#but i love when you get tormented incessantly first

[remyfire]

Free him

#charles you beautiful asshole i love when you get to have character growth #but i love when you get tormented incessantly first #charles emerson winchester iii #charles winchester #max klinger #maxwell klinger #sherman potter #m*a*s*h #mashposting #mashblogging #bottle fatigue #s8e16

[nobodyfamousposts]

Miracle Queen Aftermath

Because there is a disappointing lack of focus or depth for the aftermath of Miracle Queen in canon, I have made my own.

Be warned of: Chloe salt. A lot of it. Chloe faces consequences for things.

Some Bustier salt. Some Adrien being called out on things (but he gets better).

Enjoy!

In the weeks following the Miracle Queen incident, a lot had happened.

Hawk Moth had increased his power, and was now able to summon akumas and amoks at the same time.

Master Fu was gone and now Ladybug found herself the official Guardian of the Miraculous—along with the Miracle Box, kwamis, and duties that entails.

Marinette had resolved to let go of her crush on Adrien, and to support him and Kagami in their new relationship together.

And Chloe had been arrested and would now be going on trial for assisting a terrorist.

It was that last bit of news that had caused the most commotion in Paris and the world at large. What people would have dismissed as simply another akuma attack turned into a much greater matter when accusations started to be made about Chloe helping the super villain intentionally. This was soon backed by multiple eyewitness accounts and further proven by leaked video evidence showing Chloe not only attempting to grab a butterfly for herself after she was de-akumatized but even negotiating with the terrorist before the incident in which she betrayed the heroes of Paris and revealed the identities of most of the team.

To say that the people of Paris were outraged was putting it mildly. People were akumatized over it. Chloe was in a secured facility where she had armed guards around to watch her just as much as they were there to protect her. New legislation was being considered to specifically address willingly aiding supervillains. The backlash was so severe that many were calling the mayor’s own position into question.

After all, if his daughter could do all of that, who was to say that he wasn’t also in Hawk Moth’s pocket?

For Mayor Andre, his hands were tied. While he had covered for his daughter and her selfishness in the past, this was one thing he couldn’t overlook. Not when it brought his position as mayor under scrutiny. And certainly not when it opened a probe into his own dealings.

None of this was helped either by the multitude of witnesses of Chloe‘s past behavior. In particular, her many victims over the years.

And there were a lot.

Now that Chloe was actually being held accountable for something, it seemed to have opened a floodgate of outcries as the many people she tormented finally felt able to air their grievances. They came out on TV, on social media, on radio. Stories littered the air and internet of the horrors of dealing with this single teenage girl.

“She tried to cheat during this designing competition. She apparently stole some other girl’s hat design and tried to pass it off as her own.”

“She was the reason the mayor tried to shut down my ice skating rink! To build another gym! Paris has enough gyms! Why couldn’t she just go to one of those?”

“She had her dad shut down Clara Nightingale’s music video and got her akumatized just because she didn’t get to play Ladybug. We waited in that line for HOURS and didn’t get chosen either, but no one else threw a fit over it.”

“She shoved a giant signed poster of Adrien Agreste professing his love to her in my friend’s face just to make her cry! I found out after the fact that he didn’t even know about it!”

“Our entire school was punished for someone pulling the fire alarm except for her because she threatened our principal. So while the rest of us were having to clean up the school, she spent the entire time insulting and making fun of us.“

“Knowing her, she probably pulled the fire alarm in the first place.”

“She tried to crash a train! I don’t think I can emphasize that enough: she tried to crash a train!“

“Chloe Bourgeois joined up with Hawk Moth? Can’t say it’s a shock.”

“Yeah, given how many akumas she caused, I’d been wondering if she hadn’t been working with him all along.”

It wasn’t that unbelievable to the populous. Nor did anyone feel particularly sympathetic towards her for her current situation. Some might have for lack of knowing her, but Chloe had carved herself a special place in the memories and hearts of nearly every Parisian. There was nobody who didn’t know of her or have some experience with her by this point. So when it came out that she was arrested and facing criminal charges, the response was…rather telling.

Practically everyone was calling loved ones as soon as they heard, resulting in high phone and internet traffic. The Ladyblog crashed after making the announcement. Several people threw parties. People over the internet started coming up with a list of “Things We Will Be Allowed To Do Once Chloe Is In Prison”, with a count that currently rested at 139 and was rising quickly. One guy bought 500 cupcakes and just started passing them out to people on the street singing a jaunty little tune from some late 1930’s cult classic American movie. The school had closed down for a couple of days due to several teachers calling out sick—possibly with hangovers from celebrating a bit too hard. Various Queen-related hashtags and memes were trending with each seeming to fight for the top spot of most used. #let her eat cake was currently in the lead. And Mr. Ramier somehow orchestrated a 21 pigeon salute. On Chloe’s rooftop.

As it was, nobody expressed surprise when it came out that she worked with a supervillain. Many were disappointed, shaking their heads and saying “if only something had been done sooner” or blaming the parents and teachers and other adults in her life. Most were angry, mainly that things had been allowed to get this far and that they hadn’t been acted on earlier—particularly after the train incident.

But no. Nobody was surprised.

Except, perhaps, Marinette herself.

Still reeling from the events of Miracle Queen and the aftermath of…well…everything involved, Marinette had been questioning herself. Constantly. Incessantly. Going over and over in her mind all the things she could have done differently. Blaming herself for all the major blows to their team.

She lost her mentor. Her allies have been compromised. Chloe, one of her former allies, chose to betray them all. Hawk Moth had the grimoire now. Marinette didn’t have a grimoire. Fu had no memories.

And it was all because of her mistakes.

Last time, the prospect of never having to deal with Chloe again had been a relief.

Now…it was background static to her.

She could barely hear the announcements and cheers over the endless cycle of her own thoughts.

I should have tried harder. I should have been more aware. I failed them all. This is because of me.

So while everyone else in Paris was celebrating, de-stressing, or just outright reveling in the news, Marinette was grieving. With the help of the kwamis and Chat Noir, she had been trying to come to terms with what happened and figure out the next plan of action.

Hawk Moth had changed the game, so she needed to step up hers.

The days seemed to have passed in a blur. Between working with the kwamis, trying to recreate and retranslate the grimoire, and simply trying to deal with the remnants of Fu’s life that he had left to her, Marinette had barely even kept up with the current state of things in Paris. Or in particular, Chloe.

Not until the day came when Bustier made an announcement.

Chloe‘s trial date was finally decided. And though she didn’t say as such, it was clear that the case against her was pretty solid. There was video evidence. Eye witness accounts. And Chloe’s own words and actions working against her.

The odds were not in her favor on this. Even if her parents did try to help her, she wasn’t going to get off this time. Aside from getting the best lawyers money by, there really wasn’t much they could do.

Maybe that was why Bustier had tried to step in?

“Now class, I have received word that they are moving to the next step with Chloe’s hearing. Right now, they are looking for character witnesses for Chloe’s defense.” The kind teacher explained, causing Marinette to snap to awareness and realize just what was going on. Partly because of the mention of Chloe and her court case.

But mostly because of the sudden dead silence in the class…

To be fair, she wasn’t sure she could say anything either. Marinette felt her throat go dry and her muscles tense. There was a sudden tightness in her lungs that while she could breathe, it felt like she was suffocating. Why was Bustier bringing this up now?

The teacher smiled, seemingly unaware of the sudden tension and Marinette’s slow drowning. “I know this has been a difficult experience knowing that one of your classmates is facing such a trial. And Chloe will certainly need support. So I thought it would be kind if everyone wrote a letter supporting her for the hearing coming up, so the courts can hear about Chloe and understand more about who she is.”

Silence. Dead silence.

Maybe Bustier herself picked up on the growing tension, as she proceeded to move to passing out papers to the class. “I thought it would make for a nice project, so I will give you all the forms explaining the requirements. Take some time to think over what positive things you want to say about Chloe. If you have any questions, please feel free to come talk to me.”

After that, she quickly left the room, citing the desire to let them have this free time to work on the letters.

The class remained silent for a good minute after she left. Almost as if they were questioning if she would return. Or perhaps if she was listening.

Then—

“‘Think about what positive things we want to say about Chloe?’ Well that’s easy!” Alix spoke blithely, curling the paper she received into a ball. “Nothing!” She shouted and tossed it over her shoulder. “Assignment done!”

Murmurs filled the classroom. Some sounded uncertain, but most seemed to be in agreement. Or at least expressing distaste for the assignment.

“Is she serious?”

“Does she really expect us to?”

“Of all the worst ideas...”

Marinette could hear them, but couldn’t seem to acknowledge anything around her. And furthermore, she couldn’t make herself respond.

Chloe‘s trial was set for a point in the next few weeks, and at this point there was no denying just what type of person she was. If anything, this was probably the first time that anyone was allowed to actually speak their mind about the girl, and they were all reveling in it. Her classmates in particular.

Marinette couldn’t quite bring herself to.

Sure, Chloe has tried to blackmail her more than once.

And damaged her gift to their teacher.

And attempted to frame her a few times.

And stolen her hat design.

And her diary.

And a Miraculous.

And all of the other Miraculous.

But...she had been doing better for a while there, hadn’t she?

Didn’t she only betray them all in the end because Marinette had chosen Kagami over her for her own selfish reasons? Didn’t Hawk Moth only capture Fu because of her own mistake? Hadn’t Chloe only revealed everyone else because she felt betrayed? Couldn’t Marinette have done more to prevent Chloe turning?

Wasn’t a simple letter on Chloe’s virtues the least she could do?

So why...

Why couldn’t she seem to bring herself to?

Kim frowned, looking at his paper in worry. “We’re not going to get graded on this, are we?”

Nathaniel huffed. “I’ll willingly take the failing grade any day.”

“Hear hear!”

“But if it’s a grade…” Max murmured to himself. Out of everyone in the class, he took his grades the most seriously, so this was no doubt a difficult choice for him. He looked at his paper with a rather conflicted expression for a minute before sighing and turning it face-down on the desk. “No. It’s an impossible task in the first place.”

Kim rested a hand on Max’s shoulder in sympathy. It wasn’t that he cared as much about grades as Max did, but it was clear that the fallout of refusing could be more troubling for the genius who took his academic performance so seriously. If Bustier did make it a mandatory assignment with a grade, it’d be horribly unfair of her.

“What was it Chloe said before?” Ivan asked, looking over his page with a glare. “Once a monster, always a monster? I guess she’d know more than anyone.”

