounded Wright and knelt.

“Make a fist,” you told Wright, straining to look over his shoulder at you, “Feel the strength of each finger. No, eyes to the front.” You turned his chin towards Tom, and Wright’s Adam’s apple bobbed.

“The correct choice is your index finger,” you said, prying open his fist and sliding the blade across his index finger—lightly, not enough to break skin but enough to put him on edge. “You don’t need it. The middle finger functions just as well for precise grip actions, and the index doesn’t do much otherwise.” You tapped the tip on the crease of his second knuckle, and he flinched. “Your middle is more involved in power grip than the index, which is why it’s the second choice. The ring finger comes next, because you’re losing power, and the little finger after, again, for power grip. The thumb should be your last choice.” You slid the knife over it now, letting it swipe lazily to the skin between index and thumb. “If you lose your thumb, you lose all precision grip. You’d still have power, but it’s affected nevertheless. It’s your only opposable digit, so there’s no substituting for it.”

Letting the information breathe, you drew figure-eights up and down his fingers for a moment. Tom’s throwing your legal pad onto his desk was the only noise that interrupts Wright’s shaky breathing and the A/C.

Tom leant against his desk, clutched your file to his chest, and tilted his chin up very slightly. “What say you to that, Wright?”

With incredulity in his voice, Wright said, “You learn something new every—”

You drove the knife through his right palm, and you stood slowly. You walked over to Tom and thanked him over the screeching, and you exchanged the knife for your file. Later, you’d justify stabbing him to yourself over a sink; Tom had eyed you during the first feeble aftermath, but now you hid it entirely. You wondered vaguely how your cat was doing.

“Holy fuck, woman,” said Wright in his high register, “You can’t do that to me. This is still a business arrangement; you can’t—I know my rights.”

“Really?” You looked at Tom and back at Wright. “Name them.”

He bit his tongue with force as you returned to him, pulling the first page out of the folder. “Now, why haven’t you filed your tax returns for your front business?”

“What,” Wright said, panting, “the fuck?”

“You’re overdue. For quite some time, now. Tax evasion is a crime, Mr. Wright.”

And there it was: the visible processing of what was happening, the cogs turning in the client’s head so loudly that the men downstairs could hear it, the awe, confusion, and then anger: “Holy fucking shit,” said Wright, “You’re the Viper.”

“I’m pleased to hear your cognitive functions are still operating. Gold star. Tax evasion, Mr. Wright.”

“That doesn’t—the fuck—that doesn’t matter; I’ve been doing it for—”

“I know it doesn’t matter. But did you note the physical signs of relief you just showed?” You waved the tax form at him. “When you found out it was only tax evasion? Your shoulders legitimately slumped in relief, Wright, and I thought only cartoon characters did that. I’m not here to talk about your tax records, you fuck.”

Here you waited; where there was a silence after a vague accusation, sometimes there was a confession. You didn’t need it, but you took confessing into account when you dealt with clients further. Again Wright glanced at Tom for clarification, for stability, for anything, and he wouldn’t give it to him.

“Springfield, Missouri. Your wife’s shelter. Thirty-eight, seventeen, nine.”

His face fell blank. He opened his mouth and closed it, and then he set his jaw. “Prostitution’s on the way to being legalised.”

“That’s pimp talk. Now, I know what my views on prostitution are, and you know yours, but why we’re here today isn’t about personal views, you fucker. It’s about the law, the lives you’ve ruined, and your betrayal of trust. Let’s talk about justice and gender.” You clasped your hands behind your back and paced leisurely around him.

“In law school, the message was that I didn’t belong because I was a woman. Supreme Court justices came to my school the spring of my first year, during which they were sure to emphasise keeping women lawyers at large, corporate firms because of family-friendly policies.” You stopped behind him, looking down at the crown of his head. “This was the only issue regarding women they spoke of, and that was the beginning, the beginning of linking their narrow approach to gender with my feeling of isolation.”

You took a glance towards Tom. This information was new to him, but he wasn’t reacting at all. Simply leaning against his desk, arms crossed. No expression. It didn’t matter, you supposed—he knew your views on gendered justice; he just didn’t know why. Well, you learn something new every day.

“I spoke in class, because no other female students would, and people noticed. A tenured professor tended to talk directly with me during what was theoretically a class discussion. Sometimes, he would agree wholeheartedly, and others, he’d drag me through the dirt—all using gendered vocabulary, thinly veiling that I was wrong for emotional reasons, which lawyers aren’t supposed to be. Because of all my interaction with this professor, my fellow students thought I was fucking him—when in reality, he hated me—as belayed to me by a friend who talked to him in office hours.” You stayed behind Wright. Keeping an eye on Tom was more important to you.

“Again, I was—to put it crudely—groped my second year by an upperclassman. When I reported him to the chair and again to the dean, nothing happened, when it should have gone on his permanent record. The administration was too willing to sweep my case and worse under the rug. But enough about me,” you said, coming to a halt and bouncing on the balls of your feet, “The history of law has always been drenched in misogyny.”

You flicked the back of Wright’s head. “I know. You’re zoning out. You don’t want to listen to a woman talk about feminism. This is going a place very relevant to you, so at the very least, pay attention to figure out if you’re gonna walk out of this room or be carried out. Are you following along?”

“Yes.”

Feeling a bit daring, you said, “Yes what?”

Wright shifted his jaw. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good boy. Now, for ages, legal convention has allowed familial violence and rape and has equated these actions with damage to property. You say that’s gone, that that’s old hat. Chin up, bucko; history’s only getting started. Cogs in favour of women have been churning less than a century, but legal capabilities are rooted in a patriarchal system—I can practically hear you rolling your eyes. Roll them again, and they’ll be rolling across the floor. When studying law or building a career in it, the system is designed to shape you into the romanticised epitome of the profession. Being a human person can’t interfere with legal culture, especially when that human person is knocking against gender discrimination that’s just been part of the system since it began.”

You glanced at Wright out of the corner of your eye. If he were untied and physically fit, he’d be picking at his fingernails. He had that look: glazed over and fixated on the floor. Hackneyed posture. Might’ve been any jerk you see at the library if it weren’t for the blood and tears dripping out of his eye.

Tom remained unmoved, but his gaze was on you, not Wright.

“When you’re stuck in an environment that’s designed to crush who you are, you tend to adopt silence as your method of protection. There was one thing that pulled me through. Just one.” You clasped your hands behind your back. “I had a magnificent professor who saw the light in me and raised me from the depths. She had my back when the world was against me. She was my rock when my life was crumbling.” You rounded to Wright’s front, now, and you tilted up your chin to glare down at him. “So you’d better believe I’m gonna be that and more for women who are silenced and abused by worms like you. There’s a danger to women in places like mine, and I’m gonna do all I can to keep them safe.”

Gripping Wright’s hair, you forced his gaze to lock with yours. His blond hair matted blood between your fingers. “Back to Springfield, Missouri. When you go through one of the cities with the highest human trafficking rate in the nation, you tend to get noticed. I noticed. Now, with my help, your wife’s noticed.”

Wright’s eyes widened, and he spat bloody phlegm in your face. Closing your eyes and freezing your expression, you released his hair, stood, and flicked it delicately off your cheekbone. “Holland,” you said over your shoulder, “Has this man been tested?”

“He’s clean,” said Tom in a hoarse voice.

“Thank you,” you said, and you returned your focus to Wright. “Grace was more than willing to help provide all banking accounts, emails, and passwords once I showed her the patterns of your movements and women and a depressingly large amount of underage girls going missing from her women’s shelter.”

“You fucking bitch,” said Wright, “She didn’t know anything about the trafficking, but she—”

“Oh, I know. Which is why we’ve examined all found content concerning it and purged her connections with it. You shouldn’t leave such a thorough paper trail, Mr. Wright.” You opened your folder and idly flipped through it. “I have you for trafficking, kidnapping, rape, assault, opiate—”

“You—bitch. You can’t prove a thing.”

You half-shrugged. “True, but your wife could, once she connected the dots, and now enough information is in my hands to ruin you and your company. However, I wanted to give Grace some agency on the matter since you betrayed her, and I gave her a choice on whether to send you to prison or hell.” You closed your file. “Let’s just say she doesn’t want you on state health care.”

Wright lunged the best he could on his knees towards you and began to shout, and you simply took a step back. When the client is reduced to nothing but name-calling and threats, it’s time to wrap up.

And Tom’s phone rang. You reviewed Grace’s personal accounts while he talked and made a mental note to help her and her kids get out of state temporarily. Maybe to Maine. Low population. Lots of forests. Forests are peaceful.

Tom swore loudly into his phone, and he finished the phone call in a hurry. “Viper,” he said, turning on his heel, “I have a job for you.”

“Is it all right leaving Wright here?” Your heels clicked together as you came to stand in front of Tom, and you handed him the folder.

“I’ll handle him,” said Tom, loosening his tie enough to slip from around his neck, “You’re going alone. I’ll have a car for you outside by the time you get to the lobby, and I’ll text you the details.” Fucking hell. Another excuse to contact you via phone—he’d never admit it, but you saw the glint in his eye when you gave him your number a while back. You knew what he was about. You wished, at least, he’d text in full sentences.

“Understood. Should I be armed?”

“Harrison’s already there,” said Tom, “but he won’t be for long. He thinks you’d ought to check it out, though. Some Fratelli men are staking out the place since the police discovered it, since it’s on their turf, but it’s a sector we’re friendly with.”

