#its always been my favorite but its also terrible and does the characters so dirty

[scary-senpai]

loved your atomic samurai romantic headcanons, was wondering if you had anymore? :)

Ahhh splendid & kindly anon, thank you for this note! I’m sorry it took me some time to get back to you. My latest writing project has been eating up an exorbitant amount of brain space. So, please take this Bugs Bunny as a token of apology:

(I don't think I've ever not answered an ask, but it sometimes takes me a week or two. I try to stay on top of things to the extent that I can, but I'm kind of a perfectionist so I'd rather take extra time and answer well than risk responding with my Chaos Brain....) Anyway, this was a joy to think about! Thank you <3 I must confess that Kenjiro Tsuda is one of my favorite voice actors, and I tend to combine headcanons for Nanami and AS because… ah, that voice, I can’t help myself! I mean, um, they have similar through-lines: capable men with rough exteriors and an obvious soft spot.

Also, I must confess, being ace my romantic headcanons look a little difference than most people , and of all the headcanons included with the S-Class ask, AS was perhaps the most risqué. And, funny thing, the two lines I meant to edit out somehow made it into the final draft even though they were a little out of character for me. I think I went back and slipped that confession into the tags:

Oh well… if they brought you joy, then it’s worth it! Anyway, I got a little help from my Senpai and he got way more into it than I would have expected a straight dude to get (good for him!) I think this speaks to AS’s irrepressible panache.

Morning cuddles… stubble… that voice, deep and raspy with sleep… warm, sturdy arms around you... I would probably never get out of bed.

He smells good. Really good. Like, manly but sophisticated. An enchanting mix of smoke and sandalwood, with the undertone of something delicately floral… anyway. He insists he doesn’t do anything special but it’s obviously expensive cologne. Probably custom made.

He doesn’t wine-and-dine you, because he’s really into artisanal spirits. I want to say gin (because it’s clean and cutting) but I could also see something smokier like whisky or mezcal, something earthy but refined in its own way.

He’s got a goofy side. He loves to make terrible puns (usually dirty ones) and everyone just… lets him get away with it? Because he’s got such a good poker face, most people just write it off as a Freudian slip. I’ve actually drafted a scene where he manages to de-rail an S-Class meeting this way.

Has a bad habit of heckling comedians and tour guides; usually gets away with it. I wrote one scene where Mumen Rider tries standup and AS pointedly tells him “Don’t quit your day job.”

Weirdly good with kids! Always ends up “accidentally” babysitting for friends and neighbors, and allegedly has no idea how this came about. He’s definitely the cool uncle, but (let’s be real) he’s a little intimidating, and it’s not hard for him to keep the little tykes in line. If he says “Those crayons had better be out of your nose by the time I count to five,” the problem is solved before the countdown even begins.

He’s not a “seasoned” cook (no pun intended), but he’s got two or three simple, signature dishes that he does really well. They are, coincidentally, kid friendly. One of these “house specials” probably happens to be pizza bagels.

Speaking of father figures… His disciples are forever showing up for impromptu movie nights, monopoly tournaments, or just to talk. Sometimes it feels like you've stumbled into your own sitcom.

Deep down, he doubts his paternal abilities even though all evidence suggests otherwise. He’s probably got some unresolved issues in that sense, but good luck getting that out of him. But that in itself speaks volumes; you’ve never met his biological family.

There’s likely some commitment issues too—if not from leftover emotional baggage, but from his unspoken understanding that being a hero comes with inherent risks, and he’s not afraid to give everything he has while in the line of duty, up to (and including) his life. He’s no Sekinger—you’re not going to find any middle ground with him on this. (This is where John and I got a little silly.)

Does his best to remember table manners, but always forgets which utensils to use. You keep telling him it’s always smallest to largest, left to right, but he really distrusts teaspoons for some reason. Or maybe he is well aware of conventional etiquette, he just likes the face you make when he reaches for the biggest fork because size matters that must be the most important one.

[ocdhuacheng]

Hey, so can I ask about the thought process (idk words but anyway) behind why you headcanoned Hua Cheng as having OCD cuz I'm very interested? :0

KSJDNKSJDFN sorry it took so long to reply to this I promise I wasn’t ignoring you I was just overwhelmed this week and then after I actually sat down to write out my very long answer I accidentally unplugged my computer and I LOST IT ALL so sorry but this version Is going to be rather incoherent and missing stuff probably bc its pretty much just copied and pasted from one of my discord rambles/previous posts bc I don’t have the energy or memory to rewrite everything how I had it before.. but ive kept u waiting long enough so. Yeah. Sorry.

Also if I sound salty at all its not anything directed at you im just pissed at myself for writing like >3k words all in tumblr like a fool and not backing it up then accidentally yanking on my computer cord like RIGHT as I was going to post it. But I promise im actually very happy getting asks like these even if it takes me a long time to respond ;_;

So anyway basically the tldr version is that I have ocd and I love rubbing my terrible little projection paws all over my favorite characters, but also I do genuinely think that what we are shown of hua chengs personality and actions does naturally lead to the headcanon that he has ocd (and ocpd), kind of like how it seems very clear to me that wwx has adhd and lwj is autistic.

Longer version under cut bc. Well. Sorry in advance lol

So. To start off. my ocd got suuuuuper bad in my second year of college, like to the point where my parents and psychologist was considering putting me in a hospital, so i know how awful ocd can get. and because of that ive always been kinda annoyed that all the ocd """""rep""""" in media is just comedic relief kinda stereotypical clean-freak perfectionist haha look at this weirdo sort of thing. like I was barely functional I couldn’t do basic tasks the majority of the time. ironically, my room was extremely dirty and messy despite my main obsession being about contamination. so yeah not all ocd manifests as the spotless perfect room perfect closet perfect desk or whatever the fuck. sometimes its the opposite. I also got put on academic probation bc I failed all but one of my classes (the one I passed was an art class. Lowkey think that class was the only thing keeping me out of a psych ward that quarter. lol. But anyway. That’s a different conversation) BUT ANYWAY it was all around Awful. Like idk it makes me feel kind of stupid for being such a mess before my medications when everyone just sees ocd as a joke or something. like for example, i loove death the kid soul eater, and hes a good character to make fun of urself after you’ve been medicated for ocd, but i wouldnt exactly call him good rep lmao. But after that relapse episode, I kind of really really really desperately needed a character/story to relate to about it but yippee! there are approximately zero (0) canon ocd characters that aren’t comedic relief! but anyway, i know hua cheng isnt canonically ocd but i was actually able to project on him alot from what we got of his personality (and i do gotta say, sorry but despite my attachment to him i dont actually think hes written all that well, but thats another rant), and its part of the reason why i love him so much bc hes like, definitely my biggest projecttion in this regard. so anyway

i mean theres no argument that his personality and actions are very. obsessive, and rather unhealthy to a degree, especially when he was younger, not so much as he matured over literally 800 years lol but he still has some hella issues. so like, [gestures to all of him] with how he chose xie lian as. HIS PERSON, and proceeded to revolve his entire personality and life around him is obvi v obsessive, i think its very obsessive compulsive personality disorder, which is slightly different than just ocd, one difference being (besides ocd being an anxiety disorder and ocpd being a personality disorder.) in that with ocpd, you dont really think theres anything wrong with how obsessive or compulsive you are, while with ocd it causes a lot of distress. (i havent been formally diagnosed with ocpd, but i do think i definitely at the very least have tendencies in that direction too. Like with certain things i know what im doing/thinking is irrational and it upsets me, but with others im just like. why cant other people see this the way i do? why cant they just understand why this is important? like I just get so! Angry! all the time! with people or in general when things aren’t how I want them to be. I get so judgemental even when other people cant possibly know how specific my standards are like I know its bad and I know it makes me act like a bitch and im sorry) anyway……….. sorry about the tangent but back to hua cheng. he is never distressed by how much he fixates on xie lian, the only thing that distresses him is his own percieved shortcomings with how he cannot serve xie lian the way he wants to. im not sure im explaining this well but i do definitely think hua cheng has ocpd as well. his fixation on xie lian actively prevents him forming meaningful relationships with other people, and even causes a lot of antagonism between him and others (especially fxmq). he just doesnt think anyone else is worthy of his attention. which is obviously, very unhealthy and kind of sad. (i do like to think he grows out of this a bit like with yin yu and he xuan, even if he doesnt want to admit it. AND YUSHI HUANG, bc i am also a ysh/hc brotp propaganda machine as well, and well because she was the only one that was willing to help xie lian during the war too. gay lesbian solidarity mwah <3)

so this ocpd thing.. i believe it extends to things like how the temple in ghost city, or paradise manor, is set up, he'd be classic perfectionist for the layout of it all, probably gave yin yu a lot of grief over it every single time he changed his mind and decided to burn it to the ground or redecorate it because it didnt seem good enough anymore for the hypothetical day when he can bring xie lian there. i dont like to think hua cheng treated yin yu badly on purpose, i dont like thinking hes cruel to him for the sake of being cruel like ive seen some people imply or outright suggest, i mean yin yu is obviously overworked but i think part of that is just hua cheng is so perfectionist about certain things (how the temples and manors look, how theyre run, anything that can be used for or by xie lian in the future) and he just doesnt see that its become a large burden on yin yu because he thinks this kind of stuff is just the rational thing to do, and that everyone should put as much thought into these things as he does. and if he doesnt feel like he can get things to be set up the way he wants it to be it becomes. catastrophic lol

so thats more of the pure ocpd side, though there is a lot of overlap between ocpd and ocd obvi

one thing about ocd is like. its all about wanting to be in control of every tiny part of your life. like for me when certain things are out of my control it freaks me out so much that it basically disables me. Its why I hate planes so much despite cars being statistically much more dangerous. Because if something happens in a car I at least have some semblance of control over how I can escape the situation. In a plane youre just. Fucked. (sorry to all pilots its nothing personal I think youre braver than I will ever be but its basically impossible for me to trust you (and the engineers and inspectors) with my life like that) anyway, i despise ambiguity of any kind and i hate not knowing things or having concrete answers to any questions or worries i have. like. i couldnt decide on a hypothetical grad school because i was weighing the possibilities down to like, ridiculous perceived probability percentages of how likely a natural disaster were to occur in the area, and how dangerous said natural disasters could be, etc. (well. i didnt have to worry about any of that in the end bc i got rejected from literally every school i applied to LMAO RIP but anyway.) so you get the gist. its all just very irrational, and time consuming, and ridiculous to try to gain control of every single possible path your life can take. AND I HATE IT. that was kinda yet another tangent but, to apply this concept to hua cheng. one thing that i find super funny about him is how he always has his nose in everyones personal business like hes such a fucking gossip girl its hilarious. like jokes aside its obvi helpful as a ghost king to know whats going on in the 3 realms, but i think he takes his info gathering up to 11 like he definitely has these control issues about having to know about everything thats going on at all times, having to be on top of everyones business so he cant be caught off guard by anything. over those 800 years of sending his butterflies out recording things he was primarily looking for xie lian, but hes also just kind of. snooping. lmfao. Because If He Doesnt Know Whats Going On Everywhere He Will Die. (again)

and well. with his butterflies to help him, it does work, i mean. hes always on top of things hes always got a plan, hes always the one that people are going to in the book if theyre in trouble. He seems so put together but the things he cant get information on completely eat him alive sometimes. cant let others know that tho, bc hes Cool(TM), hes Chill(TM). cant let anyone know there are things that, god forbid, hes IGNORANT of. embarrassing. tch.

his hoarding im a little ? about because i dont exactly remember the details of it but i do know he has a ridiculous amount of like trinkets and weapons and magical items and stuff in paradise manor, but i also know he doesnt really care if they get destroyed or not, which is kind of strange but i do what i want and im making him a hoarder bc im somewhat of a hoarder and i love projecting. though now that i think about it. like if i have a big pile of something that i dont want to get rid of, but someone else does it for me without asking or something happens to it like yeah i get angry but sometimes i also just get kind of relieved……….. idk.

so now about intrusive thoughts, i bet he has suuper disturbing ones. Like we  know how he was debating slaughtering those humans on mt tonglu but ended up not because xie lian would have saved them. obviously that was already a stressful unusual situation but like i dont think that kind of thing gets any better even when hes just like. chilling. he gets visions of himself burning ghost city to the ground or attacking humans or destroying his own ashes or otherwise causing harm to others, like yin yu. like he pretends he doesnt care about yin yu and he xuan and stuff but i do think hes fond of them, but he tries to keep his distance because 1) hes dumb and 2) he gets really freaked out by these violent thoughts he has about them. the worst is, when he finally meets xie lian again he gets these thoughts about him too and it takes literally everything he has not to like. throw himself into a volcano, or something.

and its already been established his self image isnt. great. which is a kind way of saying it. he thinks hes worthless and ugly, esp if he does even the slightest thing wrong. I mean I definitely think hes better by the current timeline of the book, but it still reads as a kind of precarious thing to me? Like he wants to be a companion to xie lian instead of just a servant like wu ming, but even after 800 years he still feels this inferiority and disregard for himself u know? If im explaining in an okay way? and body dysmorphia is also something that can be ocd related. OH and i forgot to say this before but ocd/ocpd can also sometimes be a way that ptsd can manifest and id definitely say with all that he was said to have gone through as a child he has ptsd, leading to, well, exacerbated ocd symptoms, among other things. his body dysmorphia is obviously something he internalized (for 800 years!!!) from when he was a child, and i can imagine him absolutely agonizing for centuries over his san lang form, because it was supposed to be his most perfect form, he needed to make it perfect, and he never felt like he could

similarly, for the cleanliness side of ocd that i feel is kind of stereotypical? at least how its portrayed in most media, hua cheng has been show a couple times not wanting to get things (or xie lian) dirty. he was very poor and dirty as a child so now he has the connection of being dirty = being miserable, and this is taken to the extreme when he becomes a supreme bc now hes rich and able to be clean and any dirt or blood on him or something/someone he cares about (’cant let you down the ground is dirty’; shielding the flower, etc) is like. an attack on this power he has now ? iykwim

anyway sorry this is long and rambly. if you actually read it all… respect……. Also ignore those parts where I might get a little too personal :^) like idk if it is but I feel like I might regret some of this in the morning. honks. Anywayyyy as you can see im completely normal about hua cheng im saaaaaauuuuur normal and well adjusted and I just think hes neat oky byeee jumps out my window

[mikhailoism]

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[oviids]

pls share some of your spn fic recs 🥺🥺

ok, a few things first:

followers and mutuals who do not have supernatural brainworms, kindly avert your eyes

i don’t normally rec or even read much fanfic any more but this is a CRISIS ok (cont.)

there is so. much. content for deancas out there and i have incredibly high standards, several ancient ao3 bookmarks, can speedread, and want to spare you guys the experience of wading through it all.

i also have a section for spn femslash since I was pretty into that back in the day (sadly a lot less fan content for this :/)

I don’t really like au’s or pure smut (I honestly usually just skim or skip those scenes) so if you’re mainly looking for that kind of thing this probably won’t be very helpful to you. jsyk.

i’m not great at describing stuff but i’ll do my best, i’ll also try and add tw’s when neccesary.

i wil try and keep updating this with any other decent fics i find, feel free to rec stuff too since i’m like 7 years behind.(edit 1/25/21) this is getting looooong so i’m going to start making another list on my spn blog rather than update this one

(edit 1/3/21) since this has gotten pretty long i’ve added rating/approximate word counts and marked my particular favorites with an asterisk.

Dean/Cas fic:

So Says The Sword*** - explicit/85k. FUCK its good...au/time travel where dean is not pulled out of hell by cas and says yes to becoming the michael sword. honestly could serve as an alternative to actually watching the show, if you want to get into dean/cas without actually doing that to yourself.

Fata morgana.*  - teen/6k, pst s9 finale. very bela centric and i love it, she finds cas looking for dean in hell.

Redemption Road -misc/600+k. an incredibly long fic from a collaborative writing group back in the day. canon divergent from the end of s6 on, has a cool take on godstiel and the leviathans, as well as the lovecratian mythos connection. ngl when i reread it i only made it about 28% in but imo the casual reader can actually stop around there, the rest concerns a lovecraftian apocalypse that is still good (i think i don’t remember it very well) but not required to enjoy the first half. if you prefer i have an ebook version i can send you on gdrive.

Someone Who's Feeling For Me* - mature/45k, s12. they run into lisa braeden and dean thinks cas is into her while cas thinks dean still likes her. treats lisa way better than the show ever did and the miscommunication is pretty funny rather than annoying.

a turn of the earth - mature/95k. time travel fic where cas from s10 keeps showing up in deans life from a few years before s1 to right before the hellhounds take his soul.  slow burn, good character study, and at one point cas punches the dad in the face and it rules.

On the Wings of War - teen/85k, canon divergent s5. dean accidentally becomes the Horseman of War. plays fun, fast and loose with biblical lore, michael has some rights.

Named - mature/95k, alternate s5. EXTREMELY blasphemous in a fun sexy way. manages to predict metatron almost to a T. there’s one major character death and its literally jesus christ, everyone is very sad about it and it sets the rest of the story rolling. an alternate interpretation of cas’ mission to raise dean from hell which had me on the floor. ngl its kind of misogynistic at points, but its from 2010 and tracks with late oughts-2010 spn (sorry anna the author did you dirty here:/).

The Girlfriend Experience - explicit/15k. uhhh i don’t normally rec or even read smutty stuff unless someone i know is specifically asking for it but this has stuff like sam trying to be a good ally and dean thinking holding hands with cas is ‘kinda gay :/’ minutes after having gay sex with him.

i crippled your heart a hundred times - explicit/19k, s8. cas confesses his feelings and dean spends a long time getting his head out of his ass about it. truly hits different after the actual confession, despite being written six years early it feels like its actually what could have gone down more or less if the writers weren’t talentless demons who hate us.

My Roots Take Flight** - mature/125k. reverse au where cas is a hunter and dean’s an angel...OR IS IT???? an alternate retelling of s4. tw for briefly being set in a psychiatric hospital/the hospital being mentioned somewhat frequently throughout the fic, plus more references to torture in hell and heaven than usual.

The One Thing You Can't Lose* - teen/4k.you know those posts about how cas is a super-strong super-tough ancient warrior but he just lets dean tug him around because he likes it? thats it thats the fic.

Hands, From Which All Things Are Built - teen/14k, post s8′s ‘goodbye stranger.’ cas is on the run with the angel tablet but keeps in touch with sam and dean by text, he and dean still manage to be terrible at Actual communication.

Autrement, Danger - or, The Account of an Exceedingly Long Day - mature/30k, post s11. a monster that takes the appearance of your soulmate leads to some wild miscommunications and dealing with years of repression, also dean gets to see cas’ true form which is always cool. tw for non-graphic mentions of underage sexual assault/sex work.

Down to Agincourt - mature/explicit/900++++k, endverse continuation. endverse!cas survives his encounter with lucifer and discovers another time-displaced dean from s7. i’ve only read the two of four parts but its really good, veeeeery slow burn, has a lot of fun oc’s and takes a rather surprising but (imo) entertaining and intriguing turn into Hellenic history and mythology. usual tw’s for endverse/endverse!cas but nothing graphic, it’s actually pretty light-hearted (relatively speaking of course).

Nothing Equals the Splendor** - explicit/8k, THEE finale fix it fic you’ve been waiting for! posits that the entire final episode was just a (very bad and lame) djinn’s vision.

like moses and batman and james dean - explicit/31k, post s8. explores dean’s trauma and internalized homophoba from his technically canon experience with sex work and its impact on his relationship with cas. the sex work itself isn’t really shown in any detail but it’s still a relatively heavy fic.

Crazy Diamonds - explicit/25k, s4/alternate s14. fresh-out-of-hell dean and dean from 10 years in the future are displaced from time and sent to each other’s present.

where the weeds take root - explicit/30k. au where the men of letters kick them out of the bunker and they accidentally move out into the country, get over their codependence and semi retire. featuring chicken coop building, sam volunteering at a dog shelter, gardening, and blissfully mundane domesticity.

No Resting Place - teen/6k. djinn dream fic, switches back and forth between cas’ dream of being married to dean and retired from hunting to the aftermath when he wakes up. tw for brief mention of suicide since, y’know, djinn dream.

any port in a storm - mature/52k. post s8 finale. cas and dean have to pose as a couple going through a rough patch for a case and actually deal with their emotional baggage, cas struggles with being human and metatron is up to stuff.

all this and heaven too* - explicit/7k. in the author’s own words ‘...a love letter to every trans person who ever projected onto Dean Winchester.’ absolutely unzipped me emotionally and theologically, its just. so good. tw for very brief mentions of internalized transphobia/dysphoria.

Because it is* - mature/6k, finale fix it. killing chuck does not bring back anyone back and the winchesters spend a very long time dealing with what they’ve lost, cas and dean SOMEHOW still manage to have signifigant communication issues even after the confession. tw for suicidal thoughts/brief attempt.

Vena Amoris and Other Old-Fashioned Bullshit* - teen/4k, s6. when cas fell for dean it automatically soulbonded/angel married them, shenanigans ensue when dean finds out during the angel’s civil war. funny and actually written back when s6 was airing so cas is still (or at least pretending to be) kind of an OP asshole which is fun.

Rinse, Repeat - teen/3k, s8. angsty character study of cas as he’s reprogrammed and trained to kill dean. not really dean/cas since its just cas’ pov of canon events but its beautifully written and ends with him snapping out of it through the power of love (also now a canon event!).

Emergence - explicit/59k, canon divergent after s11. dean meets a hunter he only recognizes as their friend claire novak’s missing father, but soon realizes he might be the answer behind the mysterious void in his memories and feelings (aka everyone’s memories of cas are completely wiped away for three years).

Cuckoo And Nest - explicit/10k, early established relationship/character study, cas tries to figure out how he fits into dean’s life and space in the bunker.

Build a Home* - teen/20k, canon divergent s12. sam and eileen are cute and turn the bunker into men of letters/hunters hq and everyone but cas moves in, mutual miscommunication issues and pining ensues.

Down in the River - teen/5k, early s8, cas prays to dean in purgatory while sam and dean try to figure out a way to get him out.

Teaching Poetry to Fish* - mature/52k, ?? BC through the entire series/canon divergent s14 and 15. retelling of crucial scenes throughout the shows timeline from cas’ pov, feat. actual fish and poetry.

the minor fall, the major lift - gen/4k, post confession/finale fixit. dean goes into the empty to save cas and runs into several old friends (and enemies).

With the Kisses of His Mouth* - teen/3k, gen later seasons. dean and cas keep kissing by accident.

Remaining Grace - explicit/109k, alternate s6. au where cas asks dean for help with raphael and dean, of course, does. tw for temporary major character death/semi-graphic depictions of alcohol withdrawal.

The face of heaven.* - teen/10k, au, dean is a regular guy and cas is a fallen star (think ‘stardust’, kinda).

Stories Are Made of Mistakes*  - teen/5k. newly human cas has trouble getting used to a human body and humanity in general, but still figures out that he and dean are A Thing before dean does.

Hurry Up And Wait - mature/21k, canon divergent s12. a fairyland and quite possibly LOTR related case comes up and dean goes full fanboy, mary is introduced to the wonders of the peter jackson adaptions, many references and comparisons (including between cas and dean’s ‘friendship’ and arwen/aragon). also charle is still alive and has just been doing fairy stuff this whole time.

There Are Many Things - explicit/28k, s9. cas is extremely lonely/touch-starved and trying to figure out this whole human thing, as well as where he and dean stand after being kicked out of the bunker.

It's A Long Life to Always Be Longing - teen/40k, post s11 finale. amara helps dean by putting him in a magical coma so he can finally get some much needed rest and show him possible futures for him, sam and cas. meanwhile sam and cas go on a roadtrip (or several) to find componets for a spell to wake dean up. really good sam and cas friendship, they actually talk about their shared lucifer trauma and stuff.

Non-Photo Blue - gen/2k, s4/5/alternate s5. fifty moments from cas’ memories of dean.

Tall Grass - explicit/57k, canon divergent post series. cas becomes the ultimate plant dad. feat the wayward sisters gang, cathartic character growth, fun oc’s, domesticity, and lots of actual botanical info-dumping.

on vessels - no rating/gen/2k. established dean/cas, cas tells dean about how he used to imagine what it would be like to have him as his vessel.

search for tomorrow on every shore* - teen/11k, post-finale (extremely derogatory). some angels in jack’s new heaven act out and dean gets temporarily resurrected in 2003 and runs into his younger self.

Architecture of the Minotaur’s Heart - explicit/45k, very canon divergent post s1. dean’s new house seems to have a life and mind of its own, while in his dreams he sees glimpses of a world and apocalypse that never came to be and an angel that looks strangely like his mysterious neighbor, cas. loosely inspired by the book house of leaves (which i highly recommend for fans of weird horror).

The Distance Of The Setting Sun - explicit/17k, post s5. established dean/cas relationship, team free will finally takes advantage of cas’ abilities to go on vacation around the world.

diamond star halo - teen/5k, s11. dean lets cas use him as a temporary vessel while he recovers from rowena’s spell, sam is a long-suffering third-wheel.

Make Known** - teen/16k, s6/7. dean struggles to understand how cas could have become his enemy and whether he ever truly knew him in the first place.

blunt little instrument* - mature/1.4k, post finale. dean finally confronts his father in heaven, very cathartic.

my heart a compass*** - teen/10k, post confession. the empty forces cas to re-experience his most regretted moments while dean tries to snap him out of it and bring him home.

A Crash Course in Someone Else's History - teen/11k, s6. cas from the very start of s4 is brought forward in time by s6!cas to distract the brothers from his and crowley’s plans.

The Cuckoo Father - mature/8k, s7 au. the woman who found cas in the river post-leviathans does not marry him bc he was sent to her by god or whatever, but actually identifies him as jimmy novak and sends him back to claire and amelia.

The Dead Dean Clause* - teen/5k, post alt s5 ending. team free will celebrates surviving taking down lucifer by getting blitzed, cas lies to a cop and gets an impromptu driving lesson. title/description sound dark i know but it’s actually very funny and light.

Suck It, Judy Garland - mature/20k, s12 (after the ‘i love you...i love all of you’ episode). cas and sam have to pretend to be a couple for a case and dean is NOT happy about it.

By Daylight and In Dream - teen/16k, s5. pre-dean/cas, dean invites cas to use his dreams to hide from the other angels. tw for very brief mention of a memory/dream of alastair sexually assaulting dean.

The Five People You Meet in Heaven - mature/22k, post-canon. an actually happy (if sometimes bittersweet) heaven endgame written several years ago, though some details are rather eerily similar to the show’s ending.

heaven is a place on earth* - teen/2k. dean’s pov of some of the times cas left him behind throughout the show, and one alternate ending where he finally gets to stay.

I Cleanse The Mirror - teen/20k, alternate s6. dean’s body is stolen by an ancient elemental and his soul has to hitch a ride in cas’ vessel.

an exploration of gender; angelic*** - mature/4k. *oscar isaac voice* lets get into angel gender politics!! aka cas is trans.

Zenith - explicit/33k, s9. after 9x06 an angry witch curses cas with the ability to see supernatural beings and human souls.

La cucina. - gen/3k, alt s9. dean goes wild helping a newly-human cas find out what kinds of food he likes, or the early s9 domesticity we deserved!

Dean Winchester, Cocksucker at Rest***** - teen/7k, post-finale. john and mary finally come over for dinner and john reacts to dean/cas in a rather predictable fashion. SOOOOOOOOO good omg, its so funny and a little sad and very very cathartic. part of a series that has a few other really good short fics.

The Way You Didn't Go - teen/5k, s15. coda to 15.09, dean has nightmares about the moc!cas timeline.

On Drowning - teen/28k. dean saves cas after he nearly drowns, they both try and deal with the physical/mental fallout (aka the fic where thee iconic “you only touch me when you think I’m dead or dying” originates). tw for realistic depictions of drowning/triage/misc medical information.

The Thirty-Six Questions That Lead to Love* - mature/13k. claire has dean and cas pretend to be her gay dads for a case and they play the titular 36 question game, get mistaken for swingers, and birdwatch, among other things.

Assorted F/F stuff:

Deep Breaths* - mary/ellen, au where mary said no to azazel’s deal and let john stay dead, still becomes a milf.

Like Rebel Diamonds - krissy/claire, they become hunter gf’s on the hunt for cas to kick his ass for taking jimmy. not-so-stealth dean/cas as well.

To Ash and Bone - anna/ruby, same author as the previous fic (p much all of her stuff is good from what i recall). au where ruby is a witch and helps anna when she’s cursed.

Holy Clockwork Angels - jo/ruby, STEAMPUNK au with very cool worldbuiilding.

At Day's End - jo/anna (my fucking KINGDOM for more jo/anna content, the dean/cas parallels are allllll there), au where they are both at the camp in the endverse and gfs.

these posts - ok so not actually a fic but i’m now obsessed with this hannah/meg dynamic.

Tagelied - mary/ellen, the true story of how ellen got into hunting before angels interfered.

Hell's Bells** - meg/abaddon, alternate s8/9 where meg survives crowley’s attack with sam’s help and teams up with abaddon (who she has a sk year old crush on) to take back hell.

The Ecstasy of the Rose - anna/ruby, anna travels back in time to escape heaven and becomes a signifigant part of ruby’s old human life.

Angel Underground - anna/jo, kind of an urban fantasy au with a very intriguing premise (sadly its very short, i’d love to see more if this ‘verse).

Clover, Flame - billie/mary, billie was always the reaper that showed up to take mary after her death(s) over the years.

Drag Me To Heaven - anna/ruby, a variant on the ‘last night on earth’ thing with dean.

Come Home* - jo/anna, canon-divergent au where anna is the new waitress at the roadhouse and helps jo set up a (probably not really) haunted house for halloween.

[alrightberries]

honey, honey (how you thrill me)

request: i loved strawberries and cigarettes but levi just can’t catch a break :(( can we have a super fluffy modern au with boyfriend levi instead? thanks!

request: hi i’m new here and had read your fics. i love your take on levi’s character! Also that your writing is very great to read!😘 (tho that angst really made me cry HARD) if i may request umm... i want a levi x reader fic about them being like an old married couple but they’re not in a relationship ‘yet’ so like everyone ships them. Its a fluffy crack fic/ Reader is like “well you’re clean and I kinda lilke you so...” then levi be like “you’re tolerable and knows how to properly clean.” and then they really ended up married. It’s like the easiest transition from friends to lovers that one day they just said lets get married we act like it anyway whats new 😂. I want fluffs and laughs! Aot is angsty enough we need fluffs with our favorite characters!!

❈ pairing: levi ackerman x reader

❈ genre: fluff, semi-crack.  ❈ word count: 4.6k

❈ summary: modern au. In which you and Levi are both professors at the same university, and are painfully unaware that all the students and other staff members have a bet that’s been going on for years now. What’s it about? When you’ll both finally confess to each other and just date already.

❈ trigger warnings: profanity. mentions of sex

a/n: made it gender neutral as per usual. this was really fun to write! makes me think about writing fluff more often (pffft sure)

Trost University was home to many brilliant minds. It was a prestigious school with an acceptance rate of 600 out of 4000 yearly applicants, and producing the finest students; those of which would almost always graduate with high honors before starting a successful career of their choosing.

Its professors, undoubtedly, were of the finest quality as well. They were professional, extremely skilled, and highly trained. It was a workforce full of almost over qualified educators excelling in their respective fields, with master and PhD certificates framed on cubicle walls being the norm in the faculty room.

Erwin himself was proud to be a professor here. He started working as a high school teacher when he was still studying for his master’s degree, shifting from high school teachings to college teachings as years passed by, before eventually getting recognized and offered a job seven years ago by the prestigious school.

His friends— a loving and longterm couple who, as far as he knew, were high school sweethearts and still going strong today— had joined him on this journey as well. He’d known them since they were in college, all studying different fields but aiming for the same career of teaching.

The three of them shared a strong bond; a bond built on study groups, mutual dislike for crappy teachers, and a certain love for education. They were there for him, and he was there for them. He especially disliked it, however, when their relationship went through rough patches. He didn’t like picking sides, and listening to the same story being told from two different perspectives almost always made him want to grab Y/N and Levi’s heads and bash them together for how dumb they were acting.

But despite the differences and occasional fights, he wouldn’t hesitate to say that he trusted them with his life.

So Erwin, for the life of him, couldn’t figure out why he was just now finding out that the power couple he knew and loved wasn’t even a couple at all.

“So, wait.” He speaks, trying to be heard over the crowded cafeteria chatter. “You’re telling me... they’re not a longterm couple?”

“They’re not.” Moblit confirms easily. “Apparently, they’re not even dating.”

“Or so they claim.” Hange interjects. “Y/N and Levi have actual matching rings. Literally— I asked Levi about it once and he said Y/N was his fiancé.”

“But not romantically.” Moblit quickly adds on. “I was there too, he said not romantically.”

“Why would Levi propose to someone he’s not romantically interested in, huh?!” She counters back, a little louder than the brown haired man’s volume.

“I don’t know! Citizenship? Money? Sex—“

“They’re in love! You know they’re in love, you’re just denying it because you want to get in Y/N’s pants.” She huffs. “And because you’re about to lose the bet.”

Erwin’s eyebrows scrunch in confusion. “Bet? What bet?”

“Oh, you don’t know about the bet?” Hange asks. “It’s been going on for, like, five years now. The entire faculty’s in on it.” She begins to chow down on her soup, not offering more of an explanation. Moblit takes this as his cue to expand when he notices Erwin’s blank stare.

“Since you guys joined maybe... seven or so years ago? Everyone just assumed Y/N and Levi were a thing. Because of, y’know, the way they interact with each other. But then five years ago Hange and I asked them when their anniversary was so we could get them some wine, and both of them full on denied even being in a relationship.”

Hange nods, more than a spoonful of soup and a more than generous bite of bread in her mouth. “Yeah, but then I peaked at their faculty files—“

“Peaked at their faculty files?” Erwin murmurs, but he’s ignored.

“—and they have the same home address. They live together!”

“I can confirm that much, at least.” The blonde man answers thoughtfully. “They’ve been sharing a dorm since college but Y/N moved out at some point. They live together in Levi’s apartment now, though.”

“That doesn’t prove anything.” Says Moblit. “They could just be roommates and really good friends.”

“Well I’ll say!” Hange throws her hands in the air. “I caught Y/N sucking Levi’s dick at a party once. Must be one hell of a friendship they have, aye Moblit?”

Her elbow begins nudging the brunette beside her, and Erwin stares with amusement when Moblit starts getting irritated from the eccentric woman’s teasing.

“So what’s the wager?” Erwin asks.

The two professors stop their bickering and share an evil smile. Hange gestures for Erwin to come closer, as if she were about to tell him a secret, and he does just that.

“Whoever wins the bet gets a free meal from Shaw’s Bistro.”

Erwin’s eyes widen. Shaw’s Bistro; the classy high end restaurant with the fancy wine, fancier atmosphere, and the best Japanese Salted Salmon he’s ever had.

It was an expensive restaurant— even for someone with his salary. Erwin knew he could rarely ever eat there unless he wanted to run his bank account dry. And he concludes that this petty bet must be a Pretty Big Fucking Deal.

He squints his eyes. “I’m listening.”

Hange giggles as she continues. “Basically, you have to guess how long it’ll take for Y/N and Levi to finally admit they’re couple. But you can’t choose the same answer as other people in the bet, we can’t afford two winners. Literally.” She gestures to Moblit. “Unless you’re like dumb dumb over there who wagered they’ll never admit it because they’re not a couple—“

“They’re not!”