Mylene hugged him. “You’re not a monster. You never chose to be.”

“None of us did.” Nino agreed.

“Nobody did except her.” Alix bit out.

Mumbles of agreement came from the rest of the class. It was clear that none of them were on board with having anything to do with Chloe, much less try to help her with her current legal woes.

There was a large part of Marinette that agreed with them. But even so, there was also a large part of her that insisted she had to do the right thing and help.

She knew she should say something. She was supposed to say something here. Because it was her fault, after all. She was Ladybug. She had to be the better person. Shouldn’t she?

“Marinette? Girl, are you okay?” Alya asked, drawing her attention. “You look a bit pale.”

It was too much. It was suffocating.

“I think I need some air. Excuse me.”

She didn’t know if anyone watched her leave the classroom. She hadn’t even noticed if anyone had chosen to follow her.

Not until…

“Marinette, are you all right?”

She spun around in surprise.

“Oh! Adrien! Hey! Hi! Hello!” She blabbered. Why was he here? Did he come out after her? Why? She didn’t need this right now! She struggled enough with him under normal circumstances, she wasn’t sure she could handle being alone with him now. Her stress over everything was bad enough, but having him approach her set her anxiety skyrocketing.

“Hey,” he replied, smiling at her—and oh, what a beautiful smile. On any other day, it would ease her worries and make her want to swoon, but right now, it just made her more nervous.

“Are you all right?” He asked again. “You didn’t look so well in class.”

“Y-yeah. Just…” she sighed. “I just have a lot on my mind. With…you know…everything.”

He nodded in understanding. “I know what you mean.”

She smiled. She could always count on Adrien to be a calming supportive friend. He was always so sweet and reliable. If anyone could understand or relate to the chaotic mix of emotions she was feeling, he could.

He sighed in sympathy. “Poor Chloe.”

She froze.

“Chloe?”

“Well, yeah.” He replied, like it was obvious. “I mean, she did a bad thing, but now she’s going through the worst experience of her life. One that could ruin her future. And people are glad about it!” He shook his head. “It’s just too cruel.”

Marinette just stared.

He wasn’t wrong. But…that was what he was worried about?

She couldn’t fault him of course, because Adrien was always so kind and considerate and of course he’d feel for Chloe but…something about this just…pulled at something inside of her and was choking it.

“Chloe is already suffering enough and it feels like no one wants to help her. You heard them.” He gestured back to the classroom. “We’re being given an opportunity to make a difference for her and they’re all just saying she deserves it. Chloe is alone and hurting and they want her to hurt more.”

She felt a denial on her lips but couldn’t give voice to it.

“Everyone is so great with each other. It’s always just Chloe who is kind of on the outside. I know you’ve seen it.”

She hadn’t, actually. Because it was never Chloe on the outside looking in, it was Chloe looking down on them. Whether it was because she genuinely thought she was better or because it made her feel better to do so.

He hesitated for a moment before looking at her. And there was something in his expression that told her he was about to ask something. A gut feeling told her that it was going to be something she wouldn’t like.

“Do you think you could talk to them?” He asked her, looking so sad and despondent that she just wanted to hug him and agree to anything to make that look go away.

“M-me?”

He wanted her to convince her classmates to help Chloe?

“I know you and Chloe have had your differences, but you’ve been able to see past her front. And you’ve done a lot to help her before.” He smiled. “Like the party you threw for her after she became Queen Bee.”

A traitorous voice asked if giving her a second chance with the Miraculous she had previously stolen wasn’t enough? Why did she have to feel bad for her leaving and throw her a party to make her feel special?

“Chloe really needs the help right now. And you’re always so good about that sort of thing.” He looked to her imploringly. “Do you think you could try to get them to at least give Chloe a hand? I don’t know what impact it’ll have in her hearing, but any little bit helps, right?”

Go back in there? With the tension and the suffocation to try and convince her classmates to help when she was questioning whether to herself?

But she had to, right? After all, couldn’t she have prevented this if she had acted sooner? Couldn’t she have helped sooner instead of being focused on her own petty problems? Isn’t that what Ladybug should do?

“Please, Marinette? They listen to you. If you asked them to, I’m sure they’d be willing to at least try.”

Her vision started to dim, seeming to tunnel in on Adrien and his sad and hopeful expression. Her thoughts crying about CHLOE and poor CHLOE and how hurt CHLOE was and how it was her fault for CHLOE—

“I—”

“Oh no! No, you do NOT.”

Marinette suddenly found herself torn away from Adrien by a sudden grab of her arm and pulling sensation. She felt as if she was pushed out of the way by a fierce gale. Like a raging whirlwind had spun her around and behind it.

That whirlwind’s name was Alya.

“How dare you? How dare you try to make my girl be responsible for this!”

Marinette floundered because she had not expected this and oh no now her best friend looked ready to tear her crush’s head off!

“Alya, we don’t have to do this!” She pleaded, trying to calm the other girl down.

“Oh, we most certainly do.” Came another voice. And sure enough, the rest of the class had stepped out as well. All of them looked in varying ranges of frustrated and that frustration was clearly directed at her and Adrien.

Or rather just Adrien, as Marinette discovered when Rose and Juleka pulled her aside and out of their direct line of sight. They were all looking at Adrien, and those were not nice or understanding expressions.

Oh no! This was a disaster! Now everyone was upset and she should have just agreed or said something sooner!

Completely unaware of Marinette’s inner turmoil, Alya stepped forward and jabbed at Adrien in the chest. “You are not going to make my girl feel bad and try to help someone who has never done a single nice thing for her or anyone.” She spat out, forcing him to back away.

Adrien held his hands up in a placating gesture. “Come on, Chloe is not that bad.“

“Not that bad?” Nino exclaimed, shaking his head in disbelief at his friend’s words. “Adrien, Chloe betrayed us!“

“She took over Paris!”

“She turned us into her servants!“

“Not to mention the other things…”

“Do we really have to name each time?” Alya started to count on her fingers. “Chloe CHOSE to take the Miraculous for herself instead of returning it. She CHOSE to transform in front of everyone and reveal her identity to the world. She CHOSE to try and crash a train, risking the lives of EVERYONE on board just to show off. She CHOSE to run off with it when Ladybug tried to take it back.”

“She also chose to continue being horrible to everyone even after Ladybug gave her a second chance.” Nathaniel added, bitterly. “She didn’t get better after becoming Queen Bee. It just became another thing for her to lord over people.”

Alya nodded. “And when Ladybug made it clear to her that she wasn’t going to be Queen Bee again, she felt ENTITLED to something that was never hers in the first place. And because of that, she made the active, knowing, and willful choice to work with Hawk Moth.”

“And out all of us while she was at it.” Kim added. “Turning us into her personal ‘guard’. Making us fight our heroes against our will.” He shuddered. “I don’t know if you were hit by those things, Adrien, but it was NOT a pleasant experience having your body turned into a puppet.”

Adrien wanted to argue that he understood full well, but that was only as Chat. He couldn’t say that here.

Unaware of his inner turmoil, Alya continued. “So no, we are not going to forgive Chloe. We are not going to try and ‘get along’ with her because her own poor choices have led her to have a ‘rough time’.”

Adrien grew nervous at the way the others drew closer to Alya as she spoke, clearly backing her statements as she continued.

“We are not going to defend her or speak up on her behalf to the entirety of Paris she ALSO betrayed. Whatever consequences Chloe has to face—quite possibly the first ones she will EVER have faced in her LIFE—are nothing less than what she deserves.”

“Yeah!” Came the exclamations from the rest of the crowd.

“She didn’t know what she was doing!” Adrien argued.

“Not know what she was doing?! Adrien, she willingly accepted an akuma! She used it to take control of us and revealed us to Hawk Moth!” Alya exclaimed. “That’s just—how can you even justify that?”

With as angry as Alya was, any lesser or wiser man would have backed off.

Adrien…well, she certainly would never call him unwise, so it had to be because he was more strong-willed than that to be willing to stand his ground here.

“Hawk Moth was the one who manipulated Chloe!” He insisted. “And he’s the one who got away scott free and left Chloe to take the fall.”

“And whose fault was that?” Alya countered. “Chloe HELPED him. He only got as far as he did because of her and he only got away because she helped him!”

“Don’t you think this is cruel?” He argued back. “Yes, Chloe was wrong, but she was already called out for what she did by Ladybug and Chat Noir. The entire city hates her. Isn’t that enough?”

“NO!” Alya shouted. “No, it isn’t! Because Chloe has always gotten away with her antics in the past but you’re actually trying to get us to let Chloe off for a legitimate crime here! If Chloe is going to prison, it’s only because she deserves it!”

Around them, several of the others in the class nodded in agreement.

“How can you say that?” Adrien demanded. “Chloe made a mistake and she’s suffering for it! All this time, she’s felt left out and cut off and this only further emphasizes that for her! She’s been alone all this time and now she’s alone and miserable!”

“Then why should that be OUR problem?” Alya questioned, raising her hands in exasperation. “Why are you trying to MAKE it our problem?!”

Adrien drew back, looking genuinely hurt.

"But treating someone badly never made them become a good person."

"Yeah, because letting Chloe have her way all this time has totally made strides in her path to becoming a good person." Alix called out sarcastically.

"If anything, it's made her worse." Max added. "She's gone from simply causing akumas to intentionally becoming one."

“But—”

Alya cut him off. “But nothing, Adrien! You have to have some gall to be trying to get us to make nice with Chloe after she betrayed us all! And here I thought your little lecture to Marinette to make her feel bad for being relieved that Chloe was leaving Paris was pretty hard to beat.”

Nino blanched at that. “You did what?” He turned on Adrien. “Dude! You know that happened after Chloe tried to crash that train!”

“She was just trying to prove herself.” Adrien weakly argued.

“PEOPLE were on there!” Nino bit out. “They could have DIED because Chloe was showing off! And you got on to MARINETTE? Where was this attitude with Chloe?”

“I’ve called her out!”

“Yeah, one time.” Alya groused. “AFTER the rest of us had spent the better part of the day cleaning up after HER mess. Which she never apologized for or admitted to doing, by the way.”

“And in response, she threw a party.” Juleka muttered.

“It was a nice party, sure.” Rose added quickly.

Alya though shook her head. “But being a good hostess is nowhere near the same thing as being a good person. And before the night was over, you rolled over for her and she went RIGHT back to acting as she always had.”

“She made Mylene cry.” Ivan glared. “She made Mylene cry and you just laughed.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“You said it yourself: ‘she’ll never change’. Except you said that like it was a good thing.”