“All right,” you said. You took a moment to look at Wright, who had fallen silent again and was staring at the floor again in a dazed way. You turned back to Tom and said so that only he could hear: “I know it isn’t my place to make suggestions, but I would love to come back to this scum not having any teeth.”

Tom raised an eyebrow but said nothing, and when he nodded once, you took it as your dismissal. When you glanced over your shoulder at him as your closed the door, he gave you a small smile where Wright couldn’t see.

***

“Top floor?” You pulled on a latex glove with a snap.

“No, the penultimate one,” said Harrison, “Top floor’s completely empty. You want the main room on the fourth floor on the left. The police have already been through it and marked out the silhouette. Unnecessary.”

“Like a good, old-fashioned cop show,” you said, flexing your latex-covered fingers, “Do we have a weapon yet?”

“Lots lying around the premises but none suited to skin someone. I’m on my way to check out his skin; it was dumped on his front steps,” said Harrison.

“Was the rest of the body found here before his skin was discovered?”

Harrison checked over his shoulder at the Fratelli capos calling for his attention. “No. Here’s the write-up,” he said, shoving you some folded papers, “The rest of his body hasn’t been found yet, but the autopsy on his skin should be included. I’ve got to go. Let me know how it goes.”

“Hold on,” you said, grabbing his sleeve, “Is anyone in this building besides the Fratellis?”

He shook his head. “You’re alone, Viper. Go wild.”

After Harrison met with the Fratelli capos, you opened the autopsy report and read them as you ascended the staircase, which creaked and expelled dust with every step. The place was coated in grime. You didn’t want to touch anything; you might get a disease. Stupid fucking building hadn’t been cleaned since it was built, and the prostitution ring functioned out of this place? You wouldn’t want to sit down in here, let alone have sex. You had to stop reading though, since you had to keep an eye on your feet—it would be nice to have a sharps container.

So, you called Tom. You pressed it to your ear and brought your collar over your nose so that you could have at least two breaths of fresh air, and he picked up on the third ring.

“What’ve you got?”

“Did you fucking know that Senator Hernandez was involved with Wright’s prostitution ring? Were we willingly working with someone who’ll—”

“Absolutely not,” said Tom, “I didn’t know until the phone call. I didn’t even know about the trafficking before you brought it up. I thought we were dealing with a run-of-the-mill businessman.”

He didn’t know until you…? Incredible. “How’d Hernandez’s skin get to his front steps?”

“I’m going over the security footage now, and an unmarked car dumped him out of what looks like a burlap sack. Can’t make out anything from the footage otherwise.”

“So, Holland,” you said, slowing your pace as you climbed the final few steps to the fourth floor, “What are you expecting me to find? I doubt the gun’s gonna be here, and there’s no chance of the bullet. It’s still in Senator Hernandez’s body, wherever it is.”

Tom pulled the received away from his mouth, but his soft fuck still came through. “They haven’t found it? His body, I mean.”

“Not a trace. All right, I’m in the room,” you said as you pushed on the door, its weight so heavy it swung open and held without having to prop it open. You kicked the doorstop to the side.

Outlines of where furniture had been removed were the only parts of the carpet in a consistent beige. Otherwise, the floor stains ranged from bright red to a murky brown. You strode across it, needles sometimes clinking against your shoes, and you stopped at the edge of the police outline of where they garnered Hernandez had been shot, his head directly at your toes.

“What do you expect me to find in here, Holland?” You spun around, making a conscious effort not to breathe too deeply. “The cops have already marked it up. They’ve taken away anything interesting.”

“I don’t know,” he said, “but I do know that you have sharper eyes than they do. You’re gonna find something they missed.”

“Yeah, right. This place is empty, besides the palpable squalor.”

“C’mon, Viper. Take your time.”

You cleared your throat. “Fine, but if I contract the fuckin’ plague, or something, I’m infecting you first.”

“I’ll take it,” said Tom, and he continued with a change in tone. “Tell me about the autopsy report.”

“All right.” You walked around the silhouette to the one window in the room directly behind it. “Skin heavily bruised, especially the face. Nothing that looks like a hand, though.” You pried open the dull, green curtains and pinned them back. “Gunshot the back of his head, a single, long slit down his spine where they must have scooped out his insides.” The window showed no signs of being roughed up, so it must have been unlocked. You reached up to the lock and unlocked it (it shifted easily; the window must have been opened often to let smoke out) before pushing it open and out. “And yeah, there’s the edge of a scuffed shoeprint on the outside of the window, like the report says,” you said, leaning out to see it, “So the shooter did come in this way.”

You closed the window and glanced around the empty room. “I don’t know, Holland. I’m can’t give you any new information.”

“Anything at all?”

“The ceiling’s got graffiti on it. Some kind of mural. Mostly just swirls. Kind of like a clouded sky, but it’s almost dreamlike. Idealised.”

“Supposed to be heaven, d’you reckon?”

You closed your eyes. “Irony at its most mediocre and transparent.”

“Keep going.”

“I don’t want to keep you, if you’ve got something else to do. I can give a report later,” you said, breathing through your collar again.

“I’d rather hear you process the crime scene in real time,” said Tom, “This is more important than whoever’s bleeding at my feet.”

“I hope that’s metaphorical,” you said, and you proceeded too quickly for him to say otherwise. “Hernandez’s outline is almost comical. It’s straight flat without struggle, it looks like. It kind of looks like a bowling pin. Hang on.”

“What’s the matter?”

“His head’s facing the door.”

“Yeah?”

“And he was shot in the back of the head. His face is bruised—from the fall. He didn’t turn around to see his murderer. That matches with the window being o—why wouldn’t he turn around?” You crouched next to the outline and scanned the carpet for bloodstains that were the senator’s.

Tom clicked his tongue. “Was anyone else in the room?”

“No,” you said, “He’d been alone for—his head is facing the door.”

“The fuck does that mean?” Tom said as you rushed across the room and out into the hallway. You backed up into the doorframe and stared exactly in the senator’s line of vision.

“Just give me a moment.” Blank wall. Railing for stairs. No window, no sun, no light. Unless—

“What is it?”

Darting back into the room, you tested the door a few inches, swinging it back and forth before shutting it.

“Have you found something? Viper, answer me. Are you okay?”

You cleared your throat again. “’m fine. But, um. He was distracted,” you said in a soft voice into the phone before you lowered it.

On the back of the door in the same spray paint as the mural lay an inscription:

Hernandez, though you have run, it is time to collect a viper decides how much venom injects

***

“I told you,” you hissed, “I didn’t trust the senator from the very beginning.”

“Maccabruno did, and I trust Macca. I won’t have you insulting my consigliere another time today, got it?” Tom raised his eyebrows as he looked up at you from his chair behind his desk.

“But now I’m involved in the public sphere. The police are gonna go back and find that couplet, and then there’s gonna be reports all over about who or what the viper bit could mean, and it’s gonna lead back to us. It’s gonna lead to me.” You dragged a chair from the opposite side of his desk to sit next to him, so that there wouldn’t be a barrier between you. “I can’t have that. I can’t be found. I can’t be discovered,” you said, sitting ungracefully and leaning towards him.

“You’re right,” said Tom. He kicked a leg to rest his ankle on the opposite knee. “I can’t have you found out. You’re the ace up my sleeve.” He pinched his lower lip between his index finger and thumb.

Harrison barged in the door without knocking, the knob banging into the wall, with Maccabruno close behind. “Fucking hell,” he said, and he tossed an open envelope onto Tom’s desk. “Take a look at this.”

“It just arrived,” said Maccabruno, as Tom slid his fingers into the envelope and pulled out a polaroid. “Normal mail. Nothing suspicious.”

Supporting yourself on Tom’s armrest, you leant close enough to where you could see the picture, your chin initially grazing Tom’s shoulder, and your jaw dropped fully onto it. It was a clear image of you taking off your gloves earlier that afternoon, exiting the building where Senator Hernandez had been killed.

“The back, Tom,” said Haz, “Read the fucking back.”

Tom flipped it over. Tom Holland, it read, you have three days until I release this picture and similar. There is no stopping this. Whom I’m giving it to is offering me a ghastly amount of money, Tom, and they’re going to put this to good use. The viper’s got to suffer. Your girl’s going to burn. xx.

You blinked. Closed your mouth. Blinked again. Frowned. For some reason, your brain latched onto the kisses at the end, and they had you nodding. An essence of humour.

Harrison gripped the edge of the desk. “How do we stop it?”

“Give me a minute,” Tom said, rubbing his forehead as he handed the polaroid back to Harrison. His fingers kept going to run through his hair.

“I don’t think we can,” said Maccabruno, “He wrote we can’t, and I don’t think we can trace him.”

“Unless we want to go through spray paint sales across the city for the past week,” you said, snapping out of your daze.

“I’ll get on it,” said Maccabruno.

“I was jok—”

“No, do it,” said Tom with a wave, his eyes shut. “I can’t fucking believe this.”

Harrison pinched the bridge of his nose. “Wait a minute,” he said, “Are we assuming the murder-poet and whoever sent this polaroid are the same person? They aren’t necessarily connected.”

“Keep three records of the cases.” Maccabruno flexed his left hand, its joints popping. “One for each incident as they are, and another acting as if they’re done by the same person. Viper,” Maccabruno said, “was anyone around when you were leaving the crime scene?”

“No one except the two Fratelli men.”