“—I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

Erwin nods his head, one hand on his chin in thought. He never did explicitly ask whether they were dating or not, he just assumed they were.

He carefully considers his options; be a snoop to his longterm friends and possibly break their trust for joining a foolish bet? Or Japanese Salted Salmon from Shaw’s Bistro?

Hange and Moblit look at him expectantly, smiling when he nods.

“Deal me in.”

The cafeteria was noisy when you walked in.

Students mingled amongst themselves, chatting idly about academics and gossip. Cutlery scraped against each other as people took bites of their meals. Your eyes scanned the crowd, spotting your friends sitting around their usual table and having what seemed to be a heated discussion.

You turned to look at the man beside you. “Did you bring your own lunch today?”

Levi nods as he lifts up a small black bag. “Always do. But I’ll stand next to you in the lunch line so you don’t look like a loner.”

That was Levi Speak for I’ll wait for you.

You smile. “Thanks.”

The brief silence between you is broken when you start talking about your students— how proud you were that Armin was tutoring some of the struggling students in his free time, how terrible Jean was at hiding his crush on Mikasa, how terrible Mikasa was at hiding her crush on Eren (“I don’t even think she’s trying to hide it. At this point, I’m convinced that Eren is either dumb or dense.”)

Levi nods along to your tales, seemingly uninterested and bored. But anyone who knew him well would know he was listening intently as you spoke, every word heard loud and clear and processing in his mind as soon as they left your lips. Occasionally, he would pipe in with his own comments (“Eren’s just dumb.”) but he didn’t engage too much, opting to let you speak and rant on.

Your talkativeness never got on his nerves, contrary to popular belief. He liked listening to your stories, listening to your voice, and seeing the little glint in your eyes when you start talking passionately about your students. He overall just liked being around you. You were cleaner than most people he knew. You were tolerable. Sometimes a pain in the ass, but still tolerable.

But what does get on his nerves, however, is being ‘secretly’ watched by his friends.

Once he’s sure you’re not looking, he turns his head in the direction of their table, murderous glare prominent on his face. Hange, Moblit, and Erwin quickly snap their heads down and pretend to eat, but Levi knew they were definitely staring.

“Oh crap, I forgot my free meal card.” He hears you mumble beside him. He hadn’t even realized you were already standing in front of the counter.

“Figures. You have the memory of a gold fish.” Levi comments off-handedly. 

He hands the cashier his free meal card and grabs your tray for you, and you silently took the coat that Levi had swung over his arm to carry with you instead. You knew he’d hate for it to get dirtied by any accidental soup splashing.

“So, what’s happening on your end of the gossip?” You ask, both making your way to your usual table with friends.

Levi shrugs. “The brats are doing well on their thesis. Their grammar is shit though; makes you wonder how they graduated high school.”

You snicker. “You say that now but tomorrow pull an all-nighter to help them study and revise.”

“You’re not one talk. You scheduled two different consultations between classes and three more after your shift.”

“I can’t help it, okay?! You know I have a soft spot for the kids from the 104th.”

Of course he did. He knew of your affection for that specific group of students— admittedly, he held a twinge of affection for them too.

They were part of the first class you ever taught in your entire teaching career. At the time, you both worked at some crappy school in the 104th district. And to see the kids now, all grown up and studying at a prestigious college, it made your heart swell. And Levi’s heart... well, suffice to say it cracked some of the ice around it.

“That soft spot of yours is making you lose sleep.” He scolds. “I’ll take some of the consultations off your hands. The lil shits deserve a teacher who isn’t half asleep.”

Again, that was Levi Speak for Don’t overwork yourself, let me help.

You jokingly slap his arm. “That’s rude!”

“I know.”

Your conversation is interrupted when you finally arrived at the table, Levi setting down your tray in front of you and you handing him back his coat as you sat down next to each other.

“Hey.” You greet your friends, and Levi silently unpacks his lunch. “What were you guys talking about? It looked pretty intense.”

“Oh, nothing, nothing.” Hange waved off. “Just the usual. Grading papers, grading lab experiments, grading essays. The usual.”

You nod, unconvinced but letting it slide. “I see.”

The table is once again filled with laughter and conversations. Banter was thrown around here and there, mostly between you, Hange, and Moblit as you debated about films and TV shows. Levi and Erwin stuck to light chatter, but it didn’t go unnoticed to the shorter man when Erwin’s eyes squinted as Levi placed his arm around the back of your chair like he always did, or when Hange tried to hide her squeal when he wiped some excess soup from the corner of your lips.

Something was up.

It was about ten minutes into lunch when your phone began to ring, a notification from a reminder app you downloaded. You picked up your phone and sighed as you read your schedule.

“Gotta go. I have a meeting in a few.” You mutter, beginning to clean up your tray and utensils; you were a little disappointed. You didn’t even get to finish your soup.

Levi eyes you and the way you kept glancing back and forth between your soup and the clock. He sighs before he speaks, “I’ll take care of your dishes and buy you lunch later. Just go.”

“No, no, I can— fuck!” You yell when the bowl of soup is accidentally knocked over, spilling over your jacket.

Levi silently offers you his handkerchief to clean yourself up. He starts using napkins to clean the table as well, before taking the coat he brought and giving it to you.

“Use this for now.”

You smile at him once again, taking your coat off and slipping on his as you stood up. “Thanks.”

He doesn’t flinch (or react for that matter) when you kiss his cheek before you left, only letting out a small hum of acknowledgement as you waved goodbye to your friends and made your way to the meeting.

Once you were out of view, Hange’s smile immediately drops in favor of too serious eyes as she starts interrogating Levi.

“Okay, cut the crap, Ackerman. How long have you—“

“Hange, no, we’ve talked about this.” Erwin tries to reason but his pleas fall on deaf ears as she continues.

“How long have you and Y/N been dating?”

Ah. So that’s what it was about.

Levi sighs and continues to chew on his bread. He unenthusiastically stares at the woman yelling at him, swallowing his meal before speaking, “I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you again: we’re not.”

“Bullshit!” She yells. “You guys are a disgusting old married couple who have two adopted children—“

“Dogs.” Levi corrects boredly, but just like everyone else at the table, he’s ignored as Hange continues her tirade.

“—have matching sweaters, do small bullshit for each other like paying for meals and lending your coats. And for god’s sake, they literally just kissed your cheek even though you hate human contact.”

She finishes her rant but Levi looks unphased. God, she wanted to punch his dumb and oblivious face so bad.

“Those are normal things normal friends do. I’m not surprised you wouldn’t know, four-eyes.” Says Levi, but Hange is unaffected and already used to his abrasive words.

Levi continues. “We don’t do anything beyond what’s considered friendship.”

Hange squints her eyes in suspicion. “Didn’t Y/N move into your apartment?”

“Yeah. Their landlord was shit.”

“Where I caught you having sex?”

“We’re fuck buddies and you don’t know how to knock.”

“But you introduced them to your mom as your fiancé?”

“I lied so she would stop bugging me about getting married.”

“You literally have a shared bank account and a shared retirement fund!”

“It’s easier to keep track of.”

“Damn it, Levi!”

Armin stares at the study guide in front of him, mind half processing the words and half... not. Quite frankly, he starts to wonder if the papers you’d given him were written in gibberish or some dead language no one spoke anymore.

You see him struggle to understand the sheet of paper in front of him, and sigh.

“Need a little help there, Armin?” You offer but he shakes his head. “I’m okay. I think I can understand this if I read through it more, it’s my friends I’m worried about.”

He glances beside him where the rest of his study group also stared the papers, each face painted with a unique mixture of confusion and dread.

You weren’t surprised, however. The readings for this module were quite complex, and the fact that your brightest students— Armin and Mikasa— were struggling with it made you feel a little bit hopeless for the rest of your class. Truth be told, even though you taught this topic countless of times, you weren’t entirely sure how to simplify it without leaving out too much information.

“Okay, how about this, we could—“ A soft knock interrupts your sentence, and you stare at the students in front of you to remember if you were expecting any more. It seemed like everyone was here, however, so you weren’t sure who was at the door.

“It’s me.” Came Levi’s voice, almost like he heard your inner monolgue.

“Come in!” You called out, focus shifting back to the paper in front of you as you heard the door open and close.

Okay, so I guess I could take this part and summarize it for them? Or would that still be too complicated? No, maybe I can—

“Ah, it’s that topic.” Levi mumurs, snapping you out of your thoughts. His face was directly next to yours as he stared intently at the papers you held. “No wonder you all look like you’re about to crap your pants.”

“Language, Levi. Not in front of the students.” You scold.

“They curse more than I do.”

“Still.”

He ignores your comment as he hands you a brown paper bag, pulling a chair out to sit next to you. He grabs the paper from your hands to look over the study guide you prepared, undoubtedly trying to figure out a way to simplify it as well.

“What’s this?” You ask, opening the paper bag.

“Bought you dinner.” He replies, eyes not leaving the paper in front of him. “I figured you’d forget again.”

As if on cue, your stomach suddenly starts feeling empty. It was impossible that you were hungry, though. You just had lunch. And after lunch you had some meetings to attend to, a couple classes, some last minute consultations, and— okay. Maybe it’d been a couple hours since lunch, but it couldn’t be that bad. A brief glance at the clock confirms that—

“Holy shit, it’s almost 8pm.”

“Language, Y/N. Not in front of the students.”

“Kiss my ass.”

“Gladly.”

The students in front of you let out a loud groan, faces over exaggeratedly contorted in disgust at your and Levi’s conversation.

Levi glimpses up at them and raises his eyebrow in question, while you jokingly roll your eyes.

“Alright, I think we should continue our consultation another time.” You said, beginning to pack up your teaching materials as the students did the same. “It’s getting late and curfew’s at 8pm. I’d better not see any of you outside the dorms.”

You knew you would though. It’s Friday night, there’s a bar across the street, and they’re teenagers. What could possibly go wrong?

You turn to Levi and hand him the keys. “You go ahead to the car, I’ll finish packing up.”

“It’s alright, I’ll wait for you in the hallway.” Levi takes the car keys as he stands up, walking out the door once again and leaving you alone with your students.

As you began to arrange your papers and clear the table, you start to remind them, “Okay, so we can discuss chapters—“

“Are you and Professor Ackerman dating?” Eren asks curiously, earning a shove from Jean and a silent threat to shut up, dumbass.

You chuckle. “No, Eren. We’re not.”

He gives you a doubtful look, one which you only return with a curious face.

“What’s with that look?” You ask, and he shrugs.

“You should date him— ow, what?!” He speaks, getting shoved by both Reiner and Jean this time before Mikasa pulls them off of him. You pause from your task.

“Okay, I’ll humor you. Why should I date him?”

The students share a look, daring each other to respond to your bold question. A few tense moments pass by and you smugly continue packing your papers. Yeah, you figured no one would—

“He’s nicer when he’s with you.” To your surprise, it was Mikasa who answers.

Unsure how to answer but still wanting to remain professional, you nod your head without looking up from your task. “Duly noted. Now go on, I know you have parties to attend to. I won’t hold you here much longer.”

The students laughed as they said their goodbyes; you held the door open for them until everyone was out before you left as well, shutting down the lights and locking the room once more.

A warm hand makes its way to the small of your back, and you smile.

“Hey.” Levi greets.

“Hey.” You repeat. “You read to go?”

“Yeah.”

“Wanna share my dinner when we get back home?”

“...yeah.”

He takes the stack of paper from your arms, his free hand reaching out for your own. You walked down the hallway in relative silence, interlocked hands swinging slightly from every step.

From the opposite corner of the hallway, the students’ prying eyes observe the small interaction; the two professors remained completely unaware that they were being watched.

“Told you they were a thing.” Ymir gloats, and the group snickers as Reiner irritatedly hands her some money.

Something was wrong.

If there was one thing Erwin knew from the nearly two decade long friendship he shared with you and Levi, it was when something was wrong.

It didn’t go unnoticed to him when Levi didn’t open your side of the car door as he usually would when you arrived at the parking lot; when he made a beeline for his cubicle in the faculty instead of helping you get settled first; when you didn’t make a fresh pot of tea for him before classes started; when your small sweet gestures throughout the day were kept to a minimal; and most importantly, when neither you nor Levi wore your matching gold rings.

The faculty was nearly empty, save for himself, Hange, Moblit, and the two people who were having a lover’s quarrel. The entire day went by without seeing you two walk side by side like you usually would, and Erwin was pretty sure Levi’s permanent frown somehow got deeper.

Yeah. Something was horribly wrong.

“Pssst.” Erwin hears from the desk next to his. He turns around and is met with Hange and Moblit’s curious gazes.

“The hell happened to those two? Trouble in paradise?” Hange asks, eyeing Y/N and Levi’s grouchy faces and refusal to acknowledge each others’ existence as they each packed their things. She adds on, “Are they getting divorced?” Only to be reminded by Moblit that “They’re not dating.”

Erwin shrugs, answering Hange’s question. “No idea.”

Moblit chimes in, “I heard Petra tried asking Levi out yesterday and now Y/N is jealous.” 

She scoffs. “Y/N isn’t the jealous type. Besides, Petra’s part of the bet so that means she thinks they’re going to get together.”

“I’m part of the bet and I don’t think they’re going to get together.” Moblit points out. “And Petra stares at Levi the way Levi stares at Y/N.”

“Full of disdain and irritation?” Hange asks.

“No,” Erwin finally interjects. “Full of love and admiration.”

“Can the three of you creeps keep your mouths shut?” Hange, Erwin, and Moblit’s heads snapped to the direction of the voice, eyes meeting a pissed off Levi with a pissed off Y/N beside him. It seems like their hushed whispering wasn’t so hushed at all. 

“When you gossip about our private life the least you could do is wait until we’ve left the room.” You gritted.

“No, it wasn’t-” Hange tries to defend herself but is cut off by Levi, “We already heard you talking. Now out with it before I change my mind about letting this slide.”

The three guilty professors sigh, sharing a look before Erwin decides to come clean. “We’re concerned for you.” He starts. “You’ve been ignoring each other the entire day and whatever this fight is, it’s the worst one I’ve seen you have.”

You sigh. “Listen, it’s not that we don’t appreciate your concern, it’s just that-”

“-it’s just that it’s none of your goddamn business.” Levi interjects and you immediately glare at his rudeness. 

“Shut it, Levi. I don’t have time for your bull.”

“And I don’t have time for your petty lies.”

The three watched as you and Levi begin to quarrel, sharp words and irritated glares thrown around with each passing second. Your voices overlapped with each other as Erwin tried to make sense of what it was you were even fighting about, some words about betrayal in the highest degree and ruining a good thing and a relationship built on lies being the few words he understands. 

Finally, he has enough.

“Stop.” Erwin says loudly but firmly. The two of you pause from your bickering him and stare at him incredulously; he continues to speak, “We’re not teenagers anymore, we’re grown adults. I’m getting tired of playing mediator whenever you fight but if I have to do it again so you stop yelling, then I will.” 

He sighs. “Now what the hell are you two fighting about?”

“Y/N started it.” “Levi started it.” You say at the same time, and Erwin feels a headache coming but decides to ignore it.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

The two of you stare at each other angrily, almost daring the other to back down. This goes on for a few seconds before Levi finally sighs and speaks.

“Y/N thinks lemon scented detergent is better than lavender scented detergent.”

Hange and Moblit snicker but quickly shut up when Erwin gives them a look. He wasn’t even surprised that a fight as small and menial as this would be the fight that tears his favorite power couple apart.

“It is and you know it.” You reply defiantly and Levi groans in frustration, hand holding his head in disbelief as he quietly mutters, “I can’t believe I’m marrying someone who thinks lemon is better than lavender.”

At that, Hange’s ears perk up. “You’re getting married?!” She screams, and the two of you look at her in confusion, fight suddenly forgotten.

“Yeah, next week.” You reply wearily. “We emailed you the invites.”

If Erwin thought your bickering was loud, then the squeal that Hange let out was nothing short of deafening as she suddenly lunges at the couple, forcing them into a group hug as she cheers, “I knew it! I fucking knew it! You are together.”

Levi scoffs. “Don’t be silly, it’s for tax purposes. Apparently the bank won’t approve the loan for our new house unless we’re legally wed; something about tax fraud.”

“House?” Moblit echoes. “Don’t you already live together?”

You nod. “Yeah, but we figured the kids-”

“Dogs.” Levi corrects.

“-deserve a yard to run around in. Our apartment’s getting too cramped for the four of us.”

“Don’t ruin this for me!” Hange yells. “I have a wedding to plan.”

Levi sighs. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, four-eyes. There isn’t going to be a ceremony. We’re going to a court house to get our marriage license approved. That’s it.”

“And we invited you and Erwin to be our witnesses.” You explained. “There isn’t going to be a celebration but we’re going to host a small dinner party for close friends and family.We’d greatly appreciate it if you can RSVP to the emails within the week so we know how much food to prepare.”

The three professors nod, each exchanging pleasant smiles. It wasn’t the wedding invite they were hoping to receive but it was still a wedding invite nonetheless, and they weren’t about to burst your bubble.

“Hold on a second,” Erwin mutters, suddenly remembering one detail. “Where are your rings?” He gestures to your ringless hands.

“We had them engraved with our initials. Makes things more believable.” Levi answers. “If you’re done with the dumb questions, we’ll go ahead now.” 

He doesn’t wait for them to answer as he holds your hand in his, walking you out of the faculty room and into the hallway as he pretends not to notice his friends giggling like teenagers at the information you just shared.

“So...” You start, giving him a warm smile as you squeezed his hand. “Do you think they’re catching on?”

Levi lets out a rare smile, eyes softening as he looks at you. “No. They’re too dumb to know we’re actually together. They’ll eat up whatever bullshit explanation we come up with.”

“Okay, but remind me again why we have to keep pretending like we’re not actually together and not actually getting married next week?”

He brings your hand up to his lips, kissing your knuckles affectionately before placing his hand on the small of your back.

“Does it bother you that they don’t know?” He asks, and you hum as you think it through. “No. It’s actually really entertaining.” You laugh. “But why don’t you want them to know?”

He shrugs, pulling you closer to him. “That’s what they get for placing stupid bets.”

alrightberries © 2020. do not modify or repost.

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[theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin]

After reading your opinion on Molly Weasley, i want to know: What are you're opinions on the Weasley family? Besides Ron & Molly that is.

Five characters? In one post? Well, alright, here we go.

The Weasleys as a Whole

I’ve mentioned this before but JKR writes the Weasleys to clearly be a believable but ideal family. They’re all fiercely loyal, progressive per wizarding world standards, love each other and Harry deeply, and have this wonderful off-kilter joyous house where there’s always some rambunctious thing going on. 

Harry comes to associate the Weasleys with family and, personally, I believe a large part of him marrying Ginny boils down to it will make him a Weasley for real. 

That said, they’ve got some major issues. They’re very righteous people who, as a whole, will ice you out the moment they even suspect you do something that disagrees with them. You don’t even have to do it, what you did or didn’t do doesn’t even have to be something terrible or something bad, but god help you if the family decides they’re done with you. 

They’re very resentful of people like the Malfoys. This isn’t just because Lucius is a smarmy, pompous, ass (he is) or that he indirectly almost murdered Ginny but seems to mostly be because Lucius has so much money. All of their interactions seem to boil down to the money. More than this though, the Weasleys seem fully supportive of laws that... well, used against themselves would be a travesty but used against the likes of the Malfoys it’s about damn time.

They’re unquestioningly loyal to Dumbledore. Granted, most people we see in canon are, Dumbledore’s very very very good at convincing people he’s a saint. However, these guys are practically his cult member to the point where they do things like refuse to have Harry over the summer, even before Voldemort returned, because Dumbledore told them not to. 

They also never really adopt Harry into the family. Oh they give him a nice sweater, he comes over every once in a while to the house, he’s very good friends with Ron but he’s mostly treated just like that, a good friend. Now, there’s nothing wrong with this, except the way JKR sets it up we’re supposed to believe this is the family Harry found. It’s just that the family Harry’s found let’s him stay in a house with bars on his window where twelve-year-old Ron tells them, “Harry’s muggle family is really really awful” in a way that should have been raising red flags. Hermione practically lives at the Weasleys, Harry never does.

Now, are the Weasleys evil? No, far from it, they’re ordinary people who act in ways I’d expect ordinary people too. Technically they didn’t have to do anything more for Harry than they did, they didn’t have to hate Lucius Malfoy for better reasons, and they don’t have to be even slightly less worshipful of Dumbledore. They’re people, and they’re fine characters, but the overwhelming worship and love of the Weasleys we see across fandom does get on my nerves.

But you asked for individuals, so here we go.

 Arthur Weasley

Arthur is the epitome of “Pretty Fly for a White Guy” in the worst of ways and is, frankly, a giant awful joke to me. He’s the white kid you see going around with dread locks, a beanie the color of the Jamaican flag, smoking weed, and attempting to speak like Bob Marley 

Only, because he does it with muggle things, we’re supposed to find him funny and progressive.

Arthur is absolutely, albeit unwittingly, condescending in his love of muggle knickknacks. He has no idea how any of it actually works, not limited to how muggles could possible survive without the gold standard, but ardently believes he does because he can enchant the car to fly. Seriously, that he believes he’s an expert on muggle culture, as a pureblood wizard who heads an office in the ministry on it, is the worst part. His love of toasters comes across as, “Wow, look how cool it is that these poor little muggles made all this neat stuff. We should absolutely love the muggles because of it!” And that he heads an office in the ministry called “The Misuse of Muggle Artifacts” which is all about catching down Jackass style pranksters who think it would be hilarious of they enchanted toasters to bludgeon muggles to death...

Goddammit Arthur, why do you exist?

Right, otherwise, he’s got some pride issues going on. Part of the reason Percy is excommunicated is not so much that Percy doesn’t believe Harry, but because Percy dared to do better than Arthur in his own career. Arthur is stuck in his position as head of a joke of a department, he is an underling at its finest, and frankly likely only has that position because he’s a pureblood and the idea of putting a halfblood or even muggleborn at the head of a department dealing with muggles just made the higher ups shudder. (Don’t tell Arthur that though, he likes to think he’s not benefitting from nepotism). 

Arthur goes so far to accuse Percy as Fudge’s secretary as spying on him. Arthur, the guy who heads “Misuse of Muggle Artifacts”. Yeah, Arthur, I’m sure Fudge is really wasting his time using his straight laced secretary to find out all your dirty secrets. 

He also tends to see the world as very black and white. When Skeeter in book 4 writes an article after the Quidditch World Cup disaster complaining about the ministry’s lax security in enabling domestic terrorists to enter (something completely valid and true by the way) Arthur is so personally offended that both he and Percy go straight to the ministry to complain about Rita Skeeter and her daring to assume freedom of speech! HOW DARE SHE CALL THE MINISTRY’S NON-EXISTENT SECURITY AT THE WORLD CUP LAX! (To be fair, she also cited Arthur as having been in attendance at the event, a ministry employee, and having done nothing but, well, this is also true Arthur. You’re in a guerilla, underground, resistance movement. If I didn’t already think the Order was a joke this would kind of highlight it for me).

He’s also very resentful of Lucius Malfoy, and it seems to mostly be about the money. Arthur and Molly have a severe spending problem and actively resent that Lucius is swimming in money. That Arthur is ardently pleased about a law being passed in which the ministry without warrant can ransack Lucius Malfoy’s home... 

Well, Arthur, imagine the slippery slope if the government decides that it would like to search the Weasley home without warrant? In fact, he doesn’t even have to imagine it, as the beloved government in a few short years turns against him and then it’s all about how corrupt the ministry is. 

Arthur’s delightfully narrowminded, basically, and reminds us at nearly every opportunity.

Percy Weasley

Mostly, I just feel bad for Percy. Percy’s the son/brother that nobody likes and he’s painfully aware of that fact. He doesn’t fit in with the others, he has far too much ambition for the Gryffindor family and they resent him for it, and then he dares to say things like “I don’t know guys, Voldemort resurrecting from the dead after decades doesn’t sound plausible, we know Harry’s a little off kilter, and Dumbledore’s one shady dude”. Percy happens to be wrong about Voldemort resurrecting (and admits as much when the evidence is plainly visible), but he’s pretty on the money with the rest of it.

Regardless, growing up we see Ron constantly hating on Percy along with the rest of the siblings. I’m sure Percy is obnoxious, and certainly full of himself after making prefect and head boy, but he’s very clearly even before Order of the Phoenix the Least Favorite Brother (TM).

Then the Weasley family completely ices him out for a) getting a very high ranking position very quickly as Fudge’s secretary and b) not being gung ho about Dumbledore saying crazy things in the paper. Remember that to Percy Harry is Ron’s weird friend who seems to get into highly illegal activities every other week. From Percy’s point of view, it’s probably a matter of time before Harry becomes a crack head in Knockturn Alley (or given how behind the times wizards tend to be, an opium den). 

He’s constantly getting Ron into not only trouble but life threatening situations, is erratic and apparently a parseltongue of all things, and now Harry’s flipped his lid and saying that Voldemort has been resurrected after having gone through a very traumatic experience of watching a classmate somehow die. 

While we see Percy kind of (sort of)  make up with the family it’s clear that for Percy to have any relation with these people he’s the one who will always, ALWAYS, have to come crawling back on his knees and begging for forgiveness. It’s the Weasley way or the highway and I imagine, at some point probably a little after/during that epilogue, Percy will just slowly drift away because it’s just not worth it anymore.

Percy’s very much the black sheep of the family.

Fred and George Weasley

You all are going to kill me, but I actually don’t care in the slightest about Fred and George Weasley. This is because they basically have no personality aside from “funny”. 

They just have their weird, tandem, twin act and are either playing jokes on the school or else serving as Deus ex Machina in giving Harry magical items such as the Marauder’s Map for no apparent reason. The plot told them it was time, I guess. 

Their jokes, while not as bad as Sirius and James’ “Let’s sexually harrass Severus Snape by pantsing and beating him at the edge of Hogwarts lake” or Sirius’ “Let’s get Snape eaten by a werewolf!” are still often needlessly cruel and... kind of pointless. They harass Slytherin house constantly just because they happen to be Slytherins, they’re acceptable victims (which of course makes house tension that much worse). Harry gets sent a toilet seat in the hospital because... that’s funny? Har de har? 

They’re so indistinguishable from one another I routinely see people mistake which one got his ear chopped off and which one died. Because the point is, that we can’t tell the difference! It doesn’t matter who lived and who died because all we know is that Freorge is dead! 

Similarly, you see tons of fics around where character of the day ends up in this weird twincestuous relationship with Fred and George and it’s not only for a) that delightful twincest but b) because they’re such a singular unit that any attempt to pair one with somebody else feels weird. So you just get these porn fics about Fred and George being weird rapey teenagers who seem like they’d be more interested dating each other. 

Charlie Weasley

I really have no thoughts on Charlie. He raises dragons in Romania, the family loves him. Now, dragon raising feels like one of the most dangerous jobs in the Harry Potter universe, like Charlie had just gone and signed up to be a lumberjack but he seems to like it?

We really don’t see much of Charlie, he’s just the obligatory older Weasley son so that the Weasleys can be this ridiculously large family.

Bill Weasley

We see slightly more of Bill, but again, not enough to really leave an impression. We know that his marrying Fleur sent Molly into a complete state, and that they’re going to have awkward Christmas dinners forever because of it where Fleur just sits there and pretends not to loathe every second of Molly’s presence while Molly notes how bad it is that Victoire got stuck with that ugly pink hair instead of the Weasley red. 

Bill doesn’t seem to really do anything about this. He still marries Fleur, but we don’t really see a major confrontation where he tells the family “Look, I’m marrying her, so grow up.” So, I imagine he just tries to smile pleasantly and tells Fleur to just endure it for another few hours. He loves his family, his family’s great, but they only have to see Fleur once a year at Christmas.

Ginny Weasley

Ginny is weird. She’s this weird, frankly, almost personality-less void whose sole obsession in life seems to be marrying Harry. She and Harry end up in the world’s weirdest relationship and I honestly have no idea how people ship it other than canon told them to.

Ginny’s... well, first off, she’s very much in love with an idea. She had always worshipped Harry Potter but then he personally saves her life in what was a horrifically traumatic year and so that feeling just grows even more. Despite being Ron’s sister, she barely seems to know Harry, and everything she seems to like about it are just things she made up.

I imagine her and Harry’s marriage will be littered with affairs on her end. Not divorce though, because Harry would never admit his wife is having affairs on him all the time even if someone directly confronted him. Harry also won’t admit he’s gay. 

More than though we get hints of a personality. Ginny’s a fiery red-head tomboy with a temper. But... Well, it’s only ever hints. She never felt like a real person to me. She has I think one throwaway line about the Chamber of Secrets incident and how it personally affected her. We’re told she’s great at the bat boogey hex so we know she’s a fiery independent woman.

She feels more like a character sheet than an actual person. 

Whenever she’s around I always had this nagging question in my head where I ask why Ginny’s here. She has a lot of potential but nothing’s ever done with her. And when something is, it’s to get her into this bizarre relationship with Harry where he imagines there’s a green rage monster in his chest that loves her skin.

Okay Harry, if you say so. 

TL;DR: The Weasleys aren’t evil or anything, I’m not on Team Bash Them All, but they are shortsighted, ordinary, people who don’t deserve to be worshipped as all that is good in this world.

[interact-if]

Day 3 of A/PI Heritage Month featured authors interview! Please perceive... Jess!

Jess, author of A Bard's Tale

A/PI Heritage Month Featured Author

It takes place on the fictional continent of Amaran, a high fantasy setting based on Asian and Pacific Islander cultures as opposed to traditional Eurocentric high fantasy.

In the wake of a terrible war, you are a young bard just starting your journey. Will you answer the call to adventure and embark to rouse the sleeping gods?

(INTERVIEW TRANSCRIPT UNDER THE CUT!)

Q1: First of all, introduce us to your project! What is it about?

A Bard’s Tale is a story about a bard, and about a few more bards, and a world that is still living in the wake of war and occupation.

More specifically, it is the story of a bard (you!) and your quest to wake Amaran’s sleeping gods. The Bard has been experiencing recurring dreams prior to the start of the story, calling them to the capital city of Mahar’il – where they meet a colorful cast of companions and take the first steps of their journey.

A Bard’s Tale mixes old faithful D&D/RPG elements with dating sim-esque romance, and doesn’t take itself too seriously. The result is some good, clean fun. (Or dirty, depending on your choices.)

Q2: If it’s not too spoilery, what are you most excited about your project?

(Future scenes, can’t wait for readers to get to xyz place in the plot, etc.etc.)

I am most excited for readers to take their first steps onto the road. Mahar’il is meant to be a “home,” of sorts, and so these first chapters are adamant about familiarizing the reader with the city and the people they can expect to find here. But Amaran is so much bigger. I’m excited for people to see some of the other cities and regions that they’ve been only briefly introduced to so far, and also to get cracking on the complicated dynamics of Aspen and Tempest.

Q3: What inspired the current project you’re working on?

I’ve been working and playing in the larger world of Valia for a long time – through homebrewing D&D campaigns, and through the novel I am also working on, which takes place a continent away and a few hundred years in the past.

A Bard’s Tale sprung from the thought of “What will this world look like when this is all over?” “How will these people start to heal?” And, of course, “If I wrote a dating sim, who are Amaran’s most eligible bachelor(ette)s?”

Q4: Do you pull from your own identity for inspiration? How has that been reflected in your work?

I do! I am a biracial Korean-American, and both my parents were also born in America. It comes with a lot of diaspora blues, which I try not to project onto my characters that live in a fictional high fantasy world where racism and borders don’t have to exist. I admit that it tends to project pretty heavily anyway on the half-elves, Edin and Han.

The influence from my cultural background will become more evident the farther from Mahar’il that we get – particularly in the Jinju and Kujaku regions, which are inspired by Joseon-era Korea. (Loosely, in Kujaku’s case.)

Mahar’il is a cultural melting pot, and my inspiration for it is actually, largely, San Francisco. I’ve always admired the architecture of SF, and how the juxtaposition of antique and modern, ethnic (particularly Asian) and American, creates a sort of chaotic harmony.

However, I feel that it is important to note that the perspective from which I write is that of an Asian-American, and not just an Asian. My story is not rooted in Asian mythology, nor does its structure reflect Asian media and literature, because my foundation is largely Western.

Q5: What’s been your experience so far? With writing, with the if community...

Writing has always been second nature to me. Translating that to game code has been a bit tricky but I manage. And if I get stuck, I’ve made plenty of friends in the IF community, both authors and readers, who are more than willing to lend a hand.

In terms of my readers, I feel so, so blessed by you guys. I started this for fun, truly, thinking no one would be willing to read such a niche story and certainly not clamor for more than a demo. The support I’ve gotten from the community has been astounding, and I’m truly grateful for it.

Q6: Finally, what piece of advice would you give to fellow authors?

My biggest advice is do what makes you happy, and write from your heart. Inspiration will not always be there when you want it to be, and that’s okay. Set out a pot of coffee and a nice inviting blanket for when that fickle mistress decides to appear. Don’t shy away from projects that aren’t capturing your attention, but don’t devote more time to them than you want to. No one is judging your pile of half-finished drafts, except yourself.

Go where the wind takes you, even if it’s not “profitable” or even “good,” because every minute that you spend writing makes you a better writer. And on that note, write write write. I don’t think you need to set a daily timer, or whatever Stephen King said in his self-help book, but if you make a habit of it you will see progress. And read read read. You can’t pour from an empty cup, so read voraciously – and take a scalpel to your favorite books. Learn from them, dissect them, understand what makes them tick and then sprinkle a little of that in your own work.

And finally, fix your sleep schedule. I know you need to.

[127-mile]

The drug in me is you.

Pairing: Doll maker!Kun x female reader.

Genre: Strangers to lovers, doll making | Fluff, angst, mature content.

Warnings: This is NOT what a healthy relationship is, this is pure fiction. 

Manipulation, obsession, explicit major character death, non-explicit mention of death, violence, blood, alcohol consumption, oral sex (fem. receiving), fingering, orgasm denial, overstimulation, slight dirty talk, protected sex, drug use (note that the reader is unaware of the drugs being used at first, Kun tells her later) + The sex happens before Kun starts using the drugs on the reader.

Plot: One night, you met Kun in a bar. Kun was handsome, kind, caring, intelligent but he was also obsessed with dolls. You thought it was funny, until he made you one of his many dolls. Fear not, you are not just any doll, you are his best creation. 

Word count: +10k.

A/N: Happy Valentine’s day guys! This is part of the 21 ways to kill your lover collab hosted by @du0tine��. Please mind the warnings. Title from Falling in Reverse.

Tag list: @moondustaeil​, @prettyjaems​, @svchengss​, @jaehyvnsvalentine​, @xiaojunssmile 

Chapter zero: his best creation.

It is said that the eyes are a window to the soul, but when they look at you, your eyes are glassy, it is impossible to read the slightest emotion, your soul is empty, your soul has been replaced by a void, by the nothingness. Yet, you smile. A smile that is hard to describe, it is not forced, but it is not genuine either. It's just there.

You look at yourself in the bedroom mirror, and you hardly recognize yourself. Your fingers rest on the choker that adorns your neck, and for a brief second, your smile wears off, and your eyes seem to clear, but it disappears just as quickly. The choker is in red satin, a heart-shaped pendant in the middle. A letter is engrave on it. K.