Marinette looked back and forth between the two, everything inside her screaming at her to help. But she was completely lost on which one she was supposed to help. Because Adrien had a point about what Chloe’s going through but Alya was right about what Chloe did and she needed to do the “right thing” and help Chloe but why did everything Alya say resonate so strongly with her and bring such a feeling of vindication—

No. She was getting distracted. She needed to help. And right now, it was Adrien against the rest of the class.

But Alya was worked up. And Adrien was looking past her to Marinette, eyes begging for help and still so hopeful that she would step in. And Chloe was still in prison and Marinette could fix everything if she just tried so why can’t she try?

“Alya,” Marinette tried. “You told me to give Chloe a chance before after the fire alarm incident, remember? You said we were a lot alike.”

“That was to get you to go to a party!” Alya shouted, making Marinette step back in surprise. “I never meant it like this!”

She stepped forward and took Marinette by the shoulders, holding her sternly.

“Marinette, you are nothing like Chloe! Not where it counts! Yeah, you both can be short sighted when it comes to trying for what you want, but you at least notice and CARE how other people feel! And when you make a mistake, you at least TRY to make it right!”

She shook her head.

“Chloe…doesn’t.”

“She doesn’t try to.” Alix cut in. “If Chloe was feeling sad and lonely, that was pretty much her own fault.”

Adrien looked like he wanted to argue, but Alix didn’t even give him a chance.

“It wasn’t like we left her out. We went well out of our way to try and befriend her. We invited her to things. We tried to help her. Hell, you said it yourself—Marinette has tried to help her more than anybody! And each and every time, Chloe only took what we offered like it was something we owed her but that she was also too good for. I mean, I certainly can’t recall a time she ever thanked me. Can you?” She asked, turning to the other classmates.

All around them, there were murmurs of agreement. Maybe a couple hesitated as they tried to recall a time—one single moment of kindness on Chloe’s part only to come up empty.

“Chloe’s had a hard time.” Adrien insisted. “You know how her parents are—”

“Oh yes, her ‘Daddy the Mayor’.” Alix rolled her eyes. “Like we don’t hear enough about him every time it comes to something Chloe wants. She only threatens us or anyone with him every other day.”

Adrien shook his head and tried to explain. “It’s only because her parents aren’t there for her emotionally.”

“Again, not seeing how this is our problem? Or justification for anything she’s done to us? Or how this excuses her willingly helping a supervillain?”

“Because we’re her classmates!” He argued back, gesturing to all of them. “Out of everyone, we’ve all had the most interactions with her.”

“All of which were negative.” Came a cutting remark, followed by grumbling.

“There were good times, too!” Adrien insisted with a frown. His eyes spanned over the assembled classmates before they came to rest on one in particular. “Kim, you have to have seen Chloe’s good side. You liked her before.”

“Before.” Kim replied, emphasizing the word and the timeframe it referred to. “But being humiliated and her sending out that pic to everyone in school kind of crushed that crush.”

“How did she even have our numbers?” Ivan asked.

“But there had to be something that made you like her in the first place.” Adrien encouraged.

The taller boy shrugged, uncertain and uncaring. “Maybe so, but was it something that was really there? Or something I just wanted to see? Because I’m looking back and quite frankly, I don’t know what past me was thinking.”

“Wow, that’s deep, man.” Nathaniel whispered.

“Thanks!”

Seeing Nathaniel gave Adrien an idea. “Wait, Nathaniel! Didn’t Chloe let you put her in your comic?”

“Forced us to, more like.” The artist bit back. “And even when we tried to fit her, we got nothing but complaints from her. It was no wonder we never got past the initial concept art for her character.”

Adrien winced. “It was an attempt, at least?”

Nathaniel wasn’t buying it. “A poor one.”

“She’s been trying to be better.” Adrien was getting increasingly frustrated. This was not how he was expecting this argument to go. “Rose? What about you? You’ve seen it, haven’t you?”

After all, Rose was sweet and caring, always willing to see the good in anyone. Surely she would have something nice about Chloe!

Juleka frowned at him over his focus on her girlfriend and moved to stand beside her. “Don’t push her.”

Still he tried.

“Rose?”

“I’m sorry, Adrien.” Rose said, hugging herself. “But Chloe has done nothing but hurt people. And going out of our way to protect her has only ended up biting us.”

That wasn’t true. Not...all the time at least. There had to have been at least one instance where she did the right thing!

Adrien brightened in realization. “Didn’t she catch you when you fell after being deakumatized during Heroes Day?”

The blonde girl frowned. “Well, yes…but she wasn’t very nice about it. Even though I did the same for her before.”

“Rose, come on…”

She shook her head. “I put myself at risk to help Chloe when she was being chased by zombies, and only got turned into one for my efforts. Chloe never appreciated it. She never thanked me. She didn’t even do anything to help when we were trying to keep her safe!”

“We all ended up kissing zombies because of her.” Alix accused, crossing her arms and looking particularly annoyed. “And not just because she caused the akuma in the first place.”

“Why are you pushing this?” Mylene asked. “We’ve been asked. We said no. Isn’t that enough?”

“But—”

“Adrien, you’ve got a good heart.” Ivan started.

“Easy for him when he’s not the one who has to be on the receiving end of Chloe’s tantrums.” Alix cut in, clearly sounding bitter.

“You’ve got a good heart.” Ivan repeated, sending Alix a look that asked her to back off. “But Chloe…doesn’t.”

Adrien shook his head, remaining insistent. “That’s why she needs help.”

“If she needs help,” Mylene spoke, “It should come from her parents. Her teachers. Any of the adults in her life. She has plenty of adults who are fully capable of helping her. It should not be expected to come from the kids she’s spent years tormenting.”

She gestured to herself and the others around her. “And that’s what she’s been doing: tormenting us.”

“To great joy, might I add.” Max droned.

“She hasn’t been cruel to everyone.” Adrien muttered.

That brought out a backlash of outrage.

“She outted my crush!”

“She insulted Mylene’s cooking and made her cry!”

“She got Aurore akumatized and nearly caused Paris to be incinerated in a volcano!”

“She tried to push Mylene out of the lead role of our movie!”

“She locked Juleka in the restroom!”

Wait...

But that hadn’t been Chloe. She had stayed with the class at the time. The one who did do it was...

He glanced around until he saw her—a redhead in the background behind the rest of the class. She looked anxious and uncomfortable, and almost seemed to be trying to edge around the class to get to the stairs.

Adrien did seem aware. Or rather, he was focused on the fact she was there.

“Sabrina? What about you? Chloe was your friend!”

Of course she would help! Because who better than her own best friend to speak on her behalf?

The rest of the class broke into mutters as they realized the same.

But Sabrina...bit her lip and looked away. Refusing to even meet Adrien’s gaze.

“Sabrina?” Marinette tried, concerned about this reaction. Sabrina had been Chloe’s best friend—or at least the closest thing she could have to a friend. “Minion” or “Servant” would be more accurate. “Slave” would be more honest.

The girl had been Chloe’s only real fan and follower, and had assisted Chloe in some of her worst plots.

Marinette had briefly seen another side to her. A girl who was so desperate for friendship that she latched onto even the slightest bit of kindness and went to the greatest of extremes to appease the “friend” so they wouldn’t leave her. It was no wonder she had fallen in with Chloe—someone like that was perfect for the spoiled girl. Compared to her, Marinette’s anxieties and need to please were nothing.

And Chloe had pretty much been her world for years.

What must she be feeling now?

“Should we really be getting her opinion?” Ivan whispered. “You know how she and Chloe were…”

“Well, if anyone would have anything positive to tell the courts about Chloe, it would be her.” Mylene whispered back.

Sabrina took a breath and spoke quickly—almost shouting in her rush.

“I’m sorry but my therapist said I shouldn’t!”

That got a surprise. The rest of the classmates glanced to each other before looking back to the girl. Adrien in particular looked shell-shocked. Marinette couldn’t blame him. She felt the same.

Sabrina for her part seemed to tense up, as if ready to defend herself from the rest of the class.

Marinette stepped forward. “Sabrina? Are…you okay?”

The other girl shook her head, looking close to tears.

“After word got out what Chloe did, the police had to question me about Chloe. They were able to see that I wasn’t involved, but they…didn’t like what I told them about our relationship. Afterwards, my dad decided to have me see a counselor and she…has been telling me things that I hadn’t really considered.” She curled in on herself. “They all think I should stay away from Chloe and anything directly related to her…for my own health.”

Adrien frowned at that. “But don’t you want to help Chloe?”

Sabrina jumped. “Of course, I do!”

“Hold up, Adrien!” Nino stepped in. “She just said police took her in because of Chloe!”

“But they let her go…”

“It still happened!” Mylene argued. “It doesn’t matter how nice they are, how innocent you know you are, or if you’re released in the end, it’s still terrifying when it happens!”

"And it only happened to her because of Chloe." Alya added.

Rose, in her infinite sweetness, reached out to take Sabrina’s hand in support. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

Sabrina sobbed and covered her face. Aside from Rose, no one else really attempted to comfort her. Most of them simply watched her, pitying her current state. But they also remembered how complicit she had been in Chloe’s schemes, so they were conflicted. While they did feel bad for her current situation, there was a part of most of them that noted how she had brought it upon herself by being Chloe‘s lackey for so long, so their sympathy was limited.

Perhaps it was out of awkwardness, or maybe an attempt to give some respect for Sabrina’s privacy that the classmates turned away from her and instead focused on the heart of the argument.

“Man...” Nino tried. “Maybe you should let it go?” Though it was clear from his tone that he knew it wasn’t likely.

Because Adrien had still not given up, it seemed.

He looked around between of the classmates, growing more desperate. But those that remained either looked at him straight on as if daring him to call on them or looked away. A few of them even closed ranks as if to block his view of certain others. It was clear none of them were willing to help him on this.

None of them except…

“Marinette.” He called out, drawing her gaze to him instantly. “You understand, don’t you?”

She bit her lip. “I…”

“Back off, Adrien.” Kim said, giving the other boy an angry frown as he stood in front of her to shield her from his gaze. “It’s not on Marinette to help Chloe.”

“Yeah! She suffered more than any of us!“ Ivan shouted.

“She has been Chloe’s main target for years.” Nathaniel agreed. “She is the last person who is obligated to help Chloe now.“

Adrien winced at the harshness of their words and in their tone. “I just thought that Marinette could help. Like before.”