Maccabruno shot Tom and Harrison a look before returning to you. “Really think. You may not have noticed—”

“Macca,” you said, shutting your eyes tightly, “what colour are my eyes?”

After a beat, he stammered that he didn’t know.

“That’s right,” you said, still blind, “Yours are hazel. Mr. Osterfield’s are light blue, and Mr. Holland’s are dark brown. You have a bulge in your coat pocket, but you don’t carry a gun normally; that pocket’s where you keep your mentos and pocket edition of the Constitution. Mr. Osterfield’s got scuffs on his shoes from where he keeps tripping into the new rug in the hallway, and Holland usually has grey pet hair on his trousers.” You opened your eyes to their checks if what you said were true. “I admit I’m trying to impress you, but the fact that I know them shouldn’t be impressive. I’m simply on guard. I watch. I notice. So, yeah, I know what I saw coming out of the cri—”

“Viper,” said Tom, leaning against two fingers pressed to his temple, “Can you go five minutes without taking umbrage with Macca? Get a grip. I won’t have infighting among you three. Fucking hell.” Tom pushed away from his desk and rose sluggishly. He took a step towards his liquor cabinet but winced and stopped himself. “Everyone, get out. I need time to think.”

Perplexed, Harrison glanced at you before saying, “But Tom—”

“Leave. Now,” said Tom, running his hand through his hair as he scrunched up his face. Harrison had his hand on the doorknob when Tom called you back to his desk. He opened the top drawer and retrieved a lace handkerchief, tied off around the middle. He placed it in your palm, and you tugged the string loose to reveal a collection of broken teeth. Your mouth twitched into a half smile.

“Is it really that important if this picture gets leaked? I’m afraid I don’t see much of a problem.” Maccabruno shook off Harrison’s grip on his arm and strode back towards Tom, Harrison closely behind. “The city underground knows Haz’s and my faces. And yours. We’ve have our rough times, but so has everyone else in this family. We have our quarrels but walk out regardless, even if we’re bruised and bloody. How is she any different?”

Harrison frowned. “He’s got a fair point.”

“Got a fair—? Christ,” said Tom with such vehemence that you clenched your fist around the handkerchief and moved to get out of his way as he rounded the desk. He opened his mouth but closed it when he looked back at you, but he continued at a softer volume. “You are correct,” he said, gesturing stiffly for Maccabruno to sit in one of the intentionally uncomfortable chairs in front of his desk, “She shouldn’t be any different. Haz, you, and I—hopefully—all think of her as the same as us.” Tom glanced at you again before glaring at Macca down his nose. “But we can’t guarantee our opponents will. They’re gonna look at her and see some chick that I’ve hired out of sentiment. They’re gonna look at her and see an easy way to me.”

While Harrison inched over to you to give you some shred of solidarity, Tom put his foot on the edge of the seat of Maccabruno’s chair, making him scoot over, and Tom leant into his face, resting his arms on his raised knee. “So, they know about the Viper. Fine. Gives them another reason to be on edge around me. But say everyone knows she’s a woman—they don’t take her seriously and easy to spot. She’s less of a person and more of a target.”

Harrison nudged your arm, and you inhaled sharply. He nodded slightly at you, and you returned it. You forced yourself to release the tension from your jaw and stopped clenching your fists. The roots of the molars had been digging into your palm.

“Not to mention,” Tom said as he took the end of Maccabruno’s tie and flipped it over his shoulder, “Not a one of them can impregnate you or cut off your clitoris. They can hurt her in ways they can’t hurt you. Understand yet?”

Maccabruno’s brow was furrowed, but he stared squarely at Tom’s lapel pocket. “Yes, sir.”

“Good job. And I need you to leave my office so that I can have the time to fucking think about how I’m gonna fix this. I can’t lose this one,” Tom said, jerking his head in your direction and crossing his arms, “due to negligence or personal error. I need her around. No one else can do what she does.”

After months of working for him, there’s validation, finally. Nice to hear you’re appreciated, but you’d rather it not be like this. For a moment, you thought about Tom saying the same things to you, but in private on one of your late nights, where you’re alone and both sleep-deprived and poring over evidence and files, and he’s got his hair all ruffled and a soft shine in his eyes, and he’s leaning close to you, body heat melding with your own, and he says in a low breath into your ear that he needs you—okay, slow down, girl. Save that for the shower. Remember these words forever, though; write them down—Tom may never say anything this positive about you again. Especially with what you’re about to say.

“Holland,” you said, stepping forward, “I might have something.”

He turned towards you, hands resting on his hips and his white shirt straining against his chest. “Something about stopping this guy releasing your information?”

“Yeah,” you said, “We release it first.”

***

ad quod damnum: according to the harm; the punishment must fit the crime.

taglist: @presidentbttrflyfreak @stealth-spiderr @astronomyparkers @starksparker @bi-writes @magstorrn @imstarwarstrashokay @wheremyotpat @infamous-webhead @pparkerwrites @laurfangirl424 @gryfinpuffs @hollandroos @softspideys @gendryia @paradoxparker @plethoraofpuppies @deranged-sewer-rat @laucontrerasv @yeastystrumpet @qxeen-of-hearts

[meet-me-in-the-kitchen]

Imagine: Gone Under

7 and 8 from this list.

TRIGGER WARNING: dom!harry, sub!reader, subspace. angst** with fluffy aftercare. um i’ve never written smth like this before, so please be nice. i don’t know what i’m doing :(

(“7. Soft dom!Harry helping y/n calm down after she gets too frustrated when she’s very tired,

8. Y/n slipping away into subspace when guests are over. The guests are trying to talk to her but the only responses they’re getting back are distant looks. So harry has to find a way for them to leave so he can take care of her”)

The one where she’s gone under, and he tries to get her back.

Harry should have listened to her, he reckons, green eyes flashing in worry and concern as his head hangs in guilt at the sight in front of him. He should’ve paid attention to his girlfriend when she mumbled she was too tired to co-host a party, but all he had done was lose his patience and say a string of harsh things he wish he hadn’t.

It started out with y/n coming home in the evening after a long day at university, shoulders slumped and a sigh compressed in her chest, her eyes and throat burning with the empty feeling of needing a good cry, but the tears never came. She placidly slips off her shoes and brings her aching feet out onto the cool tiles of the flat she shared with her boyfriend, sniffling as the weight on her shoulders slowly lessened once she had walked into the flat.

Harry could do that to a girl, and y/n knew this from personal experience. After a couple of hours of him holding her close, back rubs, and snuggles in front of the Netflix streaming T.V., her troubles would be forgotten or seen as easier to handle than before, and the fine lines on her worried forehead would fade into nothing as she fades into sleep. That’s what y/n has been eager to come home to all day.

The day hasn’t been easy on y/n, to say the least. She had left for uni bright eyed, kissing Harry goodbye and refusing to let him drive her, wanting to take the train instead. In her rush to be early, y/n forgets her phone at home. That’s her first mistake.

Afterwards, when she’s finally reached the train station which is a five minute walk from her and Harry’s flat, she reaches into her front and back pockets, trying to find her phone urgently as time ticks away and a weird, unsettled feeling gnaws deep inside her stomach in sickeningly short waves. When y/n realizes that she’s left her phone at home, it takes everything within her to not freak out then and there, because she has a project she’s poured her heart into that she has to present to the class in the afternoon, and nothing can kill her vibes. But, the problem is, she kept her credit card, dollar bills and some identification all inside of her phone case. The only thing she had now was a student I.D. card hung around her neck and dropping at her chest.

When y/n had finally come to the conclusion she had no money on her, she had to run to her university in order to not be late, which sounded very stupid, because why didn’t she just go back to her flat and grab the materials she needed? But, y/n knew she could make it in time if she ran, seeing as the university was a twenty minute drive and the professor teaching her first class that morning was very crabby and harsh when it came to students missing classes or appearing late. Unlike other professors, who genuinely didn’t give a fuck, Prof Adams was something else.

When she finally appears at the university gates, sweating and makeup running down her face slightly, y/n flashes her I.D. to the guards by the entrance, who then let her in. She runs to the class she’s supposed to be in five minutes early, and is finally calming down when she realizes it’s Friday and she has a class with Prof. O’Connor, who was much more flexible with time than Adams. At this point she’s sure she’s about to have a nervous breakdown, but seamlessly jogs to the correct class.

By lunch, y/n’s stomach is growling loudly, but she realizes that one, she doesn’t have a penny on her, and two, the project she had been so excited to present was a group project, and even if she had poured her heart and soul into this project, it was going to be graded based on the work everyone had done. And so, she’d collected everyone’s part into the project and worked over lunch like a mad woman possessed, her head dizzy and stomach growling faintly in hunger, pleading for her to fill it with food.

And once she’s finally finished perfecting everything in the student library, running on cheap caffeine and her own fear of failing, y/n had bolted, running up the the stairs as fast as she could so she could reach her class in time. And, of course, she had to fall down an entire flight of stairs just then. Which wasn’t only painful, but really embarrassing. After that episode, she trots up the stairs, finishes the presentation, and has to walk to their flat in the rain, because all her peers took off before she could ask if she could use their phone to call Harry or hitch a ride.

Drenched and weary, all in all y/n had had a really fucking bad day, and honestly just wanted to sob into Harry’s chest, and maybe watch a rom-com as he fussed over her.

But that’s not what happened.