The alarm on your phone makes you jump, and you turn to the object on the nightstand. It's time for you to go downstairs for breakfast. Kun must already be waiting for you. You turn off the alarm, and leave the room. If the bedroom is warm, the hallways are cold, or maybe it is just the cold from the tiling under your feet creeping into your body.

The marble stairs shine under your passage, and you do not dare to put your hand on the railing, of fear of leaving a trace. The house is immaculate, pristine. Anyone entering the house unexpectedly would think that no on lives here, that this is just a show house. This is what you also believed the first time you came here. Everything is in its place. Everything is perfect, just like Kun.

You walk into the dining room, and you see Kun. He is seated at the table, his laptop where a plate should be, but you know that in the morning, he likes to work while you eat, so he can spend a little more time with you before going to work. And you appreciate that. At least, you think you do.

The chair creaks as you pull it away from the table, and Kun looks up from his screen. He takes off his glasses which he puts on the table, and he smiles with a sweetness that warms your heart. "Good morning, my love, how are you?" you hold out your hand for him, and he takes it to place a tender kiss on the back. "I'm fine. I missed you in bed this morning."

Kun nods, and he gets up from his chair to fill your plate with fresh fruits, and pancakes drenched in maple syrup, just the way he knows you like them. "I'm sorry, doll, I had some late work to finish." if you live for Kun, Kun lives for his work. It is sad, but that's how life is sometimes, but that does not mean he does not love you.

"Eat everything." he says, and you nod, picking up your fork. He takes your glass and pours some squeezed orange juice into it. He turns to a locked glass cabinet, and takes out a small bottle filled with a translucent liquid. He drops a few drops in the glass, and you watch him to it, your head cocked to the side. "What is that?" you ask, and he sighs.

"I told you before, it helps keep you a sweet little doll." you nod again, you seem to have heard that phrase once or twice before, even though Kun has had to remind you every morning for months now. But he doesn't mind, he likes to remind you that it is thanks to him that you are such a sweet doll. He kisses the top of your head, and you close your eyes at the contact.

"Am I your favorite doll?" you ask before stuffing a strawberry into your mouth. Kun sits down again, and he watches you for a second. "Of course. Of all the dolls I made, you are the one I love the most, you are my best creation."

Chapter one: finding the doll.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

You are surprised to hear a voice above the hubbub of music and conversations in the bar where you are. At first, you expect to find Taeyong grinning like an idiot, cheeks flushed from the alcohol he's been drinking ever since you arrived, but when you turn on your stool, you frown when you see a man you've never seen before. You tilt your head to the side.

"And why would I say yes?" you ask, and the man smile. He has two dimples that make him look a little more childhish, a thin layer of sweat sticks his hair to his forehead, but he is still handsome in the dimmed lights of the bar. The first two buttons of his shirt are open, and you can't help but glance at the sliver of skin. "The question is, why would you say no?"

You do not have an answer to that, so you nod and the man sits on the stool next to you. He calls out the bartender, and asks to put two glasses of whatever you were drinking. "My name is Kun." he says, turning to you, and he holds out his hand. Hand that you squeeze for a brief moment. "Y/n." he smiles once more. "Pleased to meet you."

"So what is a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?" he asks, and you shrug, sliding your index finger across the rim of your glass. "This is my brother's bar." you explain, and you see the colors disappear from Kun's face, and when he is about to open his mouth, probably to apologize, you smile. "I'm just kidding. My best friend got dumped, so I'm here to support him as he drowns his grief in overpriced cocktails."

Kun's shoulders relax, grinning. "What about you?" he brings the glass to his lips to take a sip, and he winces at the sligh burn of the liquid in his throat. "Terrible day at work, I needed to relax." he explains in a low voice. "It's true that being in a crowded bar that smells like sweat and cheap alcohol is the best way to unwind from a day at work." you say, looking at him above your glass.

Kun chuckles softly as he puts his glass back on the bar, he rests his fingers beside it, and immediately regrets his decision when he feels how sticky the bar is. "It's always better than being alone at home." he says, and you agree, altough you are more the type to relax in bed with music rather than in a crowded and noisy bar. You would never have entered this place in your life if Taeyong had not begged you to come with him for over an hour earlier.

"Tell me about you, Kun." you ask, finishing your drink in one go, and you turn on your stool to face him. "I work in my best friend's law firm, I have a dog, and I love reading." he speaks in a bored manner, and you bite the bottom of your lip so as not to laugh. "I'm not the most interesting person here." you shrug, putting your hands flat on your thighs. "That's true, but there must be more than that, come on Kun, don't be shy."

Kun seems to think about it for a minute or so, yes he has more than that, but he can't really afford to tell you, not during your first meeting. His idea is to have a good time, and why not bring a girl back to his house, not to scare anyone and end up in prison that same evening. "I have an obsession with dolls."

This time around, you can't contain your laughter, and Kun is not offended, this is what he was expecting. "Dolls? Like barbies, or porcelain dolls?" you ask after catching your breath, you appreciate his presence, you do not want to see him go so soon, so you have to look and sound interested. "Porcelain dolls, but they are different, they all have stories."

"Stories? What do you mean?" you tilt your head, and Kun turns on his stool too. His knees bang against yours, and you glide your gaze down your legs for a brief moment. "These are not just porcelain dolls you would find in a store, they all come to my house with a clear story, and it is up to me to make sure they end their lives peacefully, and happily." that's fucking weird. "I don't know if you are being serious, or if you are making fun of me Kun, and you know what? I'm not sure I actually want to know."

You do not know how, but you went from an odd discussion about Kun's obsession with dolls, to this situation. Pressed against the door of Kun's room, you pant while feeling Kun's lips on your neck, his teeth digging into your skin, his tongue soothing the burn right away. Kun's hands are everywhere, under your top, along your still clothed thighs, you do not know where to focus.

"You are so hot, doll." Kun whispers hotly against your ear, and you bite your lower lip. "Is that why you brought me here?" Because I remind you of a doll?" Kun's gaze meets yours and he smirks. "Perhaps." you roll your eyes, and before you have a chance to open your mouth, Kun drops to his knees, ignoring the burn of the carpet, and when you give him permission to continue, he busy himself by removing your pants and panties. He slips one of your legs over his shoulder, and he covers your thighs with hot burning kisses and bites.

Kun does everything he can to avoid the area you want him the most, and you begin to whimper impatiently. He laughs as he licks his last bite to soothe the pain, and he looks up at you. You look like a work of art, with your head thrown back against the door, your eyes half-open and parted lips. "What do you want, doll?" he asks, and you sigh. "I don't know. Everything. Give me everything Kun, don't be an asshole."

"Everything?" Kun asks, and you nod with vigor. "Alright, your wish is my command, doll." he kisses your ankle, and he brings his lips up close to your core, and he blows gently. The cold air makes you shiver slightly, and you close your eyes, resting one hand in Kun's hair, and the other on the door for stability, because as he slides a finger in between your folds, your knees buckle.

"You are so wet doll, and all because of a few kisses? Cute." you pull his hair lightly, and he growls. "Stop talking please." you mumble, and Kun shrugs his shoulders but with your eyes closed, you can't see him. Neither do you see him approach his face and replace his finger with his tongue. "Oh." that's all you can say before he lays his tongue flat against your clit.

You are convinced that Kun will spend the next few minutes teasing you, but he does not. He licks your clit with vigor, and you can't help but roll your hips for more contact, and his free hands keep your from moving too much, which make you whimper loudly. His mouth is hot, insanely so. He pushes a single digit into you, making you mewls, not expecting him to do so. "Such a good girl." he says, moving his face away to watch you lose yourself to pleasure.

"More, more, please." you whisper, and Kun obliges. A second, then a third finger join the first, and you bite your lower lip to cover your moans that are getting loud, and embarrassing, but Kun doesn't seem to agree with you. "That's what we are not going to do. I want to hear you." he says in a firm voice, slapping your thigh. You almost lose your balance, but he stops you from falling by resting his hand on your waist. His grip is strong, and you know you'll have bruises of the shape of his fingers for days.

You already feel so close to your orgasm, you can feel it, you can taste it on your tongue. Kun keeps stimulating your clit with his thumb while pumping his fingers in and out of you, your muscle tightens around his fingers and he loves the feeling of your hot, wet walls, so much that he feels himself throb in the confined of his jeans, he can't wait to put his cock to good use inside of you.

When you feel heat spreading through your body, Kun's fingers pull back and you whine. You feel empty, and you do not like that feeling, not with how good Kun's fingers made you feel. "No, no, why, I was so close." you sob, and Kun smiles when he sees a single tear run down your cheek, it is so beautiful to see how fucked out you look with only his fingers. "You will cum. Later. On my cock, doll." fuck. "If you are nice, I'll make you cum twice, how does that sound?" you nod, that's all you can do right now.

Kun puts your leg back on the floor, and when you lower your head to look at him, he slides his fingers into his mouth to lick them clean of your juice, and you roll your eyes. "Kun." you are out of breath, and he straightens up before kissing you. He doesn't wait to get your permission before sticking his tongue into your mouth, and even though the kiss is sloppy, teeth clashing and salive gathering at the corner of your mouths, he puts his hands on your waist, to keep you upright because this simple kiss makes your legs feel like jelly, and he can feel it.

"Lie down on the bed." he orders, and you obey. You do not know how, but you get to the bed without tripping. Before lying down, you get rid of your last pieces of clothing before throwing them somewhere in the bedroom. You lie down, your head resting on Kun's pillows which smell of his perfume, and a mixture of sweat and soap, which is weirdly addicting, you think.

When you turn your head to look at him, you are disappointed to see that he is already undressed, but that's okay, you'll find another opportunity to touch his soft skin. He rummages in a drawer, and you see him walk up to the bed with a condom in hand, and without waiting, he climbs onto the bed to hover over you.

He places a quick kiss on your lips, and he begins to open the condom's packet, but you shake your head, resting your hands on his. "Let me do it." Kun nods, but he gasps when you push him to the other side of the bed to straddle his thighs. His cock is hard, the tip is red and leaking precum. You lean in, and run your tongue through the slit before swallowing the sticky liquid, all under Kun's hungry gaze.

"You drive me crazy." he groans, and you smile, perfect, you like that. You throw the condow packet on the floor, and before rolling it over his member, you lick the vein on the side from bottom to top, a groan snarling out of Kun's mouth. "Can I ride you?" you ask, while rolling the condom over his thick member. "Whatever makes you happy, doll."

You take his cock in your hand, and you nudge the tip over your entrance, you take a deep breath, and you ease the member gently. Kun's hands rest on your waist, and he gently helps you, and when finally you bottom out, he stays still. Yes, he wants to fuck you into oblivion, but he is also human, and he doesn't want to hurt you. At least not that way.

When you feel ready, you put your hands flat on Kun's chest and you roll your hips. "So tight, doll. You were made for me." Kun looks handsome from above, you think, looking at the way he bites his lower lip with every movements of your pelvis, the way his fingers tighten around your waist. But after a while, Kun starts to get impatient, and he plants his feet on the mattress to thrust harder into you.

"Oh fuck." you moan following the movement of his thrusts, but soon, you feel the burn in your thighs. You, who wanted to have a minimum of control, are already losing it as your legs fall asleep on either side of Kun's thighs. "Kun, Kun." you sob, your vision misted with tears once more. "Yes, doll, I'll take care of it." he pushes you onto the bed, and you wrap your legs around his waist when he enters you again.

He nestles his face in the crook of you neck, and he bites, hard. You close your eyes, a lewd sound coming out of your mouth and you throw your head back. Kun's thrusts are quick, strong, and deep, so much so that if you legs weren't secured around his waist, you would be pushed against the headboard. He is not holding back, and fuck you are grateful for it.

Kun sits up, and his hands grip the headboard to speed up his thrusting if that's even possible. His cock rocks against your sweet spot, and your orgasm crash over you without you even realizing it. You vision turns black, and you see stars for a moment as Kun growls when your walls tighten deliciously around his lenght. "Oh fuck, yes." he kisses you but fucked stupid like you are, you are unable to kiss back, all you can do is pant, and whimper at how sensitive you feel.

"One more?" he asks in a soft voice, which contrasts with the way he pounds into you. You are not sure you can do it, but you nod anyway, your body might hate you tomorrow, but it will be worth it. Despite everything, Kun opens his mouth. "What's your color?" he asks, and even though it takes a minute for you to figure out what he is asking, you speak out, in a broken voice. "Green, green, Kun." Great.

Kun doesn't know if he wants to cum, or if he wants to spend the rest of the night fucking you. It is so good, and at the same time, he wants to taste the sweet release he can feel creeping up slowly. He keeps thrusting, his knuckles turning white from the force with which he squeezes the headboard, and even his growls get louder. As for you, a flood of moans mixed with his name flows from your lips which he kisses, and bites hard enough that the skin breaks and a drop of blood flows before he licks it clean.

"Close, close." that's all you moan, and it's enough for Kun to understand. He nods, and one of his hands slides between your bodies to your clit, which he strokes with his thumb. You grab Kun's shoulders and dig your fingernails into the skin, and that's what seems to do, Kun cums in the condom. You feel it. You feel the hot cum against your walls even with the latex in between, and your legs start to shake with the intensity of your second orgasm.

Kun continues to thrust, slowly this time, riding his orgasm, but you are so sensitive that you shake your head. It is too much. "Stop, stop, please, I can't take it anymore." Kun obeys, and he stops his movements and he cages your face with his hands, being careful not to put his full weight on you. "It was perfect. You were perfect, doll." he whispers near your lips before kissing you for quite a while, and much more tenderly than before. And when he pulls out for air, he gets up from the bed to remove the condom and put it in the trash. You feel really empty, but ready to fall asleep.

When Kun returns to the bedroom with a damp cloth, he finds you asleep. You seem peaceful, so much that he doesn't want to wake you up and force you to go home, not that he wants you gone, so he doesn't. He puts on some sweatpants, and he lies down next to your after cleaning you briefly, and covering your naked body with a blanket, and he watches your for a moment before he too falls asleep, a smile on his face.

Chapter two: the morning after.

It is around 11am when you open your eyes. At first, you are lost. You do not recognize the sheets your are in, and you do not recognize the scent around you. The presence next to you is foreign, and it takes you two or three minutes to remembers. The bar with Taeyong. Your meeting with Kun. Kun! You spent the night with Kun, now you remember, and when you turn your head, you see a tuft of blonde hair coming out of the comforter.

Oh fuck, Taeyong!

You left the bar last night without telling him you were ditching him to go home with a complete stranger. You get out of bed slowly, ignoring the pain in your legs, and you find your pants neatly folded on what you supposed is Kun's desk, and you are definitely not the one who did that. Your top and lingerie are laid aside, and you wonder if all the one night stands are as kind and considerate as the sleeping man. But you doubt it. In your pants pocket you take out your phone, and you are surprised to see only two messages from Taeyong.

From Yong: I'm leaving with someone, don't wait for me. From Yong: Can you come get me? Pretty please?

The last message was sent less than twenty minutes ago, which means he must still be waiting for you, and probably with one hell of a hangover. You are glad you didn't drink more than two drinks last night. You put your clothes on, and before leaving the room, you find a piece of paper to write down your number, and a little note. "Call me." and you leave the room.

The problem is, you do not know where you are. You do not know which part of town he took you to, you were to busy cleaning Kun's tonsils with your tongue in the taxi to watch where they were driving you. All you know is that you are in a house, with marble stairs, and modern decor without a hint of dust around you. You go down the stairs, not daring to put your hand on the railing, and you wonder if Kun decided to illegaly enter a show house the night before.

Everything is clean, tidy. Everything is in the image of Kun, perfect. The front door is unlocked, which greatly simplifies the task of leaving like a thief. You dial Taeyong's number, and the boy answers immediately. "Where are you? I'm tired, I want to go to sleep." he says in a hoarse voice, and you look around. "I wish I knew, Yong." you walk down the street, at least until you find a street name. You are in a nice neightborhood, the kind you never go to, way too far from your comfort zone.

"What do you mean you don't know where you are?" Taeyong asks, and you roll your eyes. "I left the bar with a guy last night, and I don't know where I am!" you hear Taeyong giggle before growling, probably from his pounding headache. "Slut." you sigh, as you look around. You probably look suspicious. "You can talk, you did the same." you mumble, and you hear him say something to an unknown voice, so you take the opportunity to hang up to call a taxi, it's the only way for you to get home. Or at least to get to Taeyong, then you can figure it out together.

Chapter two and a half: Kun.

The following week, busy with work and with well, life, you stopped thinking about him, about Kun. You stopped thinking about the night you spent together, you stopped thinking about his hands, his lips, his scent, you just stopped. Work is mostly the cause, and also Taeyong who spends most of his time whinning about his ex partner, he is not recovering from his breakup, and it's tiring, really.

And when your phone rings, an unknown number appearing on your screen, you answer without a second thought. The perfect way to get you killed, Taeyong said once, but maybe one of your friends changed number and need something, you can't take the risk. But when you hear the voice, you do not recognize it. "Hello?" the silence is rather short. "Y/n, hello! How are you? Sorry I took so long to call, I was busy and didn't know if you actually wanted that." you frown, sitting on the sofa, the rerun of a show playing on the television. "I'm sorry, but who is it?"

"It's Kun?" the man says in an uncertain voice, and you remember. "Ah, Kun. Hi, I'm okay, and you, are you doing alright? Sorry for leaving last time, but my friend needed me." Kun makes a sound of aknowledgment before speaking. "Don't worry, I understand. I wanted to know if you wanted to meet?" you hesitate. You are not used of sleeping around with a man you met in a bar, so you are not sure if you really want to see him again. But also, why the hell not, you have the next week free of work, might as well make the most of it. "Yeah, why not."

"Do you remember the bar where we met? There's a café across the street, maybe we could meet up there later. Is around 3pm okay?" he asks, and you nod even though he can't see you. "Yeah that's fine with me. See you later." the man lets you know that he is excited to see you, and you hang up. You have a few more hours left, so you huddle once more in your blanket, and watch the television, wondering if going out is actually worth it.

Chapter three: How to make a doll: step one.

The meeting/date in the café is what changed your life.

You were not sure you wanted to see Kun, and yet, a month later, you are unable to part with him. There is something appealing about Kun, something highly addicting. He is kind, caring, smart and of course, he is breathtakingly beautiful with his dimples, soft eyes and honey-like voice.

The mere thought that one day he might not want you anymore is painful. You can't imagine your life without Kun, without his smile, without his kisses, without his hands that make you feel things that you've never felt before. And without his love, because Kun's love is amazing, it's like he has not limit to the love he gives, no matter what he receives in return.

When he tells you that he loves you, you feel like hearing it for the first time, every time. You have butterflies in your stomach when he looks at you, or when he talks about you like you are the eighth wonder of the world to his friends and colleagues. You are proud to be with Kun, because you know he could have had any girl, and yet, you are the one he decided to choose. The one he decided to love more than anything.

"Y/n? Come have a glass of water." you smile when you hear your name coming out of Kun's mouth, it's like hearing the most beautiful melody, the way it rolls on his tongue. And he is so attentive too, you think and you leave the living room to join him in the kitchen. He is sitting on a stool around the kitchen island, and he hands you a glass of water, which you take, smiling. "Thanks Kun." you say, and he smiles too, dimples in full display. "You are welcome, doll."

You take a sip of water, then a second, and you grimace. "What's wrong?" he asks, tilting his head. "I don't know, the water tastes weird." Kun shakes his head, and takes a sip of hiw own glass. "I don't feel it, it must be you. You stay too long without drinking, you forget the taste." when Kun says something, you take him at his word, so you shrug and finish your drink. "Sit down with me for a bit." he pats the stool next to him, and you settle down, your head immediately resting on the shoulder of your boyfriend who kisses your forehead.

You stay like that, in silence, for a few minutes before Kun opens his mouth. "How are you feeling?" he asks, and you frown. If he had not asked you the question, you certainly would not have realized the fatigue that suddenly fell on your body. Your eyelids are heavy, and you limbs feel numb, your mouth is dry, and movements around you seem to be slowing down. "I do not know." you whisper tiredly. "My poor little doll." Kun responds, without a hint of pity in his voice.

Chapter four: Bad doll?

This is not the only time the feeling of losing control of your body sets in. At first it's once a week, and now it's every morning, but you adjust pretty well to the side effects, and Kun is so nice to you when you feel bad, he takes care of you, he makes sure that you drink enough water, and that you eat enough food. He regularly returns from work at lunchtime to cook for you, and to remind you how wonderful you are, and how proud he is of you.

He gives you presents, but the one you prefer is the choker you never part with. You love the color, and the pendant reminds you that Kun is near you, even when he is not at home, and that's all you need. Time passes, and yet you do not realize it. You stopped responding to Taeyong, and even going to work. Kun said you did not have to go anymore, he may very well support the two of you with his job alone. No, you do not realize anything. You only see Kun, only hear Kun. Kun. Kun. Kun. Kun. His name echoes like a mantra in your head.

Today, going down the stairs, you are surprised to not hear the slightest noise. When Kun is at home, he enjoys playing music on his turntable. He says that even though the sound is not as crisps there, it is much better, he can appreciate the music more, but now you can't hear anything. Not even the sound of his computer keyboard where he spends most of his time when he is not at the office.

"Kun?" you ask, poking your head through the living room door, which is empty and as clean as usual, if not a little cleaner. You walk into the kitchen, and you pout when you notice that he is not there either, but a note is stuck on the fridge door.

"My doll, my beautiful doll. I'm sorry, but I had to leave for work. I know I promised to take you to the movies, but a case we are working on must be finished today, the trial having been brought forward. Unfortunately, I didn't have time to cook for you, and I'm so sorry. You can cook for yourself, but please be careful with the knives. Remember to drink at least 5 glasses of water today. I have my phone if you need anything. I love you. Kun."

You silently read Kun's words and nod. It's a shame, you were excited to go to the movies. You really haven't been out of the house since moving in with Kun. At least you think you moved here. Kun bought you enough clothes to fill a full closet, and your mind is far too cloudy to think about the clothes you already own, and the apartment you were renting back then.

You do not know if it's because Kun is not here, or because you are too lazy to cook, but you are not hungry. You come out of the kitchen, and once in the lobby of the house, you look around. You do not know what you are supposed to do. Even though Kun leaves you alone to go to work pretty much every day, he still advises you to do certain acitivites, or you usually feel far too tired to do anything.

But today, you feel good. Still a bit groggy, but much better than usual.

A name suddenly comes to your mind, for the first time in months, and you frown. Your heart does a weird thing when you think of this person. Not the same as when you think of Kun, but differently. A certain warmth spreads through your body, and you realize that you actually miss this person. Taeyong. You know you were used to spend a lot of time together, and that you even decided to save your money to find a big apartment to live in together.

He forgot about me, you think.

But you do not realize that you forgot about him, not the opposite. But you are too lost in your own head to realize it. You walk up the stairs, being careful not to put your fingers on the white wall or the railing, and push the door to the room you share with Kun. The decor has changed since the first time you came here. Several pictures of you, and you and Kun together are on the walls, and your favorite color can be found in small touches on the satin sheets, on the curtains, and a few trinkets here and there.

You find your phone in the bedside table drawer, and when you try to turn it on, nothing happens. After so long, the battery must be dead. Finding a charger is not difficult, you just have to walk around the bed to Kun's place. You take it, and you return to the living room. For some reason, you do not like being in the room on your own, you feel like you are being watched, it makes you uncomfortable.

Once in the living room, you plug in the phone, and while waiting for it to turn on, you turn on the television. A serie is playing, and even though you do not understand it, you watch, your head resting on a pillow, and soon, you find yourself wrapped in your favorite blanket, ready to fall asleep. So much for feeling full of energy.

When you open your eyes, you are hardly surprised to see the living room bathed in darkness. It often happens to you, to close your eyes before realizing that night has already fallen. It takes a moment before your eyes get used to the darkness that is only broken by a lit bedsite lamp next to Kun. Kun who is seated on an armchair, his arms crossed against his toned chest. You sit up, smiling. "You are back."

Normally, Kun would smile. He would get up to give you a long, tender hug and ask you how your day was. But today, he doesn't. He looks tired, stressed and disappointed. It is indeed an emotion you have never seen on his beautiful face, disappointment. "What's wrong?" you ask as you sit on the couch, legs crossed, your blanket falling from your shoulders, revealing the same pajamas you wore last night.

You look down, and notice that your phone is in Kun's hand, and tild your head. "Why?" he asks, pointing to the phone. "Why what?" He gets up, and he sits down next to you. You are not afraid, you know Kun will never hurt you, but you also do not know what to expect. You have never seen him angry except at one of his colleagues on the phone, and each time he makes sure to leave the room so that you do not see, or hear anything.

"Am I not enough?" he asks in a voice so weak that you wonder if you heard correctly. "Why do you ask me this?" he sighs and puts the phone down on the coffee table, it's on this time, and you can see the many notifications when the screen lights up. That can't be good, you think, but you do not even think about reaching for the phone, since Kun turns your head to face him by gripping your chin between two fingers.

You frown, your mouth opening slightly at his sudden move. "You haven't touched your phone since you've been here, and today you decided to do it, because you knew I wasn't coming back, why?" he asks in a firm voice, and you avoid his gaze, which doesn't seem to please him. "Good dolls look at me when I talk to them." he says with clenched teeth, and you shake your head. "I- I'm not a doll."

Kun scoffs, rolling his eyes. "Of course not. You are not, you are right. You don't deserve to be one of my dolls." this sudden realization makes you open your eyes wide, shaking your head. "What? Of course I deserve it!" when he shakes his head, your eyes fill with tears and he refrains from stroking your cheeks to calm you down. "No. A doll doesn't look to see someone else when I'm not around." it's crazy how fast a few words made you change your mind about being a doll.

You manage to extricate yourself from his grip, and you climb onto his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. Kun is surprised at your sudden behavior, and even though he knows he cannot give in, stay firm, he does nothing to stop it. But he doesn't touch you either, even though his hands only want one thing: to rest on your waist. "You are wrong, Kun, I didn't want to see anyone. I just wanted to watch, and I didn't even do it, I fell asleep before it turned on." you speak in a quick manner. "Hey, breathe." he says, and you take a deep breath.

Kun looks at his watch, and he makes a noise of surprise or aknowlegdment, you don't really know. "Did you drink any water today?" he asks, and you are surprised at the sudden change of tone in Kun's voice. "No, I was sleeping." now, he understands. "That's why you decided to act like this! You silly goose, you know you need to drink." you pout when Kun puts you down on the couch, because you already miss Kun's warm touch and scent. "I'll be right back."

A minute or two later, Kun returns with a glass of water in his hand, and he hands it to you. "Drink it all." you nod and take the glass to drink the content. Over time, you started to ignore the weird aftertaste that burns your throat a bit when Kun give you something to drink. He settles down next to you again to pull you onto his lap without waiting, except this time, he wraps his arms around your waist to press your chest against his. "You can't disobey me anymore, okay?" you nod.

"Yes, I will not do it again, I promise." he puts his hand on the back of your head, and he pulls you in for a languid kiss. But before you can initiate anything, he breaks the kiss. "I'm so sorry, I just want to be a good doll." you whisper close to his ear, and he smiles weakly. "I know that my love, and you are, it's just that sometimes you get distracted. But that won't happen again, I'll make sure of it myself."

Chapter five: Taeyong.

For the following weeks, Kun makes sure not to leave you alone for too long. And the more time passes, the less able you feel to regain full control over your body. Kun does everything for you, he doesn't let you lift a finger, if only to clear your plate. If your thought were yours, you would wonder when he plans on spoon feed you himself, but they haven't belonged to you for a long time.

Sometimes you have moments of lucidity. Your eyes clear, and your memories come back, the times you spent with Taeyong, the life you had before meeting Kun, and during those brief moments, you wonder if you'll ever get back to those times you genuinely took for granted. You began to write in a notebook what you remember in these moments, and the time when it happens. And every time, it is before breakfast, when you get out of bed.

Like all plans, Kun's isn't foolproof, luckily you manage to keep it to yourself. You refuse to think about what would happen if he ever found out that sometimes you become yourself, Y/n, and not Kun's doll. Even in these times, you are not afraid of Kun, because you know he'll never hurt you, at least not physically, he is way too sweet, and too in love to do it. Because yes, despite the mental ordeal he makes you live on a daily basis, he loves you, you know it.

Maybe you should stop forcing yourself to remember your old life, and come to terms with what you have become. Maybe you'll get used to it, and start to appreciate what is offered to you, you think, looking at yourself in the bathroom mirror, the only place you can have a little bit of privacy. You rub cold water on your face, because you know that in a few minutes, when Kun gives you your drink, you will not be yourself. And when you turn to take the towel, you hear a little noise coming from the bedroom.

You frown, it is not Kun, you can hear the noises coming from the kitchen. So you come out of the bathroom, and you follow the noise that continues, to Kun's bedsite table which you open, and what a surprise when you find your phone. It's on, and Taeyon's photo appears on the screen. You take it, and with a trembling hand, you answer.

"Hello?" you ask, and the noise you hear coming from Taeyong is barely describable. It's a mix of surprise and relief. "Oh my god, Y/n! Do you have any idea how scared I've been for months?" you bite your lower lip. "I'm sorry." you answer, and he growls from the other side. You can't imagine what he felt. "Where are you? Are you okay? Are you safe?"

When you are about to answer, you hear footsteps coming towards the bedroom door. "I have to go." and you hang up before shoving the phone in the drawer before closing it. And when the door opens, you turn to him, smiling. "Is everything okay?" Kun asks, and you walk up to him, nodding your head. "Perfectly fine, I was ready to come down." you put your hands on his chest, and you kiss Kun softly.

Kun answers to the kiss, one of his hands fiddling with the pendant of your necklace. He doesn't express it very often, but he is extremely proud to see you wearing it every day. It shows that you belong to him, even if you do not need it, you prove it to him every day. "Come eat." he says against your lips, and you take his hand to exit the room.

Once in the kitchen, you drink the glass of juice offered to you, and the effects come much faster now. And when you are finally in Kun doll's mindset, you feel stupid for answering Taeyong, so much so that you feel ready to confess everything to him, and ask him to throw the phone away for you to no longer be tempted, but you do not. "I love you Kun." you say, which surprises the man who smiles with a sweetness that warms your heart. "I love you too, doll, more than anything in the world."

Chapter six: Yes, bad doll.

Kun has to go to work.

To do that, he made sure to give you a double dose last night, to make sure he wouldn't have to deal with another scene like last time. He trusts you, but you can never be too careful, he thinks, looking at you. You are sleeping peacefully, and you are so beautiful, he wonders what he has done to have a person like you in his life. You are the most beautiful doll, his best creation. However, when he met you, it was not a won situation. But you proved to him that you were capable of changing, and he would give his life for you.

He places a kiss on your forehead, and he pulls back when you stire in your sleep. For a second, he thinks he woke you up, but no, you turn, your breathing still deep. His little angel. He gets out of the room, takes his satchel, and leaves the house.

When you open your eyes, it is not because of the sun coming through the curtains, but because of the knocking on the door. You whine, and wonder when the noises will stop, but they don't. Kun must not have heard it, or he is not home. So reluctantly, you get out of bed. You have to hold on to the wall to walk, to avoid tripping. You feel feverish, and so so tired.

When, at least, you arrive at the bottom of the stairs, you approach the door. Everything is silent, and you regret having moved, but as your turn on your heels, the knocking on the door resumes. You open it, and you frown when your eyes fall on a man. He is not very tall, his hair is pink and washed out. He looks like he has not slept in weeks, and when his eyes fall on you, you wonder if he is going to cry.

"Y/n!" he throws himself on you to hug you to his chest. You know if Kun witnessed the scene, you would be in trouble, and yet, you stay in the man's arms. The warmth that he gives off, his perfume, his simple way of being are not unknown to you. "Taeyong." you breath, and the boy pulls back, his hands still resting on your shoulders. "I hope you have some explanations for me, young lady. I've been looking for you for months!"

"How did you find me?" you ask, cocking your head. He is truly struggling to recognize you. Your eyes are glassy, and he can no longer see the happiness and mischief he used to read in your eyes back in the days. "Thanks to your phone. I just wanted to make sure you were safe." you nod, hugging your body with your arms. "Of course I'm safe. Kun takes good care of me, and he loves me very much. I love him too."

Taeyong frowns, he feels liks he is listening to a robot, or a pre-recorded message. It is no longer his best friend that he has in front of him, but someone else, and he does not know how to explain what exactly has changed so much, or what could have happened. He even wonder if you weren't brainwashed, joined a cult, or had a frontal lobotomy. He knows it's stupid, but he is stupid, and those are the only thought that come to him. He is far from reality.

"Can I come in?" Taeyong asks, trying to see the inside of the house over your shoulder, and you bite your lip. You are not sure Kun would enjoy seeing a stranger in his own home, but he is not here right now, and a good doll must also be a kind and welcoming host, so you shrug. "Yes, of course." you push yourself out of the door to let Taeyong in, he wolf-whistles when he sees the inside, and how clean and shiny everything is. "Wow.

You head for the kitchen. "You can sit if you want. Do you want something to drink?" you ask, but he shakes his head. "No thanks." he sits down on a stool around the kitchen island, and you sit across from him, your hands resting on the cold surface of the counter. "So? Tell me everything that happened." yes, you suspected he would ask you the question. "I met Kun in the bar where we were that night. And I don't know, things happened naturally after we saw each other again. I think moving here was the next logical step, it just happened."

"But that doesn't explain why you stopped responding to my messages, and giving signs of life." Taeyong's voice is painful, even for you. You sigh, playing with a thread on your pyjama sleeve. "I don't know, Taeyong." it's the truth, you do not even know why you stopped caring about your phone, you who spent most of your time on it. "But I'm sorry." are you really? Not really.

You spend the next two hours talking. Well, Taeyong talks about things that have happened over the past few months, and you listen. You try to smile, nod at the right time, and be happy to be with him again, but you can't stop thinking about Kun, and what he is going to think when he finds out he's been here today. Not that he is preventing you from having contact with the outside world, but seeing how he reacted when you wanted to use your phone, you suspect that he is not going to be very happy.

"...and Ten started screaming." Taeyong says, and you open your mouth to laugh, but instead, your mouth opens in a silent cry as Taeyong's face makes contact with the kitchen island in a violent manner. So violent that he loses consciousness almost immediately. Behind him, you see Kun, and what you read in his eyes is nothing but pure rage. Your breathing is plowed, and you get up from your chair.

"Why would you do that?" you ask in a panicked voice, and he shakes his head, clicking his tongue. "You should thank me." he says as he approaches Taeyong. He grabs his hair to lift his head, and you gag when you see the amount of blood on his face. "But he didn't do anything!" you defend, and he laughs coldly, so much so that an unpleasant shiver runs down your spine.

He lets Taeyong's head fall back, and he looks at you. It's not longer disappointment he is showing, but something more intense. He is scary, and yet he smiles at you. "You know, I really thought you were different. When I met you, I finally thought I had found it, the perfect doll. I loved you so much, and I would have given you everything, even my life, and yet you decided to betray me." you shake your head as you join Kun.

"I didn't betray you Kun. He came on his own, I didn't contact him. I didn't tell him anything, we didn't do anything either." you say, cupping Kun's face, but he takes a step back to avoid the contact almost immediately, and ouch, that hurts. "I love you Kun, I love you so much." you continue in a whisper, and he shakes his head.

"If you really loved me, you wouldn't have let him in. You would have told him to go, and you would have moved on with your day. But no, you decided to be a little slut." A little slut? You would never dare to do such thing. You love Kun, and only Kun. No matter what he puts you through every day trying to make you the perfect doll, you have never loved anyone as much as you love Kun.