“Just because she could doesn’t mean she should have had to.” Alya countered. “She’s a teenager. Dealing with Chloe should have been the job of adults. Her parents. Bustier. Damocles. Any one of them should have done something—and if they can’t, the courts will. It’s their job. Not ours.”

“And getting her to help you wouldn’t make a difference anyway even if you had convinced us.” Max said, shifting his glasses. “Chloe helped Hawk Moth. There is nothing we could say that could undo that. And even if we did try, we would either be guilty of committing perjury or aiding in a conspiracy.”

“What?” Adrien jerked in surprise.

“The best we can do is be character witnesses.” Mylene explained. “But this is a court and we can’t claim something that isn’t true! We can’t say anything nice about Chloe when she hasn’t done anything nice!”

Max nodded and shifted his glasses. “Furthermore, our testimonies—even if they were positive—would only serve to create a narrative about Chloe and the type of person she is. They can’t explain away the current evidence against her.”

He rubbed the back of his head. He knew there were issues, but he also knew Chloe. He knew what she could be like. He knew she was a good person deep down. “I know she’s made some mistakes—”

“No.” Alya stated sharply. “Calling them ‘Mistakes’ implies that her actions were unintentional. ‘Mistakes’ implies that people were harmed by accident. ‘Mistakes’ implies that she would have any point learned from them. They weren’t mistakes, Adrien. They were willful acts of cruelty every single time.”

Ivan shook his head, pityingly. “We can’t save Chloe from this. We have nothing to say in her defense. The kindest thing we can do for her is stay silent.”

“She’s better than you think she is. She threw that party once for everyone, remember? You all went.” Adrien reminded them.

“That only proved that she could throw a party and be a good host, not that she could be a good person. There is a difference.” Nathaniel pointed out.

“Not that Chloe could tell.“ Alix sniped.

Adrien ignored the barb. He had given up on getting any of them to listen and now only had eyes for her. His last hope.

“Marinette….come on…please.”

She hesitated.

Everything in her that was Ladybug and her crush on Adrien and her desire to make people happy and take the high road and give second-third-fourth chances wanted nothing more than to give it to him.

Except...

There was a long pause. No one spoke.

The other classmates have had their say. They were letting Marinette have hers. And she knew in that moment that if she spoke up…if she did as Adrien wished and tried to help Chloe…she knew they would go along with her. It may be more out of respect for Marinette than it would be out of any sort of forgiveness for anything Chloe had done, but it would still help Chloe and it would still make Adrien happy.

…and hadn’t Marinette already done that enough?

“Did you know?” Marinette started, not looking at anyone. “I would have been well within my rights to press charges against Chloe?”

Adrien balked at that.

“She’s stolen from me at least three times now.” She shrugged. “I mean, sure, I wouldn’t have been able to do anything about my diary since she had Sabrina steal it for her, but she did steal my hat design for a competition and I had proof. I could have pressed charges against Chloe and let her face some consequences…but I didn’t.”

She looked up at Adrien. “I also could have pressed charges for what she did to my gift for Madame Bustier. Since she did break into my locker and vandalize my property while it was still technically mine…but I didn’t.

“Adrien.” She spoke almost in monotone, the only sign of her emotions being how she clenched her fists. “Did you know that after the fashion show, my parents and I took a train to get home?”

He furrowed his brows in confusion. What did that have to do with anything?

“It was the same train Chloe took control of and nearly caused to crash.”

Several gasps resounded around them. Apparently this had not been common knowledge.

“Even if Chloe could have bought her way out of any consequence for the other things, we all could certainly have had her face some major trouble for that one…” Marinette took a shuddering breath. “But we didn’t.”

Adrien frowned. “I…I see that—”

“No, I don’t think you do.” She cut him off. “Because instead of any of that…rather than hold Chloe accountable at any point, I catered to her. I tried to understand Chloe. I tried to make things nicer for Chloe. I tried to excuse Chloe. Time and again. Just like everyone else. Just like you wanted me to. Just like you’re asking me to now. And what did that get us?”

The more she talked, the more words filled out and she was unable to stop the torrent.

“I defended her from Alya after Madame Bustier was akumatized, and Chloe stole a Miraculous and nearly got my family killed. I helped Chloe bond with her Mom—costing myself any chance at a once in a lifetime opportunity in the process—and Chloe tried to get me banished from Paris just for saying she wasn’t a superhero. I threw Chloe a party to show her some appreciation, and she willingly worked with a supervillain to take over Paris. Just to fuel her ego and because she felt she was owed something that wasn’t hers.”

She tilted her head, considering.

“What is that American saying? Three strikes and you’re out?” Her eyes narrowed. “I have given Chloe more than three chances. I have done nothing BUT give her chances. And clean up after her. And just…try to help her. At no point has she been grateful. At no point did she ever apologize. Or show the slightest bit of remorse for anyone she hurt. Or just…try to do better.”

She stepped forward. Past her classmates. Past Alya, who looked ready to tear into Adrien herself.

“So tell me, Adrien. How much more am I supposed to do? What miracle am I supposed to achieve to help Chloe to be a better person that I haven’t already done?”

“You can just try.” Adrien begged. “Chloe’s alone. She has no one in her corner. You’ve given her chances before! Can’t you find it in your heart to give her another chance this time?”

“Why haven’t you?” Alya demanded.

Adrien drew back in surprise at that.

But the girl wasn’t letting him off. “If you’re so certain Chloe is the victim in all this, then why aren’t you stepping up to help her? Why are you pushing Marinette and the rest of us to do it?”

Alya wrapped an arm around Marinette in support. “If you truly believe Chloe has some sort of inner goodness that only needs the right person to bring it out, then it’s pretty clear Marinette is just not that person. She’s tried enough.”

Alix nodded. “I’m pretty sure she could’ve demolished a brick wall with how many time she’s banged her head against it by this point trying to drag a decent person out of Chloe.”

Others in the class also nodded and gave sounds of agreement to that.

Adrien frowned, lowering his head despondently. “I’m just one person. There’s only so much weight my word will have. I just...I just want to give her the best chance.”

“That’s nice for Chloe, I guess.” Kim muttered. “But not much for us.”

Adrien looked up in surprise. “What do you mean?”

Alya stepped forward, releasing Marinette in the process. “Adrien, why should we as Chloe’s victims have to help protect her? That’s the thing we’re not getting here. WE are the ones she hurt. WE are the ones she betrayed to Hawk Moth. So why are WE supposed to try and save her from her own consequences? Why are you wanting us to?”

Adrien hesitated.

“Can you even imagine what it was like? Being frozen in time. Unable to move or speak? Only able to hear her voice in your head? Feeling your body respond as she’s calling you and being unable to stop?” She clutched her arms, as if trying to hug herself. “Do you have any idea how terrified I was knowing what she was doing to us but being completely unable to stop it? How humiliating it was when she had us bowing to her and calling her our Queen? And then…” She took a breath. “She made us fight our heroes. Ladybug and Chat Noir trusted us to help them and we used the Miraculous they entrusted to us to try and kill them.”

“We were just lucky that they were able to turn the tables on us.” Kim muttered. “I don’t even want to know what would have happened if we had won.”

“Luka still has nightmares.” Juleka whispered. “He won’t talk about it, but he hasn’t had a good night’s sleep in weeks.”

Marinette winced. She hadn’t even considered that everyone else could be suffering ramifications of Miracle Queen as well.

“We could have killed them.” Max stated. “Given the nature of the Snake Miraculous’s power, we very well could have more than once for all we know.”

“Maybe you wouldn’t have killed them?” Rose suggested, trying to be positive. “I mean, Chloe wanted all of the Miraculous, right? She probably wanted them as her servants as well.”

Max glared. “I’m pretty sure I attempted to send Chat Noir into space. Even a Miraculous can’t protect someone from that.”

Adrien tried not to wince at the memory. How he managed to even move enough to activate the Miraculous, he still wasn’t sure.

“We fought against them. We never wanted to, but we did.” Alya bit out. “Not even because of Hawk Moth this time, but because of Chloe. And now you are wanting us to just…overlook the trauma of the whole thing to help Chloe after what she did. For something she hasn’t shown even the slightest remorse for.”

She shook her head.

“I know you’re nice, Adrien. But this level of kindness is a cruelty.”

He winced. And it looked like he wanted to argue. But he just…wilted.

“I just…it feels harsh. What’s happening to her. The amount of hate she’s getting. That her entire life could be over.”

That was true. While they felt her current status was well deserved, it was a harsh sentence for anyone. Especially a teenager.

Nathaniel sighed. “Adrien, it is harsh. Maybe cruel. But fact is that she still brought on herself.”

“Isn’t that just victim-blaming though?” Adrien countered, frustrated now. “I mean, Hawk Moth manipulated her! How was that her fault? He’s the one who did it. She was…” He clenched his fists in anger. “Chloe is a victim.”

“No, we are the victims.” Alya insisted, gesturing to herself and the other revealed former heroes. “We were the ones used to fight our heroes. We were the ones who had our identities revealed to the world against our will. And now we are the ones having to live with the results of Chloe‘s choices, just like we always are.“

Adrien looked ready to argue. And maybe he would have, except...

Nino rested a hand on Adrien’s shoulder.

“Adrien. Dude. Just stop. We have enough to deal with and this…this isn’t helping.”

Adrien frowned at that, concerned by his friend’s attitude. “Nino?”

Nino lowered his head. “I wasn’t going to say anything. Really, I was trying not to think about it. But my parents are currently talking with police about their options. Now that I’ve been exposed as one of the temporary heroes, they’re questioning if it’s not safe for us at home anymore. There is a chance of us having to go into protective custody.”

Alya winced at that, drawing attention to her. “My parents have been talking as well. My mom quit her job. She said she doesn’t want to work for someone who would let their daughter do such a thing and put me in danger. She’s looking at drawing me out of school since it was pretty much Chloe‘s base of operations. And since Chloe is the Mayor’s daughter…and Hawk Moth…and just…everything?” She looked away, clearly anxious.

“There’s a chance we may have to move out of Paris altogether.”

Marinette gasped.

Alya looked to the other girl, sad and guilty all in one. “I’m sorry, girl. I guess I’ve been hoping it wouldn’t be an issue. I’ve been trying to talk them out of it, but it’s hard given everything that happened. Currently, the only reason they’re willing to stay is to see through to the end of the trial. But after that…” She shrugged, shaking her head uncertainly. “Who can say?”

“No…” Adrien whispered in shock.