As y/n heard the familiar patter of Harry’s feet traveling towards her, a faint smile unconsciously tugs at her lips. Even though she feels totally spent, a warm bath with her boyfriend sounds nice.. they could even try one of those bath bombs Harry had fetched for her a few days ago. Sex sounded good, too, y/n agreed internally, her tense muscles relaxing some when she thinks of Harry gently pushing into her in the rippling bath water, holding her by her stomach, snuggled close to his chest.

“Hello, babe,” Harry greets in his raspy voice, snaking his arms around her hips as she leans back into his chest with a pout on her lips that she wishes would make him understand, like he did every other time.

“Hi,” she breathes, letting her eyes close shut as they swayed slightly. He was so warm, and lovely, and him.

“The boys and a few of our friends are coming over in forty five minutes for a little get together,” he informs, nipping kisses into her earlobe and sucking hotly at the warm flesh dangerously edged near her sweet spot, lips puckering around the flesh and latching on. Because of the well planned distraction, y/n spends a few moments sighing as Harry blows warm air onto her sweet spot before licking over the bruised area and cooling the soft skin with cool air.

Suddenly, y/n snaps back to her senses, jumping away from Harry’s warm embrace reluctantly and looking up at him with a feisty, challenging look.

“Oh, no you don’t, Styles!” y/n warns, and at first Harry’s eyebrows jump into his hairline, eyes lightening with amusement at her reaction. His arms reach for her again, but when she pushes him back, he raises his hands defensively above his head.

“Don’t seduce me, you heathen,” y/n all but snaps, pointing a finger to his chest with such a fierce expression sculpting her face that Harry has to laugh, because, God, his girlfriend is adorable.

“Harry, why didn’t you tell me about this sooner?” She asked, now in a weary voice, because the events of the day really had made it impossible for her to socialize with guests and prepare for their arrival.

“I texted you, and I tried calling. Why didn’t you pick up the phone?” He asks, an irritated edge to his voice and darkening eyes. He could sense his girlfriend’s reluctance over the entire thing.

“That’s besides the point,” she mumbles, closing her eyes as she feels exhaustion sleeping into every crevice of her aching body. She was in dire need for some food and some sleep, having been starving all day she felt hungry to the point of nausea. “You should have told me days ago, Harry. Hell, even last night would have been okay! It’s not easy prepping a get together for so many people.”

Harry’s eyes darkened and his jaw clenched tensely in irritation, him stepping forward slightly and hanging his arms by his sides, shoulder stiff and the vein by his neck standing out proudly.

“It was planned today,” he said through gritted teeth and clenched fists. “Besides, it’s not like you have to do anything, I cooked all of the fucking meals, called the people, and cleaned the house, y/n! And it’s just close friends, not a circus. If you only ever picked up the phone, you would have known sooner. We can waste time speaking about this, or actually get some work done.”

Harry then walks further into the kitchen, breathing harshly and breaking eye contact from y/n, so he can keep his cool. y/n walks inside with him and her eyes immediately widen in disbelief, already sweating as she stares at the floor, swept sloppily with remainders of breadcrumbs and things they usually waited till the weekend to thoroughly clean. The counters weren’t wiped properly, and there was absolutely no decorations or even a protective sheet over the dining table or surrounding furniture. The food made y/n lose her own appetite, seeing as just the sight of the items made her silently confirm Harry had added too much salt in the turkey, and had put mayonnaise as a dressing on the salad very poorly. The rest of the items were sloppily made, and the few edible ones were takeout boxes in very small quantity.

“Harry, I can’t do this today,” y/n confesses in a small voice, raising a hand to her cheek and rubbing softly, her own comforting ministrations welcoming sleep. “it’s just too much.. i’m so tired, and I didn’t eat-“

“What did you do today?” Harry suddenly raises his voice, walking over to y/n and towering over her suddenly, his tall figure and intensely infuriated expression causing her breath to hitch slightly.

“Harry, I-“

“No, what the fuck did you do today? You went to a building by train where you sat and listened to some professors talk, and maybe did some work. Then you had lunch, sat in a few more classes and came home, y/n. How is that fucking tiring? It isn’t even exam season, so if you’re going to come up with excuses, try harder,” Harry spat, cornering her unconsciously until she’s flush against the fridge.

“It’s not even like I’m asking you for something that big. Everything’s fine the way it is, y/n. It’s a small gathering! If you weren’t bitching about it so much, we’d have everything prepped by now. Can’t you do something this small for me?” He asks, shaking his head and running a hand through his curls frustratedly. “I don’t know how this relationship is going to work if you can’t learn to sacrifice some of your time, y/n.”

The last sentence is what makes y/n’s chest ache and her head fall down, mind already filling with dark thoughts she tries to usher away of Harry discontinuing their relationship together, because of her behaviour.

“Har, i was jus’ a little tired-“ she says in a small voice, soft and begging him to stay with her as she offers to compromise, but Harry doesn’t let her finish her sentence, his controlled demeanour finally snapping into sharp, shattered pieces that pierced y/n.

“Then leave!”

His voice bellowed off of the walls of their flat, crackling at the ends with a shaking deep undertone. He had reached his breaking point, his hands moving upward with him as he yelled in frustration, causing her to flinch slightly at the volume of Harry’s voice.

“It’s not like I need you here, y/n. If you have such a fuckin’ problem organizing something for my close friends, then leave. I’m not asking you to stay or giving you a special invite. If you’re not willing to help around or support this, then you are free to get out of my flat, understood?” Harry speaks loudly, his voice icy cold and vibrating off the walls and into y/n’s ears. She whimpers, shaking her head as warm tears of betrayal trickle down her soft cheeks and fall to the ground.

“I said, understood?”

Harry raises his voice an octave impossibly higher, his voice thick with a heavy accent and impatient, his fingers red from where y/n had her eyes on them.

“Y-yeah,” she sniffles, hearing Harry give out an impatient sigh before muttering to himself, “sometimes I wonder why I keep her around and expect something from her.”

And that’s what has y/n’s mind overflowing with dark thoughts of him abandoning her for someone else, someone who was better and easier to deal with. And as these toxic thoughts invade her, she nods her head, hiding her tearstained face from Harry, so she isn’t bad again, and falls to her knees as soon as he exits the kitchen and heads to the washroom in their bedroom, scrubbing furiously at the gunk on the floors and trying to contain her upset cries.

There are more than just a few small groups of people Harry was close with. Unconsciously, he had invited too many people, but that was probably because he found it easy to grow attached to anyone with good qualities within them.

Harry flickered his eyes across the flat. There was certainly an improvement on its aesthetic since before. The flat was decorated elegantly, but delicately, and it looked like everything had been groomed to perfection, even the tiles had a certain sheen to them. Everyone had even commented on the beauty of the flat and how great the food was, causing Harry to grin with pride, content that his house get together had gone fairly well.

“Hey, Harry!” Jeff called out, “great food, mate!” And the group of people encircling the man hooted and mumbled in agreement, causing Harry to chuckle and smile brightly in return.

“Thanks! m’girlfriend got everything together, otherwise I’d be a mess.”

“Oh. Well, thanks the missus for us,” Jeff yelled back from across the room, Harry nodding with a small smile.

His girlfriend.

Harry’s eyes had been searching for y/n’s the entire night, but had came back empty, getting lost in the sea of people crowding their flat. He recalled the words he had said to her and just how he’d said them to her quite sharply, and Harry could confirm he was the biggest prick to ever descend upon the earth. He tries not to remember her face when she had seen him snap, frightened and uncomfortable. Not to mention, his angel had taken it upon herself to work herself as hard as she could within the time they had left to clean parts of the flat that would need cleaning, and cook enough and more for everyone, with Harry left grumbling while gelling his hair back in the washroom.

Pushing past close friends and mutual friends, Harry’s eyes land upon two ladies y/n was friend with, chatting and laughing while they drank wine. He quickly walks towards them, hands sweating and chest burning with hope that they would know where y/n was, and if his angel was okay or not. He needed to apologize for being such a dick and make it up to her.

“Hey, Kasey,” he greeted the tall ginger first, then nodding his head politely at the dark skinned, raven haired woman next to her, “Audrey.”

“Hi, Harry,” they chimed back, asking him how he was and a few more polite questions, which he nods at impatiently, muttering a “great” before asking them the real question.

“I’m sorry, but would you happen to know where y/n is? Haven’t been able to catch her this entire time. ‘s pretty crowded,” Harry explains, watching their faces brighten up.

“Oh, yeah! Last time we saw her, she was over there,” Audrey points over to the left far corner and Harry nods appreciatively, kissing both of their cheeks before leaving to find y/n.

After a few moments, he marches to the area they had pointed, looking around and forcing a smile onto his face to greet guests, while still trying to find his girl. Finally, Harry’s tightened chest relaxes some when he spots the outline of her figure and the precise shade of her hair. With his eyes, squinting slightly in concentration, he tries to appear casual as he speed walks to where she was talking to Ben Winston.

“Hello,” he greets Ben, the man happily chatting with both Harry and y/n now, although Harry’s eyes were trained upon his girlfriend and how she was sort of slouched over, eyes glazed and head hung. The smile she was trying to etch onto her tired face fading, as Harry took the wheel.

As Ben begins to talk as more guests surround them, of an incident involving Ruby wandering around in a plane and stealing the passengers’ blankets while they were unconscious, Harry focuses on his girlfriend, slinging an arm around her waist loosely and feeling her hide behind him slightly, letting out breaths of air unevenly and snuffling some while clutching onto Harry’s arm like a lifeline, clinging to her boyfriend. After rubbing her back lightly for some time, Harry excuses himself and laced his fingers with hers.