"I'm not a slut, Kun. I'm your little doll." you say in a low voice, not daring to look Kun in the eyes anymore. You feel him approaching you, and you refrain from taking a step back. "Are you sure of that? Are you my perfect doll?" he asks, and you nod. "And what would my perfect doll do for me?" you lift your head, and run the tip of your tongue over your dry lips. "Anything Kun. I would do anything for you."

"Very well." that's all he says before heading to the locked cabinet. The one in which he takes the small bottle of transparent liquid every morning. The bottle is full, and you wonder how get manages to get so many. You follow his every move with your eyes, and you frown when you see him emptying the entire bottle into a glass. And he pours a small amount of fruit juice into the glass before mixing everything.

He hands you the glass, and he says. "Drink."

You shake your head with vigor, you do not intend to drink the content of this glass. Only god knows what could happen to you. "You said you would do anything for me, and I want you to drink." he walks up to you, and every time he takes a step forward, you take a step back. At least until your back makes contact with the kitchen wall. You are stuck, you know it, Kun is too fast, if you try to escape, he will catch up with you in an instant.

"You said you were a perfect little doll. And you know very well that dolls listen and obey when I ask them something." his voice is much softer now, and you get lost in his big dark eyes. So much love are in his eyes, so he might not be able to hurt you, right? He is just playing with you to see your reaction, to see what you are ready to do for him, right? Taeyong growls behind Kun, but he doesn't pay him the slightest attention. "So?"

"I'm going to drink, because I love you Kun, and I want you to know that I am your perfect doll. Your best creation." you say in a whisper as you take the glass, and Kun looks satisfied. You pursue your lips, and it takes a minute for you to muster the courage to open your mouth and drink the content of the glass. The taste is horrible, and the burning sensation in your throat makes you cough hardly. You drop the glass which shatters to the ground. Kun hasn't moved, unlike you, he is too busy looking at you. He knows what is going to happen, and for many reasons, and he doesn't want to miss a thing.

"You know, Y/n, I've had a lot of dolls before you. They were different from each other, and each time I thought I had found the right one, but each time, I was wrong. They always found a way to lie to me, and betray my trust. But when I saw you, when I saw the effort you were willing to make to please me, I really believed you would be the last." he cannot hide his disappointment, and his disgust.

"I loved all of my dolls, trust me, but you... I never felt something so strong for any of them. You were the exception. The one and only." you are having a hard time keeping your eyes open, and slowly, you slide along the wall. Not only do your legs seem to weight a ton, you feel like your heart is doing things it shouldn't be doing. It beats too fast, and too slowly at the same time.

You have chills, and a cold sweat covers your forehead, and rolls down your spine. Soon, your lungs are racing, and it becomes more and more difficult for you to breathe. Kun crouches down in front of you, his fingers sliding down your wet cheeks from the tears you didn't know were rolling. "You are lucky, because your life will end in a much more peaceful way than theirs."

"I could have let them go. I could have helped them get rid of the drugs in their bodies, and let them go back to a normal life, but I couldn't afford to risk being reported to the police, or to see them with someone else, I hope you understand." he turns to looks at Taeyong who gradually regains consciousness. "And unfortunately, your little friend won't have an ending as sweet as yours. It'll teach him to not stick his nose where it does not belong."

Kun talks, but it's just gibberish to you, you can't concentrate. You can't. All you can do is put your hand down to your chest, it's so painful, everything burns. You are hot, and cold. A broken sob escapes your lips, and Kun places a kiss on your lips. "I will never love any of my next dolls as much as I loved you, I promise." he whispers against your lips. "I don't think I can love anyone after you. You were all I ever dreamed of."

You vision gradually fades. You see nothing, except the contours of Kun's body. You do not feel anything either. You do not know how long you've been on the ground, but you are not in pain anymore. You are at peace, you think, as you take your last breath.

A single tear rolls down Kun's cheek when he sees you take your last breath. His heart breaks, but he gets up. Kun could have forgiven you, of course, he dreams of nothing other than spending the rest of his life with you, but he hates being betrayed. No matter how intense his love for you was over the past few months, he refuses to be used. Trust is what matters most to him, and he knows the next few months will be horrible, it will take time for him to recover from your death, your "accidental" overdose, but he will. And he'll try again.

One more name to add to his list of failure.

But first, he has to take care of Taeyong. He can't have a witness in his house, or maybe he can use him. He is a handsome boy, he could be useful in his search for the perfect doll.

[cinnaminsvga]

Taming of the Bridezilla | Seokjin

→ summary: Picture this: You had been (not-so) cordially invited to the wedding of your least favorite cousin—a woman who had been hellbent on making your childhood a living hell. Now older and wiser, you would think that you would put aside your differences and attend your cousin’s special day without any hard feelings, right? You wouldn’t seek revenge, now would you?

→ genre: fake dating!au, i2l, humor/crack, fluff  → warnings: seokjin and oc paradoxically have big yet small brains, fake proposals, not-so fake mutual pining, thinly veiled baby-making jokes, terrible family members, ass slapping (no worries it’s consensual) → words: 6.3K → a/n: first of all, no this is not a horror fic; i just thought the title was funny. unless you consider the stupidity of the characters to be mildly horrifying, then sure you can count this as a horror fic. this insanely ridiculous fic was commissioned by @breadoffoxy!! anyone who loves chaotic jin is an angel in my book. yes, this comm is a bit longer than expected but what can i say... i love me some jin. anyway i hope you guys enjoy!

“You got the ring, right?”

Seokjin pats his left breast pocket and gives you a quick smirk. The bump where the ring should be is fortuitously hidden by his large and garish boutonniere, looking to all the world like he had pinned a whole head of cabbage to his suit. Even then, he still somehow manages to make it work. “Of course I did. This entire plan would be useless if I didn’t have it,” he says.

“What flavor did you get? I quite like the watermelon one,” you muse, smacking your lips in anticipation. “Though it’s hard to remember since I haven’t had a ring pop in years.”

Seokjin laughs loudly, startling a group of aunties gossiping in the corner. They all shoot glares at him, though the effect has lost its novelty as they’ve already been glaring at you from the moment you arrived. You suppose that they have a good reason to, considering that you both arrived at the reception an entire 30 minutes late. You can imagine them cursing you under their breath, saying something like, “You’ve brought dishonor to us all!” or whatever it is that aunties like to say these days.

“I could have gotten you all the flavors available at the convenience store if you wanted, but then we’d be 40 minutes late instead,” Seokjin sighs, pretending to be anguished at the thought.

You snort in the most unladylike manner that you can, grinning wildly when you hear one of the aunties gasp in horrified disbelief. From the way they’re reacting, you might have thought that you just flashed them your Borat-inspired neon green thong.

“I do love a man who can treat me well,” you giggle, earning a soft pinch from him.

“Oh, hush. I know you love it. You nearly burst into tears the other day when I bought you a McFlurry because your broke ass was a dollar short,” Seokjin teases. You squawk indignantly, unable to come up with a retort.

“Whatever! Just because you’re a trust fund baby doesn’t mean you get to bully my impoverished state. Just you fucking wait ‘til I get hit by a wealthy 77 year old’s BMW and then I’ll be made for life,” you huff, your illusion of annoyance quickly shattered by the large, dumb grin on your face. “Hey, would you still love me if I broke all my limbs but had a massive bank account?”

“I’d rather buy you McDonald’s for the rest of your life than see you in pain,” he answers simply, patting you gently on the head. “Though I suppose helping you inject thousands of calories into your bloodstream would also cause you pain later on in life, but hey, at least you’d go down doing what you love.”

“Oh, yes. Keep talking dirty to me. I love it when you talk about the ways you’d kill me by association.” You laugh, casually looping your arms together as you walk past the slowly growing crowd of aunties and entering the reception hall to find your seats. Almost everyone is already in their seats, with a few guests milling about and greeting one another with tight-lipped smiles and hollow laughter. The sight brings goosebumps up your arm, bringing back terrible memories of having to make niceties with these people despite knowing that they despised you and your less affluent family.

Remember, you’re only here as a representative for your parents, you tell yourself. You’d rather bear the brunt of the thinly-veiled insults than to have your parents have to experience this hell. Besides, you have big plans for today, and they would only be brought to an end if your mother ever found out what you wanted to do in the first place.

“As they say… We’re here for a good time, not a long time, which I suppose is our philosophy for tonight as well,” he quips back. He taps you lightly on the hand, wrenching your gaze away from the magnificent chocolate fountain on the dessert table and back to his somewhat less magnificent face. A straight-up lie, but it is the only defense mechanism you have in your arsenal that can keep you from staring at how gorgeous he looks in his suit and tie like a braindead idiot. Denial, after all, hasn’t failed you during the last five years that you’ve been in love with your own best friend.

“What is it?” you ask, curious when he furtively points out one of your cousins near the front of the hall. “That’s Namjoon. Do you know him?”

“Know is a strong word,” Seokjin hums, winking at your cousin when he happens to turn towards the two of you. Namjoon’s eyes light up when he sees him, but his excitement immediately vanishes when he notices who Seokjin has beside him on his right arm. You could see the mental cogs going on inside Namjoon’s head as he stares at the two of you, but you don’t get to see him reach a conclusion before Seokjin is pulling you away, walking in the opposite direction.

“Seokjin? What was that all about?” you ask, though you have to admit you’re kind of afraid to know the answer to your own question. As much as everything about tonight’s scheme had been your idea, you can’t help but think that Seokjin’s intense enthusiasm to help you isn’t merely out of his own desire to help you as a friend, but rather due to his innate calling to cause chaos wherever he goes.

“I have a secret bonus surprise for the bride and groom once we get kicked out from this joint after we do our thing,” he says. “And, dare I say, it’ll be quite a treat for all the guests here.” The smirk on his lips is downright heinous, only exacerbating the frantic racing of your heart. There must be something wrong with you, not with how badly you want to do unspeakable atrocities to him and his evil-looking ass. Or perhaps he was simply put down on Earth to test your slowly fraying sanity.

He snaps you out of your dumbfounded, horny stupor when he continues, “If everything goes according to plan, then we’ll truly end this night with a bang, no pun intended.”

“What was even the pun there?” You raise a brow, slightly disconcerted by the way Seokjin was struggling to keep his laughter (at his own joke) at bay. “You know what? Don’t even answer. I guess I’ll just have to find out later tonight.”

After some pointless meandering while the two of you locate your seats, you are finally able to locate your table, unsurprisingly situated near the farthest corner of the hall where no one would have to see you. You’re honestly more surprised that your newly-wedded cousin had even remembered to give you a seat, though you suppose that it must have been at the behest of your uncle. While your devil of a cousin has always been rude and cruel to you, you have to admit that at least her father knew some manners, though that only begs the question as to what happened to his daughter along the way. Genetics and expensive etiquette classes can only help so much, you suppose.

“Thank you again for doing this with me. You really didn’t need to,” you say when you take a seat, nearly elbowing him in the process. Your chairs are wedged right beside the emergency exit and a grotesque ice sculpture of the bride and groom, forcing the two of you to sit so close that you could feel Seokjin breathe directly into your ear. If you shifted just slightly to the right, you’d basically be sitting on his lap (which is a prospect that intrigues you greatly, but you refrain from voicing it in fear of creeping him out… for now).

“How could I ever resist the offer to ruin your cousin’s wedding? This has been on my bucket list for years,” he winks cheekily at you. “Besides, you’re my dearest friend, Y/N. You could ask me to fight a bear naked, and I’d gladly let it eat my dick in one chomp!”

“I wouldn’t let a bear eat your dick,” you say kindly, patting him gently on the back. “You can’t afford to lose an inch when you only have two to offer.”

Before you could laugh hysterically at Seokjin’s howls of betrayal, your attention is pulled away when the soft violin music stops playing abruptly. From far away, it’s hard to tell what’s going on until you notice a bright light reflecting off of the sea of attendees, the balding head of the reception’s host bobbing up and down as he makes his way to the front of the hall.

“Attention esteemed guests! We will now begin serving dinner shortly. Please remain in your seats as our waiters attend to you.” The host speaks into a crackly microphone just as a few scraggly-looking underpaid teenagers in black dress shirts come out with the first course of the night.

Seokjin cranes his neck, trying to see what the food is. “What the hell is that? Why does it look like green shit in a bowl?” he murmurs, loud enough so that only you can hear. “I didn’t know your cousin was a Dr. Seuss fan. Are we being served green eggs and ham?” Before you can guess, you watch as his nose crinkles in disgust, a vile stench making its way to your area even though none of the waiters were even close to your table. “Oh my goodness, is that stench what we’re supposed to eat?”

“Smells like a barnyard,” you comment, though you aren’t as surprised as he is by the revolting smell. “Well, my cousin always did like making atrocious vegan recipes on her shitty WordPress blog, so I wouldn’t put it past her if she made up the menu for her own wedding.”

“She’s a vegan and a bully? What are the odds,” he says drily, cringing when he watches one of the guests begin to dry heave the moment a spoonful of the green stuff enters their mouth. “Christ. I didn’t know I was signing up for a life or death mission.”

“At this rate, I don’t think we’re getting served until the end of the night anyway,” you say, observing as the understaffed employees tried their best to get to every table while insufferable aunts did their worst to hinder their progress by nagging and complaining. Why were they so adamant about eating the food anyway? Were they itching to get diarrhea on a Saturday night? You do admit that it would probably be better, so then at least you’d have an excuse to leave earlier. “Though I suppose... Do you think eating the mystery goo while it’s cold would be better or worse?”

“It’s okay, I’ll treat you to McDonald’s when we finish up here,” he says, smiling sweetly at you. Never in your life has the mention of greasy fries and chicken nuggies made your heart race faster than it did at that moment, but then again, it could also be your high-blood pressure kicking up. Either way, you can’t ignore the way your face heats up at his offer, now more excited than ever for the reception to be over.

You and Seokjin chat as you wait for everyone around you to finish eating, not even bothered when the waiters forget to bring your food. You’re in the middle of debating the pros and cons of cock and ball torture when large dark shadows loom over both your heads, much like a solar eclipse. A cold shiver runs up your spine when you look up to find the reptilian faces of your aunts, the fumes of their designer perfume creating a cloud so noxious that you could feel your lungs shrivel into prunes.

“Hello, Y/N. It’s nice to see you after such a long time,” your Aunt Sohee greets, her tone indicating that there was nothing pleasant about seeing you at all. Your aunt, who had gotten so much botox done that she was reminiscent of a plastic balloon ready to pop, has her entourage of fellow aunties behind her, all of whom looked ridiculous in their fake designer dresses. You swear you can see that one of them had forgotten to snip off the Made in China tag before wearing it to the wedding.

“Aunt Sohee, you’re looking… young,” you say after a moment, deciding to settle on lying for now. Even though your main plan for this evening is to create chaos at your cousin’s wedding, your one condition is that you wouldn’t cause a scene with your aunts. While you are hardly in the running for favorite niece, there is still a 1% chance that you could get some inheritance from them once they hit the grave, so you’ll have to grit your teeth and bear the incoming barrage of personal questions coming your way lest you lose out in the long run.

“Why, thank you. I can’t say the same for you,” she huffs, shamelessly grabbing my cheeks and squishing them like stress balls. She peers sourly at your disfigured face, trying to squint judgmentally at you but failing due to her horrendous plastic surgery. “How old are you? Why do you have so many wrinkles?”

You feel your eyebrow twitch involuntarily, unable to respond even if you wanted due to the gorilla-hold she has on your face. You side-eye Seokjin, who is looking back at you with a blank and calm expression. You had already told him beforehand that you wouldn’t be arguing with your aunts, but that doesn’t mean he’s not allowed to be an asshole.

Being an asshole, after all, is Seokjin’s favorite pastime.

“Hello, Aunties. My name is Kim Seokjin, and I’m Y/N’s long-term boyfriend. She’s told me many good things about you,” he says with a polite smile, his hamster cheeks puffing up in that adorably boyish way. The surrounding aunties all begin to coo at his handsome face (unfair!), but they’re quickly silenced by a sharp glare from your Aunt Sohee. She appraises him, giving him a once over with a pursed lip.

“Long-term boyfriend, huh? Are you sure you aren’t paying her or something? Y/N hasn’t had a boyfriend in years. Her cousins have told me that she’s been too busy with other… extracurricular activities to bother sticking around,” your aunt says snidely, her sneer deepening. She lets go of your face, crossing her arms when she spies the expensive watch on his wrist. “Ah, I see that you’re well-off. I just can’t possibly see why else you’d be staying with her if not for other reasons.”

You can feel your blood pressure rising, the veins on your forehead undoubtedly bulging as you try to suppress your rage. Screw your cousin for spreading a rumor that you’re a whore! It’s as if you were the one sucking guys off in the locker rooms when the two of you were in the second year of high school and not her. You haven’t even had your first proper kiss, for heaven’s sake!

Instead of getting angry, Seokjin’s expression hardly changes at all. His serene smile is still plastered on his face, but only you can tell that he’s even remotely bothered by their rude remarks. You can feel the air around him turn frosty, but your oblivious aunties are still too busy tittering amongst themselves, exchanging insults at your expense.

“Oh, are we that obvious?” Seokjin tilts his head, feigning innocence. Your head jerks towards him, your eyes bugging out of their sockets. What the fuck? “You are so right, Auntie Sohee. I’m sure Y/N must have informed you about our predicament. You see, we’ve—”

“Your predicament?” Aunt Sohee scoffs, interrupting Seokjin mid-speech. “I can’t believe the nerve of this girl, bringing her little boy-toy to the holy matrimony of her cousin—”

“—been trying to produce an heir to the Kim Line for months now,” Seokjin sighs heavily, looking off into the distance with glazed, dreamy eyes. You nearly cough out a lung at his sudden proclamation, about to interject and ask him what on earth he was talking about. Your words die on your tongue, however, when he grips your hand tightly underneath the table. He taps three times on the back of your hand: an old sign that you both made back in high school whenever he was busy bullshitting his way out of trouble.

Luckily, none of your aunts notice your blunder, all of them too occupied trying to wrap their heads around what Seokjin had said. Multiple mouths drop open in surprise and disbelief, including your Aunt Sohee. Her penciled eyebrows arch comically high, her smoothened forehead wrinkling infinitesimally (a feat in itself, for you were sure she had long since lost any ability to move the skin on her face.)

“I beg your pardon?” she whispers, staring daggers at Seokjin.

Then beg, you think to yourself. Judging by the way the corners of Seokjin’s lips lift slightly, you have a strong feeling that he was thinking the same thing to himself. Instead, he says, “Yes, Aunt Sohee. You see, I come from a long line of businessmen. Ever heard of Kim Enterprises.”

Her face turns pale. “You mean… the Kim Enterprises? The one that owns—”

“South Korea’s largest chain of department stores? I’m flattered that you’re familiar,” he winks. He leans forward, gesturing for your aunts to come closer, like he’s imparting state secrets to them. “My older brother, who has been married for quite some time, has chosen to remain childless at the behest of his wife. For that reason, my father put me up to the task of producing an heir for the company.”

“An heir?” your aunt repeats, dumbfounded.

Seokjin nods, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “Yes, it’s quite unfortunate, but it’s a responsibility I’m willing to take. My family is notorious for planning our lives, even for the next 50 years, so I am forever grateful to have Y/N who is willing to bring me multiple potential heirs to my family.”

“Multiple heirs?” Your aunts shriek in unison, causing a few nearby guests to look over at your table in curiosity. You wave at them awkwardly in apology, hoping to get them to ignore the absolute clusterfuck happening right in front of you.

You feel Seokjin kick you gently in the shin, urging you to say something as well. You clear your throat, channeling all the pent-up Seokjin energy that you had indirectly absorbed over the years of being his friend. “That’s right… My Jinnie has always been so lonely, living in his gigantic mansion with his piles of money. He may have never felt the loving touch of his father, but I’m certain that we’ll be great parents to our children. Why, we’re almost like a pair of rabbits when it comes to—”

Aunt Sohee clears her throat abruptly, a deep flush coloring her cheeks as she glares daggers at you. She looks absolutely peeved, and it takes all your mental fortitude to restrain yourself from jumping up in triumph. Take that, wench!

“I have to admit that this is somewhat… unexpected,” your aunt says carefully, pointing a tight smile at Seokjin. He beams back, positively delighted.

“Y/N is quite the catch. I’m grateful to have her in my life,” he says, his tone growing soft by the end. He looks at you then, and you find a mysterious emotion floating in his eyes that you can’t quite name. When you blink and try to get a closer look, his careful façade is back in place.

Eventually, your aunts lose interest in you once they realize they can no longer bully you, not when you had an incredibly rich boyfriend to back you up. “Must be nice being a rich boy, huh?” you snicker, teasing the blushing boy beside you. Thanks to his hair growing longer than usual, the tips of his ears are miraculously hidden away. When you brush his hair back, they are as red as a baboon’s ass.

“Oh, shut up. You know I hate flaunting my dad’s money,” he whines, pouting cutely. He fingers the watch on his wrist, staring at it uncomfortably. “This isn’t even my watch. I had to borrow one from my brother.”

“Well, you did it for me, so I suppose it’s not all bad,” you laugh, pinching his cheek lightly. “Plus, it was funny watching my aunts shut up for once. They’re just mad that you’re richer than the groom.”

“Really? What does he do?”

“He’s an entrepreneur.” You snort, emphasizing the word with air quotations. “Honestly, he just calls himself that while he waits for his self-made business to pop off or whatever. No such luck so far, if what I heard was right.”

“Lucky for you, you’re stuck with my devastatingly handsome face and stinkin’ rich bank account,” he jokes, contorting his face into a funny expression until you’re left snorting at his antics. Little does he know, you still would’ve l***d him even if he wasn’t any of those things, but that’d be too cringey to say. What are you, some sort of romantic lead protagonist?

It takes a little bit over an hour for dessert to start getting served, by which point the bride and groom decide to make their rounds to greet the guests. “Don’t you think this is the perfect time to put our plan into motion? The dance floor is open and we should be able to make it to the center without anyone noticing,” he whispers, his breath tickling your neck.

“Yeah, let’s go,” you say, but just as you’re about to get up from your seat, a flurry of white blocks your path in an instant. You startle slightly, falling back to your chair and hitting Seokjin in the chest with a soft grunt. “Shit, sorry about that Seokjin—”

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t my dear cousin,” a voice cuts you off, the disdain in their voice dripping like acid down your ear canals. Your blood freezes instinctively, years of past trauma crashing down on you as your childhood bully stands just inches away from you, her blood-red lips stretched into a broad smirk.

“Kairi,” you greet.

“Y/N,” she responds.

“Seokjin!” Seokjin adds helpfully.

Your cousin turns to him slowly. “Quite right,” she hisses, eyebrows pinched together in thinly-veiled annoyance. “I’ve heard through some whispers that my baby cousin finally managed to snag a rich kid for a boyfriend and I just couldn’t help but let my curiosity drag me over here.” She looks you up and down, snorting at what she sees. “You would think that having a chaebol as a boyfriend would mean you could at least afford a proper dress.”

You glance down at your dress: a hand-me-down from your mother because you couldn’t be bothered to buy a new one, not when you’d rather choke on Satan’s hot fiery balls for all eternity than spend any amount of money just to attend your cousin’s wedding. Despite this, you can’t help your cheeks from heating in embarrassment, an automatic response after years of bullying and torment from that spoiled bitch.

When you don’t reply, Kairi’s smirk widens. “Oh? Cat got your tongue? Sugar daddy couldn’t even be bothered to buy you a dress? While you’re at it, maybe you should ask for a new car too. I’m surprised you even made it here alive in that old metal deathtrap of yours. You’re lucky you were just late to the reception instead of dead on the street.”

You can sense Seokjin staring at you from your right. Your fists are clenched tightly on your skirt, your nails nearly tearing the fabric in your searing rage. Slowly, carefully, Seokjin slips his hands underneath yours—he pries your death grip open until he can lace his fingers in between yours. At once, your anger melts at his tender gesture, your focus pulled away from your cousin and back to him. He thumbs the back of your hand, as if assuring you that he’d handle this himself.

He smiles at Kairi, not a single ounce of kindness in his eyes. “Yes, indeed. It is my mistake entirely for not ordering a dress much sooner. Y/N is so incredibly humble; she’d rather wear a vintage outfit than wear one of those paper-thin dresses from YesStyle that you and your bridesmaids seem to favor,” he sighs, pretending to be pained.

“Paper-thin? YESSTYLE?” Kairi screeches, her voice breaking the sound barrier. You watch in fascination as her skin turns an unflattering ruddy shade.

Unperturbed by her murderous aura, Seokjin prattles on. “Quite right,” he mocks her with her own words, smirking ever so slightly. “Though, I must apologize for being late to the reception. That was my fault as well. My father had a general meeting this morning for all the employees at the company, as he had wanted to announce that I would be the Vice President starting next Monday. We tried to leave sooner, but everyone had been too busy congratulating us,” he apologizes, though not apologetic in the slightest.

Your cousin could cosplay as a walking crack pipe with how much steam was puffing out of her ears. She’s livid, so much so that her fury was preventing her from formulating any sort of comeback. “You—how dare you—I swear on my—” she stutters incomprehensibly, her vulture-like nails tearing her dainty paper-thin skirt into shreds.

Just as she looks about ready to blow, her father comes around to your table. He places a hand delicately on his daughter’s shoulder, immediately understanding the situation when he sees you. “Kairi, I think it’s time for you to greet the rest of the guests. Uncle Iverson said he has a gift for you that simply cannot wait,” he says, doing his best to appease you. He gives you a genuinely regretful look; you shake your head, waving off his concern.

“It was nice seeing you, Kairi. I hope you and your husband will have a wonderful year together,” you say. You gasp exaggeratedly, holding a hand to your heart. “Oh, sorry. I meant to say I hope you have wonderful years together. Pardon my mistake.”

Before the scant amount of brain cells in your cousin’s brain could process your words, her father pulls her away, dragging her to the next table over. Once they’re out of earshot, you heave a sigh of relief. Beside you, Seokjin lets out a laugh that he had been undoubtedly holding in the past few minutes, sounding like a fish gasping for air with how much he is shaking with mirth.

“Fuck, that was hilarious. Did you see how angry she got? Beautiful,” he says, wiping away a stray tear. “Love that for us!”

“Damn. I knew you were good at bullshitting, but even your acting skills almost convinced me,” you whistle lowly, impressed. “You sure you’re not a con-artist in disguise?”

“All good businessmen are con-artists, my young padawan,” he snickers, winking at you. He shrugs. “You get used to dealing with assholes like her when you attend enough rich people parties. Besides, all good lies are rooted in the truth, after all. That’s what my father taught me when I was seven.”

“You must have been a terrible child, then.” You laugh, before realizing what he had just said. “Wait. Rooted in the truth? What does that mean?”

“Oh. Well,” he clears his throat, giggling nervously. He rubs his neck, embarrassed. “I am the vice president of dad’s company now. I just lied about the meeting being this morning. He announced it a day ago or something. Not that it’s a big deal or anything…”

You gawk at him, speechless. Not for the first time in your life, you are once again stunned by the absurdity of the man before you. How did men like him exist outside of cheesy k-dramas? He’s handsome, rich, funny, AND well-mannered? It’s almost like some love-crazed author had penned him into existence for their entertainment.

Seokjin breaks you from your reverie, tapping you thrice on your shoulder. “Shall we go? The dance floor is still empty. It’s now or never.”

You nod excitedly, standing up to head towards the center of the hall. This time, there is no one stopping you as the two of you make your way towards your destination. The lights near the dancefloor are still dimly lit, as most of the lighting is currently focused on the guests as the bride and groom make their rounds to greet everyone. Even if Seokjin got onto his knees right now, only a few people nearby would notice, so you’d have to do something to catch people’s attention.

“This is going to be moderately to highly embarrassing for a few moments, but I think that’s the atmosphere we’re going for, isn’t it?” Seokjin whispers, his mouth embarrassingly close to yours as he holds you gently by the waist. There isn’t a need for him to stand so close to you, but you have to admit his presence is mostly calming—minus the fact that he’s been your crush for five years and he’s going to be fulfilling one of your deepest fantasies in front of your entire extended family. No biggie.

“I suppose so. What are you gonna do to get their attention?” you ask, palms beginning to sweat. Despite this, Seokjin still takes your hands into his own, a small smile on his lips.

“Just watch,” he whispers, before slowly getting down on one knee.

Ba-dump. Here we fucking go.

“My dearest Y/N… The apple of my eye, the straw to my berry, the con to my dom,” Seokjin says, projecting his voice so that it can be heard even above the music. One of the violin players is even startled long enough to stop playing, further causing more heads to turn in their direction. You hear a gasp coming from your left, but you force yourself not to look. Instead, you stare right back into Seokjin’s sweet brown eyes, your heart beating a mile a minute.

This isn’t real… This is just a prank, bro. Get over yourself, you hiss internally, but your heart refuses to listen.

“You’ve been in my life for almost half a decade, and not a day goes by wherein I don’t wonder what it would be like to live the rest of my days with you. In many ways, I wouldn’t be the person I am if it hadn’t been for your presence in my life,” he says. If you look deeper into his eyes, you can almost trick yourself into thinking that they looked wetter than they had just a moment ago.

“Y/N, you are the person I’ve loved for years now. I used to think you didn’t like me as much as I liked you, so I was always scared to pop the question. I had many opportunities to ask, but I suppose tonight just felt like the right moment. I was afraid that if I didn’t do it now, I might never get the chance to ask again, and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I let you slip away out of cowardice.”

For some reason, his words seem almost too real, like he was speaking the truth. You have never doubted his acting skills, but would you be willing to wonder if there was even a small possibility that there was some truth to his tale? You swallow thickly, the need to ask just dangling on the tip of your tongue.

He rifles through his jacket pocket, procuring a small velvet box. He thumbs it almost reverently, his hands shaking slightly, but you can blame that on the nerves from hundreds of people watching you. He takes a deep breath, opening the box with a soft click. “My dearest Y/N… Would you give me the honor of spending the rest of my days with you?”

You feel your breath get knocked out of you in an instant, the genuine adoration in his eyes too much for you to handle. You stammer slightly, too busy staring at him to properly register the loud claps, screams, and hollers all around you. “I… Seokjin… This is…”

“MAKE THEM STOP! SOMEONE KICK THEM OUT RIGHT NOW!” You dimly hear your cousin screaming obscenities somewhere, but you are still too caught up in the moment to care. The world only consists of you and Seokjin—nothing else matters right now.

When you look down at the box in his hands, fully expecting to see a comically large ring pop nestled in its cushions, but instead you find—

You gasp, nearly doubling over in surprise. “Oh my god, Seokjin. Is that a real fucking diamond ring?!”

He shrugs, smiling wryly. “Only the best rocks for the girl who rocks my socks off every night,” he jokes, but his nervousness is palpable. He’s sweating, a drop trailing down the side of his face despite the strong air conditioning.

Oh shit. It hits you right then that his proposal is real. The damned idiot is fucking proposing to you in front of your most hated family members, and he’s proposing to you for real.

“Kim Seokjin, please fucking explain yourself—”

But before he can have the chance to open his mouth, you feel rough hands grab you by the shoulders, pulling you away from him. “I’m sorry I have to do this, ma’am. Bride’s orders,” one of the waiters says, awkwardly escorting you to the exit. When you turn back, you see another waiter pulling Seokjin away as well, the box with the ring still clutched tightly in his hand.

The two waiters deposit you outside the hall, bowing stiffly before heading back into the room. You’re still breathing heavily, the adrenaline coursing through your veins. Seokjin isn’t any better, bent over with his hands on his knees. From your vantage point, you can see how red his entire neck is, his blush reaching even past the collar of his shirt.

“Seokjin…” you trail off, unable to say another word. You’re completely flabbergasted, elated, annoyed, and mostly just mind-fucked because when on earth did Kim Seokjin ever have a crush on you?!

“I’m sorry. That must have been quite a shock,” he coughs out a laugh. He rubs his face, embarrassment rolling off of him in waves. “I just… It was sort of a last-minute decision I made. I’ve been into you for years now, and I know I’m kinda putting you on the spot by proposing like that, but I knew if I didn’t do anything soon, you might just slip away before I can say anything.”

“Wait. So are you really… proposing to me?” You squeak out the last bit, your face mirroring his reddened state.

“No!” He shouts suddenly, before covering his mouth with his palm. “S-sorry, what I mean to say is, it wasn’t really a marriage proposal. It was more like… just a general proposal? I do want to live with you forever, but I know that thought must be daunting and—oh god, I don’t even know if you like me like that, so this must be incredibly weird and out of line. Please excuse me while I shove a cactus up my ass—”

“Seokjin,” you interrupt, silencing his rambling. He clamps his mouth shut. “Are you… asking me out?”

He nods his head. “Yeah…”

“And what you said is true? You actually like me?”

“No, you don’t understand. I love you,” he says, before getting shy again. He looks down at the ring box. “Fuck. This isn’t a real engagement ring, by the way. It’s more like a promise ring, so you don’t have to feel bad for rejecting me.”

“Oh my god, I’m in love with an idiot,” you groan, pulling him into a hug. You nestle into his chest, giggling hysterically into his shirt. “I fucking hate you.”

“Wait, I’m getting mixed signals over here,” Seokjin says, gasping when he feels how tightly you embrace him. He doesn’t complain, however. He returns the gesture in kind, nuzzling deep into your neck. “So, does that mean the feeling is mutual?”

“Yes, you idiot. Now give me my ring.��

“My pleasure, princess.” He laughs, drawing away slightly so that he can slip the ring on your finger. The diamond shines brightly under the fluorescent lights, but nothing brings you more joy than having the boy you love in your arms.

As the two of you are sharing a sweet moment, it takes a second for you to realize that the commotion from inside the venue still hasn’t stopped. When you crane your heads, you spot one of the doors had been left ajar, allowing you to slip your heads through the crack just in time to see Seokjin’s beautiful bare ass being projected onto a large screen.

The musical notes of Rick Astley’s most popular song play loudly on the speakers, drowning out the sounds of the bride screaming bloody murder as the IT people tried their best to sort out the mess. The Seokjin on the screen slaps his ass in time with the tune, his glorious moon-shaped globes shaking mesmerizingly for all to see.

When you look to Seokjin for an explanation, he merely shrugs his shoulders. “They really should do background checks on the people they hire for these things. Taking that one video editing course in university really does pay off, huh?”

“Sure does,” you grin, linking your arms together. “Now let’s get some fucking McDonalds.”

And so, you lived happily ever after—the end.