The others in class came closer around her, trying to offer some comfort and reassurances—what little they could give, at least. This was a situation that was clearly beyond them. Marinette herself hugged Alya tightly for all she was worth, and the other girl held her back just as much, neither wanting to be parted.

Adrien, however, remained on the outside looking in. Watching the people Chloe had tormented even before Miracle Queen and realizing just how badly they’ve been hurt by this. It hit him then—for what was perhaps the first time just how much pain Chloe had caused his friends. And how unfair he had been to expect them to simply deal with it.

He stayed the lone person outside of the circle. By this point, did he really deserve to join in the comfort? To try to be the one to give comfort? After what he had tried to push on them all?

After minutes passed, they were finally able to draw away from each other.

“I’m sorry for not saying anything sooner.” Alya told Marinette. “I guess I was just hoping…y’know…that it wasn’t real. Or that it would go away and things would work out on their own.”

Marinette smiled. “No, I understand.”

And she did. That’s exactly what she herself had been doing for the past few weeks as well. Trying to deal with things without really dealing with them. Working without acknowledging just what it all meant because she was scared she would break down and that would be just one more thing Hawk Moth would have won because of this whole mess.

“I was kind of the same way.” She admitted, and it felt like a slight relief to be able to say aloud to someone. “I’m sorry I couldn’t talk to you about it.”

She still couldn’t, unfortunately. Not about Ladybug and the kwamis and the Miracle Box.

But…she could talk about Fu. How she lost him. How she feels. She could help support Alya and her classmates and be there for them in the meantime.

She…hadn’t lost everything.

Not yet.

And that was the scary thing…

Adrien gaped at the group. He had thought the trauma was bad enough, and that at least could be worked through. But this...

“I’m sorry. I...I didn’t even realize...”

“Adrien, what Chloe did put a major target on our backs.” Alya explained. “Nobody knows how we became heroes, or that Ladybug was the one to specifically choose us and give us the miraculous to use. Nobody knows WHY we were chosen. It’s not just Hawk Moth, any regular criminal can come after us now in an attempt to get a hold of that power. And we can’t exactly protect ourselves.”

She shrugged helplessly.

“We kind of have enough to worry about with the fallout of Chloe‘s actions. And now you want us to try and protect Chloe on top of that?“

Seeing it now, in this light...it was cruel. It was cruel and unfair and hurtful, and Marinette felt horrible for considering letting herself be talked into it.

Adrien himself felt horrible for even suggesting it.

“We all have to live with the consequences of Chloe’s choices.” Alya stated. “So why shouldn’t she?”

Silence followed. It practically echoed throughout the entire hallway.

He said nothing in response. What could he possibly say? He’d known that Chloe was…difficult with other people, to say the least. He’d known the type of person she was. But she was his friend and friends forgive and support each other, right?

But they were right as well. It wasn’t fair to expect them to help Chloe after what she did. Especially once he knew of the level of harm she’d caused them. He felt the horror trickle in. The trauma everyone felt. The knowledge of what they’d been forced to do. The fact that…

He suddenly found it harder to breathe.

Nino could leave.

Adrien could lose his best friend because of this.

And who knew how many of the others would be forced to leave as well. Aside from Nino; Kim, Max, Alya, and Luka were other heroes as well. Juleka was Luka’s sister. And how many of the other classmates might be pulled out of this class and school because it’s unsafe? And Kagami—oh god, she was outted as well. He hadn’t heard from her in a while. Her mother is probably furious. She could move back to Japan because of this. And Marinette…she had been lucky to not be caught up in that fight since she was a hero only the one time, but that could have been just one more thing Chloe ruined for her…

…what about himself?

He paled.

He was longtime friends with Chloe. Went to school with Chloe. Was in class with Chloe. Chloe, who was currently getting a lot of heat from all of Paris. How was his Father going to react to that? The man was always focused on the company and appearances…what would he do now that Chloe had fallen from grace in such a way? Would he forbid Adrien from talking to Chloe again? Would he pull Adrien from school?

…would he ban Adrien from leaving the house altogether?

How was he only just now considering the impact? For himself or anyone else? Of course people would be hurt. Of course they would be upset. Of course people would respond. Somehow, he knew that, and yet he had only been focused on Chloe that it hadn’t actually hit home until now…

And in that light…

It had been selfish to ask. Honestly, he’d known that when he first tried to approach Marinette. But he felt he had to try. Honestly, part of him had known better than to ask in the first place. But at the same time…there was a part of him that still believed things could just go back to “normal”.

…how foolish. That was a “normal” that nobody else wanted. And even more, it was one that was now impossible…all because of Chloe herself.

“I just wanted to help.”

He deflated, losing all remaining fight.

“I’m sorry.”

The classmates glanced between each other. There was much they could have said, but really, anything they could have said already had been. And with him seeming resigned, it appeared there was no longer a need to defend themselves.

Marinette—ever the mediator, stepped up and hugged Adrien.

“Adrien, this isn’t something you can help with. None of us can. What happens in the trial is up to the courts. And what happens to Chloe is up to her.”

Slowly, he reached up and hugged her as well. The warmth and comfort brought some limited solace in this situation. He felt lost. Out of control. Like the world was moving around him and he didn’t know where he was standing much less where he was supposed to be.

They weren’t ready to forgive Chloe. And he couldn’t force them to be. Given the circumstances, he couldn’t blame them. And it was really unfair of him to try. Especially…

“I’m sorry, Marinette.” He whispered to her.

He had tried to use her. Looking back, he had a bit of a tendency to rely on Marinette to fix things when she shouldn’t have had to. Especially when it was for Chloe’s sake. He knew plenty of times Chloe had done things…but he always seemed to overlook how hurt Marinette was because of it, simply due to how well she always appeared afterwards. She was strong and confident, but also a good listener and willing to forgive. It was like nothing really brought her down.

It was due to this that Marinette was often the one he turned to whenever things happened. Because she would listen. She would understand. And she would always try to help, regardless of her position.

In this light…he may have over relied on her too much.

“I wasn’t fair to you.” He admitted. “I just saw Chloe hurting and only thought about how to fix things for her. I didn’t consider your feelings.” He hugged her more strongly. “I’m sorry.”

She didn’t speak. But she squeezed him back.

He felt another body press against him. A quick glance showed it to be Nino.

“I’m still super mad with her. And I don’t like how you tried to push us to defend her after what she did. But I get that she’s your friend and you care about her. I’d do the same if it were you in her place.” He gave a small laugh. “Not that I think you ever would, of course.”

Adrien smiled back. “Thanks.”

This…this felt much better.

Things weren’t okay right now. He still wanted to help Chloe. His classmates were still hurt. People were still angry. Hawk Moth was still out there.

But whatever happened...in this moment, he felt they could make it.

#ml fic #chloe salt #miracle queen #marinette dupain cheng #marinette defense squad #adrien agreste #alya cesaire #nino lahiffe #adrien salt

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝑌𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑒! 𝐴𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑧: 𝐹𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝐹𝑜𝑟 𝑌𝑜𝑢

Disclaimer: In no way am I condoning, justifying, encouraging, supporting nor trying to romanticize yandere behavior and lifestyle. This is all a work of pure fiction not meant to represent real life scenarios.

Warning: Mentions of stalking, kidnapping, and other toxic yandere behavior.

↬↬𝓚𝓲𝓶 𝓗𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓳𝓸𝓸𝓷𝓰↫↫

Spending most of his time in the music room, Hongjoong rarely interacted with people, missed a lot of his other classes. Music was his only passion and love, the only things he ever really knew and cherished.

Recently though, he had been in a little bit of a slump. He could not find inspiration to write anything new. Words would come up, but he could not form any lyrics. Sounds would play in his head, but he couldn't compose a simple melody. It was frustrating and agonizing to him, he was actually about to lose all hope......

And then you came along. He was casually walking, passing through the classrooms, when he heard you, felt your voice penetrate deep in his soul. He had to find out who possessed such seraphic voice, and when he saw you, he was completely enamoured.

And then everything came together. Suddenly he was rushing back to his home, scribbling away and composing what had been on his mind for weeks. He finally found the inspiration he was looking for. He found you, and now that he knew you, he would worship the very ground you walked on. You are his muse.......

And he could never let you get away, or let anyone try to take you away.

↬↬𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓢𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝔀𝓪↫↫

Seonghwa was the whole school's heart throb. Every girl was pining for him, doing anything they could to grab his attention. He loved the way they all basked in his glory, how just one wink or smile would make them all swoon and do anything for him.

Not you. For once, someone had actually rejected his advances, never budged to his charms or sweet smiles. Seonghwa was shocked, but not angry. He loved how you presented a little challenge and he was dying to make you crack. But that never happened.

And then he cracked. Desperate to make you his, he ended up spiraling down a web of obsession. He wanted to own you, control you, possess every bit of your mind and body. He would not stop at nothing until he got what he wanted. And he wanted you.

So he started becoming more and more aggressive towards you. Threatening you if you didn't comply to his whims. He hated how you dared to challenge him. So one day, while you were distracted, he took you away and kept you locked away, never to allow you to leave him.

Not until you've learned to submit to him.

↬↬𝓙𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓾𝓷𝓱𝓸↫↫

When Yunho first saw you, he felt an urging need to make you happy. He saw how alone you were. Being the new student wasn't easy, especially when you had such a dark and mysterious aura around you that made others afraid to get close to you. And you preferred to be alone.

But Yunho was determined to befriend you. He wanted to make you smile, make you happy. He loved spreading happiness and joy to others. Maybe he could rub off some of his sunshine personality on you. Others were scared for him to get close to you, thinking you'd do something bad to him.

In reality, they should be afraid for you. Yunho became incessantly clingy towards you. He was constantly messaging you, calling you, coming over to your house to spend time with you, trying to get close to you. While at first you welcomed his friendship, now it was suffocating. So you tried to put distance between you two, hanging out with other people.

He couldn't handle that. You're his. He saw you first, he reached out to you first. Why are other people trying to take you away from him? He can't handle you slipping from his fingers. He has to get you to stay in any way possible.

Nothing some self harming and guilt tripping can't fix.

↬↬𝓚𝓪𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓮𝓸𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓰↫↫

You never noticed the pair of eyes that were constantly glued to you. In fact no one ever noticed Yeosang at school. He was a loner. Always dressed in dark clothing, mostly consisting of hoodies in which he'd often hide his face in.