“We’ll be right back,” he promises the small group of people playfully teasing the couple over abandoning them.

With their hands entertained, Harry leads the two of them into a washroom nearby and y/n follows along behind him obediently, head down and eyes wide and dazed. Shutting the door behind him, Harry flicks on the switch of the washroom and light floods the room.

“Wha’s this about, hm?” He asks softly, sitting on the toilet seat and pulling her down, so her bottom and thighs are situated on his lap comfortably, his arms holding her waist and his nose rubbing against her neck as an apology. He presses light kisses to her collarbone as she sniffles some more.

“Are you mad at me?” Harry questions, heart already dropping as he brings the girl impossibly closer to him in attempts to hold her and cuddle the pain he’d caused her away.

“N-no. Of course not,” she stutters quickly. “I was jus’ in the back, didn’t want to embarrass you in front of your guests. You didnt want me there, and i was gonna leave- swear I was, but then Ben came and we started talking,” she answers in a rush. Harry’s lips turn downwards in a deep frown, confused and hurt at the words coming out of the sweet girl’s mouth.

“What d’ya mean, baby? When did I tell you I didn’t want you there? Couldn’t have said that,” he’s genuinely confused why she would ever think he’d want her to leave. He’d probably made her feel that way, the mere thought making his chest ache.

“Yes, you did,” she mumbles, soft but honest. “Y-you said I could just leave if I didn’t support you.”

Harry’s frown deepens and he holds her a little tighter, eyeing how strange she’s acting.

“I’m so sorry, didn’t mean that, sweetheart,” he confirms, kissing the corner of her mouth gently, and he decides he’ll apologize further after he gets her to admit what’s bothering her so much. “you good?” he asks, eyebrows furrowing as her eyes are all glazed and out of it when they meet his. At the question, she nods quickly.

“yes, I think so..” she trails off, lips pouting and face clinging onto his chest slightly, her fingers tracing across his forearm hesitantly. Then she peers up at him with wide, desperate eyes. “‘m your good girl still, right, daddy?”

That’s when Harry stiffens, holding a curious, dazed y/n on his lap, her slipping deeper under. That’s when he knows she’s fallen into subspace. He merely swallows doen his general surprise and gives the wide eyed girl on his lap a quick nod.

“Daddy’s good girl. ‘m best girl,” he confirms, watching as her cheeks deepen into a happy blush, her clinging into his soft t-shirt and the moving of her lips indicating speech.

“If ‘m your best girl, that means I don’t have to go forever, right, daddy?”

The words are muffled against the fabric of his shirt, but they still sting.

“What? When did I say you had to go forever? Don’t remember saying that,” his voice is firm, but his insides are turning in disgust, if something like that had actually slipped from his lips.

“Yes, you did,” she argues, earning a soft tut from him, causing her to melt into his lap again, lips jutting forward in a pout he doesn’t bother to tell her to put away, because he needs to know. “Y’said ‘sometimes I wonder why I keep her around’, and ‘If you’re not willing to help around or support this, then you are free to get out of my flat,” y/n imitates him in a small voice, and Harry feels like shit to say the least.

The reason being he’d become so mad and irrational over the entire disagreement that he’d caused y/n to believe that he truly didn’t want her there, and was threatening to end their relationship over something this small. Harry had never, and would never, purposefully cause this wave of impending abandonment to wash over his sweet girlfriend.

“come here, babygirl,” he instructs, voice raspy and calm, but still edged to dominant demand. She skootches in his lap, impossibly closer to him and her bum softly moving along Harry’s thick thighs, his hand holding her by the hip firmly. After reaching a comfortable position, she rests her head onto his warm chest, eyes droopy and body desperate to touch his in every way possible.

“Open up,” Harry instructs in a raspy, yet firm voice, tapping on her wet mouth with two fingers. She opens up obediently, staring up at him with slightly wet eyes as she blinkingly opens her mouth wide enough for Harry to push his rough, long fingers into her warm mouth. She suckled on them softly, whimpering a little as the metallic tang that came with his ring clad fingers hit her soft tongue.

“Didn’t mean for you to leave forever, yeah?” He begins, voice raspy and quiet, but injected with importance. “daddy was angry, button. he was so angry he said things he shouldn’t have, but he didn’t want his sweet girl to leave, yeah? only ever gave her the option, that, too, when he was really mad. ‘s not baby’s fault, okay? daddy was jus’ bein’ a fuckin’ meanie.”

After this explanation, y/n nods understandingly against his chest, arms wrapping around his hips tighter, him half swaddling her like a baby.

“Y’understand?” He asks, making sure to her her to vocally agree. Harry slips his fingers out of her mouth, and can’t help but groan slightly as she unlatched with a soft noise, his fingers wet.

“mhm. daddy was being a meanie. i didn’t do anything wrong,” she answers in a soft, but believing voice, unwavering, and Harry nods quick and in confirmation.

“Need t’tell daddy when he’s being bad, yeah? Could have run you a bath sooner, if you had told me how you were feeling. Would’ve sent them all home.”

At this, y/n’s head tilts to the side interestedly. “A bath?” she asks, mumbling in loss when Harry nods a ‘yes’.

“Wanna bath please, daddy,” she requests politely, in a soft voice that was much calmer than before. Harry smirks.

“C’mon then, princess,” he starts in a deep, guttural voice, first leaning his head downwards and pushing his lips against her plushy, soft ones, moving them warmly against hers before softly sucking and nipping st her bottom lip. By the time he’s done, she’s warm in the cheeks and even more dizzy. Still smirking, he pulls back from the teasing kiss and tuts when he hears her whine.

“Strip fo’ daddy, jus’ have to take care of a few things first,” he demands, “by the time i’m back, you better be naked. no clothes.”

She nods, gulping, but sighing happily as he grabs a few fluffy towels and some bath bombs they wanted to try since earlier before.

Harry slips out of the washroom and tells all of the guests it was getting late, apologizing and mentioning y/n’s university classes, to which they all nod understandingly. Afterwards, he locks the door and slips back into the washroom, watching y/n strip.

Walking behind her and placing a warm hand on her soft, exposed tummy, he thumbs at her hips before instructing her to sit on the toilet seat, while he runs the bath. After throwing in some bubbling soap and a few baby pink and lilac bath bombs, they’re both inside of the tub, and it’s quiet. Harry’s washing y/n gently as thewarm water glides over her body as he carefully washes her breasts and moves lower down to her stomach and thighs. She leans back against his chest, sighing, whimpering and closing her eyes in satisfaction. He’s careful to wash a few bruises on her hips, frowning (“these weren’t here last night,”).

It’s soft and slow, and she trusts the man holding her completely. She’s giggling slightly as his wet curls tickle her neck, before it transitions into a soft moan when he moves his wet hand down the slopes of her body, pushing a finger into her, filling her and caressing her slick walls. y/n writhes under his hold, breathing heavily as he pushes the rough, long finger inside of her before pulling out slightly and pushing back even deeper inside with his middle and fore finger. The sound of her wetness and Harry’s encouraging words (“come on, baby. cum.”) acting as a seranade as she lets out a long, soft moan as her walls clench around his fingers and she slumped against his chest, him continuing to wash her gently and mumble soothing words into her ears.

After getting her wrapped up in warm, heated towels and a fluffy bathrobe, and making sure to get some warm food and water into her, he changes her into a fresh pair of panties and one of his sweatshirts. She’s mumbling incoherent things, clinging to him as he slips her legs through the her underwear and carries her to their bedroom, making sure to tuck her in the bed, place her head on the pillow in just the right place, then quickly spoon her to sleep, rubbing circles into her hips and brushing his warm, chapped lips to her neck.

as she’s floating into blissful unconsciousness, with strong, warm arms holding her against his chest, she’s damn sure her Harry will always be there to take care of her.

The one where she’s floating, but he knows how to take care of her.

I’ve never written something like this before, so it’s rlly bad then soz lmao. idek what the whole smut thing was i hope i don’t go to hell. please read this. byee

MASTERLIST| Requests are open!

[kallypsowrites]

Okay, I’ve processed the Game of thrones leaks and it’s time for KALLYPSO’S OPINION. Things are tagged and there’s more stuff under the cut.

So, just to start, I take these leaks with a grain of salt. A huge grain of salt. The leaking scandal was too big last year for HBO to not be keeping a huge eye on Friki. He’s well known at this point. I wouldn’t be surprised if Friki is just speculating (since most of what he said would be pretty easy to predict). I don’t know why someone working on the show would risk their job. Also, HBO often makes sure the crew doesn’t totally know everything that is going on when they shoot it. I wouldn’t be surprised if they have multiple subtitlers working on one episode to make sure no body knows everything. Bottom line, just because Friki was accurate during the leak scandal doesn’t make him accurate now.

WITH THAT SAID, let’s pretend the leaks are totally, one hundred percent real. What’s the good and the bad?

The Good:

1. Gendarya!!! I would really love to see banter between them in the first episode and the asking him to make a spear out of a dragon glass dagger would explain those trailer clips (though it also means it would be easy to speculate).

2. Arya and Jon reunion! Thank you god! And it seems positive. I keep psyching myself out and worrying it would go badly but it seems they are back to being close and I’m happy.