[goodboydummy]

My headcanons and rankings for how Haikyuu characters (and couples) fuck (as adults):

Hinata and Kageyama: they are both really bad at sex. Like just terrible. Clumsy, uncoordinated, weirdly competitive in bed? But it’s okay because they’re equally terrible so it doesn’t bother them lmao. 2/10

Nishinoya: one word- STAMINA. This boy will not quit. He is the energizer bunny. Before you realize what’s happening the entire day has gone by and you’re exhausted but guess what? He’s still ready to go. 7/10

Asahi: well, he’s big, isn’t he? He’s a big boy. Don’t think I need to say much else. LARGE. 8/10

AsaNoya: generally very tender. They have sex a lot, but not really kinky weird sex. Nishi likes to try and get Asahi riled up so he’ll maybe fuck a little more rough and wild, but it doesn’t always work. I feel like Nishinoya would want Asahi to try dirty talk but Asahi would try and still wind up saying soft shit like “you’re so beautiful” and Nishinoya just kind of laughs it off and enjoys it anyway. 9/10 sickeningly sweet

Sugawara: the kind who makes you laugh during sex. He’s sweet and charming and thoughtful. Its really easy and comfortable with him. No awkward moments, just fun! 7.5/10

Daichi: the best sex you’ve ever had. Out of this world. You feel like a changed person after being with this man and you can’t explain it, because he seems so vanilla and normal? But he’s a stallion, bursting with confidence and charisma and just raw natural fuck talent. Unbelievable. 100000000000/10 amazing

DaiSuga: you know those parents who’ve been together for years but are still way too into each other and like, pinch each other’s butts and stare at each other like there’s no one in the room but them? That’s Daichi and Suga. They have great sex and anyone should be jealous of what they have. 11/10

Tanaka: the enthusiasm! We love to see it! He is a KING!! He’s not amazing in bed but it doesn’t REALLY matter cuz Kiyoko pegs him and he’s completely content with the situation. 5/10

Kiyoko: you cannot even imagine.... 20/10

Tsukkishima: like most things he does, he’s naturally pretty good at it, but he also doesn’t really try? If he put any effort in it could be amazing but will he put the effort? Hm. And yes he is sadistic in bed. Of course he is. 8.5/10

Yamaguchi: very sweet and considerate, if a bit anxious at times. He’s really sensitive himself so he knows how to make you feel good. Basically vanilla though. He doesn’t have a high sex drive. 4/10

TsukkiYama: they’re good together because Tsukkishima doesn’t like to put that much effort in and Yamaguchi is so sensitive and reacts so easily to stimulus that he doesn’t have to try very hard lol. I think Tsuki likes to tease Yamaguchi as foreplay and sometime Yamaguchi likes the sadistic side of Tsuki but I think more often than not they just have sweet, soft sex and stare into each other’s eyes. 9/10

Kenma: this boy only does things he’s good at, so he’s technically very good at fucking. He’s really sexy and he has like, pornstar skills even if his enthusiasm and stamina aren’t high. 9/10

Kuroo: you look at this man and know he can fuck. How do you know? You just do. Kuroo is good in bed there’s just no way he isn’t. Also, I think he’s very creative in bed and he’ll probably surprise you. 10/10

KuroKen: KINK. THESE BOYS ARE KINKY. why? Because Kenma gets bored too easily and he likes games and Kuroo is alllllll too willing to try new shit to please Kenma. BDSM, roleplay, crossdressing, semi-public sex, you name it they’ve probably done it tbh. I think Kenma’s favorite thing to do is to send Kuroo increasingly hornier, sexier photos of himself throughout the day so by the time Kuroo gets home he’s pissed and fired up and then they have amazing fucking sex for hours. 15/10

Lev: He has a lot of (possibly unearned) confidence lmao. He’s not bad, he’s actually pretty good, but he needs the right partner to reign him in. 7.5/10

Yaku: THIS BOY LIKES TO BE SMACKED AROUND. I don’t know why I feel so strongly about this but hooooo boy. Yaku wants to be abused in bed. He wants to be tied up and spanked and spat on. 11/10 it’s probably really hot.

Kindaichi: a virgin.

Kunimi: my ace king.

Iwaizumi: he fucks hard and he knows it. It’s not about technique it’s just about raw fucking. He’s the kind who isn’t really trying to please you as much as just pleasing himself and just so happens to fuck you great in the process. 9/10

Oikawa: You’d think all the boasting and that ego would be unearned but nah, he’s pretty good in bed. He’s surprisingly attentive to your needs and he’s the KING of dirty talk. He considers sex just another thing to be excellent at and he’s right. 9/10

IwaOi: the fights these two get into in the bedroom... luckily they’re both into that shit. Surprisingly when they’re fucking each other I think both of their technical skill goes down. It’s about the passion for them. They just like to make a mess of the other one no matter the cost. 8/10

Kyotani: YO SOMEONE COME GET UR FUCKING DOG!

Yahaba: OKAY.

Ushijima: ohhhh the way this man will lift you up and fuck you on any surface. It’s the intensity. It’s the muscles. It’s the sheer size of this man. Wow. Yeah. 16/10

Tendo: Kinks, but like, ones you’ve never even heard of? That you didn’t know were a thing? Anyway you’re going to leave confused but you’ll enjoy it. 12/10

Bokuto: exactly like Nishinoya but even more childish somehow. A lot of fun in bed. Amazing body and endurance and attitude. Can have amazing chemistry with anyone at any time. 12/10

Akaashi: sexiness levels off the charts. This man knows how to seduce, he knows how to tease, he is a master of foreplay. You’re completely undone before he even touches you. A king. 13/10

BokuAka: the kind of couple who fucks almost constantly. They never get tired of it. I think they take turns bossing the other one around. As often as they fuck it’s never boring. It can be sexy one moment and sweet the next. Romantic as fuck. Hot as fuck. 18/10

Atsumu: an extremely good fuck. He’s putting in maximum effort. His body is amazing. It’s not effortless, like he’s trying really hard, but he’s succeeding. 13/10

Osamu: the same as Atsumu except it actually is effortless for him. 14/10

Aran: the kind of sex that makes you fall in love with him. It’s not that it’s amazing at the time but it’s good and he’s sweet and tender and by the end of it you want to marry him. 10/10

Kita: almost as good as Daichi except I think his sex drive is just a bit lower. Still 1000/10

Hoshiumi: Napoleon complex. He overcompensates but that’s fine cuz it works out for you. 7/10

Hirugami: stallion. Amazing stamina. Keeps a really level head in bed so he always knows exactly what to do to make you feel good. 9/10

Sakusa: if you have a degradation kink this is the man for you. 11/10 very flexible.

Aone: absolutely underrated. Will treat you right. The sweetest lover. A precious bean with a big body. You love to see it 10/10

[itsclydebitches]

RWBY Recaps: Volume 8 “Midnight”

Happy Saturday, everyone! I’d like to extend a formal congratulations to every Cinder fan in the community. Criticisms of the writing aside, you all struck gold with twelve whole minutes devoted to your fave and I’m absolutely thrilled for you.

We again start with a dark screen and some audio, in this case Cinder’s scrubbing. This technique—along with closeups on eyes—is a real favorite of RWBY’s this volume, to the point where I think they’re a little too enamored with it. But at least this is just a preference, not something that actively harms the storytelling in any way, so it’s welcome to stay. This time, unlike our premiere, we stay on Cinder as her life is summed up with three events intercut with one another: scrubbing floors, getting taunted by boys, and the sound of heels making their way towards her. It’s clear that Cinder leads a poor, miserable life, if her dirty clothes and stronger guys throwing her around is any indication, but all that changes when the rich woman says “I’ll take her” and Cinder is transported to a better life in a wealthy hotel.

At least supposedly.

Here’s my problem with the worldbuilding. This moment has Witcher vibes and Witcher, in turn, built itself off of a trope seen a hundred times before: A young woman is treated terribly by her family, is whisked away by a wealthy/powerful caretaker, and though her life has arguably improved, she quickly learns that the new world she’s entered is just as dangerous and harsh as the one she left. In Witcher’s case, Yennefer is a disabled woman abused by her family, bought by Tissaia, and taken to Aretuza where the other girls hate her and the curriculum is potentially deadly. Cinder is a poor woman arguably abused by her family (scrubbing)/the locals (fights), is taken by an unnamed woman, and whisked away to the swanky hotel where the daughters hate her and the work is potentially deadly due to shock collars. The difference between these two setups is that Tissaia bought Yennefer because of her magical potential. Why does our hotel lady take Cinder?

I mean yeah, obviously she wants a slave, but it’s a little weird isn’t it? Usually when a young woman falls headfirst into a new and questionable life, there’s a solid reason for her entry. This woman—whose lack of a name also says something about the worldbuilding—could have hired anyone she pleased to abuse. As we saw in regards to Atlas and Mantle in the past, every city has its poor and downtrodden. So what made her go out to some random farm and snatch Cinder up? It just, as always, feels a little too convenient. Cinder didn’t enter this life because something about her characterization or origin justified it, the plot simply ensured that she, out of everyone possible, and with very little reason, was the one chosen to follow The Plot™ .

It also messes with the Cinderella parallels. Originally (or “originally,” going off of Disney here which is likely what RWBY is using as a template too) it’s her step-family that abuses her and yes, we recreate that via the hiring (“hiring”—I doubt she was paid), but Cinder was already scrubbing floors back home. Her status as the servant already existed. So why change locations? Why not just keep Cinder as an abused farm girl, or have her a part of the hotel family right from the start? Part of the reason why Cinderella resonates is because of the contrast between the happy life with her father and the new, horrific life she falls into once he dies. Which is then further contrasted by the rest of the outside world. Fairy Godmother, Prince, and party-goers alike are all presented as kind, decent people. They represent the “real” world that Cinderella can escape to. By making Cinder’s original life horrible, her new life worse, and everyone connected with that life cruel and/or indifferent (with the exception of this one, special huntsmen)… you paint a very different picture of the world as a whole. Which is something RWBY has been vocal about trying to accomplish—it’s not a fairy tale—the only problem is with how these moments are undermined the second the story wants Ruby to ~Believe in People~. Cinderella is a story about enduring and eventually overcoming temporary hardship. Cinder’s story is about endless hardship that creates villains. A dark and fascinating story… but how does that fit into last week’s episode where Ruby told the whole world about Salem, expecting them to band together in peace and harmony? This is how Remnant’s world treats people when there’s not a global crisis, and Cinder isn’t even a faunus.

Which, I want to make clear going into the rest of this recap, does not excuse Cinder for her actions. At all. I think there are some complicated acknowledgements to be made in terms of her abuse and the Huntsmen’s responsibility in it continuing, but that does not give Cinder a blanket pass for all the horrific shit she has pulled over the years. Cinder didn’t just defend herself from abusers, she became one. More on that in a minute.

First though… is the Huntsmen’s name Rhodes? Did we hear that in the episode? If we did, I totally missed it because I have a note here about the one important character not getting a name. So yeah, idk. If we got this from more supplemental info, bad RWBY. If I missed it, bad Clyde. Either way, I’ll use that name going forward.

Back to the plot at hand. The hotel is, as said, populated by indifferent and shallow people and there’s no desert nearby, so I presume we’re supposed to be in Atlas? (Why did this woman buy a girl from another Kingdom?) There are customers getting drunk, flirting, and generally just enjoying their wealth, which harkens back to Weiss’ comment in Volume 4 about all their problems being superficial. We’re introduced to the owner’s two daughters who are, as expected, quintessential Mean Girls. 

They love ordering Cinder around, not just with hotel chores, but personal ones as well like, “rub my feet”… despite the fact that this place is massive and must have an equally massive staff to stay in business. Why aren’t the girls terrorizing anyone else? Again, it makes sense for Cinder(ella) to be the focus of their abuse when she’s in a single household, but transplanting that to a hotel raises a lot of questions that RWBY hasn’t bothered to examine. You can’t move a story like that and not think about what further changes that would evoke.

See, RWBY could have done something interesting here by considering some of those other changes. Like having one or both step-sisters be the one to help free Cinder from her abuse, playing the villain before becoming the fairy godmother. Up until she turns villain instead of hero, this is just Cinderella’s story copy and pasted into RWBY. It’s moments like this that should make us wary of using fairy tale allusions as evidence for our readings and theories. Whether RWBY is deconstructing or upholding a story varies wildly, and we never know what we’ll get until we actually see it on screen. Even then we can’t count on a choice remaining consistent, as we saw with Ironwood’s deconstruction being tossed out the window in Volume 7.

Cinder is originally just as meek as her fairy tale counterpart too. We don’t hear her speak until the owner is about to leave when she simply goes, “Food?” The sisters laugh at her and a roll is thrown to the floor with the comment that she should get busy because it “looks filthy.” I quite like that moment. Your job is to ensure the floors are clean enough to eat off of—literally.

We see a montage of Cinder doing just that, lots of chores, with a new song listing all the tasks she’s now responsible for. During this, Rhodes is seen in the background and witnesses when Cinder (presumably) first uses her semblance by heating up the brush and chucking it at the sisters, creating a massive cloud of steam.

 It’s that moment which “earns” her a shock session with her necklace and I’m staring at the screen, a little open-mouthed. I mean, that’s the second child torture we’ve seen this volume (with Cinder being ten here). Again, I’m not making a specific accusation, just going, “Really?”

Also, note the anti-faunus sign. Nothing like continually showing us racist establishments rather than actually writing a story that deals with the racism needless put into the story world. I’d like to remind everyone of my previous comments this Volume about how the story works hard to paint Mantle as sympathetic, but refuses to show anything that does the same for Atlas citizens, people who are in just as much danger with Salem as an equalizer. A whole city is not actually made up of shallow racists, the show is just showing us only those people to create a simplistic “They’re all bad” reading that encourages us to reject Atlas and, by extension, Ironwood. Weiss is walking proof that Atlas citizens are both complex individuals and capable of bettering themselves. If we can come to adore the Schnee heiress, we should be questioning why nearly every other citizen is painted as an abuser, too wealthy to care, or has conveniently left the story (Rhodes dead, Klein gone, Whitley rejected, etc.).

As Cinder is being tortured, we see that she’s forced to say, “Without you, I am nothing.” Now see, this is excellent... in theory. This is the kind of line we needed to hear with some consistency over the last seven years (if RWBY still insisted on waiting that long for a backstory), setting up that this line is clearly engrained in Cinder and she repeats it on instinct. Instead—to my recollection, anyway—we only get it this Volume, in two episodes. If it appeared before then it wasn’t notable enough to remember. I commented on this before, but it wasn’t a, “Ah, this line must be important” reaction, it was a “Lol why is RWBY using the same line twice? That’s weird.” By only giving it to us twice before the backstory and in such a short timeframe, the impact of this reveal is lost. We’re only now realizing that the line is important, rather than coming to realize why.

Our writers know just enough to recognize what techniques work, but not enough to have figured out what makes them tick. They get that providing a RWBY-vised version of Cinderella is cool, but not how to adapt that 100% successfully. They know that repeated lines have power, but not how to create good setup for the reveal. They know the camera should use closeups, but not what moments are important enough to warrant that. RWBY, eight years on, still feels like a newbie writer copying what the great stories are doing without yet understanding why those aspects work and, thus, how to recreate them.

I mean, Cinder’s backstory appearing now attests to that most obviously. I waved at the Cinder fans before, but the reality is that most viewers don’t care, either because Cinder herself is so bland, and/or because the story waited too long to make her a little more interesting. This entire flashback was handled badly simply by virtue of it arriving over seven years past the character’s introduction. 

So after this torture session Cinder steals Rhode’s sword. We hear some dialogue in the background of him getting pissed that it’s missing and the sisters promising to find it, implying that Cinder will have this tool at her disposal for a while. Instead, seconds later he’s found her hideout and confronts her. I don’t know if I’m impressed with Rhode’s skills, or rolling my eyes at how contrived this all is. Chuck in the question of whether Cinder was talented enough to steal the sword out from under him, or if Rhodes was stupid enough to leave it lying around, and I’m edging towards the eye rolling.

He dodges Cinder’s attack, rolls her more weapons to prove he’s not here to hurt her, and acknowledges that she’s not getting “the most fair treatment.” Okay, here’s where things start to get complicated. Rhodes tells Cinder she shouldn’t run away because then she’ll be running her whole life (don’t really agree with that). He likewise (rightly imo) tells her not to straight up murder them because look, no matter how much of a shit stain someone is, I can’t condone slamming a sword through their chest on an individual’s say-so (especially when two of those people are also kids growing up under an abuser, like Whitely). So what’s left? Rhodes says Cinder can train to become a huntress. At ten years old, she has seven years to prepare for the exam.

But she has to stay with her abusive family until then.

My problem is far less with the claim that this “has” to happen and far more with the writing’s failure to tell us why. Cinder could have begged to come with Rhodes and he says she can’t because… idk. Make up a reason. He doesn’t make enough to feed the both of them. It would be too dangerous out on missions without training and he doesn’t have a permanent place to stay (hence using the hotel all the time). He could even go the “They’re your legal guardians” route with more explanation because it’s arguable that Rhodes had no idea about the collar. Doesn’t mean Cinder’s treatment isn’t “that bad” in his eyes, just that he might not have known the extent and thus thought it was preferable for Cinder to put up with “just” being insulted and overworked until she’s 17. That this life that he only has a partial picture of is preferable to the life she’d have at his side. Something to explain the stakes here, the risks, and why he took this stance. 

And/or give us a reason why Cinder doesn’t try to run, a suggestion I make very cautiously because it’s not my intention to put the responsibility solely on her. This isn’t meant to be a “Just save yourself! It’s easy!” claim. Rather, it’s an acknowledgement that young, barely trained kids go out into the world all the time in this show—Ruby, Oscar—and it’s an acknowledgement that Cinder tugged off her collar easy-peasy. The point is, practically speaking, Cinder could have left and braved the streets like Emerald did… so give us a reason why she decided to stay. Maybe she’s scared of living on the streets, acknowledging that a little food and a place to sleep is better than nothing. Maybe she’s scared that if she doesn’t have a direct connection to the hotel (convenience), Rhodes won’t train her anymore. Maybe, as an abuse victim, she can’t articulate why she won’t leave, she just can’t. Something to acknowledge these gaps because, right now, we just have the fandom going, “See? This is why the huntsmen are all evil cops. Rhodes took the lawful route and look where it got Cinder! He’s the responsible adult in this situation, so it’s all his fault.” Problem is, this take ignores: 

The fact that our heroes are also huntsmen and were pretending to be huntsmen before they had those lawful licenses. So what does that make them? We can’t continually criticize these professional roles without criticizing our heroes’ use of them as well. Ruby just ensured the world would take her message seriously by introducing herself as a huntress. We can’t condemn these laws and privileges while likewise letting Ruby continue to use them however she please. It’s okay if she’s a part of the system, because Ruby is inherently good! That’s not how this works. I’ve just described every American cop show that tumblr is currently turning against: The system is corrupt and needs to be overhauled, but our protagonists are different. 

The story fails to tell us why Rhodes won’t do more outside of a single line about Cinder being of legal age. That just acknowledges that age has some bearing on his decision, not whether it outweighs other considerations (can Cinder survive if she leaves?), or whether Rhodes even has a full picture of what’s happening to her (the collar). The takeaway is that we don’t know what his though process was because RWBY didn’t show it to us, not that his thought process is automatically awful. 

Rhodes, as a literal stranger entering her life, is not 100% responsible for what happens to Cinder. I know people don’t want to acknowledge that because leaving a child in that situation is absolutely horrific, but if RWBY wants to be ~realistic~ (and it does) then we need to acknowledge that reality too. If you saw a child employee getting yelled at in a hotel and then found her with your sword, would you rip the collar off her neck and be like, “Congratulations, you’re my child now”? Nice as that trope is, probably not! Or hell, maybe a lot of you would upend your life and risk legal action to whisk them away, but a lot of other people wouldn’t... and they're not the devil for doing what they can within the bounds of the law. The idea that because Rhodes unexpectedly had one (1) encounter with Cinder means he’s now responsible for her life and outcome is, well, crazy. “But, Clyde, you can’t just see that kind of horror and not do something about it.” You’re right. You know what you do? Tell the authorities. But does Remnant have the equivalent of social workers? We don’t know! Which means we can’t assume that Rhodes didn’t call them just because he’s a bad person. Or maybe they exist and the fandom considers them too corrupt to be useful, like so many other authorities in this show. So… what else is there for him to do? There doesn’t seem to be anyone above Rhodes that he can turn to, he doesn’t (for whatever reason) want to essentially kidnap Cinder and start a new life with her, so what’s left? Try to give Cinder a healthy relationship and a way to escape in the long run, which is precisely what Rhodes did. 

Honestly, I’m kind of salty that this guy went out of his way to help her, he saw what everyone else saw and was the only one who would help her, but because he didn’t do more—because he didn’t entirely upend his life and/or risk arrest to take her away to this hypothetically better situation—the fandom is acting like it’s his fault Cinder killed her abusers. It’s not. Cinder made that choice.

At the end of the day, blaming Rhodes reveals the expectation that it’s his responsibility to solve this massive problem purely because he had the bad luck to be the one Cinder stole from. That’s like telling a teacher who learns about abuse from a paper that following the lawful channels and going out of his way to assist the child in other ways is responsible when the kid murders their family one day. “Why didn’t you just barge into the house and take the kid?!” Because there are a hundred reasons why that would go incredibly badly? Rhodes can’t help Cinder if he’s in jail. Rhodes can’t help Cinder if she ends up dead on a mission while following him. Rhodes can’t help Cinder if their attempt at escape fails and she bears the punishment. 

The only thing I think Rhodes did absolutely wrong was giving Cinder the sword while she was still under the owner’s thumb. Stupid, but not cruel. And again, stupid does not equal blanket responsibility. I’m likewise seeing, “Rhodes gave her the sword and thus it’s his fault that Cinder got in trouble. It’s his fault they died. What was Cinder supposed to do, not defend herself?” Are people forgetting that Cinder stole the sword herself in the beginning and then readily accepted it again? She had agency in obtaining weaponry and what she wanted it for. Are people forgetting that, in accepting it, she likewise accepted the risk of keeping it hidden in the hotel? Are people forgetting that the time skip shows this happening years later and that Rhodes clearly thought Cinder was past her murderous streak? Are people forgetting that Cinder killed the owner by snapping her neck and resisting the shock collar, no sword required? She could have killed them any time she pleased based on the crime scene, whether Rhodes had given her a weapon or not. The weapon was just the catalyst that, truthfully, could have been caused by anything else. Cinder snaps when they find the sword and she’s tortured. Cinder snaps when she drops another tray and she’s tortured. She had planned to kill her abusers and never completely let go of that. 

Honestly, I’m just annoyed that we have another good hearted, takes action, does his best and makes some mistakes character getting blamed for everything another character chose to do, erasing their agency in the process. Rhodes did not abuse Cinder. Rhodes did not force her to kill her actual abusers. And Rhodes is certainly not responsible for what Cinder later becomes. Could Rhodes have done more? Of course, but every character could always do more. 

The tl;dr is that this complex situation needed far better setup in the show and the fandom needs to stop using that lack of setup as “proof” that characters are horrible people when they fail to magically fix said complicated, badly explained problems. Cinder chose to murder three people. Whether that was justified in the face of her abuse is up to you to decide, but it was still her choice. Please stop blaming the adult male characters for the choices the teenage girls in this show make. RWBY is too convoluted and attempting to tackle too many complex issues to reduce that to, “Every man here is the evil, responsible party and ever girl is a #queen. Even when they go on to murder Pyrrha ^_^” As a woman who would very much like to be rooting for the mostly-woman cast more than I now do, this isn’t the feminist take people want it to be.  

But I’ve jumped waaaay ahead. Let’s backtrack a bit.

That first interaction between Rhodes and Cinder is super weird because the camera keeps covering Rhodes’ face and I don’t know why. 

We segue into that montage of him training her for presumably years (Cinder’s hair changes) until we see him giving her the sword in what’s meant to be a moment of pride and trust. Soon after, Rhodes (randomly) comes back to the hotel when everyone else is asleep and hears noises in the back. Moving to check them out, he discovers that Cinder has murdered the two sisters and is in the process of murdering the owner, throwing back the line, “Without you, I am nothing, but because of you, I am everything.” Again, much more impactful if this had been a line we’ve associated with Cinder for years now, not a couple of episodes.

After she breaks the owner’s neck (damn, strong hand!) she tells Rhodes she doesn’t have to run anymore. Cinder clearly expects him to be happy for her and is shocked when he takes out his weapons.

I’m sorry, this is not a “betrayal.” Could Rhodes have just let Cinder go? Sure. Should he have? Given what she becomes, that’s very debatable! Rhodes clearly thought he’d helped her grow into someone who was not inclined towards murder (giving her the sword) and thus is probably going to be a little rattled when he walks in to find her killing three people. Again, there are obvious differences given the level of abuse Cinder seems to have suffered in comparison, but imagine that Glynda, after teaching Weiss for years, walked in on her killing Jacques and Whitley in revenge. Is she supposed to just ignore that? Shrug her shoulders and wish her well? I know a lot of people consider that the “fair” outcome given the inclusion of abuse, but that’s because we’ve had an omniscient view of Cinder’s history and insight into her emotional state. Rhodes doesn’t have that. All he has is his oath as a huntsmen to prevent things like, you know, murder sprees. I’m not going to delve into the overall ethics of a judicial system, either in RWBY or the real world, and thus I’m not going to make any naive claims about it being fair—it’s fucking not—but I don’t think the answer to these systematic problems is, “Why wouldn’t you just let the teenager murder three bad people and then go on her way? She totally deserved it!” Rhodes is not in a position to decide that, which is the entire point of having a judicial system in the first place. 

So Rhodes wants to bring Cinder in. Kind of like how Clover wanted to bring Qrow in once he had an arrest warrant. I can’t emphasize enough that wanting to start a legal process rather than letting clearly guilty/potentially guilty people go because they WANT to is not a “betrayal.” Regardless of what teen dramas may have taught us, you don’t have to potentially throw your own freedom and your morals away because you found out a friend is wanted by the authorities. Or you walk in on them currently snapping someone’s neck. There are options other than, “Believe your friend is right without question and help them hide the bodies” (looking at you, Maria, Pietro). Whitely is not insane for going, “Hey, can you not make me an accomplice to a crime by forcing your way in here with a bunch of fugitives?” I’m constantly surprised by the number of fans who can, in one breath, condemn characters for not throwing a middle finger up at the law and in the next praise Jacques’ arrest. Do we want to benefit from this system or not? If yes, that means you have to weigh which laws can be broken (such as in a protest), which should be obeyed (bring murderers and wanted men in), all while working to change the laws that are prejudice and aren’t working. 

Anyway, they fight. It’s short and sweet, backdropped by the large clock striking midnight, hence our title. I’m incredibly suspicious of Cinder breaking Rhode’s aura first, given that she’s still the student in training, but here we can more persuasively say he wasn’t fighting seriously, given that he then stupidly rushes towards her without a weapon. Still, that would be the second time now that RWBY has relied on elite fighters “holding back” to explain how the kids in training beat them, the first instance, of course, being with the Ace Ops.

Rhodes does rush Cinder though when she hits the wall and breaks her own aura, clearly concerned. She uses the moment to stab him with both swords. He uses his last breaths to put a hand on her head, conveying that he doesn’t blame her for how this all turned out.

Then Cinder pulls off her collar with a single snap and looks up at the broken moon, crying her single tear.

I’m dragging the flashback for multiple reasons, but I want to emphasize that I think this episode is leagues better from what we got last week. Absolute night and day. It’s just that, as always, improvements are incredibly comparative in RWBY. It’s not really good for numerous reasons… it’s just better than what we’ve gotten before. It’s “great” provided you go in with standards buried in the ground.

We then return to the present as Cinder wakes up in Salem’s whale. This scene gives us a great shot of her grimm arm, so cosplayers take note!

Emerald arrives soon after and immediately rushes to her side, expressing how worried she was. She grabs Cinder’s grimm hand without hesitation. Honestly, I don’t care much about either character… but this single frame activated some sort of ship button in my brain.

Not fully because I’m personally not drawn to toxic relationships in fiction (which, as I’m about to explain, would absolutely be the case here), but just the tinniest bit. Because I’m a sucker for monstrous people being loved despite their monstrous nature, so having Emerald take that hand over the other is like a ship speed run for me.

I’m predictable, folks.

But we need to talk about less happy things for a moment. I mentioned above Cinder becoming an abuser herself. I hope I don’t need to lay out the laundry list of murders, attempted murders, sabotage, and general taking-over-the-world-ness she’s engaged in since Episode One. Don’t let a sad backstory erase all that. Hell, for all we know the hotel owner had a horrific backstory too! Doesn’t justify how she treated Cinder. The point though is beyond her clear status as a villain, we now know that Cinder treats Emerald just like the owner once treated her.

Cinder was “rescued” from her life on the farm by the owner. Emerald is “rescued” from her life on the streets by Cinder.

Both realize over time that the situation they’re now in is actually worse.

Both reiterate that they “owe” the other “everything,” with Cinder having that shocked into her and Emerald seeming to willingly believe it.

The owner treats Cinder as a slave. Cinder treats Emerald as a slave. “Both of you, get out. I’ll let you know when you’re needed.” The only difference is that Cinder’s orders were things like “Scrub floors” and Emerald’s are “Convince an audience this girl attacked our ally.”

Both use threats to keep the other in line: the owner with her shock collar and Cinder with her Maiden powers. Cinder doesn’t need to resort to violence (yet) because Emerald adores her, but the threat is always there. 

There are even visual similarities this episode, such as kneeling and gem necklaces, though I acknowledge fully that those are just interesting details as opposed to anything like persuasive proof. 

The point is that Cinder became exactly what she hated, she just turned the dial up to eleven by going after the whole world instead of a single child. “But Cinder never had a chance to be anything else.” Sure she did. Blake and Weiss are proof of that. Even if we believe that Cinder was doomed to be a villain due to the extent of her abuse, what does that say about the hotel’s owner? We don’t know anything about her history, so what if she was abused too? Does that mean she was always “doomed” to treat Cinder that way? Does that excuse everything she did to her because she supposedly never stood a chance of becoming anything else? Of course not.

Though very iffily done, this is a commentary on the cycle of abuse. Each case is horrific, but it doesn’t excuse what comes later. Every abuser was once an innocent child and every innocent child has the capability of becoming the next abuser. Cinder’s life up until now was beyond awful and yes, she lacked a lot of privileges that others had to help them head down a better path, like Weiss’ wealth. On the other hand, she lacks other difficulties that would make that path harder for others, like Blake’s status as a faunus. Everyone has a choice to make: Will you treat others the way you were treated because that’s “fair,” or will you decide to treat others better than what you were dealt? There are lots of aspects that factor into the likelihood of someone choosing the latter—which is why I really like Rhode’s hand on Cinder’s head, acknowledging his understanding that she’s an abused kid taking the only path she thinks is available to her—but individual agency is by no means removed from the equation. Cinder escaped her situation and decided she’d never be powerless again. What does that mean to her, perhaps becoming a community member who works to prevent abuse like the kind she suffered? No, it means grinding the entire world under her heel until she’s the only one with power left.

This GIF continues to be the only one I need.

(No, the fact that it comes from a cop show and I’m using it for such an anti-law, anti-establishment story/fandom isn’t lost on me.)

(Also, if anyone is curious, this is why I love Ozpin. Out of everyone in this cast, HE has suffered the most, tenfold, and yet he still chooses to be kinder to those than they’ve been to him.) 

Anyway, I should really stick to the plot lol. Cinder realizes that her waking up means that they’ve lost, which I still think is BS. Cinder needed a win to come across as a formidable villain again and the likes of Neo, Emerald, and a Maiden with years of practice under her belt should have wiped the floor with a scientist, retirement grandma, and a girl who got the powers an hour ago. But I again digress.

Mercury reveals that he will no longer be following Cinder’s orders because Salem has a special job for him. They’ve all been told to meet on the bridge.

Then we cut to Ozpin and Oscar.

My poor boy is a mess and Ozpin is in the process of begging Oscar to take a “break.” “I would like to express again that this is my burden to bear, not yours.” Take note, fandom. In a few moments Hazel will accuse Ozpin of being a “coward” because “All this time, it could have been you, but you let him suffer.” I just know a bunch of people will be going, “Yeah! Ozpin just let a kid get tortured instead of him. WTF??” Okay 1. We should always be suspicious of agreeing with the takes villains have and 2. Oscar just refused to let Ozpin do that. It is—again—his choice because he thinks that Hazel is “holding back” with him. Oscar is being a brave and logical dude trying to make the best of this situation for both of them. Don’t take that away from him just to make Ozpin look bad. What would we even want him to do? Take control back? The fandom has been yelling at Ozpin for that since Volume 5.

So they’re going back and forth when Oscar suddenly announces that they “can’t leave yet. This is our chance.”

Ozpin even says he thinks Oscar must have taken one too many hits because… yeah. What? Long story short, Oscar recognizes that they’ll never be this close to Salem’s subordinates again and that they should try to undermine her from the inside out, just like she’s done with the world since she knows she can’t take on everyone at once. I love Oscar taking charge here, I love them speaking in unison, I even love the hope of achieving something epic while in captivity despite my own belief that Oscar should break and reveal the Lamp’s password. What I don’t love is:

Another messy, unexpected belief that Salem made her choices because she “knows” she can’t win any other way. Except that—like Ruby’s line in the recording—Salem’s current attack blows that idea out of the water. She IS taking on the whole world. Granted, Ozpin and Oscar presumably don’t know that the whole world literally knows of her existence now, or that Salem was smiling about it, but they do know that she’s attacking Atlas head on. What else is that except a declaration of war with all of Remnant?

The idea of undermining Salem from the inside via Hazel. For anyone who reads my other metas, I just said that this idea wouldn’t work because Emerald isn’t the one torturing him, the one character who has consistently demonstrated hesitation (or, now, Neo). Hazel despises Ozpin so much that he would never listen to him. He despises him so much he doesn’t even see Oscar as his own person… at least he didn’t before. That’s been retconned now with Hazel going “easy” Oscar and having an actual conversation with Ozpin. Whereas before, he was slamming Oscar into walls and screaming about how he’s going to kill the “murderer” of his sister. They basically softened his character to make this plan possible.

The fact that this scene came about without Oscar and Ozpin ever getting to reconcile their problems. Last we saw them, Oscar was saying how he hated that Ozpin came back and refusing to acknowledge their merge. Now, they’re working together like they’ve always been solid allies. I get that the danger they’re in helps to put it all into perspective, but why can’t we get a few lines of them hashing this out? Or at least putting things aside until they’re out of Salem’s clutches? If you don’t need to re-write Hazel’s character with “he’s going easy on me” lines, you can use that space to deal with the conflict we’ve already established. Especially given the strange choice to have Oscar refuse to give up control and be the one coming up with this plan... but then Ozpin does take control and (maybe, see below) enacts it? I feel like we’ve missed huge chunks of this story. As it is, I wonder if RWBY will bother coming back to this. The questions of if/how Oscar will accept Ozpin and if/how he’ll reveal this secret to the group feels like they’re being swept under the rug and it will likely go unnoticed by a lot of viewers simply due to how intense the kidnapping plot is.

So things are a little messy, but otherwise enjoyable, and they’re about to get downright confusing. For me, anyway. See, Hazel reveals that he follows Salem because she can’t be beaten (cue my continued worry about Ruby telling the whole WORLD). She “can’t be stopped. She’s a force of nature,” and Ozpin is fighting a “cause with no victory, no end.” He yells back that “Someone has to try!”—bless this man—and then looks down at the ground going, “Salem can be fought. Unless… she brings the Relics together, if that happens…” and mentions summoning the Gods.

So here’s my confusion. The scene makes it feel like Ozpin is planting some sort of seed in Hazel’s head. He and Oscar JUST got done agreeing to try and undermine her from the inside out, then we get this line that feels like him “accidentally” dropping a secret that will turn Hazel against her. Except… Ozpin doesn’t lie here? The line isn’t useful to them as far as I can tell. They are screwed if Salem gets the Relics. …Right? Because if not, why the hell have the heroes been working so hard to keep them out of her hands? So I can’t decide if:

A) This scene is just written badly and none of this is part of the plan to undermine Salem.

B) Ozpin is going, “NO. Don’t collect the RELICS. That would be the WORST THING EVER /s” in an attempt to trick Hazel into doing it anyway and this is somehow supposed to hurt Salem, despite being presented since Volume 5 as the worst outcome for our heroes? 