But he was always watching you. In class, he payed attention to you. He learned your locker number and would often look around your stuff. If things went missing, he was bound to have them, adding them to his shrine he kept in his room. He even followed you home when he had the chance, sometimes even stood outside your house, watching your bedroom window until you turned off your light.

He was enraptured by you. He wanted to have you, but had no idea how to get close to you. So he started leaving notes everywhere for you. At first starting off with cute love notes in your locker, but soon it escalated to actually leaving them inside your bedroom, detailing things that soon horrified you. You were scared of whoever was sending you these things.

He's not stopping though. Soon you'll finally know who he is......and he'll be the only one you'll ever need to know in your life.

↬↬𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓢𝓪𝓷↫↫

San was your childhood friend. Since the beginning, you two were inseparable. You were there for each other since you both learned how to read. He was basically like your brother, that's what you often thought about him.

He didn't see things like that though. He was convinced you two were soulmates. You were made for each other. No one knows you better than he does, and no one understands him like you do. He wants you to see him as a lover, not just a friend.

Problem is so many guys are after you and he feels threatened. So he had to do anything possible to keep them away from you, and if they got too close, sabotage your relationship with them at all costs, all while you never find out he's the cause of all your heartbreaks. All you know is that he's always there for you, he's your shoulder to cry on. He cries with you and holds you close as you pour out your feelings to him. He strokes your hair gently, promising to protect you...

All while you never see the sinister smile of accomplishment that forms on his lips when he's succeeded yet again in keeping you for himself.

↬↬𝓢𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓲↫↫

Mingi was often picked on and teased for being so awkward and for being a nerd. It wasn't unusual for him to get tripped, shoved, or even slammed into lockers on occasion. He was too shy to even say anything and too afraid to stand up for himself. One time, he got shoved so hard, he dropped all his books and his glasses went flying somewhere. Someone was kind enough to give them to him so he could see....

And that's when he saw you. You helped him pick up his materials and made sure he was not hurt. He was surprised you would help him, you were one of the most respected and popular students in school. What on earth would make you even glance at someone like Mingi? But you did, and you kept checking up on him, spending time with him and befriending him, helping him to be less shy and reserved.

For that reason, he began idolizing you. You're his savior, his very own angel sent to him. He can't let his little angel fly away from him. That's why he began changing for you, turning into what he needed to be in order to get you to love him. And if anyone dared to try and steal his angel away, well.......

He'd immediately snap and have no recollection of what happened. All he knows is that his hands are covered in blood and he succeeded in protecting you from anything and anyone he deems evil.

↬↬𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓰 𝓦𝓸𝓸𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰↫↫

You hated him with a burning passion. For as long as you could remember, Jung Wooyoung was your worst nightmare. What first started off as ordinary school boy teasing and pranks, turned into full scale bullying and torment.

You were always nervous to walk into school, not knowing what he was going to pull on you this time. No matter how hard you tried to avoid him, he was always there, always finding you. He was constantly belittling you, making you feel bad about yourself and sometimes leaving bruises that would last days.

You didn't understand why he was like this. One day, being so stressed and your anxiety going erratic, you couldn't take it anymore and begged him to stop. You wanted him to leave you alone at all costs, interesting option you gave him. But he promised he'd leave you alone from then on......

If you agreed to love him and only him, be good for him and obey him at all times. Only then would he stop. But would he really stop? Or will it only get worse until you break and become nothing but a lifeless doll for him?

↬↬𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓙𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝓸↫↫

His first encounter with you was the biggest turning point in his life. He watched as you slipped on your way down the stairs during a passing period. You would have seriously gotten hurt if he didn't catch you in his strong arms. He just stared at you, admiring your features as you thanked him. He let you go then and he felt empty, but he vowed to never let you go again.

You never knew this but he became your protector. He thought you were too pure and precious to survive in this world alone. There were too many dangers and bad people who would try to hurt you, use you, or even worse, keep you two far away from each other. He could never let that happen. So protecting you often involved getting physical and keeping unnecessary people from entering your life. And then soon he realized he also needed to take people out of your life.

That's how you woke up one day in a strange house. He was there waiting for you to wake up, not at all bothered by your screaming and panic. Soon you'll learn it's all for your own good, that he only has good intentions and he's just keeping you safe....

And keeping you all to himself.

Gifs not mine, credit goes to their respective owners.

#ateez #ateez reactions #ateez yandere #yandere au #yandere!ateez #yandere!au #ateez yandere au #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez hongjoong #ateez seonghwa #ateez yunho #ateez yeosang #ateez san #ateez mingi #ateez wooyoung #ateez jongho #ateez angst #ateez school au

[okay-j-hannah]

All’s Fair In Love And War

The Marauders : Fic

Sirius x Reader and James x Reader!Platonic 

Word Count: 3492

Warnings: ANGST my guy... copious amounts of ANGST but with a happily ever after 😊

Request: “Dudee! May the best man win was awesome! Please give us a part two of Y/N ignoring them so hard and making them regret!” - Anon

A/N:

Part 1: May The Best Man Win

Remus tapped his quill incessantly into his desk, unable to concentrate on his exam. A few rows away he could see Peter staring at his parchment with his fidgeting hands in his lap. He had no idea where to begin with the list of questions.

Beside him was James, a sight to behold. Not wishing to be caught by McGonagall, he only snuck a few glances at his pale friend. James was disheveled, his hair unkempt as ever but with something more unnerving – as if he didn’t even care to look at it, brush it. The effort appeared to be in his school uniform, at least he managed to fold his collar despite how wrinkled the rest of his shirt was. His tie was loose, and it remained the reason Remus knew his friend was still breathing, cause he could see it rising and falling on his chest.

He was just sitting so still. He was staring into nothing. The circles under his eyes could rival Remus’ around a full moon.

And adjacent to him was an empty desk, one that should be housing Sirius. He hadn’t even shown up for their end of year exam.

Remus sighed, feeling his quill tip dull under the pressure he prodded. At least James was able to show. He had no doubt Sirius was brooding in the corner of the common room, butterbeer in hand. Or else he was sitting beside the Blake Lake, toes turning blue as he stuck his feet in the water.

Yes, at least James came to the Great Hall to take his exam, even if he wasn’t looking at the parchment. Remus knew he was staring at the pair of girls at the other end of the hall.

There was (Y/N) and her friend Mary, each scribbling along their exams as the rest of the students should be. McGonagall began walking between the desks and Remus returned his gaze to his own scroll of transfiguration questions.

It had been a few weeks since those dreaded Easter holidays and every second had been a personal hell for the marauders. James was humbled, became extremely tolerant, and had lost his first quidditch game in years. Sirius became something more irritable; he was edgy and sought the solidarity of dark corners. He rarely socialized, couldn’t even bring himself to take the mickey out on Peter.

It was a grand awakening for James, it made him regret and change. He no longer felt the need to terrorize younger students or attack Snivellus. He was kinder to those around him and even offered to help where he could. Though he did all of it with a glazed look in his eyes and a depressed smile on his face.

Sirius, in the classic fashion of being James’ complete opposite, turned in on himself. He became self-deprecating and didn’t wish to inflict that torment on anyone else. He believed in every ounce of hate he received, in the amount of guilt he harbored. He struggled to see past the bad. His life was teeming with it.

The Great Hall doors burst open, and the flittering steps of Professor Dumbledore appeared. At his side was a very reluctant Sirius.

“Ah, Professor McGonagall,” he said with lightness that did not match the person beside him. “I believe you’re missing a student.”

“Black,” McGonagall snipped, walking towards him and eyeing his ruffled clothes, “You’re thirty minutes late.”

Sirius merely shrugged his shoulders, looking anywhere but the corner of the room (Y/N) and Mary stared.

McGonagall released a heavy sigh, though her brow modeled concern. “Well, take your seat. You’ve still got around an hour to finish the exam. I suggest you use the time wisely.” She shared a look with Dumbledore as Sirius retreated.

Remus and James followed their friend with worry in their eyes, but his desk was too far for them to ask silent questions.

Sirius merely slumped in his chair and twiddled with his quill. He may have been forced to be there, but that didn’t mean he was going to comply with the test taking. Remus forced himself to return his attention to his own exam. And the rest of the hour was filled with a ticking clock and scratching quills.

By the time McGonagall waved her wand and called forth the scrolls of parchment, Remus devised another tactic to fix the wellbeing of his companions. Instead of greeting James and Peter, he chose to wait by the door until (Y/N) came by.

She had her head held high, book bag tight on her arm.

“(Y/N).”

“Not now, Remus, I’ve got to study for Charms.” Mary was nearby, leading the way outside. “I don’t want to hear some other passed along apology.”

Remus wringed his hands, falling into step beside her, “I’m not trying to speak for them. I just want to talk to you. I – I’m worried.”

There was a small pause in her steps, but she kept forward, “It’s none of my concern.”

“But they’re not getting any better,” a new curt edge in his tone, “They’re not themselves anymore.”

“I distinctly remember saying that they don’t exist anymore. I don’t care, Remus.”

“You don’t want to care.”

She finally stopped and turned to him, “I’m moving on. And I won’t be able to keep doing that if you bring this up every time I see you.” But she hesitated at the look on his face, “Remus, what’s wrong?”

He bit the inside of his cheek, eyes full of fretting, “I know you think this was some kind of joke – and it was for a while – but I don’t think you realize how far they fell for you.”

“And that’s supposed to make what they did okay?”

“No,” he bit back, “Not at all. But what’s happening to them right now, that is proof that they regret. That they are sorry for what they did. I think they…”

(Y/N) folded her arms, clearly unimpressed, “Think they what?”

“They need a little forgiveness to get better.”

“No,” she snapped, whipping around and continuing down the entryway, “I’m glad they’re stewing in their regret. They should be.”

“For how long, (Y/N)?” Remus begged, following her steps, “I’m tired of watching them wither away.”

“Please,” she scoffed, “You were there when we had this conversation. I don’t want to see or speak to them. Ever.”

Remus felt his blood boil over, “It’s killing them, (Y/N)! And I won’t watch it anymore. I am terrified that they’re going to be like this forever. You see them, (Y/N), I know you do. You look when you think no one’s around.”

She stiffened, “What do you want me to do, Remus? I can’t forgive them – not yet at least.”

“Please, just talk to them. Make them feel less invisible.”

“I don’t know…”

Remus grabbed her shoulders and made her face him. “James keeps his snitch locked away in his trunk. Sirius gets detention and then does it without a fuss.” Her gaze was hard, but he could see it thinning. “I can’t get James to do so much as nick food from the kitchens – all he does is study like the obedient student he’s never been. I don’t think I’ve heard Sirius make a complete sentence since the holidays. He refuses to even keep company with his friends.”