3. Having the Loot train battle actually mean something and not just be a pointless diversion. Like... look guys, if Sam didn’t react to his family being burned, the loot train battle didn’t mean anything or effect the plot. It didn’t even get rid of Cersei’s gold or kill Bronn. All they did was kill these two minor characters and unless it effected Sam (or created a food shortage) the loot cart battle was just an overblown set piece. So I’m glad Sam is hearing about it and seems upset about the whole thing (particularly his brother). Not sure why so many people thought Sam wouldn’t have an emotional reaction.

4. Realistic Sansa drama. Look, I don’t mind drama between women, especially when it makes sense. The Sansa and Arya conflict, while it could have made sense, was terribly written and very bad. But thus far, Sansa’s conflict with Dany seems to make sense. She doesn’t know this woman, she doesn’t know her intentions, she knows the northern lords will be pissed and Jon has put her in a difficult posistion, and Jon really did not consult any of the north about the whole bending the knee buisness. I know he’s ‘king’ and doesn’t have to be, but he was also democratically elected. Like, sure, it’s drama, but for the right reasons.

5. Dany not being immediately accepted. That would just be unrealistic, honestly. All the north is suddenly chill with dragons and a Targaryen who is the daughter of the king they helped to overthrow? She’s going to have to prove herself in the first battle to really win their respect. Good. I don’t want everyone immediately being chummy with one another, because that brushes aside a very complex political situation.

6. White walker related stuff. Seems like Tormund, Berric and Edd discover some markings that could be useful. Good that they’ll be dropping hints on how to defeat the white walkers.

7. parentage reveal at the end of the episode. Makes sense. I predicted it would be there. Good place to drop the bomb.

8. The Hound and ARya reuniting. Love their duo. Excited about that.

9. Tyrion and Sansa conversation. I like that Sansa rightly says “Cersei can’t be trusted” and she’s about to be proved VERY RIGHT when Jaime shows up. Sansa ain’t fooled by Cersei.

10. Jon and Bran reunion is cute.

THE BAD

1. Jon asks Arya for help getting Sansa to like Dany, but there was no sign of Arya interacting with Dany? How does Arya feel about Dany? Have we heard? Do we know anything. If anything, I would think Arya would be suspicious because she’s a naturally suspicious person, though it makes since she would trust Jon. Still, that seems out of the blue.

2. The pre parentage dragon riding. Some people say this is speculation and other say it happens later but if it happens here it is SO SO SO SO DUMB. Riding a dragon isn’t that easy, and frankly its a little insulting if it took Dany five seasons to bond enough with Drogon to ride him and Jon pets a dragon once (who is not Rhaegal) and can suddenly just jump on his back. Stupid, rushed, fanicky, I hate it.

3. Euron x Cersei. I can see him blackmailing her and I’ve predicted him blackmailing her by making himself the one in control of the Golden Company so that she needs him to use them. But I just don’t want to see Euron gaining sexual control over Cersei. Please no. No more of that. Gross.

4. Theon rescuing Yara. Don’t get me wrong, I want to see it, but this seems pretty early in the show and rushed. Also Euron’s line about not killing family? Bitch you killed your brother? What are you TALKING about?

5. A lot of emphasis on Jon bending the knee for love. Look, I’m not a Jonerys shipper. I actually don’t have a bone in either of the ships in the race. One of the reasons I don’t ship Jonerys is because thus far it has not been that well written in my eyes and there’s not that much chemistry (particularly on Kit’s side. Kid what are you doing with your face. If you’re in love, can you smile every once and awhile). The fact that friki says their love is obvious and love is in the air makes me wonder because is my boy Jon going to show affection? Still seems pretty grim in the trailer. I’m just wondering if they are going to be able to sell me on this romance this season and I have my doubts.

THE MISSING

1. Where the FUCK is Jaime????? You’d think he’d at least have a brief scene in this episode. Makes me skeptical considering he’s supposed to be in all six episodes (I know it said four at one point, but it was corrected later in the doc to say six).

2. Where is Brienne? Does she have a reaction to any of this? Give me my Braime reunion scene!!

3. Ghost. Give me Ghost you fucks. It’s the last season. I know you can afford a few shots of Ghost

4. The actor for Edmuere Tully is credited as being in episode one as well and he’s nowhere to be scene. is he with jaime. Did Jaime stop by the Riverlands to grab Lannister soldiers like I predicted?

5. In generaly, there are several credited characters missing from the roster. Which makes me skepitcal of leaks.

All and all, there’s nothing shocking in these leaks, except for the very dumb dragon riding thing. It’s likely he could have speculated wildly based on trailers and a few bits of information because it wouldn’t take a genius to write this. It doesn’t seem like there’s enough happening in this episode either. He probably skipped over several small interactions.

Whatever the case, I’ll believe the leaks when I see them in the episode. We shall see!

[restlessreveries]

Honestly I really hope the next episode allows us to get upset with Caithe well and proper. And before you leap at my throat for saying that, let me explain why I feel that way.

First thing doesn’t really apply to everyone, because my beet with her starts out in the sylvari personal story. In one of them the commander-in-making makes a rather noble and merciful decision to let a nightmare courtier walk away, only Caithe immediately makes that decision moot because she straight up kills the courtier in question as soon as the sapling promises mercy. And while I understand that she has reasons for hating the court, she never explains why they can’t be turned away from nightmare. This sapling’s display of budding into a noble being is pretty much torn apart because she decides no, and gives no good reason for it.

And then there’s a prison scene where she won’t explain her plan fully even though there was plenty of time, and honestly the sapling would probably have felt quite a bit less distress if she’d explained better.

That’s the story instances that stands out the most ot me from sylvari stuff, I haven’t really played them recently but those stand out.

Moving on from the sylvari story though, we go to Lion’s Arch and she decieves her friends into meeting up, and yeah, they might not have done so otherwise, but... it really wasn’t effective either. 

And while I haven’t really played all the dungeons, I know that Logan points out that she has pretty much always been this way about never really telling people everything in the twilight arbor story path, so this has been a long lasting behavior.

Moving on is kinda where my issues really start to set in, because as the personal story progresses and finishes she has plenty of reason to see the commander as trustworthy and resourceful, a proper ally who showed pretty much the entire world that cooperation leads to victory.

... and then living world 2 happens and that’s all thrown out the window I guess as far her her trust for the commander goes. And look, I get that she has trust issues because holy shit Faolain. But the commander have proven themselves, and she provides no information about the egg or the extent of how much mordremorth can potentially fuck over one of the races. Which gets REALLY damning if the commander is a Sylvari. Kinda something they should know about, you know?

Unfortunately it’s been a while since I played heart of thorns, so I can’t list a lot of stuff that goes on there, but wow does she act entitled about getting to be in on the final battle (again, kinda understandable because again, Faolain but jfc Caithe maybe be a little bit more aware of how much you’ve hurt your trustworthiness?)

And then season 3 rolls around the corner and what really sticks out there is how she decides to have a conversation about how she must be forgiven and how the commander must trust her... in the middle of a life or death battle. Because that’s how Caithe’s priorities goes, I guess? She’s sorry, which is nice, regretful?... I kinda have my doubts about that after the last episode.

AND HERE’S WHERE IT GETS SPOILERY IF YOU HAVEN’T PLAYED A STAR TO GUIDE US

After the commander has just gotten THOSE news, you know which I’m talking about, and just gone through yet another emotional grinder because holy shit can the universe chill a little bit? I can’t afford all the therapy my character is going to need! Caithe decides to show up, and while it’s a very short thing to set us up for the next episode, two things are made painfully clear.

She snuck into the sun’s refuge. The base the commander has set up during the episode. The sanctuary where she would’ve been perfectly welcome if she’d just walked in through the front door. But for some reason she decided to sneak in anyway?

And more damningly, she’s been spying on us. She repeats the thing our new sniper said when she arrived, and makes it very clear that she was there to hear it. Which means she’s been in the sanctuary for a while, never making her presence known to the commander. Only deciding to show up when she decides that she wants to talk... and it’s right when the commander’s quite possibly going to break down any moment.

So... Caithe has again hit the reset button on how much we can trust her, and maybe because she decided to hit reset on how much she trusts us? I don’t get why she keeps doing this. Yes, she’s got trust issues, we’ve established that, but this is not okay! She doesn’t really seem to pay heed to the commander’s feelings but prioritizes what she wants at any moment, whether it be to talk, forgiveness, trust... And she never gets better about it! Why would she sneak into our base and spy if she wants us to trust her? She can’t be that ignorant about what she’s doing!

And this is really frustrating to me because I really wanted to like Caithe! When I was about to start playing this game I looked at screenshots of sylvari and thought that caithe was really cool. I wanted that big sister guidance.

But after this last episode I really want my commander to be able to punch her in the face for not giving them even five minutes to digest disastrous news, for dropping the “I can’t be trusted” bomb again when the commander and the people around them are so clearly devastated. Or at least yell at her and point out that what she’s doing isn’t okay. Anything that isn’t just sweeping this under the rug again.

There’s potential in this character, but she just won’t grow!

[klanced]

how is kevin doing? is he okay? i miss him

I was going to give you some meme-y headcanons but then I realized that Kevin could actually like. Single-handedly fix the plot of Voltron. So time to actually get down and flesh my boy’s backstory out? Lol. So this is less headcanons, and more pre-story plot.

I’ll be retconning some things about Kevin, now that we know more about Keith’s canon family.