C) Ozpin specifically wants Salem to make the mistake of summoning the Gods because he thinks he’s completed his task? Or something? But what in the world would make him think that—especially without seeing Ruby’s message (not to mention the lack of unity that mess should cause)—or what makes him think the Gods would just destroy Salem regardless of what he’s achieved? If summoning the Gods was ever a defeat Salem option, why hasn’t he done it before?

I’m leaning towards A just because it makes the most sense by far, but that would also mean we had Ozpin and Oscar decide on this plan, have a chance to start this plan… and then didn’t actually do anything. Yelling at Hazel for following Salem isn’t a new strategy, they were doing that before, so what’s new? Or has the new strategy not been revealed yet? Idk, as happy as I am to see them being BAMF together, I’m slightly unsure about how it all hangs together. I’d much rather have an internally consistent and clear outcome that’s predictable (Oscar breaks or just holds out until rescue) rather than what appears like a super cool, badass, unexpected plot on the surface… but crumbles once you poke at the foundation a bit.

So whether Oscar and Ozpin started this plan or not, they’re dragged into the throne room where they’re forced to kneel before Salem. Yikes. She sits on her throne with the Hound, who I’m only now realizing could be read as a messed up Toto

We learn that Tyrian heard from Watts about his incarceration and hacking Penny. What? Okay, I took the time to go back through “Amity” just to find this screenshot.

That’s not a working Scroll! Idk what I thought Watts might do with it at the end of last week, but it wasn’t send a full, uninterrupted message to Salem that updates her on everything that’s gone down in Atlas. This thing is toast! Moments like this make me question how much communication there really is between the writers and the animators, despite last Volume’s disaster with Oscar telegraphing his punch like whoa. Are we still getting that level of miscommunication? 

Salem then punishes Cinder for disobeying her by hurting her grimm arm. See, this here (for me, anyway) is the mark of a newbie writer. When the moment first started I went, “Oh nice. Just like the shock collar!” Then the scene made that abundantly clear by cutting to flashbacks of Cinder in her collar. That’s too heavy-handed. We already got the parallel, but then the show went, “Do you get it??” It shows that the writers are too scared that the viewers won’t get it, that their nuance will be lost, so they scramble to make it as obvious as possible, rather than trusting in their own writing.

And if you’re like, “So you want RWBY to be more clear and also… less clear?” the answer is, sadly, yes lol. The things that are already confusing due to retconning and inconsistent themes need to be made explicit, whereas the details that are already strong don’t need an in-your-face, “Okay, but did you really get the parallel here? We’re just making sure.” It’s like launching into explaining why a joke is funny when it’s already landed vs. telling a nonsensical joke and then waiting for the laugh that will never come. RWBY struggles in both areas.  

Salem delves into this speech about how this is actually all her fault and she should let Cinder spread her wings or something. AKA, go free Watts and track down Penny. Then you can have your precious Maiden powers. 

There’s a massive earthquake across Mantle and we watch a + medical symbol go out. Again, heavy-handed. We don’t need that in order to understand that the whole city shaking while the grimm look happily up to the sky is a bad thing.

We cut to Winter listening to the Ace Ops complain about Penny. She tells them to act like the elite they are, likely because she hates how they refer to Penny as “junk.” Still being set up to betray Ironwood, I bet. During this scene we learn that they have “confirmed visual of her leaving Amity. She appeared to be malfunctioning.” So Penny is alive? Also, they have eyes on Amity Tower and were able to see Penny leaving, but didn’t see any of our trio coming to launch it in the first place? Did Ironwood want it to launch? Did they see Cinder? I just don’t know.

Before they can get there though a message from Jaune comes through. Serious kudos to Team JNY for asking that “anyone” respond/taking the personal risk of calling for help in the first place. They’re finally putting—as Harriet says—they’re own selfishness aside in favor of the greater good. Yang obviously hates that it’s “you guys” they ended up with, but she’s not outright attacking the Ace Ops or anything. I’m like,

Excellent job, Yang. 

Jaune is a little harsh in his panic. He said in his message that a “large mass of grimm” is heading towards Mantle and then when Harriet leads with asking about Penny, wants to know what’s wrong with her. Why are you asking about Penny when lives are in danger and “it’s” (the grimm) are “right there”? Except he, uh… points at nothing. There’s the chasm with (I presume) the weird grimm goo down it? Not sure based on the shot, but the Ace Ops expected a “mass of grimm” and then land to see no grimm anywhere nearby. So yeah, they’re more focused on the missing Maiden than the seemingly imaginary enemy Jaune is freaking out about.

They only get on board when the river launches itself at Atlas.

So the goo is, like, sentient before it becomes individual grimm? Or Salem is controlling it from her whale? Either way it’s BAD.

I want to briefly gripe about how the hell everyone is watching this. What, is there a camera conveniently trained on this one random part of Atlas’ underside and everyone’s scrolls tuned into that the second the attack started? It seems far-fetched, to put it mildly. In RWBY’s favor though, I want to acknowledge that we finally have appropriate expressions for the situation! This is good!!

I’m going to level with you all. My notifications have known no peace since I made the mistake of criticizing the adored trio that is Ruby, Weiss, and Blake. I thought supporting Ironwood would get me heat. Nope. Not supporting the main girls is what did it and honestly? I shouldn’t have been surprised. Last week I pointed out that having them smile and, in Ruby’s case, coo during a moment of horror is not good animation and implies some pretty uncomfortable things about their overall sympathy level. The image in question: 

It doesn’t set a good tone, especially when we add in what we’ve gotten for Ruby’s group across the rest of this volume. The counters of, “They need and deserve a break. Why won’t you let them be happy?” fall flat when we ignore that this group has been animated as consistently goofing off post-premiere. Sneaking into the guarded military base of a former friend? Tube shenanigans! Need to find your way around? Funny Penny moment! Semblance reveal? Cutesy chibi explanation! Need to do more sneaking? Silly coffee plan! Nora gets electrocuted? Joke about how awesome that was! Even Wiess telling Whitley to go to his room reads as funny to the audience.

Ruby in particular has been a problem, given that she’s our main character and the others’ leader. We take our emotional cues primarily from her. Alongside being a part of all these fun and games, her animation during more serious moments has been less than stellar. This is Penny when Nora goes down.

This is Ruby, Weiss, and Blake. No worry, just focused on the fight.

This is Penny when the fight is over.

This is Ruby, Weiss, and Blake. No worry, just chatting about suspicious activity.

This is Penny in the airship, worrying about Nora and the situation they’re in. This is also Ruby in the airship, apparently not worried at all.

This is Ruby when she learns her uncle is in jail. Is there shock? Fear? Horror that he might be in serious trouble? No, she just maintains the same emotion she had before: fury at Harriet.

So when we reach them watching the recording and they look like this:

No, I’m not convinced that this trio is taking the situation seriously, or that they really care about the people involved. I know they’re supposed to care, they all obviously care from a meta perspective, but the “obviousness” of that only exists in our personal understanding of the characters if we don’t see it on screen. I completely believe that Penny is worried about Nora because she’s animated expressing that worry. I completely believe that JRY are in the middle of a warzone because they’re (mostly) animated as fearful and angry. The rest of Ruby’s team has a scared line from Blake and Weiss holding Nora’s hand, whereas the majority of the emotion across this adventure has been indifference or playfulness. That’s a problem given how horrible the events of this Volume have been, most of which the group is aware of. 

All of which is an incredibly long-winded way of saying that this

finally feels appropriate. Well done, RWBY. 

Alright, this recap is already over 7k long so I want to return to our plot with the summarized: IRONWOOD WAS RIGHT. He said they couldn’t withstand a head on attack by Salem and he was right. It literally took seconds for her grimm to burrow into Atlas, knock out a tower, and disable the shield. Everyone still claiming that leaving is useless because it’s oh so obvious Salem’s grimm could fly however high it wants (when did we learn that?) are ignoring that leaving was at least a plan with some kind of hope attached to it. And, given her focus on the Staff, may have saved Mantle by drawing Salem’s attention away from the city. The point is we don’t know. All we do know is that Ironwood tried to do something in the face of hopeless odds, Ruby’s team stopped him, and now look, everything is awful. No one could have possibly seen that coming. 

Salem: “It’s time.”

I’m very pleased that Salem is finally using the tools at her disposal. Upon reflection, I still don’t buy why she had to wait. “Well, she was waiting for the grimm goo.” She couldn’t have used flying grimm to take out the tower? Take a burrowing grimm and give it wings? She couldn’t have used the goo that was apparently inside her whale the whole time?

It’s all very convenient. In the sense that we’re drawing out the volume by having the villain inexplicably hang back, despite not having a good reason to. In the sense that—unless Ruby’s message comes back to bite her—the villain’s passivity also conveniently let the heroes accomplish the one goal they were desperate to achieve. All of that’s still not good, but at least the Volume seems to be moving out of the “not good” category and into the “slightly better” territory. 

Although, as I just acknowledged to a friend, RWBY seems to alternate for me. Every time I have an episode where I think, “Okay, there are still massive problems here, but I can see a glimmer of hope” the next episode is inevitably the pits. 

Still, grabbing onto that hope with both hands: Atlas should be decimated, folks! Grimm are swarming, our idiot heroes herded everyone directly under the city, the world should be panicking, and the cold should still be killing people if the story remembers that it exists. At this point my only question is wtf our heroes are supposed to do next, but regardless of what the plot gives us, it’s going to be wild. You all know what’s coming. Next week is our final episode before a two month hiatus, which means we’re going to witness all kinds of awful and then end on a six week cliffhanger. It’s inevitable, so best to emotionally prep for that now lol.

I don’t believe we have any Bingo updates, with the exception of edging towards a few: “Winter betrays Ironwood,” “Army of grimm conveniently doesn’t kill any civilians,” “Atlas somehow survives,” and “Ironwood dies” being the most notable. We’ll have to see what, if anything, gets checked off next Saturday.

As always, thank you so much for reading (I feel like I don’t say that enough :D) and I’ll see you next week! 💜

[Ko-Fi]

[veliseraptor]

Down in the Yi City Pit: A Recs Post

So as anyone following me may have noticed, I’ve been spiraling ever deeper into a pit called Yi City Feelings. I’m down at the bottom and I’m still digging. This also means I’ve been doing a lot of fic reading, and I figure it’s about time that I wrote a recs list, since I said I’d do it and some people expressed interest.

Heads up that I am a dirty Xue Yang stan first and foremost, so this list is going to skew in, uh, that direction. Just so we’re all aware.

Divided these into canonverse recs and modern au recs, since apparently this is the only thing I’ll read modern aus for! It’s a brave new world out here. 

Also like. blanket warnings across the board here for The Inherent Dubiousness of Xue Yang/Xiao Xingchen as a Pairing, Generally. I’ll offer more specific/major ones as they’re relevant/I remember, but please check the tags/authors notes as well.

CANONVERSE

lover to your nightmare by Zaatar (@ameliarating) . Xue Yang uses Xiao Xingchen getting sick as an opportunity to fuck around a little. Second person POV sickfic, except XueXiao flavored sickfic which means it’s messy and full of good things like “delirium” and “people taking advantage of other peoples’ confusion and disorientation to mess with them psychologically.” This fic also does the thing I love really well where Xue Yang’s internal monologue/self-justification is full of indications that he’s having Feelings that he neither recognizes nor acknowledges. Crunchy, delicious.

Samsara / 輪迴 by ForgivenMemes. Upsetting fic full of every content warning ever alert! (Off the top of my head: violence, rape, suicide, self-harm.) I keep going back to this fic and rereading it because it hurts so bad and I love it, because it hurts in the best worst self-sabotage recapitulating-mistakes-over-and-over way. Like, I am a sucker for a time loop fic always, and usually I read them as a route to fixing things - but honestly I’ve always loved the part of time loop fics that’s “everything getting worse first.” And this is a whole fic of “everything getting worse.” Aka, the one where Xue Yang has thousands of chances to get it right, but there’s no getting it right.

compromise by Sectionladvivi. Xiao Xingchen convinces Song Lan and Xue Yang to kiss. (aka, obviously Yi City AU where Song Lan gets folded into things, Xiao Xingchen still doesn’t know about Xue Yang being Xue Yang, and an uneasy detente where the two of them don’t touch each other gets interrupted by Xiao Xingchen Wanting Things, which is, of course, a priority always). 

til dawn by Sectionladvivi. Xue Yang takes care of Xiao Xingchen’s body after his death, and mind the tags. This is that perfect Yi City level of “horrifying and also very sad, I feel bad for my boy but also he is sort of defiling a corpse (though it is just kissing).” This might not sound like a recommendation but it is absolutely a recommendation.

Our Antebellum Innocence by spockandawe (@spockandawe). First time XueXiao. Xue Yang lays the groundwork for his first time with Xiao Xingchen with meticulous care.  This author always delivers, both in terms of excellent porn and in terms of characterization, and this is no exception. 

life’s illusions I recall by Sour_Idealist (@souridealist). The basics of this fic is just “outdoor sex at a river” and it is delicious for that, but what I love about it in particular is this author’s Xue Yang voice. It’s always good (they are the genius behind the incredible Jiang Yanli/Xue Yang fic - no, really), and this is a fic I come back to a lot for that reason. I also love the tag “two characters experiencing two very different fics” which feels like a very apt description for the XueXiao dynamic, generally speaking.

Selenographia by lightningwaltz. A lovely, short-ish fic about the Yi City years. I don’t feel like I have a good description for this one - it’s just one of those beautiful character/moment portrait pieces, very well done.

Stories from A Lonely City by blackwatervial. A series of snapshots/vignettes from the three years in Yi City. Sweetness, bittersweetness, and of course, ultimately, a sad end. This was one of the first Yi City fics I read.

yi city depression hours by glueskin (series). Just. You know. Some feelings. There’s two fics in this one, both short character study type fics making me feel feelings.

a bird caught in this winter blizzard by cherriru. I do love a good grief/mourning fic, especially featuring someone realizing slowly the sheer miserable depths of their fuck-up. Aka, Xue Yang after Xiao Xingchen’s death. It’s just sad. 

all I ever knew of love by Sour_Idealist (@souridealist). See what I said above about the Xue Yang voice and this author; this one also featuring blistering hot porn (first time), a little light praise kink, and huddling for warmth as an excuse for sex. It’s a perfect blend of filth and tenderness and I love it.

revelations wallet wood burn art by Sectionladvivi. This one describes itself in the summary as “grim pwp” and yeah, that fits (and also! is such a XueXiao vibe, whoop whoop); it’s based off the simple premise of ‘Xue Yang tells Xiao Xingchen who he is, in the middle of sex.’ Honestly, one of my favorite things about this fic is the ending, which is horrifying in the best possible way.

Your Heart Inside My Hands by williamshooketh (@ectoplasm-james). This fic is fabulously made for me in the specific subgenre of “Xue Yang thinks he knows what he is getting into when having sex with Xiao Xingchen and, it turns out, does not.” This one featuring some of my favorite things including praise kink and Xue Yang getting extremely fucked up by someone being very nice to him.

Sleep Until the Sun Goes Down by spockandawe (@spockandawe). Love me some Xiao Xingchen seducing Xue Yang with candy. First time fic, second person POV, absolutely delightful.

pass the time by short_tandem_repeats (@yiling). A-Qing and Xue Yang bonding hours. I am actually such a sucker for their weird relationship (I don’t poke at it enough in my own stuff, should work on that) and the way they recognize each other in ways that Xiao Xingchen doesn’t, and also a-Qing having to reckon with the ways in which she’s more like Xue Yang than like Xiao Xingchen. Just a very good fic with a delightful a-Qing.

Three Springs by Verbana. Just a really excellent Xiao Xingchen POV of the three years in Yi City and a developing relationship between Xiao Xingchen and Xue Yang. Beautifully written, a lovely escalation, and I’m absolutely delighted by the gentle loneliness of the Xiao Xingchen POV here.

Red Azalea by CeNedraRiva (@cenedrariva) (WIP). A longfic in progress following the continuing adventures of the Yi City Crew after Xiao Xingchen survives his suicide attempt and Xue Yang reconsiders some life choices. Recently got tag-updated to SongXueXiao which has me absolutely thrilled. Updates every Wednesday.

ephemeral by im_krying (WIP). Xue Yang, traveling around wearing Xiao Xingchen’s face, decides it is time to go looking for the last remaining part of Xiao Xingchen that he doesn’t already possess. That is to say, the eyes in Song Lan’s head. I’m really curious where this is going - it smells up my alley at this point though it’s been a bit since the last update. 

Heaven Has a Road But No One Walks It by Silvestris (@silvysartfulness) (WIP). Things I love: beating on Xue Yang, SongXueXiao, terrible road trips, fix-its where there’s a lot of suffering involved. Things this fic has: all of the above. I’m in love.

MODERN AU

(There are other recs to this one but for various reasons (pwp reasons) triggered my self-consciousness slightly too much to put on this post. Go check my bookmarks, you’ll find stuff there.

Most of these are PWP to greater or lesser extents (Rewritten and Misalignment are, I’d say, the exceptions); all very hot and fantastically written.)

circling like vultures by brawlite (@brawlite) (series). Truly quality porn, featuring mostly Xue Yang/Song Lan both pining for Xiao Xingchen, which is a thing that it turns out I really like. The sex is rough and mean and I’m really into it. (Okay, mostly the sex in the first one is mean, the second one is actually XueYao, and the third one is actually verging on nice. Wow! Growth. Anyway, it’s all very good and very My Scene.

Rewritten by incendir (series). This series is like. Everything I want from a modern AU and that was true even before the most recent fic gifted me a beat up Xue Yang suffering, so you know. I don’t have a good summary for this series other than that it’s basically a married Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen adopting Xue Yang as a third partner and it’s just. So well done, such good writing, such good characterization, I would read 20,000 more words of this and probably still be hungry.

catalyst by Ajaxthegreat. If there is a porny fic I’ve reread more than this one, I’m not sure what it would be. I’ve reread this one a lot. It’s very good. It’s very hot. I’m trying not to be self-conscious. SongXueXiao first time rough sex and boy is it tasty.

biting the bullet by Sectionladvivi. Xiao Xingchen doesn’t want to have to choose between his two boyfriends and so he doesn’t. Sectionladvivi in general writes some very sexy modern au PWP (including a few different Xue Yang/Lan Wangji fics which...didn’t see that one coming! But it works when they do it), so general rec for author but this one (as, you know, SongXueXiao porn), is one of my favorites, probably. 

sxx configurations by rynleaf (series). This is a SongXueXiao series on AO3 based off of @kevinkevinson‘s modern reincarnation AU and I am in love with both the art for that AU (go look!) and these fics, they’re so good, I’ve reread several times. 

Misalignment by Kasasagi (WIP). The one with a reincarnated Xue Yang and a Xiao Xingchen who arrives in the modern world from the past, fresh off his suicide.

And Once Again, if I’m Allowed to Rec My Own Fic

a kindness you can’t afford. Early days in Yi City after Xue Yang wakes up.

lick your exit wounds. I wanted canonverse-era bottom Xue Yang praise kink, so I wrote it for myself in the hopes others would also find this an interesting prospect.

this place could be beautiful. Xue Yang vs. domestic living.

tear out all your tenderness. Xue Yang gets turned on by murder and makes it a project to get Xiao Xingchen to lose control.

the beauty of your repair. PWP, modern AU SongXueXiao; there’s not an inkling of plot here, it’s really just an excuse to get Xue Yang wrecked, but nicely.

[kneamet]

Jaguar! Tom forces reader to dance naked in front of him (punishment for trying to escape).

Trigger Warning: obsession, yandere

Word Count: 1902

Character: Jaguar!Tom/reader

Summary: the punishments are always severe. And Thomas was not a man capable of empathy.

POV Your

You didn't know how to feel about him. He attracted you, his appearance was really sympathetic to you, but his actions, actions and character were never the factor that deserved attention. Thomas's qualities were disgusting.

He was terrible.

You couldn't think of any other words.

His behavior towards you was never what you wanted. Romance, friendliness and pure love-this was exactly what you dreamed of in a relationship. However, this has never happened with Thomas.

Infused with anger, jealousy, control and possessiveness, love was the most terrible thing that happened to you. It wasn't love, it was obsession. And it was a huge upset in your life.

You never wanted to experience what you experienced when you were in a relationship with Thomas, knowing that he did not allow you to take a step without his supervision and permission.

And that scared you.

It caused you to feel an irresistible discomfort, mixed with hatred and fear that permeated you every time a man looked at you. He looked attentively, piercingly. As if he wanted not to warm, but to intimidate.

You knew about his love of control, which was also reflected in his relationship to his surroundings, with whom he disposed as if they were just meat, unable to think. They were obedient and it scared you. It forced you to obey him.

You were driven only by fear.

And nothing more.

Always closing your eyes, you tried just not to think about it. However, after a while, after you and Thomas became a full-fledged inseparable couple, you realized that it was better to start taking off rose-colored glasses. They were a good protection from the poverty and political troubles in the world around you, but you knew that you could not stay in them for the rest of your life.

You couldn't deny the fact that Thomas was misleading many people, making them feel fear and the need to end the conversation as soon as possible.

It was disgusting for you to call such a person your husband. He was not and will not be anyone else. All the words spoken at the altar, on the wedding day, when the rose-colored glasses were just beginning to disintegrate, turning into dust, will be forgotten. And Thomas has to accept it. He has to let you go, no matter what it costs you.

You always wanted to escape from this suffocating abusive captivity that held you tightly, not allowing you to fly up with your wings and take a calm, full of freedom, breath.

Your hands are shaking.

Your gaze is changeable when you look at your husband sitting on the chair that you bought together for your anniversary of the first acquaintance. It was elegant, even if it didn't quite fit with your concept of beauty.

Thomas crossed one leg over the other. His posture was relaxed, but his hands were tightly clenched into fists. It was a sign of resentment, which you managed to learn during all the time that you live with him.

He was looking at you, putting his hand on his chin, thoughtfully stroking his thoroughly vibrating chin. He's always been like this for as long as you can remember. Thomas never allowed himself to go to extremes, keeping all the bodies completely normal.

"And what should I do with you?" His voice sounded unexpected. You felt as if you were pierced by a thousand needles when he at least begged for something during those few minutes of your silence with him.

You were standing in front of him, with your head downcast and refusing to meet his eyes. It was scary. My heart was pounding loudly in my head. There was nothing but the verdict you were waiting for.

You knew that running away was a failed idea. Trying to do at least something that would contradict the will of Thomas — that's a really failed idea. He did not tolerate disobedience. Especially from close people.

Your lower lip trembled. My eyes were not watering, but there was still a feeling of fear. Primal fear, at the moment of which I wanted to destroy, but at the same time I was unaware of my actions committed a couple of minutes ago.

But with Thomas, as such, the feeling of fear turned into something inexplicable — his whole body began to burn as if a kettle of boiling water had been poured on him, starting to sweat rudely; his hands were shaking and it became scary to look at him. There was a feeling that he could kill you without blinking an eye.

And without sympathy.

"Get undressed," Thomas said, turning his head in your direction and, without getting up, nodded to you at the red dress that you were wearing and that he forced you to put on. You swallowed. His eyes filled with despair.

It was an order.

I didn't want to contradict him. Not because there was no desire, but because you were afraid. She was afraid of him as a modest mouse is afraid of an evil cat.

Your breathing has become erratic. Something prickled in my chest. My body went numb. It didn't want to listen to you.

Wanted to cry.

"My doll," his voice was unctuous. Thomas gets up from his chair, walks slowly towards you, as if he is a tiger hunting a prey. His fingers touch your tender and rough chin, forcing you to lift your head up and look at him.

He loved eye contact. He knew how to scare a person.

"Get undressed," he said, still staying nearby, tilting his head to the right and burning you with an all-powerful look.

Your jaw of Islam is trembling. It became even more uncomfortable. Your hands went to the back of the dress, forcing you to pull down the zipper and let it open.

Your forehead is sweating.

Touching the sleeves, you pulled the dress towards the chest and pulled it down, stepping over it and leaving it on the clean floor, washed not so long ago by Thomas ' personal cleaner.

"Go on," he nodded, folding his arms over his chest. Your lower lip trembled.

Eyes began to water.

***

POV Thomas

His eyes were burning. Watching his beloved wife cope with her clothes, suppressing the tears that wanted to escape from her, and entertaining him, trying to please, was a pleasure for Thomas. It was just indescribably exciting.

He could really get aroused from any look from her. Yes, even your presence always excited in him unusual and unusual feelings, which he tried to suppress with pain most of the time in society-joy, love and excitement.

Thomas did not build anything to show himself in public as cruel, cold, not considering more than one girl as an option to have sex at night, because they were not interesting to him.

He had never been interested in girls. And the guys, what can I hide there. He didn't care. He was such a person who wanted to achieve something for the sake of his goal, despite the conditions. He will do anything for himself.

And what was his surprise when he first met you. You were exactly the person who prompted those feelings in Thomas that he did not show to anyone, allowing at least one person to open up.

He knew that it would not be easy for the girls with him. The constant need for control, possessiveness, which he considered just protection, and work that requires a lot of sacrifices. It was difficult to build his criminal empire from scratch, but he succeeded.

Thomas was watching you.

And unfortunately, you didn't know about it.

He tried to show his love in every possible way. He tried to write love letters, but realizing that nothing was working out for him anyway, he abandoned this case. He tried to do at least something, but jealousy has always been a power over his mind, completely blurring the boundaries of understanding between bad and good. If they existed at all.

Jealousy forced Thomas to do unthinkable things.

He didn't like to kill himself. However, the moments when people who went on dates with his doll were immediately found dead in their home were only an emotional vice, when he wanted to tear and throw, just to hurt those who dared to touch you not by right.

Thomas was hard to anger. However, the disobedience on the part of the beloved was rather a chagrin. He did everything for her! And she just wipes her feet on his feelings, as if they don't exist. And after that, does she even dare to say that she loves him?

He didn't care that she was trying to escape.

After all, he knew that she could not.

The fenced-in house, standing alone far from London, with its garden and its helicopter pad, was simply an impregnable fortress. So the mileage thing would not have worked. The guards immediately caught her.

Thomas gave you his hungry look again, seeing how uncomfortable it is for you to stand naked in front of him. The underwear was thrown to the side, to the dress. He shook his head in disbelief, looking down at the dirty floor. What does he pay the cleaning lady for anyway?

He was puzzled by the fact that she was afraid of him. More precisely, he understood the fact that she was feeling, but some moments still frightened him, putting him into a stupor. Why was she afraid to stand naked in front of him?

But there was only a sexual experience.

Thomas knew that his workers in the house knew about his unusual preferences related to the topic of sex. And they stopped being perplexed by the fact that sometimes, when he absolutely did not want to please himself, he called an escort.

What a sin to hide, when she learned about his love for sadism, she immediately ran away.

And he didn't even have time to have fun. He thought after all that she would be pleased and that prostitutes are taught this. It turned out that this is not the case in a significant way.

He grinned, turning his gaze back to his favorite doll, which looked very uncomfortable. He saw you looking around, as if afraid of the fact that someone might come in. As if they would dare.

"Take your hands off," Thomas said, turning his attention back to you, realizing how unpleasant this discomfort is for you. However, you knew about his love for such a thing.

Bad girls are punished.

And you should have accepted it a long time ago. Thomas's character was not easy and he always got an incredible buzz when you try to please him.

He came closer to you, just dreaming of touching your body. He knew that now you will be anything for him, because you are afraid for your life. So you are also afraid of punishments.

Thomas touched your bare shoulder, running his hand over it and seeing how your body shuddered. This inspired him with an incredible sense of pride, even apart from the fact that his beloved doll is afraid of him.

He leaned into your ear.

"This is your punishment, doll," his voice was quiet. He touched your hand, grabbing it. The other hand rested on the waist. "We'll dance.""

He liked to enjoy your primal fear.

[wordsoflittlewisdom]

Watching bop again

I kinda forgot Cass was at the roller derby game. Love how all the characters are connected

Why does Roman’s voice...sound like that

Boss Bitch is weirdly nostalgic now

I like that the whole roller derby team is wearing like. team jackets. and harleys got her whole fringe sleeves thing going on

YES LOVE WHEN SHE THROWS THE NECKLACE AWAY

The chemical plant blowing up as fireworks was a very Harley choice

“So I’ll start where I fucking want” four minutes ago

huntress huntress huntress huntress huntress

I read somewhere that this huntress and Montoya scene was one take and they just changed the lighting to show the change

romans middle name being beauvais is probably the clearest clue they could have given that he was from a rich family

Love that Renee finds the necklace and knows Harley and the joker broke up. I like this idea that superheroes/villains are kinda like celebrities in this world

The egg sandwich scene is great what more can I say

Love that there’re cars and people just living their lives in this city

It’s a crime that we never see Harley wear this glittery fanny pack

The music is really good in this

It’s neat how the line between her narration and her dialogue is blurred, like how she’ll say the first part of something in narration and the second part in dialogue

Huntress’s little flute theme

And Montoya knows Cass; c o n n e c t i o n s

Montoya’s been going after Roman, too

And now we’re flipping back to the bertinelli massacre and diamond

Even if the whole missing diamond plot isn’t that unique, everything’s woven together so neatly

And now Dinah and Renee are on the phone about Cass and the diamond

It’s all connected

Harleys whole “I’m here to report a terrible crime”—she could have just run in there but she wanted to be Dramatic

I do wish the vocals were a little louder here maybe?

Big fan of this fight choreography

Harley pausing on a frame where she’s making a weird face before rewinding to explain about the diamond—it’s so rare to ever get to see women like. making weird faces in movies. All the women in his this are gorgeous but they don’t always have to be; they look beat up after fights and get dirty and make weird faces and it’s great

Dinah singing? Exceptional

“Loans, liquidity, laundering” ah yes the three L’s of illegal business

I unironically listen to Black Canary’s man’s world.

I like that everyone just calls Dinah “Canary”

“I’m all on my lonesome. It’s great” Harleys even an unreliable narrator when she’s just talking

I’ve really never seen a movie that feel like it’s from the female gaze visually as much as this one—all the rings and earrings, the hair, the makeup, it feels like what women might fantasize about dressing like

Dinah yelling “you motherfucker!” While beating some creeps up is quality

What time of day is it? Dinah would probably be leaving early in the morning, but I Refuse to believe that Roman would be awake particularly early any morning

She either canary is leaving her nightclub singing gig in the late morning/early afternoon or roman is still awake from the night before and is going to go to sleep soon

Cass and Dinah in the same building. (Bernie voice): I am once again talking about the connections

I’ve riffed on this before but i refuse to believe that Roman can drive

This Dinah and Renee scene establishes character, backstories, and moves the plot along all at once

Jesus some of ewan mcgregor’s acting in this is painfully bad

I love that Cass has a big bomber jacket and longer, looser shorts

Jurnee’s abs wow

The lights from behind the hands with the eyes behind Harley, who’s surrounded by people and then Roman and Victor emerge from the back, whispering to each other? Beautiful

One of the grievances roman has against Harley is “constantly interrupting him, like I’m doing right now”

Harleys “you’re really not as complicated as you think” bit is almost satirical of this cult we’ve created of “complicated” white male movie villains who have massive fan followings (cough cough joker)

Interesting that Roman holds the knife to Harleys face but hands it off to Victor to do that actual cutting

Someone handed Roman a bowl of popcorn

Harleys pocket tampon

It’s diamonds are a girls best friend yeah babey!

The male backup dancers are wearing muzzles/masks (Roman has one too for a split second) is an interesting flip on the way women are typically the ones being silenced, as well as Harleys desire to silence the men around her and be the one telling and controlling her own narrative

“Hey! you’re that singer no one listens to!” “Hey! You’re the asshole no one likes!”

Harley with her glitter gun

Harleys reaction when the sprinklers go off is perfect—Margot makes her feel like a living cartoon

This cell block fight scene is a showstopper

I like that cass doesn’t immediately want to stay with Harley. It gives her some agency in a story where she’s mostly just following the curveballs life throws her

Harleys little stare straight into the camera when cass admits to eating the diamond

Harley at the grocery store really emphasizes that she’s a total weirdo

I think I heard somewhere that the pic of child Harley with the nuns is a pic of young Margot??? Not totally sure though

Cass not knowing who the joker is goes with the whole supers are like celebrities thing—cass probably follows a whole different group of them (like how most kids follow different celebrities than their parents)

Huntress huntress huntresssss

“Give me number 32. Mild”

This kid in helenas flashback doesn’t really look like she’s grow up to look like Mary Elizabeth Winstead

This filming in this flashback has so much style

Helena practicing in the bathroom mirror with her drawing and her multiple bottles of travel mouthwash

We’re in the scene where Roman makes the girl dance on the table and oh god it’s so uncomfortable

No no no no no not this hate this

Alright that nightmare’s done

“and that’s why you should never pay federal income taxes”

Harley offering to bring cass to Roman after hearing doc say “business is business is interesting

OH ITS HIT ME WITH YOUR BEST SHOT TIME

Dinahs car is yellow because it’s...canary yellow

Roman putting on the mask is cool and all but he’s just gonna have to take it back off to get changed

This Harley vs Renee fight is fun because they keep mirroring each other—they’re fighting each other, but they’re really on the same side

The way the women all kind of circle each other at first and don’t immediately get along

Cass popping up with the gun also gives her some agency—she’s at the end of her rope with the diamond and being betrayed by Harley

“I am nOT THE CROSSBOW KILLER”

The way Huntress sounds so uncertain when she says “...and now I’m done” Mary’s acting really popped off

Roman’s a bitch but I like his outfits

Helenas little smile when Harley says “you just killed his BFF”

I love how excited Harley is when they all agree to work together

Roman’s giving his little speech in the back of a pickup truck?

When all the guys turned around with masks on I got chills

“I love this chick she’s got rage issues.” “I DONT HAVE RAGE ISSUES”

Huntress stabbing the guy while going down the slide is peak cinema

This set lights up as the scene progresses and reveals more

I love love love that Helena is genuinely caring towards Cass and recognizing that children shouldn’t have to go through trauma like her

“When the fuck did she have time to do a shoe change?”

THE HAIR TIE YEAH

Forgot to mention this but it’s a stroke of genius for this place to be called the booby trap

Love me some canary cry

“Told ya she had a killer voice”

Harleys chase was a real group hurrah—the canary cry cleared the way and pushed her forward, Huntress towed her, Renee gave her the gun with one bullet

Cass and Roman are just sitting in the back seat. That must have been an awkward car ride

Cass pulling the gun away from Roman when he tries to shoot up at Harley when Harleys on top of the car is elite

Damn this is one foggy pier

When Harley starts with “your protection is based on the fact that people are scared of you” you expect her to say that it’s wrong or something but she says “I’m the one they should be scared of” this movie messed with tropes so much

That also includes the whole “one bullet” thing—Harley misses with her one bullet, and you don’t really know what’s gonna happen next

“I took your ring”

You can pinpoint exactly when Harley and Roman realize what Cass did

I’d put the entire taco scene here if I could

Renee moving the drink away from cass shows her caring side—she doesn’t want a kid to get into alcohol and make the mistakes she did

“Does she always talk like the cop in a bad eighties movie?”

Harley and Cass stealing the car is a fun way to show that she may be on the side of the good guys sometimes, but that doesn’t necessarily make her one

“Woman” by Kesha

Wow the outfits in this scene are iconic

I mean they are in the whole movie but I especially like these

Cass riding around with Harley and a hyena, wearing cute outfits and learning the ways of chaos

Harley got her sandwich!