She swallowed hard, “They hurt me, Remus. They hurt me bad. It’s – It’s hard for me to look past the game they played. Even if their feelings have changed.”

“Please, (Y/N), I’m begging,” he retorted. “Just talk to them, get some closure. I know you made a choice back on that train. Could you just give them some piece of mind? I’m sure it would help you too.”

She looked up at him with some remorse in her gaze, until it flitted to whatever was behind his shoulder.

He whipped around and found Sirius standing several feet away. There was a slouch in his shoulders and his hair fell across his forehead and into his eyes. But there was clear pain and longing there where he stared back.

(Y/N) took an involuntary step backward, hands winding tight around her book bag. Her breathing hitched in her throat and Remus sidestepped.

Sirius took a shaky breath, his eyes purple rimmed and stinging, “(Y/N) …”

But she had already turned on her heel and darted towards her common room. The sigh that escaped Sirius had Remus at his shoulder in an instant.

~~~

There was no one else on the quidditch pitch when she sat in the stands. She sat there and waited, her heart thumping a thousand beats a second. She knew he’d be walking by any minute; he always did on the weekends.

She could hear footsteps thumping against the grass and a chill went up her spine. James came around the corner, kicking dandelions as he went. But his steps faltered, his eyes went wide.

“(Y/N)?”

The edge of fear in his voice put a familiar thump in her chest, “Hey, James.”

His breathing got heavier, his hands running up to tangle in his hair, “You… you’re not running away.”

“I wanted to talk.”

After spending so much time avoiding him, it was a shock to see the state of him. His glasses hid most of the tiredness in his eyes, but he was pale, paler than usual. His voice was raspy where he choked on the words.

“Talk?” She patted the seat next to her and watched him weigh whether or not she was joking before sitting. “Had a change of heart?”

She took a deep breath, keeping her hands tight in her lap. “I’ve… I’ve been thinking a lot about the last time we talked. What I said to you.”

“It’s all right, (Y/N). You were right – you had the right to be angry. I’m just… I’m glad we’re talking now.”

She turned to him and was met with a pained grimace, “I think you need to hear me say it.” He shut his mouth real quick. “James, what you did was horrible, terrible. I thought of it as unforgiveable. But if there’s anything that could’ve proven to me that you guys felt differently about the joke, it’s how you guys have been behaving the last few weeks.

“I think I’ve been punishing you because of my own embarrassment. But honestly – this grudge holding deal isn’t healthy for either of us.”

“You’re looking better than any of us,” James laughed, disbelief ringing in his ears.

She smiled his favorite smile, “I forgive you James.”

He sighed, leaning over and putting his head in his hands. “Thank you, (Y/N), thank you.” He turned to her with an earsplitting grin, “I know I was stupid and arrogant, and it was just some childish bet. We didn’t think about the people we would hurt.”

She started to laugh, “I know, James – that’s why you’re forgiven.” But then she caught the subtle look in his eyes, and she had to suck in her lips. “Look James…”

“It wasn’t going to be me, was it?” the understanding in his voice was remarkable.

“You’re not mad?”

He leaned back, rubbing his tired eyes beneath his glasses, “Mad? You’ve just forgiven me from one of the stupidest things I’ve ever done – of course I’m not mad.”

(Y/N) ran sweaty hands against her knees, “I think you should talk to Lily.” That made his eyebrows raise, “Ever since you’ve knocked down your ego a few notches, she’s started seeing the good in you.”

A newfound smile crept onto his face, “There might be a happy ending for us all yet. Have you told… Sirius?” The stillness of her expression gave the answer away, “You know, I think he’s been far worse than me. You’re going to want to find him quick.”

She shared a glance with him and an appreciative smile, “It’s so good to talk to you again.”

~~~

It didn’t take her long to track down Sirius, he hid out in only a few different places those days. She kept James beside her, each taking turns talking and catching the other up on all they’ve missed. They trailed down the corridor, James falling easily back into how things used to be with (Y/N).

“Let me carry your book bag.”

“James…” The edge in her voice made him laugh, even more as she raised a brow.

“I’m just being friendly, just like we used to.”

And with a comforting feeling of nostalgia, she handed her bag over, giving him a swift punch to the arm for good measure. He rubbed the spot mockingly with a dramatic whine on his lips.

“So how do you suppose I should talk to Evans?”

“You can start by calling her by her first name.”

“She likes being called Evans.”

“Since when has she liked anything you do, James?”

He shrugged half-heartedly, “Just recently, if my sources are correct.”

(Y/N) sighed with an easy smile on her face, “You made friends with me fairly quickly. I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

James pondered with an animated look, “All right, you want to make a bet? How fast I’ll win Lily’s affections?”

“Too soon, Potter – way too soon.” But she was smiling, nonetheless. So much so that she didn’t notice the new visitor coming down the hall.

They were on their way towards one of the secret entrances that the Marauders discovered for their map of mischief. There was always the chance of finding one of the quartet skulking in the entryway or hiding along the passage in case Filch or Minnie was after them.

It appeared Sirius had taken such refuge, deciding to come out when he heard familiar voices. And the sight before him took what shattered glass his chest was and refine it to sand.

(Y/N) and James were walking side by side, laughing and talking as if no time had passed between the Easter holidays and now. Then deep in his gut, he knew, (Y/N) had chosen James – it was James from the beginning.

She chose to forgive James and now they were going to live happily ever after.

And Sirius was left to despair in painful silence.

(Y/N) looked up and found her sweet smile vanish instantly. James was quick to follow, readjusting the bag on his shoulder. He swallowed hard, as if the words he was just saying were suddenly lodged in his throat.

“Back at it, I see.” The hoarseness in Sirius’ voice was heart wrenching.

James flickered his eyes towards (Y/N), noticing her shock, and saying, “How are you, mate? It’s been a bit.”

“A bit.” Sirius muttered, repeating the last words with a hardened gaze. “You’ve moved on since last I saw you.”

(Y/N) couldn’t bear to hear the betrayal and anguish in his words. She knew what it looked like. Like she had chosen James and didn’t want to waste her time keeping Sirius in her life.

“Sirius.”

The way she said his name sent a flood of emotion in him that Sirius didn’t like. He didn’t like not being in control of his emotions. He didn’t like that he couldn’t hold himself together. He hated the fact that seeing her looking back at him after all this time was crumbling him as if she’d yelled at him all over again.

“I won’t bother you. Enjoy your evening.” And Sirius turned as quickly as his sleep deprived, wobbly knees would let him, and leave the corridor.

(Y/N) took one step forward and hesitated, a hand outstretched, but the words wouldn’t form from her jumbled thoughts. There was only a look of horror as she watched him leave. James was eyeing her with sympathy, his heart just as punctured by Sirius’ obvious loathing.

“Look at your face,” he feigned a smirk, “You really do care about him, don’t you?”

She finally shut her gapping mouth, biting her lip, “Now more than ever.”

James nodded, putting an arm around her shoulders and leaning down to whisper, “Then go after him.”

In an instant she was running down the corridor, turning sharp and feeling her shoes slide from her momentum. Her throat was dry, and her eyes burned, but she ran like there was nothing else in the world that mattered.

And there was Sirius about to make his way outside and to the courtyard. But she yelled for him first.

“Sirius!”

When he turned there were obvious tears in his eyes, tears that betrayed him and fell at the sound of her voice.

“Sirius, wait, please!”

He could only dare to imagine what she meant by that. But it was enough to keep him rooted to the spot. She was talking to him for the first time in weeks. She was looking at him with something other than hatred.

And the fine sand of his chest rustled with hope against his wishes.

(Y/N) ran so fast that when she collided with him, he was almost knocked off his feet. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him tight against her.

His breathing quickly began to rise to match hers, though he wasn’t the one who had just ran down the stretch of a few corridors. His arms remained limp at his sides, disbelief etching every part of his face.

Only to feel the doubt creep in.

She just wanted to clear the air, so it wasn’t awkward for James and her. She wanted him to be happy for her and James. She wanted them to be friends again.

The problem was that he wasn’t going to survive witnessing those two together.

“(Y/N), don’t do that.” He reluctantly reached for her arms and pulled her away, “You can’t do that.”

He was oblivious to the immediate confusion in her reddened face, “What are you talking about, Sirius? Do you not want me anymore?” Again he didn’t notice how her eyes began to fill with tears similar to his.

He dared to look at her face, to see the features he’d been dreaming about for weeks. He let his gaze linger despite the yelling in his head to spare himself from the pain that would later come. Another hot tear escaped the corner of his eye.

“How could you ever think that?”

She sighed out an exhausted breath, “You are determined to stay unhappy, aren’t you?” When his loving gaze faltered into confusion, she continued, “Sirius, what you saw back there… that was James and I being friends. I just spoke to him this morning and we made up. We decided to be friends again, and to just be friends. The only reason I spoke to him first was because… well, I was more nervous about talking to you.”

Sirius was too busy going over what he had seen earlier, analyzing the interactions between (Y/N) and James.

“Sirius, what happened between us was horrible. I was so hurt that I didn’t give any thought to how you felt. Obviously, an entire school year is a long time to spend with one person, and I’m sure pretending became real very quickly.”

He swallowed thickly, his eyes itchy from the tears. But he didn’t dare speak, it was all too good to be true. He didn’t want to wake up from whatever dream this was.

“I forgive you, Sirius.”

He let out an unexpected breath, blinking fast – he was not ready for it. His hands clenched into fists as she took another step closer.

“I forgive you – and it’s been paining me to see you like this. That I did this to you.”

“I did this to myself,” he rasped, “You could never do anything so cruel. Nothing I didn’t deserve.”

Then she was holding his face in her hands, wiping away his tears. She felt her heart skip at the way his eyes closed, and he leaned into her palm. “I want to make things right.”

He reached up and placed a trembling hand over one of hers. “Friends again?”

She smiled an easy smile that heated his face. “Actually…” And she encased his lips with hers. She could feel the stutter in his breath from shock. His limp arms hesitantly rose to graze her waist, unable to will himself over completely.

She broke away, pecking his lips once – twice – more. “Does that tell you plain enough?”

He was trying his best to get his breathing under control. His lower lip was starting to quiver, “So… just friends then?” A smile broke out on those trembling lips.

“Right,” she laughed, wrapping herself around him again, hugging him tightly. And this time he returned the feeling, holding her close by the waist. “I made my choice a long time ago. It’s just taken me a while to figure out how to tell you.”