(Explanation as to who the fuck Kevin is, as well as his tag)

Kevin is Keith’s older alien half-brother. He’s about… 8-10 years older. He and Keith haven’t seen each other in uh… a while. But they’re still close. Once they get all the yelling out of the way.

Keith and Kevin’s mom (who I will now refer to as ‘Ma Kogane’ because I think it’s funny) is a member of the BoM who volunteered to take a ten year long undercover mission. In reality, she was pregnant with Kevin, and wanted a place to hide.

As a side-note, I headcanon the BoM as kind of relying on legacies to keep going, since members die at an alarmingly fast rate and it takes too long to fully vet someone + train them to adopt the ‘victory or death’ mentality.

So essentially, all BoM are encouraged to have kids, and those kids are pretty much immediately inducted into the ranks of the Blades the moment they’re born.

Ma Kogane is one of those legacy kids, and while she’s proud of her work as an agent of Marmora, she doesn’t want that life for her kid(s). So when she finds out she’s pregnant with Kevin, she decides to run without actually running away. Kolivan, who is either in charge already or at least second-in-command, knows what she’s doing but lets her hide because they’re bros (Listen… Kolivan as Keith’s blood-uncle or as his family friend-uncle or as his godfather is. So funny.)

It helps that they both know she’ll be coming back after those ten years are up. Once a Blade, always a Blade. Loyalty or death.

Ma Kogane is either half-Galra, half-(insert Alien race that can shapeshift), or she has some sort of cloaking device that allows her to look human. She shows up on Earth in her first trimester pretty much miserable, wracked with guilt because she’s essentially betraying her family/cult by hiding her child away, and she’s also betraying her child because she knows she’ll have to abandon them one day. She’s also entirely alone, and has no idea how to actually be a mother since her own parents died when she was fairly young herself (The BoM have a high turnover rate for agents lol)

AS AN ASIDE I love the idea of Ma Kogane essentially space-googling ‘average human on earth’ and then disguising herself as a 28yo Han Chinese woman. That’s really funny to me hgsjkdghsd.

ANYWAY Ma Kogane lands in America because of Course, and finds a Certain Shack In The Desert.

Since her mission is to ostensibly monitor and report the technological capacities of the human race, etc, it makes sense for her to be in reasonably close proximity to the Garrison. U feel. She doesn’t like it though, she’s found what the humans call ‘Netflix’ and has watched their borderline-hilarious-if-it-wasn’t-abusive-and-cruel movies about aliens, and she hates the idea of putting her child potentially at risk. But the Blades aren’t supposed to know she’s fighting for two, and so she goes. 

Ma Kogane occasionally heads into a nearby town to procure supplies + gossip (she calls it information but. it’s gossip lol) from the local folks… One of whom happens to be TEXAS KOGANE (Keith and Kevin’s dad :>)

Texas Kogane is a mechanic or smth, and Ma Kogane is honestly impressed by his ability to repair engines… Especially engines that are alien in origin.

Ma Kogane 100% flirts by having Texas Kogane fix her hoverbike’s engine. One, it’s practical. Two, Texas Kogane is proving his worth/value as a potential lover by demonstrating his technical skills. Three, she gets to impress him with a sick-ass hovercycle. Four, he gets to impress her.

Yeah he’s 100% aware of what she’s doing and he’s into it.

Also, yes, that means the hoverbike we saw Keith riding in the first episode belonged to his mom, and his parents worked on it together :’)

Anyway, insert a Lifetime movie here, everyone in this tiny ass town becomes overly invested in the bumbling romance brewing between these two. God, it’s like Luke and Lorelai from Gilmore Girls. Keith’s parents are Luke and Lorelai from Gilmore Girls. I love this au.

Speed forward a few months later, Kevin’s due date is approaching and Ma Kogane obviously can’t go to a hospital for the birth. So she’s gonna pop a squat in her shack, but she’ll need help since she isn’t 100% equipped to deliver a baby by herself. And she trusts Texas Kogane well-enough (she death drops to avoid the ‘l’ word), he’s even bought her baby clothes (bless his heart; Kevin will shred through those clothes in a month), so she drops the alien bomb.

After Texas Kogane recovers from his Holy Fucking Shit moment, he’s surprisingly cool with things and is there when Kevin is born. Ma Kogane gives him the honor of naming her son, and he panics and blurts out ‘Kevin’, which unfortunately sticks.

Texas Kogane eventually convinces Ma Kogane that maybe a shack in the middle of the desert isn’t the greatest place to raise a baby, so they put a cloaking device on Kevin to make him look like a normal human baby and go into town to raise him together.

They insist they’re just friends. Everyone looks at them, looks at baby Kevin who is sitting in a stroller Ma Kogane bought in clothes Texas Kogane’s mom made, and raises an eyebrow.

Kevin’s first word is ‘dada’ and Texas Kogane drops dead. (Just kidding! That happens later.)

It takes them like four or five years to ‘officially’ start dating. They’re Keith’s parents. Of Course it takes them that long to pull their heads out of their asses.

Ma Kogane told Texas Kogane all about the Blades and how she has to go back in a few years in order to protect them all from Zarkon a few days after Kevin was born. Texas Kogane wasn’t happy about it, but he eventually accepted her decision and continued to love and support her whenever she started getting torn up about it. They don’t tell Kevin about any of it, though. And they don’t tell Keith either (though that’s mainly because neither of them ever gets the chance).

Ma Kogane’s time limit on Earth is a big factor in why it took them forever to actually get together. No one wants to know there’s an end date on your life together.

Both end up regretting the time they lost in the end.

Keith is 100% an accident. To be fair, they had no idea Galra and humans were genetically compatible so. Oops?

He comes out looking entirely human and his parents breathe a sigh of relief. Kevin wants to know why his baby brother looks so ugly. 

They get to be a happy family for about a year or two before Ma Kogane has to go back to the Blades. She knows if she doesn’t report in at her specified time she’ll be hunted, and now she has two children to hide from the Blades. She can’t risk running. So she goes.

Kevin complains that he’s too old to cuddle with his parents - he’s ten, that’s practically an adult!! - but Ma Kogane insists and they all climb into bed together. She spends the entire night awake with her husband (though they never actually got around to marrying) watching over their two sleeping kids. She’s gone by morning.

Keith is too young to really understand everything, but Kevin isn’t and he’s furious. 

By the time Kevin shows up in the show he’s in his twenties and a little bit more even-tempered, but right now he’s ten and his mom is gone (he refuses to say the ‘a’ word) and his dad won’t stop lying and Keith won’t stop crying and no one is doing anything.

At his lowest moment, Kevin blames Keith for their mom leaving. They don’t talk about it. Kevin doesn’t want to know if Keith knows.

His relationship with Texas Kogane is… pretty strained after that. Kevin runs away when he’s fifteen, determined to find his mom. He’ll find her, drag her back home, and they can be a happy family again, just like he remembers.

Texas Kogane dies when he’s seventeen. Kevin isn’t there. Keith is.

[moreenchiladasplease]

guys wHAT IN THE FUCK.

I’m one episode away to being done with season6 but I just needed a breather so I’m gonna try and get some stuffs off my chest before I go watch the finale...

krolia is gorgeous. I’m pretty sure i said this already but... she is. And hella fucking badass

that whole episode with them having flashbacks!! all kieth’s history...

Krolia: lets name him yorak

Keith’s dad: ...............how about kieth?

and apparently time is faster there bcuz tWO FUCKING YEARS PASSED BY WHILE THEY WERE IN THERE. WTF

and the alteans!!!! There are alteans! They are alive!!!!

OH AND LANCE IS CUBAN!!!! I REPEAT LANCE IS CUBAN!!!!!!! 🇨🇺

Also the episode w/ the crew palying Monsters & Mana killed me ohmygod

and then there seems to be a budding romance between lotor and allura and at first i was like yeah okay i guess they’re kinds cute

and then lotor has to turns around and pull this shit. NU UH NOT ON MY WATCH !

EPISODE FIVE??? DO YOU MEAN PAIN???????

episode 5 had me bawling my eyes out im dead inside my chest feels so heavy with all the pain

haggar is controlling shiro and

shiro leads kieth away and starts attacking him and kieth’s just trying to get through to him

‘shiro you’re my brother. i love you.’ CURSE MY WEAK HEART

and then the flashbacks of shiro and smol kieth at the garrison. THIS WAS SO MUCH NEW INFORMATION IT BLEW MY FUCKING MIND GUYS. THEY HAVE SO MUCH HISTORY!!!!

(also i would like to say that i no longer ship shieth. i didnt know there was that much of an age gap. shiro’s known him since he was a tiny boy guys! no just no no no! they’re brothers and i love them so)

not only did they make me cry but the gorgeous as fuck animation had me crying in the fucking club. the animation for episode five was so fucking good i can still see it every time i close my eyes

they crush my heart w/ all this^ and then they have to go and fucking open episode six with ‘kieth I’m dead’. like what the fuck you drop a huge fucking bomb in the beginning of the episode and expect me to watch the rest of the episode not thinking about it????? all I’m thinking about is how this whole fucking time shiro has been dead and this thing that just tried to kill kieth is a clone what the fuck what the fuck im cryi g so much

and then the rest of episode six was me yelling at my screen ‘FUCK YOU LOTOR KICK HIS ASS ALLURA’ while my heart slowly crumbled to pieces

[thenextrush]

Did the show really need hosts?