The credit art for this movie is cool

Especially how they represent each character

In conclusion this is still my favorite movie

I know I’ve been kinda absent recently, but watching this again has really reminded me how much I love it. I got really busy but I’m going to Make An Effort to be a contributing member of the bop fandom again.

[alethiometry]

Edward Kenway for character asks!

ooooooo okay i should open this with a disclaimer: i have not finished black flag yet (about 2/3 of the way through i think? i need to level up my ship so i can beat the next story mission lol) so everything i'm saying here is based on the game up to thatch's death, and everything we know about edward in ac 3: forsaken and the comics that came out a couple years ago.

First impression

oh boy... to be honest, one of the reasons it took me such a long time to get around to playing black flag (it was one of the first ps4 games i bought when i got my console in 2016, and i didn't start until about a month ago) was because i didn't really feel particularly strongly about edward's character design. i was vaguely interested in That One Pirate Assassin Game after having watched (and loved) black sails, but was afraid i would be let down; to me edward just looked like Some Dude, and i was still hung up on the black sails gang. to me, black sails and its characters were so genre/time period-defining that any other piece of pirate media just seemed lackluster in comparison.

i'd also heard a lot of praise for edward and for ac4 in general so i was aware that it was a very popular and well-received game. but since i mostly heard that from reddit (didn't join tumblr ac fandom until odyssey in 2018) i kind of discounted it, bc gamer reddit tastes are... questionable at best.

Impression now

I LOVE HIM!!! i always think i want stories about virtuous characters who believe in goodness and kindness and aren't motivated by gold or glory but aren't afraid to do what needs to be done to help others who can't help themselves. and sometimes that's true (coughratonhnhake:toncough). other times i end up clowning on myself because i realize that it's so much fun when said good/kind character has a rough and rugged exterior, and is motivated by personal gain (i think edward and kassandra are kinda kindred spirits across time and space in that regard, but maybe that's another rant for another time). sometimes you just want someone to be a little bit of an opportunistic bastard, and boy does edward fit that to a T. he's an incredibly complex man, and i think what really got me was that even as he was impersonating assassins and then templars and then assassins again, all for personal gain (pickpocketing the templars in havana while he gains their trust and agrees to do their dirty work lmfao my beloved <3), his primary motivation for doing so was to prove to caroline and her family that he is someone worth a damn, that he is capable of great things and that he is worthy of their love and acceptance. and i know from ac forsaken that the marriage with caroline doesn't last (though i haven't played ac4 far enough to see if that happens on screen, or if it occurs between the game and the novel) which makes his backstory in the game all the more heartbreaking. but his optimism and perseverance and determination to prove himself are all what make me love him.

so that's edward the romantic. now let's talk about the way edward is with adewale, his crew, and his friends. and let's also put the rest of this behind a readmore bc girl i am RANTINGGGGGG

he has several lines that he says to adewale that make me physically cringe (namely: "many of [these men] wouldn't accept you as captain" or "what was it like being enslaved?" like i get that someone like edward would be asking that question in good faith and genuine curiosity but also JESUS CHRIST UBISOFT). but on the flip side - cringey as those questions are, he also takes the time to actually listen and learn, and i think he genuinely values the perspective that he gets from adewale allowing him to open these lines of trust and communication. there's a patience and mutual respect there that i adore.

i also love how much edward loves his crew and his other pirate friends. those scenes of him + kidd + thatch + adewale + hornigold (lol) drinking on the beach and having a grand old time and talking about establishing - to borrow one of my favorite chills-down-my-spine phrases from black sails - a nation of thieves, for people like them to live and prosper, free from the chokehold of civilization. and i know he's not as outwardly invested in counterculture/independence/anticolonialism as thatch and vane and kidd are, but the fact that he so wholeheartedly supports his friends' goals, lofty and impossible as they are, speaks volumes about his love for his friends.

Favorite moment

every scene he has with kidd when kidd casually and softly reminds him that they see that he is a good person beneath his opportunistic and rambunctious exterior. i especially love when they discover julien du casse's mansion containing orders for templars to go out and hunt down assassins: the way kidd immediately knows that edward wants to help the assassins as a way to make up for the damage he did while masquerading as a templar, even if he hasn't voiced it aloud himself. the way that they don't force edward to admit anything about himself before he is ready, but still constantly remind him that he has a good heart. they give him space to come to terms with his compassionate side in a world/environment that more often than sees compassion as something to be stamped out or cast aside. i don’t love when characters are forced to be the Moral Compass for a main dude character, but i think it works for edward and kidd.

Idea for a story

not an edward story per se, but there are 2 povs into edward's life that i would cut off (someone else's) limbs for:

jenny's pov growing up in the kenway household. from haytham's pov it seems that she knows way more about his past than haytham ever did (it was hinted at that there are rumors about edward’s past as haytham was growing up that he wasn’t privy to, but i don’t think at any point in the novel does haytham ever find out definitively that his father was a pirate) and i want to know how she knew so much, and more into what her life was like - through her eyes rather than haytham, who is like 10 years younger and by his own admission barely understands her and barely has a functional relationship with her. i'll expand further on edward and jenny in the next question/prompt/bullet point, actually, bc i have a LOT more to say.

connor's pov learning about his grandfather from... idk? who's around to tell him? what's so goddamn sad is that by the time connor rebuilds the colonial brotherhood he's kinda the only one left. sure there's aveline down in louisiana, but as far as we know everyone who was around in edward's generation is dead now, and i'm not sure how much of the kenway saga is preserved for connor to discover, or if all this information about their family line was discovered in the modern-day, by your abstergo employee character, and later by osto berg in the comics. which is why i so badly want a revelations-style game where connor traces his assassin heritage back to the caribbean, relives some of edward's memories, and then makes the trip to london to see his aunt jenny. it would have been such a cool way to round out the kenway saga.

Unpopular opinion

idk how popular or unpopular this is bc i rarely see other in-depth posts about it on my dash, but edward was a terrible father to jenny. he was every bit the wonderful and loving father to haytham for the 10 years that haytham had a father, but i wish we'd seen more of jenny's perspective than just a few lines of dialogue in haytham's diary: i hate the way edward sidelined her and raised her in the same manner that any other wealthy person of the time would have raised their daughter - that is, for the sole purpose of sitting pretty and marrying her off in an arrangement that would benefit the family. it's especially hard to reconcile because in ac4 there are female assassins in the americas, and there are female pirates in the caribbean, so it's not like edward isn't aware that women have as much right as any man to live life on their own terms. it just seems like by the time he returns to england and settles down with his family, he's reverted back to the societal norms and gender roles that the pirates fought (and lost) against, and it's hard not to be deeply disappointed by that.

to be clear, i don't begrudge edward settling down and becoming a Rich Society Man. dude deserves to live comfortably with his loving family. he has every right to dote on his wife and children, and leave behind the hardships of being a pirate. but i think "fightning against deeply-ingrained cultural norms/expectations is a long and bloody struggle, and after losing so many people he cared so deeply about, i think it's understandable that edward wouldn't want to continue that fight alone (and also adewale is still fighting the good fight) (do NOT @ me about ac rogue I Pretend I Do Not See It)" and "i don't love the way edward sidelined his daughter into societally-expected gender roles she did not want; it makes me think that he did not continue drinking his Respect Women Juice as much as i thought he did/wanted him to" are two opinions that can coexist.

Favorite relationship

i don't know that i ship edward romantically with anyone, actually. i thought he and caroline were cute in the beginning, but it's hard to want to ship them knowing that she leaves him eventually. and ofc there'd edward/tessa in ac forsaken, and we know they were very happy together and that he loved her so so much. but we don't see that relationship except through haytham's eyes.

as for non-romantic relationships, i already talked at length above about his relationships with adewale and the other pirates and kidd, and i'll just leave it at that. i'm also vaguely aware that edward's got some upcoming scenes with anne bonny, but i'm not at that point in the game yet so i don't have much to say about the two of them. so far i've only seen them say a few lines to each other at the nassau tavern.

Favorite headcanon

kassandra absolutely rubbed shoulders with edward at some point during his time in the caribbean; i like to think that she needed to lie low for some reason (maybe she was with the assassins idk) and joined his crew. i just need my best stabby gal and my second-favorite stabby dude to be pals!

finally, this isn't a headcanon per se but it is obligatory that any time i talk about kenways i yell for a bit about the fact that EDWARD WOULD HAVE LOVED CONNOR SO SO SO MUCH AND I'M FOREVER DEVASTATED THAT HE NEVER GOT TO MEET HIM. at the same time, if edward hadn't been murdered and haytham not been indoctrinated into the templars the way he had, i'm not sure connor would even have existed. and in a way i'm glad that edward wasn't around to see how broken and cynical and depressed haytham became, because i think that would have absolutely broken his heart.

send me a character!

[ddaenggtan]

black irises in the sunshine | kth

anger is everything. other gods tease you for the short fuse, but it comes with the territory. people have called you stupid, have called you dumb, oafish, useless, incompetent, insolent, rude, arrogant. all of it. insults and mockery flung at you, but even your skin isn’t thick enough to deal with constant abuse. it’s the exact reason you keep going to the underground, knuckles bloody and bruised, fighting anyone that dared enter the cage. it’s the reason you go to the clubs, surround yourself with mortals and their writhing bodies. it’s there that you see him the first time, voice husky as it rolls through the room. it’s there you find someone who treats you differently than the rest. you just never expected him to be one of the muses. | monsters and gods pt 3 (masterlist)

pairing | taehyung x reader

genre/warnings | greek god au, calliope!taehyung, ares!reader, theres a lot of violence and it does get descriptive so be aware of that, none of the main characters other than ares get hurt and its not uncalled for or anything in a narrative sense, so just be aware of that; there are mentions of other idols, but if you can guess them you get a cookie because they are Vague; suuuuper bisexual Ares, Ares Can Step On Me, like I am SO gay for her it isn’t funny; explicit smut ft: cunnilingus, taeHUNG bc hes got MASSIVE SCHLONG,  some body worship kind of and then just....regular worship? like? idk how to explain that? lots of praise and lots or orgasms

word count | 14k | cross posted to ao3

a/n | HOOOOOOO this has been sitting in my google docs for literal months waiting for an ending and i decided to try to get it out for tae's birthday bUT that didn't work because i have a Job and shit so YEET I GUESS HAPPY FUCKIN NEW YEAR??? LIKE??? YEEEEEEEEEEEEE this fic is very near to me because Ares is my sweet sad angry babie and i love her, and i love tae and i love suho and i love the muses and i just........lOVE this fic like i think this is currently my favorite of the mag series so!! i hope yall also enjoy it!!!! yall are welcome to send me messages about this even tho I'm terrible at replying to them in a timely manner!! thanks to everyone who helped me with this, and everyone who has expressed interest in it, and everyone who has ever read anything of mine, because you're genuinely the best people ever, and this is literally a gift to y'all because you deserve it. 

Fuck, that was too hard .

The guy across from you goes flying, hitting the chain link wall of the cage harder than you intended. Every nerve ending in your body is on fire, and even holding back, you've got a better buzz than even the best nectar can give. Your blood sings as the guy gets back up, and you almost wish you could remember his name, because he's put up a hell of a fight. For a mortal, anyway. 

He charges at you again, and time slows as your vision tunnels. You can see the feint as he decides on it, how he hesitates in bringing his left up. You wait, watching him get closer and closer. You start to dart to your left, letting him think he's got you, before you side-step and dart to your right instead. His punch goes wide as you steady your balance and move. The top of your foot connects with his ribcage and the resulting crack of bone is lost amid the cheers and yells of the audience. 

Your opponent steps back and you're proud of the way he doesn't show the pain. He doesn't wince, doesn't move to touch the spot you hit, just tightens his stance and clenches his jaw. It's only you that notices the hitch in his breath, the way he flinches with every inhale. Your eyes narrow at that, zeroing in on the rib. You'd meant to just crack it, had been holding back most of your strength to keep from hurting him too seriously, but as he steps forward, you can see the way he grits his teeth against the pain. 

The fight leaves you immediately, like a bucket of cold water straight to the chest, and you drop your hands. 

"Yield." He just stares at you, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Yield to me, and then go to the doctor."

"I'm not gonna yield," He says. He spits a mouthful of blood out onto the floor. "I'm not weak."

"Seriously, dude," You insist. "You're not gonna win this, and I don't want to hurt you more." 

His scoff has you seeing red. "As if a princess like you could hurt me."

Your fist connects with his face before either of you registers that you've moved. There's a voice in the back of your head reminding you that he's just mortal, he can't take the same kind of beating you can, but it's lost in the haze of fury. The next thing you know, the ref is dragging you away and slamming you into the cage wall. Your opponent is being dragged out - you still don't know his name - and he looks beaten senseless. Victory rolls through you accompanied by a sick satisfaction at the way his blood looks decorating the canvas beneath your feet. 

It lasts for less than an hour. It's always like this; the thrill of the fight, the burn of success, it's gone faster than you can blink. It's what drives you to keep fighting, to keep going to match after match, just to seek out the under-the-table stuff afterwards. It's never enough, not anymore. Back in the old days, they'd let you fight anything. Bears, bulls, lions, giants, anything they could get a noose around long enough to point it at a colosseum. That was a long time ago, though, before all the rights movements happened. You won't lie: you miss fighting beasts like that. The sheer power and strength they have, the survival instinct that makes them such fierce competitors, it's so much better than the rules and regulations of the mortal world now. Fights have gotten dull, rehearsed, more like a performance or a show than an actual fight. People make more money losing than they do winning and it's made the world boring. 

You flex your hand as you open the door to your favorite bar. Something caught it at some point in the last fight, a cheekbone or a tooth, and it stings a little. Doesn't hurt, not exactly, not for a goddess, but it did enough that you feel it at all, which means it couldn't have been anything but torture for the guy on the other end. The bartender waves at you and gets your usual ready as you sit, and you idly wonder if Busted Rib Guy will be okay. It looked painful, for a human, and you'd tried to hold back, but…

Well, you weren't really responsible for what happened to condescending little fucks, were you?

You sip the bourbon, enjoying the burn as it goes down. The lights are dim, tonight. You're glad. You don't want to deal with people looking at you, men coming over to talk to you, trying to advise you on how to properly bandage your knuckles or how to avoid the bruise on your cheek next time. If you had wanted to avoid it, you would have. You'd intended it to hurt worse, honestly, but that first guy'd had a weaker right hook than you expected. 

You look around, wondering if anyone here would provide a decent distraction for the night. There's a pretty brunette in the corner with carefully crafted braids, and as your eyes travel, you imagine what's hiding beneath the silk and leather. You're pulled from the thought by the sound of music, and you curse under your breath. You forgot that it's an open mic night and you'd meant to go to the bar across town instead. Irritation colors your vision; every open mic night is awful, full of lofty poets talking about their trauma and wannabe Taylor Swifts thinking they're on the same level as Sappho. Ah, now that was a girl with a set of pipes. You miss her, wonder what she would say to the butchering of whatever song you're about to hear.

The voice that comes isn't what you expect. It's smooth and deep. The world turns to velvet around you as the voice wanders from one speaker to another, creating a mesmerizing multi-dimensional effect despite the way the singer doesn't ever leave the stage. You turn, knuckles white around your bourbon glass; he's utterly magnetic, every eye in the room trained on him as he purrs into the vintage mic. Long fingers are wrapped around the scuffed metal, decorated with jewels that glitter in the dim light of the bar. You can smell the lingering cigarette smoke from the guy beside you and the Jäger from the girl two stools down and for once, you don't even care. He's captivating, voice travelling between speakers in the bar and coming from everywhere and nowhere at once. 

Your eyes don't leave him, and you wonder if you can memorize the way the blond waves fall against his forehead if you stare long enough. 

The red seeps away from you, slinking back into the corners of your mind, settling once more into a low thrum under your skin. It fades into the background of this man's voice, the charisma that rolls off him in waves as he pulls the mic in close just to push it to the side with a teasing smirk. It settles something in your chest that hasn't been calm since the fight in Athens so long ago. 

The music fades out sooner than you'd like, and he gives a slight bow before wandering into the crowd. You do your best to follow him, but the gold of his hair disappears almost immediately, lost in the throng of people around the stage waiting to speak to him. You turn back around, downing the next bit of bourbon that Suho pours you. 

"I know," He says with a grin. You cock a brow at him, not having said anything he could agree with. "He's good. That's what you were thinking, right? He's why we're so packed on open mics. Got the audio and lighting guy whipped, so he's got all these special effects, too. Drives people crazy.”

"He's alright," You mutter. You toss a few bills down on the bartop and step back. Suho gives you a courteous nod as you leave. The bouncer gives you a dirty look when he spots the lit cigarette between your lips, but he knows better than to try to tell you otherwise. You've taught him better. 

You lean back against the brick wall of the alley and take a drag. The warm smoke fills your lungs and you close your eyes. It's a different kind of burn than you're used to, a distraction from the crawling sensation that drives you to fight. It's calmer, more controlled. Feels like the smoke from Hestia's fires. Feels like home. 

"Never expected to see you here," A voice calls out. It's deep and startling in the darkness, but you don't jump. You just open your eyes, exhale, and look to where it came from. 

The singer stands before you in the same undone white button up and black tee he performed in. He doesn't have a cig, doesn't seem to have much of any reason to be outside. He moves almost lazily, as if he doesn't even need to, just wants to, and when his gaze flicks up to meet yours, your vision fills just for a breath with every opponent you've ever faced lying at your feet. 

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" The words slip from your tongue before you can stop them. It's not his fault, the voice in your head says, he didn't mean it that way, but still, your blood is thrumming now that he's here and you want to know what he's talking about. Want to know why he thinks you wouldn't be here when there's attractive people and good bourbon and you've never seen this man before in your life. Want to know why he already seems to think you aren't civilized enough to be at a bar, why he spoke but all you heard was Zeus' voice in your memories.

"Exactly what I said. Should I be clearer?"

"Yeah, probably," you spit. Yet another person that assumes you're stupid, that you don't understand basic languages, as if you haven't been speaking them since the ancient times. As if you couldn't speak circles around him if you wanted. "Unless you want your teeth on the fucking ground."

"Good to know the stories are true." He tsks and you're filled with a strange sense of disappointment and fury, both at him and yourself. Your vision turns red at the edges and the cigarette between your fingers is crushed in your grip. He pays no mind to it, just saunters past with a lazy, swaying gait that draws your eyes to his hips and then down the long leather-clad legs. "See you around, Ares."

"That's not my fucking name," You yell after him. He doesn't respond when you shout your actual name, the one you chose, on your own, as a middle finger to the Olympians. "Get it right next time, dickwad."

He turns the corner of the alley and the streetlight catches his face just enough for you to see the smirk he wears. For once in your life, you're torn; you want to smash his face in, yes, because how dare this random guy speak to you like that when you could kill him with one finger to the right pressure point. You also find your skin's hotter than usual, stretched too thin over your bones, and you want him to run his hands over you until it feels right again.

Until it feels like it did when he was singing. 

How did he know my title?

The thought comes unbidden, days later, with the desperate hit of a palm against your shoulder. You've got the woman in a headlock, patiently waiting for her to pass out completely so the fight can be called, and your mind is wandering. 

How did the singer know who you are? You hadn't thought anything of it at the time, distracted by fury and frustration, but with time comes a special kind of clarity. You've never seen him before, not that you know anyway, yet he didn't hesitate to call you Ares. The only ones who know of your kind are your kind, but you haven't seen any of your siblings among mortals in a long time. You thought you knew the other gods and goddesses, but maybe not. It has been a while since you stepped foot in the golden city.

The woman in your grip goes slack and you release her. You're still lost in thought as the ref calls the match and leads you out of the makeshift ring. The cheers of the audience are background noise at this point, akin to static or the buzz of electricity, and you pay them no mind as you head to collect your winnings. You didn't even get any kind of buzz from success this time, too immersed in the way the singer walked and talked and looked. The image of his smirk is burned into your retinas. 

"Yeah, you didn't hear? He just got out of the hospital. They had to keep him overnight because they thought he might puncture a lung. I heard that if it had been a little worse, they would've had to wire his jaw shut." You stop, fingers brushing over the stack of bills you don't even remember being handed. You look up, making eye contact with the guy whispering nearby. Your suspicions are confirmed when his friend smacks his arm and juts his chin in your direction before they both disappear into the crowd. 

You shove your way outside, frustration creeping through you and coloring your vision. You manage to keep it contained long enough for you to make it to the alley behind the warehouse, but it explodes from you in a rush of thrown dumpsters and sheet metal. 

Fuck , you never meant to hurt him like that. You told him, you fucking told him to yield, it isn't your fault he didn't listen. It's not your fault that he went and insulted you, acted like he was better than you just by virtue of being a dude, as if you weren't worshipped in the old days for the power you had and the blessings you could give. You'd held back, through all of it, you'd told him to yield, and he insulted you. It wasn't your fault. 

You slide to the ground, running a shaking hand through your hair. It isn't your fault , you repeat. You close your eyes and take deep breaths, the way Hestia taught you, willing the fury to dissipate. It's like a fire in your veins, burning and bubbling your skin until you can't resist anymore. You take another breath. It isn't your fault. You tried. You offered an out. It isn't your fault. Fuck, what was his name? 

With a growl that quickly morphs into a scream, you kick the dumpster once more before stalking off into the darkness. You need a fucking drink and you're gonna find a distraction in someone else if it's the last thing you do. 

The club is packed when you get there; you're not usually a fan of clubs like this, too full of people who are too friendly, but they're perfect for nights like tonight. You don't even need to wait in line, just slip the bouncer a 50 as you pass, and the bartenders are quick to spot you. You're pretty notorious in the city for over-paying, which means you're knocking back bourbon before you have a chance to ask for it. There are people everywhere, pressed up against both sides of you while the bass thrums in your throat, and it takes you longer than you're proud of to realize why. 

There's a band playing, apparently. They're not bad; the vocalist isn't anything like the singer from Suho's, but it doesn't make you want to tear your ears off, so you consider it a success. 

You're dancing before you remember deciding to. Everything's a blur when you get the itch in your bones, the need to make someone bleed. To feel something that isn't rage or condescension. People are even closer here on the dance floor, suffocating in their proximity, but there's a woman grinding her ass into you, and it sparks the dying fire in your gut. The beat of the music drowns your own heart, and it's all flashing lights and heat and a body pressed against yours that is all too willing.

She follows when you go back to the bar for another drink, and giggles when you lick salt from her wrist before downing tequila. Her hands are wrapped in the leather of your jacket as she kisses you, your own resting lightly on her hips. She laughs against your lips and says something you don't hear before ordering another drink. Something makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

You take the brief reprieve to look around the club, searching for whatever it is that has you on alert. You find him on the upper level of the club, leaned over the balcony with a drink in hand. You can't make out his expression, exactly; it's too far away and too guarded. But you'd know him anywhere now. The singer knocks back whatever's in his glass, eyes never leaving yours. You don't know why he's here, if he comes here often or if the Fates are having a laugh at your expense, but you do know you want to make the most of it.

The girl is back, pressing a heated kiss to your lips and drawing your attention from him. You return it, nipping at her lips and getting a small gasp in return. You smirk and bite your way down her neck. She's breathy in your ear, hitched moans lost in the beat of the music, but you barely hear her as you suck bruises into the skin of her neck. He's still watching you. His drink is gone and he's gripping the bannister of the balcony, rings glinting in the light. You wonder if the cool metal could soothe the burn in your bones. You want to know if he can bring that calmness from before back, if he can soothe the frenzy in your mind with his hands the way he can with his voice. Just imagining it has you soaking through to your jeans.

The girl makes a particularly loud noise in your ear and you're brought out of your thoughts. As if he can sense it, the singer straightens. He gives you one last look before disappearing back into the crowd, and you wonder if you're imagining the disdain in it. You draw back from the girl's neck, about to tell her to find her friends when she slides her hands in your hair and tugs.

The burn in your blood is back, now, and you hope this girl is prepared for what awaits her.

"You're here early," Suho says when he spots you in the nearly empty bar the next night. He's not wrong, either; you skipped the fights tonight completely. There was no buzz last time, no relief, and you have no reason to believe there would be tonight. Not with the way the singer captivates your thoughts. 

Besides, you have enough money leftover from the previous few to last a couple days.

"What, did you decide not to kick someone's ass before getting wasted?" Suho doesn't wither at the look you give him, just pours you a couple fingers of bourbon and slides the glass over. "Or did they just stop letting you in completely?"

"I might change my mind if you don't shut up," You tell him. There's no real heat behind it. You've known Suho for years now, been coming to his bar for so long it almost feels like home. You're almost friends at this point. 

It helps that he knows when to bite his tongue so he doesn't get his teeth knocked out.

"Seriously though, I don't think I've ever seen you here this early. Especially not on mic nights." You're very careful in your lack of a reaction to his words. You'd seen the workers setting up for it when you came in, and even if you hadn't, you know when mic night is. You've spent enough time avoiding it.

"Does he sing every time?" You ask in lieu of an explanation. You don't look away from the amber liquid in your glass, letting the silence hang as the bartender does his best to follow your thought process. 

"Taehyung? Most weeks, yeah. It's been a nice change from the usual drunken karaoke. He goes around to some of the other places in town, too. Apparently he just likes to sing." 

"Taehyung," You repeat. The name rolls from your tongue a bit awkwardly. It's more than you expected, somehow, but you can't place exactly how . Just...more. "Is he always that good?"

"Oh, yeah. We have regulars now for mic night because of him. He's got a whole fan club and everything."

"Hm." You drain the rest of your bourbon and Suho refills it. He leaves you in peace then, serving some others that appear at the bar. 

The place fills faster than you can blink. That's what it feels like, anyway. It's like one moment there's you and a handful of other people scattered around, and now you're being jostled between some dude a million feet tall that definitely doesn't look old enough to be here and a girl with her tits up to her throat and surrounded by a cloud of perfume so thick that it starts a migraine behind your eyes almost instantly. She flirts with Suho a little, likely trying to score free drinks, and you roll your eyes. She pouts at him when he gives her the total, batting eyelashes that go on for miles, and for once, you wish Suho would just give in and comp the drinks. 

"I'll pay for them," You say. She was definitely saying something, maybe you should have been paying attention to it, but fuck , this migraine is only getting worse the longer she stands there. "I'll pay for your drinks."

"Oh, thanks," She says. Her smile is hesitant, and quickly turns apologetic as she takes in the boots and the ripped jeans and the leather jacket. "Um, I'm not...I don't, uh…"

"Do I look like I want to fuck you, sweetie?" She looks a little affronted and a laugh escapes you. You lean closer, letting your breath ghost over her cheek as you speak in her ear to be heard better. "If I wanted to fuck you senseless, you'd know it. And I can guarantee you it would be a hell of a lot better than the watered down rat piss this guy's giving you." 

When you lean back, her face is flushed and she's stammering. You smirk and hand her the drinks she'd ordered. 

"Too bad you’re not, you don’t, huh?" You tell her. The patronizing tone isn't lost on her, nor is your mockery of her earlier words, and she shuts her mouth with an audible click before strutting off. Suho glares at you as he pours more bourbon.

"Can you please try not to run off my patrons?" He mutters. "Some of us actually need money to live."

"Some of us would like decently timed refills and to not choke on perfume," You quip. "And better bourbon, for that matter." He hisses something about what he's giving you being top quality but you tune him out, throwing one leg over the stool Perfume Girl vacated. You'd like to keep just a little bit of personal space. 

Across the bar, you catch a brief glimpse of the girl from the night before and you wince. Her neck is thoroughly bruised, and you catch a peek of bruises and scratches on her back as she shrugs her jacket on. You didn’t mean to be so rough with her, even if she had been into it; you’re usually pretty good about remembering that the mortals are just that - mortal - and as such have to be handled delicately. They’re so fragile, it feels like they could break with a strong wind. Guilt settles in your gut and turns the bourbon in your glass to cough syrup. You’ve half a mind to just leave before she sees you, are about to turn and do exactly that, but the speakers screech to life and the deafening feedback from the mic keeps you glued to your seat. 

The crowd quiets even as the excitement ramps up, all talk silencing but for the occasional hushed whispers here and there. The first few notes of the song echo through the speakers, and a spotlight appears on him. 

He looks different this time, his hair dyed a vibrant blue that matches the glinting jewels in his ears and on his hands. He's an absolute vision and you wonder how Aphrodite has allowed him to live so long when he's so beautiful. His voice hangs in the air and calms you, the same settling in your chest as last time, the same freedom from the burn in your veins. It's addictive. 

The song doesn't last nearly as long as you want it to but the stillness inside you lingers long after he's done caressing the microphone. You place a few bills down for Suho and light up a cigarette as you head outside, ignoring the dirty looks from other patrons as you do. You're on a mission, the thrum of bloodlust returning with every second that passes, and you can't even be sure if he's still around or if he's wandered off already. 

You stand in the alley for what feels like hours, turning at every sound and smoking cig after cig just so you have something to do. You've almost decided to say fuck it when footsteps sound from the back of the bar, coming closer to you. 

His blue hair is visible even from the other end of the small alley, a giveaway similar to the light at the end of your cigarette and the smoke you blow into the air. There's no way he hasn't seen you, you think, you're making no effort to hide or be sneaky, and yet he's continuing forward as if he doesn't see you at all, eyes focused on a phone in his hand. You wait until he's just a few steps away before speaking.

"How do you know my title?" You ask him. He stops as if he'd always meant to and doesn't even bother to glance up at you or respond. The edges of your vision turn scarlet at the blatant disregard and you're speaking before you can even process the words. "I asked you a fucking question, pretty boy, you're gonna answer me. Unless you want that precious mouth bloodied up."

"And you wonder how I know who you are," He drawls, still not bothering to spare a glance at you. A scowl grows over your face at his sarcastic tone. "If you're going to hit me just get it over with. Otherwise, I have places to be."

He stands, waiting and expectant, but you don't move. He's humming, quiet and to himself like he doesn't even realize he's doing it, and the red seeps away from your mind until you're left clear-headed once more. You sigh, long and heavy, and crush your cigarette into your denim-covered thigh to put it out. It tickles. 

"I'm not going to hit you," You tell him eventually. "I just wanna know how you know me. And how you do it."

He cocks a brow at that, finally looking up from the phone in his hand to level dark eyes on yours. "Do what? Sing?"

"No." You swallow around the sudden lump in your throat. The words are harder to find than you thought they'd be, lost in the depths of his gaze, in the clarity you're so unaccustomed to, in the way you feel like you can breathe for the first time in days. "I don't care how you sing, that's not important, it's the...fuck, you know what, never mind, it doesn't fucking matter." You push off the wall and step past him to head towards where the streetlight gleams off the bar windows. 

"Tell me." The command has you stopping in your tracks, and you're again flooded with just wanting to know how. How he clears the haze, how he stops you, how he makes you feel real. You turn, hands stuffed into the back pockets of your jeans. "How I do what?"

It takes you several long breaths before you can answer, and you aren't even sure he can hear you over the sounds of people leaving the bar, and you find yourself disappearing into the crowd without waiting for a response. Your own words are reverberating in your skull, getting louder with each step you take, and you wish you could just turn it off . 

"How you make me feel like a person again."

You avoid the bar for a few weeks, going hours away from your usual area to an unfamiliar hole in the wall just to make sure you don’t see him. You’re more deadly than usual in your fights, victories coming quicker, injuries piling up along with the guilt, but you can’t bring yourself to return. It’s unnerving, the way everything goes quiet around him, the way you can think, but the worst is the way you can feel. Everything’s calm and steady and blue, and it only makes it easier for the regret and the guilt and the anxiety to curl around your throat and squeeze until you can’t breathe, to clog in your throat while the laughter of your siblings echoes in your ears, and you...can’t. You can’t do that, you can’t let it win, you can’t let them win, they can’t know that you’re everything they think you are and worse. 

You can’t let yourself drown in that, and yet you find yourself back at Suho’s, lost among the crowd while Taehyung’s voice surrounds you. The ache in your bones fades away, chased by the thrum of the fight that still lingers despite the hours that have passed since you felt your opponent’s femur break under your palm and their screams echoed in your ears. Everything is calm again, and the guilt nearly drowns you.

He hasn’t even finished singing before you’re outside, chest heaving as you gasp against the weight on your chest. You broke someone’s femur , and did you even really need to? The fight itself is a blur even now, snapshots playing through your mind like a montage. The way they’d darted at you first, how their foot felt connecting with the backs of your knees, the determination in their eyes when you went down, the jolt of shock as your hands wrapped around their leg, the dull throb of a barrage of hits against your waist as you pulled them down as well and bloodied their face, the blood-curdling scream as you snapped the bone like a pretzel stick.

Your breath comes faster in your lungs, forced out by the growing guilt that lodges there in its place. Images swirl in your mind, chased by a never-ending stream of thought and regret that you should be used to by now. Fuck, you didn’t need to, and you still did it; you lost control, you fucking hurt them, and for what? A couple hundred? Was it even worth it? Who knew when they’d be back into shape to fight, what if they needed the money? They weren’t even half-bad. They got you down, at least, shouldn’t you have gone easy on them? You don’t even remember their face, can’t remember what the announcer said their name was, words drowned out by the buzz under your skin.

Metal crumples under your grip and you spare a half-second to mourn Suho’s dumpster before you slam your knuckles against it. It tingles, not even real pain, and you don’t hesitate to repeat it. By the time the metal is disfigured completely, a distorted mess of paint and steel and garbage, you still aren’t in pain, but there’s a sheen of gold across your knuckles and you feel less like you’re drowning and more like you’re suffocating. The usual. You can handle that. You think. 

You don’t even realize that you’ve slid down to the ground beside the dumpster until the back door of the bar opens and footsteps echo through the alley. You wish you knew how long you’ve been here, how long you’ve sat among empty bottles and stale beer and broken glass, but you can’t be sure. The brief reprieve brought by Taehyung’s voice is long gone, chased away by the guilt and rage that still sits heavy in your chest. You hope you’re not noticeable here, that whoever’s left will just pass by and leave you to piece yourself back together on your own. 

Voices tell you that it isn’t likely, the deep baritone of one too familiar to ignore. The other is new, but you’re familiar with the tone, the inflection, the intent behind it. You've heard it before, in crowded clubs as a guy pushes too close to some girl who can barely stand, in a coffeeshop when a random customer can't take a fucking hint, at the local campus when some professor insists that there could be maybe one thing her student could do to pass. It makes everything in you curdle, the bourbon from earlier threatening to work its way back up; it screams predator , and you absolutely refuse to let anyone fucking talk to someone like that, like they have some right to whatever it is they want. 

You refuse to let someone talk to him that way. 

"Seriously, Kratos, didn't I tell you to leave me alone? Did Aphrodite not teach you your lesson last time you harassed someone?" Taehyung's voice brings a calm that's an unsettling match to the anger washing over you. You're used to the red at the corners of your vision, the tint to everything you see, but you aren ' t used to the way it all turns purple and focused and clear . 

There's no haze this time, there's no abrupt shift of you moving before you know you've done it. You can feel the glass crunching under your boots with every step you take, can feel the way the air has a chill that creeps down into your lungs with every breath, can almost taste the apprehension that's rolling off of Taehyung despite his relaxed stance. The only thing that gives him away is the tense set of his jaw and the mix of relief and fear when his eyes land on you. 

"I'm pretty sure he said no, Kratos." The god turns at your voice and you watch the realization wash over him as he realizes what - who - you are. 

"Been a while since anyone's seen you, Ares." He scoffs a little, not moving from where he has Taehyung caged against the wall of the bar, one hand pressed firmly into the brick. He's entirely too close, and you have no doubt that the stench of him permeates the very oxygen around them. 

"Been busy. Doesn't change the fact that the man said no. Take the loss, walk away." Kratos' eyes narrow at your words and he steps away, but only to move closer to you. 

"Why do you care so much? You've never been one to care about any of us before." Kratos inches closer and the hyper-focus that Taehyung's voice causes starts to melt away with every twitch of your fingers. You've never liked Kratos, all brute strength with no respect for the challenge, no appreciation of the fight, too focused on sheer power and exhilaration. He is the worst of the worst of the worst of your kind, of all the war-focused gods. Every bit of yourself you hate is every piece that Kratos loves about himself. 

"I care that you don't seem to be able to understand when someone doesn't want to be around you, you absolute piece of filth. Taehyung had a point though, I really thought the whole thing with Aphrodite would've taught you how to back off. Or should I pull the video out, I think I still have it saved for when I need a good laugh." Malice and fury twitch across the other god's face and you absolute revel in it. You can feel his anger prickling across you, like needles in your very pores, and you ache for it. It's been so long since you last had a good fight, a real challenge where you didn't need to hold back at all. 

Too long since you fought a god like yourself.

"You're testing my patience, cousin," Kratos spits. It's a little generous to call the two of you cousins - you're several times removed, at best, and potentially closer than that with your family's warped history - but you let him have it. It might make him feel better. "I'm having a conversation, that's all. And if said conversation means that we end up back at my place, then, well, can anyone really blame me for what might happen to this pretty little m-"

Your fist connects with his jaw immediately and the red floods you for the few seconds it takes to register Taehyung calling your name. The calm struggles for a second, warring with the rage, but it wins out eventually. The singer's talking, but you can't make out any actual words. You're too focused on Kratos, the way he's righting and readying himself for a brawl. There's a fire in his eyes that matches the one in yours and everything in you feels alive for the first time in too long. 

This fight is different than your usual ones. There's no blur, no warped sense of time that usually comes with the adrenaline. You're focused and controlled in a way you haven't had to be for centuries, careful and precise and deliberate with every swing and every kick. The red seeps back in slowly and every time you think you're about to lose it, you hear Taehyung, still pressed against the wall of the bar. 

Kratos lunges at you for what has to be the tenth time, clearly trying his best to knock you to the ground - he succeeded, once; you let yourself get distracted, too caught up in thoughts, but it didn't last long - and you sidestep him just in time for him to ram into the ruined dumpster instead. He looks pissed when he turns back around and something in you sings at the sight. He makes for you again and you dodge again, only to be dragged back towards him by the grip he has on your jacket. Fuck, should've taken that off , whatever, he's too close.

Pain explodes in your side and you're fairly sure he's busted part of your rib, but you just slide your arms out of the sleeves and twist to plant your knee straight into his gut and then slam your heel down onto his much-less-safe toes, and then back up to knee him in the groin. It's nowhere near enough to take him out, but his nose is oozing golden ichor and he groans with every shift of his weight, and you've got him pinned against the wall with your forearm pressing hard into his windpipe. 

"Now, you're gonna listen to me you steaming pile of dog shit," You hiss. "When someone tells you no, it's not a fucking negotiation. It means you fucking leave and find someone with loose enough morals or enough internalized self-hatred that they're willing to subject themselves to your absolutely pitiful fucking excuse of an existence for the thirty-two seconds it'll take for you to get off." 

Kratos doesn't respond, just sneers and spits blood at you. It's a miracle you don't actually try to rip his head from his body, because the thought crosses your mind for a second too long. Instead, you just press harder against his windpipe and enjoy the choked gasp that it draws. 

"You don't stalk people either, the way you did with 'Dite. Don't you know it's better to let them come to you sometimes?" You tsk, ignoring the way he claws uselessly at your arm. Gods may not need to breathe, that's a fact, but they feel pain, and there is no way this isn't absolutely excruciating for him when even you can feel the small bones in his neck cracking and breaking. "And if I hear even a whisper of you pulling shit like this again, then I'm gonna find you, you pigshit. And when I do, I won't hold back even the slightest, and do you know what comes after that?" 

His eyes are full of fear now, and only grow wide with terror as you lean in close enough that he can feel your lips against his ear as you whisper. 

"You are going to wish that you could die." 

When you do release him, he disappears instantly, with a cloud of acrid grey-green smoke curling around your ichor-spattered boots. He's only been gone a second when you slump, the adrenaline fading as quick as Kratos had left. Your side is throbbing now, your knuckles are bruised and broken and gold, there's a pain in your leg that you aren't sure what's causing, your head is screaming even through the high of the fight, your face stings in the crisp-cool air. Every breath makes the pain worse so you stop breathing. The brick wall of the bar is rough against your palms, but it's the only thing around that can keep you upright, so you'll take it. 

"Well," a voice drawls from your left. You'd jump if you had anything left in you, but every ounce of energy is gone, spent teaching Kratos what Aretha Franklin meant when she sang about respect - and really, there was another fantastic singer, you really should visit her sometime soon - so instead your head lolls to the side. You aren't sure what it is that jolts through you when your eyes land on Taehyung, fingers curled carefully around the collar of-

Your jacket. That's your leather jacket. You barely remembers shrugging out of it, but you're glad it's not on the ground, trampled and covered in the gold spatters that decorate the rest of your body. 

"Well?" You echo, wincing at the pain it causes. You've definitely got a busted lip, that's for sure from the way it feels different and swollen, and you're pretty sure there's a head wound, too, because you don't remember there being a golden halo around Taehyung before the fight. 

"Well," He repeats, slinging the jacket - your jacket - over a shoulder. "You should get that looked at." He starts walking, making his way to the entrance of the alleyway. He gets halfway there before he stops and turns and cocks a brow. "Are you coming, or do I get to keep this?" Your jacket waves a little, as if he's wiggling it, and it makes you feel like a stray dog being lured off with treats. 

You're never going to tell anyone that it works.

Taehyung's place is as nondescript as the car he parks outside. It's a plain apartment building on the outside - looks like maybe it was a hotel back in the 1930s, based on the outdated carpeting in the lobby and the grate on the elevator he steps into. Even the hallway is plain and unassuming as he leads you to the end and uses an old, tarnished brass key on an older, more tarnished brass knob. You aren't sure what you expected, you can't even begin to guess what Taehyung is like outside of the dirty alley or the stage where he sings, can't fathom what kind of decor he could possibly have. 

What you step into isn't anything you could have guessed. It looks like he has the entire rest of the floor to himself based on what you can see, but there's also a spiral staircase tucked into a corner, bookshelves built in under each step that are filled to the brim, and a fireman's pole in another corner, so there's at least one more level above this, but something tells you both the staircase and the pole continue past that. There's artwork everywhere, pieces you recognize and pieces you don't, several van Goghs and a couple from Matisse and you think in the corner you spot an actual fucking da Vinci sketch that's supposed to be somewhere in Europe. There's a gramophone beside a top-of-the-line sound system, an entire wall that's just a record collection, books upon books, framed bits of poetry - including an actual hand-written rupi kaur, a signed Maya Angelou print, and a signed cover of ain't i a woman by bell hooks that you would die to know how Taehyung got his hands on. It's a museum's wet dream and yet it retains a lived in atmosphere. There are mugs left on tables, blankets strewn about as if someone just got up from a nap, an easel propped up by a far window with what looks like an impressionist painting of the cityscape, books tossed down half-read with receipts and coupons and candy wrappers and everything but a bookmark tucked between the pages. 

It feels like a home and it makes your heart flutter in your chest at the same time that something in your stomach shrivels up into itself. 

Taehyung walks like he’s meant to be followed, so follow you do. You spy another man - older, you think, but it’s hard to tell, really - sprawled across a couch, blanket splayed across his lap as he watches some kind of dance show on a flatscreen hung above a warm and roaring fireplace, a couple of girls in what looks to be the kitchen, one sitting on the counter while the other stands between her legs and pretends not to notice the former stealing strawberries from her bowl as she taps at her tablet, and there are footsteps creaking above you, hidden behind walls even as Taehyung leads you up the staircase. They all look up when you pass, but only the man gives you a second glance; his eyes are a weight on your back that doesn’t leave until you’re upstairs and following Taehyung into a large, rather nice bathroom. 

It’s vintage as well, but it’s spacious and well-kept, like the rest of the place. Taehyung pats the marble counter by the sink and you bite your tongue against the urge to tell him you aren’t a dog. You don’t move though, instead watching him as he lays your jacket across a brass bar on the wall and then digs around in a cabinet for a minute or two. When he straightens up, he’s got a somewhat dusty off-white box in his hands, and he frowns. 

“Up,” He says. “I need to look at your ankle.” 

You don’t move, but you can tell he doesn’t miss the twitch of your nose at the thought of being commanded like an animal. Like someone who can’t understand. Like-

He sighs. 

“Please, will you sit on the counter, so I can look at your ankle?” You huff, but you do as he says. 

He doesn’t speak as he works, completely silent except for the odd command - “Roll it for me...alright, now flex that...deep breath...stop fidgeting or I’ll only make it worse…” - and the occasional hum under his breath. It seems to be second nature, like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, and it endears you more than you’d like. His touch is gentle but firm as he lightly squeezes your ankle and wraps it, lifts your pant leg to rub some kind of cream into a somewhat worrisome golden bruise forming on your calf, darts under your shirt to quickly and painlessly set your ribs before wrapping those as well. He doesn’t say anything at all until he’s almost finished with the cuts on your hands, golden ichor long gone and wounds already on their way to healing thanks to some sort of mist he spritzes on them. 

It only stings once, as he’s spraying something over some kind of cut on your thigh where Kratos ripped through the denim there without you noticing. You can’t stop the hiss as the pain hits, though you regret it when he glances up at you. 

“Sorry,” He mumbles under his breath as he dabs lightly at it with his long fingers. 

“It’s fine,” You tell him. “I’m used to it.” Your voice is rough, always, but softer than usual. You don’t know why. You can’t decide if you like it.

The entire time he works, you wait. For him to tell you it wasn’t necessary, that he can fight his own battles, that he’s not surprised a brute like yourself got into a fight, that you’re no more than what the rumours say you are. You’ve got a million different curses and insults ready to spit back at him when he finally speaks.

“Thank you,” is what comes. It shocks the words out of your mouth, and you actually look up from where you’ve been watching him methodically wipe gold away from a scrape on your forearm. His gaze is concentrated on the injury and his lips are pursed and you wish you could figure him out. 

He must take your silence for the confusion it is, because he continues. 

“I mean it,” He says. “I’m usually not someone that lets other people fight for me, but we both know that I couldn’t have taken Kratos. He’s too strong, and he was counting on that. Until you showed up.” You don’t respond. “Is there a reason you left before my set was done? Or why you were sitting in an alley beside what is possibly the most gnarled dumpster I’ve ever seen?”

You don’t answer him, instead focusing on the way his hands feel as they tilt your chin so he can look at the cuts and bruises and scrapes that decorate your face. You focus your gaze just past his shoulder, content to memorize the pattern of his gaudy vintage bathroom wallpaper, and he doesn't press for more. The distracted humming picks up again every time he stops talking, and eases the storm of guilt shame rage pain hurt grief loneliness in your chest. 

"I fight," you eventually say. Your voice is too loud in the quiet of the bathroom, shatters the silence like a sledgehammer, and you hate the way it trembles. Still, Taehyung doesn't look away from where he's carefully wiping gold from your skin, just cocks a brow, and it's as if a dam breaks in your throat. "Like, real fights. Actual competition, with rules and shit, and...sometimes the bad ones, because they tend to fight differently, it's a different kind of fight, y'know, and it's never really fair, because I'm...I'm me, but I hold back, just for fun, y'know, and it's, uh. It's alright usually, I go in, do my thing, I win, I go drink, and it all gets, I dunno, easier, maybe, for a while, like I can think right, but, um.”

You hesitate for a split second and force yourself to focus on the way the alcohol-soaked cotton tickles the cut on your head. 

“Sometimes it's not...sometimes I can't control it as well, the anger, and I kind of just lose it on people, and a while ago this guy, he almost needed his jaw wired shut, but he was kind of a prick anyway, I guess, so whatever, but, uh, today, I...there was this girl and she was doing really well, actually, y'know, managed to get me down to the mat, which is rare and pretty impressive, and I'm pretty proud of her for it now, but then, I just. I just kinda lost it, like, I just kept swinging, I couldn't stop, and then I just...I broke her leg, for no real reason, just because I wanted her to hurt, and I don't...I'm not sure why I even did it, because I'd already won, right, like what was the point of doing any more, it wasn't even helping at that point, y'know, it's not like the buzz kept up any longer because I broke this kid's leg, and I love the fights, they help clear my head for a second, but I never wanted to actually-"

You words stop short, like there are too many of them to say in too short a time, and it's then you realize Taehyung's hands are in his lap and he's looking at you fully. His expression isn't neutral anymore, it's not the carefully crafted mask of a performer, it's real and open and genuine and all you see there is pain . For you. Pain and understanding and compassion you never expected to find anywhere but the deepest corners of your soul. Looking at him looking at you like that makes you feel like you can breathe again.

"You never wanted to hurt anyone." His voice is rough, like maybe there's emotion clogging his throat as well, and you aren't sure what that does to you, but something in you jumps at the thought.

Tears mar your vision as you nod and you curse under your breath before wiping them away. He catches your quivering hand in his and just holds it for a second. His eyes don't leave yours and there are a thousand things you expect him to say but what he says is: 

"I believe you."

And that...it's more than you can take, and you break, right there on his bathroom counter, sobbing into his chest while he just rubs your back and hums and you remember the face of every person you've ever hurt and the look in their eyes as you left some of them for dead. 

You wake up the next morning curled up on the most comfortable chaise lounge in human history, sitting up and shoving the blanket off of you in a rush before you remember where you are, why you're there. A glance around tells you that you aren't alone; there's two guys bent over a table that you think might also be a tablet, conversing quietly and pointing every so often at whatever they're looking at, a girl balanced along the edge of the staircase holding a lyre - which, wow, you haven't seen a lyre in that good condition in a while - and strumming lightly along it before she frowns and shakes her head and restarts whatever melody she's playing, and the same guy sprawled over the couch with a blanket strewn haphazardly over him while he watches a different dance video on the flatscreen. He's the closest and you don't really want to talk to any of these people but you think you might have to because you aren't really sure how Taehyung got you here last night but you know it was quite a drive. You'd just mist over to the bar if you really wanted to, but your ribs hurt like a bitch still thanks to that fucker Kratos. Anything as intense as misting is out of the question for the time being.

The man on the chaise spares you a glance that feels longer than it should, full of a judgement you have no doubt you deserve and yet somehow fires your anger anyway. 

He rolls his eyes before you even say anything and waves a hand towards the kitchen. You snap your mouth closed and shoot him an irritated look, but you storm in that direction anyway. Healing is exhausting, and you want nothing more than some meat to tear into and a cold beer. 

When you get into the kitchen, however, Taehyung is standing there already, as if he’s been expecting you any minute. There’s a plate in front of him, full of food you barely recognize, and he slides it towards you. 

“Eat,” He says. You grit your teeth, unmoving, and he sighs again. “Please sit, and eat. You need the strength to heal properly.” 

You resist for a split second, but there’s a softness to him now. Something you can’t exactly put your finger on, but that you know is different , somehow, and it changes things. It makes you want to listen, to do as he asks, because he is asking . He’s not telling, he’s treating you like an animal. 

It’s a request, not a demand, and that makes all the difference. 

Taehyung is quiet while you eat. He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t watch to make sure you’re doing it, but you have no doubt he’s keeping an eye on you. It’s quiet, but not unbearably so; the air is broken by the sounds of the lyre and the television, as well as the soft chattering of the men at the table. It makes it comfortable, makes it soft in a way you’re unaccustomed to being, like the way people talk about lazy Sunday mornings or that voice they get when they see a cute animal.

It feels like home should be, instead of what yours is. 

“So why’s Pretty Boy giving me the death glare?” You eventually ask past a mouthful of food. Taehyung barely looks up, just glancing past you to the guy laying on the couch. You can feel his eyes boring into your spine, but it’s nothing new. 

“Taemin’s just protective,” Taehyung says softly. “Especially considering the stories.”

“The ones about me, you mean.”

A myriad of emotions passes through his eyes when he nods, and you wish you could more easily decipher them. Maybe in time, you will. 

Maybe.

“Those, yes,” He says softly. “But he’ll learn.” He doesn’t say it, but nonetheless, you hear the words as clear as day. Just like I did.  

Someone hums behind you and you glance over to see a woman - the strawberry thief - making her way into the kitchen. She gives Taehyung a look you don’t care enough to figure out, and they have an entire conversation in the span of five minutes. Something about it irks you, and it only gets worse when they start moving around each other, Taehyung handing her things without her asking. 

It’s ridiculous, and you know it, but the air gets heavy in your lungs and your head starts to swim and suddenly you’re suffocating. It’s too much, there’s too much here, and you can’t take it anymore. 

The force with which you shove away the counter would have slammed it into the wall were it not already attached. There are slight cracks in the granite tops, though, and there’s just enough clarity as Taehyung calls your name for you to feel guilty about it. It’s not enough to stop you though; you have to get out, you need to get out, before you do something worse, and the cracks in the granite are proof of that. 

You’re out the door in an instant, your form coalescing painfully back into solid matter as you reach the hallway. Your ribs ache, screaming with the effort of trying to mist away from this place, this home , and you lean against the wall in the hope that it will help steady you. 

The door opens behind you, the creak of the old hinges deafening in the silence of the hall. There’s a commotion behind it, voices overlapping each other and reverberating in your skull until they’re a twisted mockery of your siblings. 

You stumble down the hall, one hand clutching your ribs to keep them as still as possible despite your movement. It’s not lost on you that there are footsteps following you, but you can’t focus on them now. You’re not moving fast, and you need to be, you should be running , but you can’t. Your vision is already clouding slightly at the edges, the sudden spike of adrenaline waning now that you’re out of the apartment. 

Someone says your name and you swing. 

It’s instinct, the way your fist flies through the air; you can’t control it, not this, not when the red is all you can see even as it seeps away and turns lilac. It doesn’t matter anyway. You don’t make contact with anything but the wall, plaster crumbling around your fist and onto the carpeted floor. 

“That was rude,” Taehyung says softly. He doesn’t sound mad, though he should, considering you almost decked him straight in the nose. “I’ll take you back.”

He drapes your jacket over your arm and walks away, toward emergency stairs tucked into the corner instead of the elevator, and you follow. He hums as he goes, and he lets you lead the way down the stairs, keeping pace with your quick steps until both of you step out a side door into an alleyway. 

Out of habit, more than anything, you light a cigarette and put it between your lips. You don’t miss the disgusted scrunch of Taehyung’s nose, but you do ignore it. The smoke is familiar in lungs, comforting, and he doesn’t understand it, won’t ever understand it, but he doesn’t have to. 

“Sorry, Tae,” You say after a few minutes of silence. Taehyung shrugs one shoulder and moves to lean beside you against the stone of the building. 

“Are you okay now?” You nod, taking a deep breath, remembering how Hestia had taught you, so long ago, how her hand felt against your chest, the warmth and love it held. “Then you’re forgiven. And you can call me Calliope, if you want.”

You’re both quiet after that. He doesn’t make fun of you, he doesn’t judge you, he just silently drives you back to Suho’s bar, which is when you remember that he doesn’t know where you live. You’re fine with it; you don’t want to see him in your run down hovel. It’s not much, especially compared to his own apartment, but that makes sense, too. 

What could ever live up to the home of a Muse? Not even a muse, really. The Muse. The Head of the Nine Muses, the one called on most often by those in need, the one that everyone knew, the one that Hephaestus just put statues of in the gardens of Olympus, according to the rumors that Apollo sent you. 

The calm that he brings lasts until you get back to your apartment, nearly ten full minutes after you disappear into the alley beside Suho’s bar. It’s the longest the calm has ever lasted, and the view of the city tinted lavender is one you think you love. 

If you can love. 

Things get clearer, somehow. The weight on your shoulders lessens, makes you feel less like Atlas and more like you, how you were all those years ago in the now-ancient days when things made sense. When people fought for honor and glory and justice more than they fought for oil and death and greed. 

It could be because open mic nights are frequent around the city, and you’re able to figure out his schedule pretty well. You don’t go every night that he sings, just when it gets to be too much, when the scarlet haze starts to bleed into your irises like a flag in front of a bull. It helps, for a while, lets you settle long enough to pull the pieces of you back into a shape that vaguely resembles yourself. 

It could be because the fights happen every night, and Taehyung is no stranger to where to look to find them. He watches every one that he can, when he isn’t singing, and his presence anchors you. Focuses you, so that you can pull your punches just enough, so that there’s less hurting and more fighting. It doesn’t work every time, you still lose yourself in the rage and do more damage than you ever mean to, but it helps enough. And when it doesn’t, he’s there, to slide a hand across your shoulders in that exact same way that Hestia used to, that Apollo might if you let him close enough to know you’re alive, that Artemis would , were she anywhere but where she is. 

It’s a strange feeling. You’re not used to companionship, you don’t know how to have friends. You still say the wrong things and do the wrong things and he still speaks to you like he expects to be listened to, but you both are learning. You apologize more often, and he corrects himself quicker. It’s a slow, fragile thing, this friendship, but it’s there. 

Until the night when it’s not. 

You aren’t sure how it happens. It’s been weeks since you last saw Taehyung; he mentioned some project he was working on, something or another that would have most of his attention along with that of several of the other Muses. You had brushed it off when he said it, some snide remark about how you don’t need him there to win. 

You would take it back if you could. 

Because you were right, of course, you don’t need him there to win; you can do that on your own. And your control has gotten better, stronger, over the last few months, but complacency is what always leads to disaster. 

The guy deserved it, is what you tell yourself as you’re pulled out of the ring. He was a piece of shit anyway, you remind yourself as you call Apollo with shaking hands. He didn’t deserve your mercy, you tell the golden gold after you’ve begged him to help save the man’s life. Artemis would have done the same, you insist to him, long after he’s hung up the phone and left to follow the ambulance to the hospital. 

You don’t go to Suho’s. You can’t bear it, not when he might be there, not when he would read it on your face in a heartbeat. You don’t want to watch the disappointment crumble into something more familiar, something worse, you can’t watch him look at you with the knowledge that your siblings are right, that they’ve always been right, that you’re nothing better than a crazed animal. 

The club is packed full when you get there. The bartender starts to pour you a drink and you just take the bottle, leaving a too-thick wad of bills in return. The bourbon tickles as it goes down but it warms your stomach and distracts you from the haze in your mind, the repetitive beat of they were right they were right they were right they were-

“Whoops, sorry,” someone says, a second before they knock into your shoulder. You’ve been around long enough to know a fake fall, and you scowl as you glance towards them. 

He’s cute. Taller than you, with skin that would hide the marks you so love to create, and hair that looks like it would be soft in your hands. His clothes fit well, and they look like they were chosen for comfort over style despite the way he walks like a model in them, which you always find attractive. 

The smile that slips onto your face is familiar, as is the way you bring your hand up to rest on his hip in an effort to steady him. 

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” You tell him, not being subtle in the way you eye him. He looks soft; you love them soft. “You headed to get a drink?”

“I might be,” He says teasingly, a coy grin forming on his lips. 

“I’ve got something better, if you’re interested.”

His eyes roam along your body, his breath drawing somewhat quicker when he notices the scrapes on your knuckles. “I might be.”

It takes five minutes to get him to a corner quiet enough to talk. Less than three to get your lips on his. One and a half to start sucking a mark into his neck that makes him moan so pretty you can’t help but want to hear it again. 

One of your hands is up his shirt, playing with the pebbled buds and the metal pierced through them, while the other teasingly massages the skin of his hip when he’s torn away from you roughly. 

“What the fuck?” Your voice growls as you look up. The guy is standing there, looking for all the world like he’s ready to run, but he isn’t watching you. 

No, his eyes are on a familiar sight; Taehyung, his hair now a pretty lavender that makes you think of a home you don’t have, even as he doesn’t look at you. 

“Taken,” He growls, releasing the collar of the guy you had every intent to make cry with pleasure. The guy scurries off before you can stop him, though, and you don’t bother to hide your disdain. 

“What the fuck is your problem?” You demand, already lighting a cigarette as you head outside. Taehyung follows, pulling it from between your lips and crushing it in his hands before you have the chance to get your lighter out.

“Me? You looked like you were about to eat him .” He follows you all the way to the street outside and down the sidewalk, pulling each cigarette out of your hands before you can light it. He waits until you’re a decent distance from the crowd outside the club before he stops you, one hand lightly encircling your wrist. 

Your boots scuff against the ground as you stop, not turning to look at him. You’re too afraid to, too worried he’ll see it all on your face and just know that you’ve fucked up, maybe beyond repair. 

“Apollo called me,” is what he says instead. “Said I might want to find you tonight.”

You should’ve known. That little fuck, of course he would rat you out. 

“I didn’t-” 

The words choke in your throat. You want to say you don’t need him. You don’t need him to come running like you’re some scared little girl who can’t control her strength, you don’t need him to piece you back together because you aren’t broken, you don’t need him because you don’t need anyone, you never have. 

“I know you didn’t,” Taehyung says quietly. “I know he deserved it, I know what he did, and I know you didn’t mean to.”

Something inside of you breaks and you find yourself shaking. 

“He hurt her , Tae, I heard it, I heard her telling her friend about it on the phone, I saw her crying, I saw her clothes, okay, he-”

“I know,” Taehyung says, pulling you into a loose hug. “I know you did, it’s okay. He’s going to be okay. He’s not gonna escape his punishment from that, you didn’t send anyone to Hades today. It’s okay.”

The cloud struggles, for what feels like hours. Guilt settles like lead in your stomach, and you wish you weren’t so used to the feeling. The rage returns every time you remember what that girl looked like, what she sounded like on the phone, how you felt when you realized it was your competitor who had done that to her. 

There’s no honor in that. There’s no justice, no glory, in beating an opponent who was never aware they were in the ring, and it makes your blood boil all over again. Taehyung’s voice soothes you, slightly, makes the edges of your vision turn indigo, but it isn’t enough. 

It’s never enough. 

“I have to go,” You say, pulling yourself away from him. “I need- I have to find-”

“A distraction,” He finishes for you, too aware that you can’t find the words you need. “Some mortal that you can bruise and break and bang until you feel less like a monster?”

That’s exactly what you want to do, what you had been about to do with that guy at the club, and it’s only Taehyung’s voice calling your name in that soft, sweet way of his that makes you wonder if that’s not a good plan. 

“I’ll be a distraction, if you need one.” You whip your head around, staring at him, but he doesn’t flinch. “I’m sturdier than the mortals, I can take more. Let me be your distraction.”

“I…” You hesitate. You don’t know why. You shouldn’t even be entertaining this idea, it’s not a good one, but then...when have any of your ideas been good? “I can’t fuck in a house with eight other people.”

“You have an apartment,” He says easily. “Let’s go there.”

It’s a bad idea. You don’t do that, you don’t fuck people at your apartment, you don’t have people in your apartment, it’s your space. It’s a bad idea, it can only end in disaster. 

“Okay.”

Taehyung’s lips are soft against yours, yielding and pliant just the way you’re used to. His hands are big and warm against your ass, even through your jeans, and the feeling gives you the courage to slide your own under the ridiculously patterned button-down he’s wearing. 

He lets you lead the way through the door, kicking it closed behind you with slightly too much force. Your apartment is small, a studio with a bed tucked in the corner for the rare times that you need it. 

You push Taehyung onto it and slide yourself onto his lap, already grinding down onto the hard length you can feel there. He's not quite as enthusiastic, but his fingers are like steel against you, pulling you down with every rut of your hips. 

This, you can do. This, you're familiar with. 

You push on his shoulders, doing your best to get him on his back so you can have better access to the clasp of his jeans, but he resists. You try again, firmer, using a harsh suck against his skin as a distraction, but he still doesn't go. 

Frustrated, you pull back. 

"Not like this," He says. His voice clears some of the fog, and you frown. 

"Do you want to be on top, then? Because I don't mind, I just need it," You tell him. He sighs a little, but he flips the two of you over so he's kneeling between your open legs and your back is cushioned against the mattress. 

"How long has it been since you spent the night with someone who knows who you are?" He asks, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he sits back on his knees. 

You shift, uncomfortable. "A while. Why does that matter? Just fuck me."

"No," Taehyung says, voice gentle but firm. You cock a brow at him and move to get out from under him, but he stills you with a hand on your thigh. 

"You are a goddess," He tells you, trailing his hands down so he can undo the laces on your steel-toe boots and slide them off. "You have held Victory in your palms and set her free." 

His palms burn through the denim on your thighs, but you welcome it as he slides your jacket over your shoulders to the bed beneath. 

"You are the winner of wars. You are the one who grants battlefield wishes. You are the dead's escort to Hades." He leans down, pressing a soft kiss against your cheek and then down your throat. 

He pulls back as he gets to your collarbone, eyes blown wide with unfamiliar desire, and it makes your breath catch in your throat.

"You," Taehyung tells you, with desire in his eyes and belief in his voice, "Deserve to be treated like the goddess that you are, with the respect you have earned, and the care you deserve." 

As often as you fuck people, it's been a very long time since anyone wanted to fuck you for any reason beyond your appearance and the personality you show them. But this? This look in the muse's eyes as his hands settle on your knees as he waits? 

Taehyung wants to fuck you because you're you. Not despite it, not because he doesn't know . He has seen you at your worst and yet he keeps coming back, keeps showing up as you fall apart. Each time he stays, hands you a basket so you can pick the pieces of yourself up off the ground, holds the tape so you can mash it back together, and is ready to help steady you when you start to crumble again. 

He's here for you , to treat you in a way no one has ever treated you before. He's your friend.

He cares.

You nod, however tentatively, and his lips are on yours in an instant. They're firmer now, less pliable and more controlling, but you don't mind. Not this time. 

Not with Taehyung. 

His hands don't hesitate as he strips you both of your clothes, but you can feel it each time he checks to make sure you're okay. The way that he watches your expression, the tense of your muscles under him, the cadence of your gasps for air between kisses, he reads all of it as clear as if it's a book in front of him. He slows down before you can stop him, his lips drawing back from the kisses he draws across your thighs, and he speeds up as your thoughts start to drift, swiping his tongue and two fingers through your folds to tease and bring your attention back to him. 

His fingers bury themselves in your heat, crooking slightly to brush against that soft part of you that makes the world spin, and it's all too intense. His lips are hardly even touching your skin, just pressing gentle kisses against the skin of your thigh, a gentle complement to the way he glides his fingers in and out of you, slow and steady and delicious, but it's absolutely intoxicating. 

He's talkative, too; he gives you constant praise. He tells you how well you take his fingers, how good you look with his fingers inside you, how absolutely fantastic you taste on his tongue, how he'd live between your thighs if he could. 

It's too much, and you can't be sure why, not when your orgasm is approaching quicker than it ever has, not when your walls clench around him and you soak your sheets, not when he's cleaning your cum off his fingers with his tongue.

"Good," He purrs. "Now you're all warmed up." 

His mouth hits your heat without hesitation or warning, before the aftershocks are even finished, and your hips buck upwards. His arms slide underneath your thighs only to grip them and bring them back down. You can't move much in his grip except to grind your pussy against his mouth, which he seems to enjoy, if the muffled grunts that escape him are any indication.

He doesn't stop until his tongue is buried inside you with one finger drawing lazy circles on your clit and you're cumming again, hands gripping the soft strands of his hair so tight that you would be afraid of pulling it out if you could focus on anything besides the feel of him against you.

He lets you ride the aftershock, this time. Waits until your pants die down slightly, until you're back in your mind. 

"Good?" He asks you. His voice is deeper, rumbles instead of slides, but it breaks through the post-orgasm haze long enough for you to nod. “More?”

“More,” you agree, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders and pulling him into a heated kiss. You haven’t been this clear-headed in a while. Every sensation is clear and crisp, every sound heightened, everything is simultaneously more while also being exactly what it’s always supposed to have been. 

Taehyung’s cock is everything you could have expected from a muse; thick, long, beautiful, and it fills you in a way that’s indescribable as he slides inside. He groans at the feeling, deep and throaty and beautiful, and begins his thrusts nearly immediately. 

It’s as slow as he was with his fingers; steady and forceful, but unhurried. As if he wants to take his time. As if he wants to savor it. Savor you . 

“Do you have any idea how amazing you are?” He mutters, almost as an afterthought. “What you look like right now, what you look like when you’re fighting, when you’ve won and you’re triumphant? It’s fucking addictive, seeing that confidence in you.”

“Shit, Tae, don’t stop-”

“It’s so fucking intoxicating,” He groans, pace quickening. Your arms wrap around him more fully, nails like claws down his back as you arch your back to get him deeper. “You get this look in your eyes, like you can do anything you fucking want to, and it’s so fucking brilliant, because you can , you can do anything and everything you ever fucking want to do, and no one can stop you.”

A whine you’ll never admit to escapes your throat, and Taehyung drives his cock further into you. 

“Let go, my sweet,” Taehyung purrs in your ear. “Let yourself relax, just this once. For me.”

His hand touches your clit and it’s so much, too much , you’re feeling everything so intensely that it takes a solid minute to realize you’re coming down from an orgasm. Taehyung has stilled inside you, unmoving but groaning as you flutter around him, and you push weakly at his shoulder. 

He slides himself out of you, looking entirely too proud of wet spot underneath you and glistening against his lower stomach. You wobble your way up to rest your elbows underneath you, and it’s like he can sense your words before they come. 

“No,” He says simply. “I don’t you to get me off with your mouth.”

“A hand then? I don’t want you to leave unsatisfied.” 

A frown pulls at the corner of his mouth, and he leans down just enough that your lips are almost touching, a not-there kiss that you can only wish for. 

“In what world is fucking you to the point of Elysium unsatisfying?”

The crowd around you is deafening; some of them are cheering for you, but the majority are rooting for your downfall. Such is the life of a challenging the champion, you suppose. 

You don’t know how Taehyung found this place; maybe Artemis had heard rumors, or maybe he searched for it himself. You can’t bring yourself to care, not when you’ve got someone worth fighting on the other side of the arena. 

The sand crunches beneath your feet. It’s hot, hotter than it should be since you’re still wearing your signature jeans and boots - without the jacket this time. You learned from that mistake. 

Your vision tints pink as you size up your opponent; he’s massive, not one to be easily defeated, and you relish the challenge. It’s been so long since you’ve fought a giant. Excitement thrums under your veins as he turns to you. He scoffs. 

If you had a little less control, you might be flying across the arena already. He clearly has no idea who’s standing across from him. Probably thinks you’re some demigod, come to challenge him for the fleece he isn’t supposed to have. 

He’ll learn. 

Something moves in the distance. It should blend in, considering how dark it is, but instead it draws your eye, and you don’t even question why. You would recognize him anywhere, have recognized him everywhere, and his presence calms you. Makes you remember a few nights ago, falling into bed in a hotel in Rome because the burn was to much and you needed him to help you release it. 

“Try not to be too quick, princess,” The giant across from you huffs. You cock a brow and send a look to your muse, who just rolls his eyes, despite the smile playing across his face. 

Violet rings your vision as you ready your stance. The announcer yells something that’s lost over the noise of the crowd. Taehyung leans forward, elbows on his knees, excitement and pride in his eyes. 

The giant swings.