Hosted by Nick Lachey and wife Vanessa, the show was pretty self sufficient without them as they only appeared in several episodes, they didn’t even bother to show up for the 82 minute season finale.    It wasn’t like Next in Fashion where participants needed handholding and direction each week with challenges, and it didn’t even need voiceover narration like they did in The Circle.

Total air time from this supercouple couldn’t have been more than 10 minutes in total, where do I sign up Netflix?  Easiest gig ever!

A wall within the conversation pods divides the couple who decide on who they want to “date” without the pressures of appearance and visual social cues

Not seen the show?  Here’s what you missed:

If you’ve missed the first 9 episodes, it’s different to Married at First Sight because the daters have a chance to engage and get to know prospective partners before taking a leap of faith:

The bachelors live on one side of the complex, while the bachelorettes live on the other.

From 30 singles, 6 couples got engaged and headed to Mexico for their first physical date / honeymoon

35 days is how long it took for them to date in the pods, meet in person, meet their parents, with weddings taking place on the last day

Diamonds are not this guy’s best friend:

One of the most memorable confrontations took place in Episode 4 and because of Social Media & Marketing Manger Carlton Morton‘s omission, it led to NBA Dancer, Diamond Jack making decisions without all the information resulting in a missed opportunity for the show because she turned out to be a firecracker with her dramatic exit.  Whether he wanted to or not, Carlton became the poster boy for fluid orientation and he lost whatever sympathy that could have left this story on a positive note because of that temper tantrum by the pool that will define his Love is Blind appearance for years to come.   His outrage at Diamond was misdirected and inappropriate.  But she gave as good as she got putting him in his place, she needs to come back in Season 2 or ask her to host the show if she’s got a spare ten minutes in case the Lachey’s are busy!   No one deserves to be spoken to like that especially when you drop a bombshell from them out of no where expecting them to be okay with it the next day.  Obviously, they didnt make it to the altar with the couple throwing in the towel in Mexico and going their separate ways.

The Weddings in the Season Finale:

Up until the season finale, the soundtrack of the show could rival any Weddings Greatest Hits essential playlist with its light and bubbly vibe.   As each couple uses the same reception venue to tie the knot, the music quickly turns into a dramatic symphony straight out of a Star Wars Jedi battle as the marriage celebrant ends his piece to recite vows with the question:  “Is Love Blind”, the couples then respond with an “I Do” or an “I Don’t”.

Giannina pours her heart out in a poem:

The fiery Venezuelan retail owner, Giannina Gibelli has been a ticking time bomb since she and Industry Supply Manager, Damian Powers left the pod and it started almost straight away on that yacht in Mexico.  Even her mother before the wedding says to her daughter in Spanish that she “better be serious and not treat this as a game”.

Giannina finally seemed ready, taking on board a hurt and worn down Damian’s feedback at dinner.   The love-hate exchanges with these two seemed to come from a place of passion making them so entertaining to watch because they’d somehow always make their way back to that place they found in the pod.

She genuinely seemed to be making an effort especially with a poem she wrote for him accompanied with socks to wear to the wedding:

“The beginning was rough the middle was sweet the other half was a lot and soon we’ll reach our peak. I asked you once ‘Can you handle me?’ I hope you know now and forget the rest cause ready or not, this isn’t a test So what do you want? Only you can guess”

As Giannina walks down the aisle at the end of Episode 9, Damian becomes teary.

Damian’s shocking 360:

Damian has been pretty consistent and devoted to his fiancee who on several ocassions throughout the season has gone on a tyrade.  The season finale opens with Damian responding to the marriage celebrant’s question to take Giannina as his lawfully wedded wife:

“I do not” he says quivering as tears roll down his face.

Did not see that coming at all, total blindside.  What’s weird is he thinks he can still salvage a friendship with Giannina after she runs out of the church in embarrassment leaving guests and family in a state of awkwardness.   His decision makes Giannina the only woman from the group to have been ditched at the altar.

Opposites Attract until Barnett freaks out:

Ex-Military Tank Mechanic, Amber Pike pretty much quit her waitressing job after she got engaged.  Her dream was to get married, be a stay-at-home mom and let her future husband dig her out of credit card and student loan debt and pay for the $850 custom tailoring on her wedding gown.   Meeting Matt’s family couldn’t have been easy but her unpredictability complements well with the .

Brawl for a Cause fitness professional, Matt (aka Barnett) gets cold feet and things are looking grim with a montage of his doubts if having to choose between his family and fiancee, her financial insecurity and a conversation with his rational thinking brother.  “Getting married means putting that other person before yourself.  Are you ready to give up everything for that person?”.  Matt doesn’t return any of Amber’s calls or texts the morning of the wedding and finally shows up at the eleventh hour.

Turns out it’s just a normal case of wedding day jitters and professes to Amber that he “can’t imagine a life without you”.  Classic Prince Charming Cinderella match right there!

What’s the real reason Kelly wouldn’t sleep with Kenny?

Health Coach, Kelly admitted it herself, that maybe “her whole definition of love is not right” because despite saying that intimacy in previous relationships she’s had without connection has been a total let down and kiss of death for her, she finally comes clean saying she’s “conflicted” because she doesn’t “know if she is 100% in love with him”.

Turns out she’s not physically attracted to him.  Architectural Lighting Consultant Kenny Barnes who is five years younger than her is totally infatuated like a puppy dog and it’s actually devastating to watch him being ditched at the altar.

Poor Kenny, this match really seemed like it was going to work as viewers bought in to Kelly’s stalling.  We were all so distracted with Jessica’s inability to reconcile pod and physical life that we didnt see this coming either.    Especially after Kenny and Kelly’s parents met and had similar shotgun wedding experiences themselves.  There also seemed to be great chemistry between both families in Episode 7.

“This experiment, it brought me to you.” said Kelly at the altar, “Someone who is so fabulous in every single aspect. This has been a wild ride and I am grateful that it has been with you because you’ve been nothing but supportive, and I appreciate every single moment that I shared with you. And I love you.” 

Declaring how much she adores Kenneth and loves him, after the marriage celebrant asks if she’ll take his hands, it all comes crashing down when she says “I don’t” and leaves the chapel with a dumbfounded groom.

Standing alone at the altar, a brave class act of a gentleman,  Kenny addresses the guests in a heartfelt moment that moves the bride’s mother as she whispers to her husband how much he loves the guy for his humble words:

“Obviously this is just a whirlwhind for everyone, and again, don’t want to dive too deep into it, and delve. Because you take something that is so complex, and it is authentic, and it is real, but today is not our day. Um, but I love each and everyone of y’all, and it’s something that I’ll cherish and be grateful for forever.”

Kelly later says to the camera that “I’m fucking 33 and I should know what I want” and the story ends there for now…

Everyone knew this relationship was doomed except Mark:

He was adamant that he didn’t want to “play second fiddle” when it was clear she was weighing up options.  Tech sales rainmaker, Jessica Batten was embarrassing herself continuously with her drunken rants and throwing herself at Matt with no shame and then denying when she sobered up.

All the red flags were there, love truly was blind for personal trainer, Mark Cuevas  who had to have been in denial about their connection and of course she ditched him at the altar.

No surprise there, that coupling always seemed to be doomed.   In the end, Jessica admits that emotional connections aren’t enough and that for a relationship she jumps in to, it’s a combination of mind, body and spirit.   Watching the season back, she clearly always wanted Matt and her efforts to try and make it work with someone she wasn’t physically attracted to weren’t enough.   We would’ve been more sympathetic to her if she hadn’t made indirect passes at Matt after he got engaged to Amber.

We get the happy ending we were rooting for:

The award for sweetest couple of the season has to go to Articial Intelligence Scientist, Cameron Hamilton and Content Creator, Lauren Speed.  It’s in this union we saw total authenticity and openness on both sides.

“Everyday that we’ve spent together has been a blessing to me. There’s so much I love about you. You made me want to be a btter an and you have evberythign I need in a partner and I feel very blessed to have you in my life” – Cameron

“Cameron I love that you make me comfortable being fully myself. No matter how flawed, goofy or broken I may have been. I’m thankful for our time together and how happy our moments are.” – Lauren

The lead up to their vows brought some great moments through the season.  From their first physical meeting to Cameron meeting Lauren’s father, a touching moment between Lauren and her father before walking her down the aisle and Cameron with his mother.  True Commitment.  A family that works.  A marriage that seems like it’s set to last.

The season closes with their final thoughts summing up their experience:

“She has everything I’ve always dreamed about in a partner. She’s charismatic, but down to earth, she’s confident but also humble. She’s intelligent, she’s kind.” – Cameron

“I don’t think I ever could have met someone like Cameron any other way. I’ve been looking for Cameron for over 30 years. Apparently Cameron was looking for me too, I’m glad we finally found each other.” – Lauren

Just two nuptials take place out of the remaining couples.

The final episode becomes available tonight globally 7.30pm (Australian EST). Add it to your MYLIST if you’re looking for something to binge on this weekend.

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  Love is Blind: Who gets ditched at the altar? #loveisblind #loveisblindnetflix @netflixanz #netflix #netflixuk @camrhamilton @mattdbarnett1 @sexfact01 @KennyBarnes_11 @damian__powers @gianninagibelli @wpp_aunz @need4lspeed Did the show really need hosts? Hosted by Nick Lachey and wife Vanessa, the show was pretty self sufficient without them as they only appeared in several episodes, they didn't even bother to show up for the 82 minute season finale.