Sirius buried his face into her shoulder, feeling his chest begin to repair itself. His heart thumped excitedly.

There was no possible way he was going to let go of her any time soon.

~~~

Tag List:

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[running-with-kn1ves]

In the story of Cyris and the reader, decided Cyris actually care for them deep down? Or is he just harshly consoling them at the end to not have to deal with it and make it not that big a Deal?

Hmm, well I'll start first off with this. I'm not super happy with the way I wrote him, and I dont think what I was going for went across how I wanted it to >:((. I'm glad you're interested though!!

I wanted him to be the kind of person who'll bully you, who's at first in denial of their own feelings. They push you away and are incessantly mean and awful. They aren't a good person, but do feel a fondness for you. Their torment is a messed up way to show affection and simultaneously push away any kind of closeness. Cyris is absolutely full of himself, and does see the reader as essentially a passing playtoy. At first, hes in denial of any kind of "love" or strong feelings towards the reader. But, he learns to accept them...in his own way. Instead of realizing his bad behavior and trying to be better, he gets worse, thinking "well, now this thing has to be mine." He already knew they felt something for him, but now he needs to make sure that they are unable to leave, that they are utterly devoted and obsessed with him. They are an item to him-- a belonging. A favorite stuffed doll. Cyris cares about them, but in a twisted way. What he feels isnt "love" exactly, nor obsession. He doesn't see them as an equal-- but as a possession. They are his item, his creature and slave to make fun of, to bend backwards to meet his needs. they're his to play with and tease, to console in the worst ways and to destroy when they get too cocky. Their emotions are more of a nuisance to Cyris, but he'll play along if he needs to, just to make sure there aren't any unnecessary complications. He knows humans are especialy emotional in comparison to elves, so thats a feat he knew would need to be overcome. But, despite their many flaws compared to elves, he still wants them. To him, that's the highest honor someone could receive. To be wanted, by *him.* after all humans are desirable, and there are many other lords who would like to rip something precious away from him. He still cares for them, but almost in the way you would care for an injured animal. They're pitiful in his eyes, they need to remember their place, but that doesn't make him want them any less. Not sure if that made the most sense? I have the image of his character in my head but it's a bit hard to portray in words. I have a feeling there was a lot of contradiction in here. I wanted to write the dehumanizing asshole trope but maybe I should stick to softies :'0

#male yandere #yandere #reader insert #x reader #self insert #yandere x reader #writing #fanfiction #romance #male x reader #yandere male #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere x y/n #yanderecore #yandere aesthetic #yandere core #Kn1ves rants #Knives rants #Elf x reader #Elf yandere headcanons #elf oc #Male elf #Male elf x reader #Yandere elf

[snowflowerbear]

My Autumn, Your Summer. ~ Year 1: November

Above drawings used were found online here.

Please refer to Contents Page for warnings, disclaimers, chapter list, etc.

This is part 4 of a series. This chapter contains smut scenes.

Words: 6k+

November brings even colder temperatures, so that Seong-Jin and Ga-eul were bundling themselves up tightly whenever they went out, Seong-Jin especially mindful to keep Ga-eul warm in view of her recent cold.

She had begun revealing her festive side, scouting the various shops and markets they visited for Christmas decorations, which they would deck her home with together.

She shared with Seong-Jin that she had moved into Jung-hee’s home the previous November, and with all the relocating and assimilation into a new city, she had skipped Christmas last year.

Not that she was religious. But she loved the holiday as, from a young age, her parents had always celebrated it secularly, and she had gained a strong fondness for it since, especially since her parents were now away from her.

As for Seong-Jin, he had never celebrated Christmas before, and never understood the fuss over it, but with Ga-eul, he soon found himself welcoming the season through her.

At home, she had started making them countless cups of hot cocoa with marshmallows and baking various Christmas goodies, from gingerbread men to yule logs, all of which Seong-Jin loved (except for the peppermint bark cookies she had baked before knowing that he abhorred mint flavours; his tormented expression while valiantly trying to pretend he loved them had cracked her up, and she actually had to force him to stop eating them).

“But you made them! I’ll feel guilty if I don’t eat them.”

“Don’t be daft, Seong-Jin! Your face – my god – it was like you just tasted dog poop or something –” She wheezed, still trying to get her laughing fit under control.

“I was just being dramatic like you always say! I promise, they’re not that bad – here – I can eat –”

She swatted his outstretched hand away, removing the plate of cookies from the table.

“Nope! I’ll keep them for myself. Thankfully, we still have some red velvet cupcakes left over from yesterday. You can have those; you liked them, didn’t you?”

“Ooh, yeah, I did.” His face brightened at the thought of the fluffy cupcakes with the tangy cream cheese frosting; he had easily polished off 4 in one sitting.

A few times, he had attempted to assist her in the kitchen, but he was often more a hindrance than help, and Ga-eul had finally put her foot down and barred him from the kitchen after he had, in a single afternoon, added white vinegar instead of sugar syrup to the mixing bowl and upended a newly opened packet of potato starch all over himself.

Ga-eul was almost crying with mirth at the sight of him, the starch making him look like some dusty, washed-out apparition, settling all over his wide shoulders and coating his dark chestnut hair (he had reverted to this colour after the prior purple hue gradually faded).

After a quick shower, he found that she had already cleaned up his mess, and she only relented to him sitting at the island after he incessantly begged and swore that he wouldn’t interfere, and that he only wanted to watch her work.

The month also brings a surprise for Ga-eul in the form of a phone call from Jung-hee.

She was thankfully alone when he rang, and she answers his call with some reluctance.

After exchanging the usual pleasantries, Jung-hee asks her if she knows what is coming up.

She knew, of course. She just didn’t care.

Anymore.

“I’m coming home, Ga-eul.”

“What?” Her heart sinks.

“Not permanently, I mean. Not yet. The firm is almost up and running, but it will be a while before I can leave. I need to establish the foundation for the initial year. But I want to be home for our first wedding anniversary next week.”

“Oh. You really don’t have to, Jung-hee. It’s not necessary.”

“No, I want to. I know I haven’t been the most present husband, and you’ve been so understanding, I want to make it up to you.”

Ga-eul sighs inwardly. If only he had this thinking months ago. But it was too long overdue, and meant little to her now.

Still. She supposed she ought to try, for their marriage’s sake. Perhaps she would feel differently once she saw him.

So, she throws herself into the preparations.

She goes about purchasing ingredients to make his favourite dishes, a small gift from her own account (a handsome, leather-bound, personalised planner with his name engraved on the cover), and a new dress and lingerie, because she supposes they will be having sex (it would be their wedding anniversary, after all).

She doesn’t mention any of this to Seong-Jin, although she isn’t sure why. It seemed insane: keeping Seong-Jin’s presence a secret from Jung-hee, and keeping Jung-hee’s return a secret from Seong-Jin.

But there was no way she could risk Seong-Jin turning up while Jung-hee was home, so 2 days prior, Ga-eul finally drops the news.

“I see. How long will he be home for?” Seong-Jin asks in what he hopes is an impassive tone.

A particularly poisonous mix of annoyance, jealousy, and unhappiness is swirling inside his gut, and he fights to keep this under control.

“About 2 or 3 days, I think. He did say he had to return overseas after. So, I don’t think you should come over while he is here… I mean, it’s not like we’re doing anything dodgy, you know, but I don’t think he would appreciate you being here, and, well…”

She struggles to justify her request that Seong-Jin make himself scarce for a few days, and he smiles.

He would not make things difficult for her. He cared too much for her to do that.

“Don’t worry, Ga-eul. I fully understand. Just let me know when I can pop by again. It’s ok. Really.”

“Thanks, Seong-Jin.” She smiles, despite feeling downhearted at the thought of being away from him for days, but she doesn’t mention this to him.

“So, do I still come over tomorrow?”

“Yup, you can still come by for the next 2 days. He’ll be home only in the evening, anyway. We just can’t have dinner the day after.”

“Alright.” Unnoticed by her, he takes a particularly vicious stab at his tangsuyuk to ease a bit of the tension building up inside him.

His voice is neutral though when he speaks. “Are you excited to see him again?”

Ga-eul takes in a deep breath and puts her fork down; she had been toying with the same piece of tangsuyuk for a while. “I really don’t know, Seong-Jin. It feels… weird. After all this time apart. I’ve almost forgotten what he’s like, actually. But, well… he’s trying, I suppose, so I should too.”

Seong-Jin nods, still battling to keep the lid on his bitterness. “Yes, I suppose that’s the best thing to do.”

“Anyway, don’t miss me too much, ok?” She teases, placing her hand on his. “And don’t forget me!”

“I could never forget you.” He smiles, flipping his hand so it’s facing up, interlacing his fingers with hers.

~~~

It is dark. Ga-eul can barely see where she is. Before her, shrouded in the shadows, is someone.

A familiar woody cologne: rich, sensual.

Large, warm hands gently running themselves over her curves.

Pillowy lips. They move nearer, nearer, and then they are on hers. Soft, plump, tantalising.

She returns the kiss, opening her mouth so that their tongues can play, tangling with each other sensuously even as his hands move up to hold her head, desire running rampant.

The shadows move, and she sees his face, the high nose, the almond eyes, closed in longing, and she feels her heart leap, closing her own eyes as she reciprocates his hunger…

Her eyes open.

It is bright, sunlight flooding the room as it does every morning. She lies still, trying to make sense of her quick breathing, her pounding heart, the damp between her legs…

Seong-Jin.

Oh, goodness. Did she just have a wet dream of him? She closes her eyes again, and bits of her fantasy come drifting back to her.

His touch.

His lips.

His tongue.

The urgency of his kiss.

She feels her loins stir. Automatically, she reaches down, and feels the wetness of her arousal.

She had always had a healthy sexual appetite, and had no qualms about satisfying herself, especially now, with an almost non-existent husband who couldn’t fulfil his conjugal duties.

Her trusty fingers or vibrator, coupled with some filthy fantasies, were usually more than enough to provide her with the release she sought.

And, if she were to be completely honest, her recent carnal highs had all been accomplished with Seong-Jin’s face in mind.

Not Jung-hee’s.

Not that she had planned it. It had just happened one night, days after her recovery from the cold. She had recognised the urge within her, and had turned to her vibrator, thinking of Jung-hee, as she usually did…

But the Jung-hee in her imagination had quite abruptly morphed into Seong-Jin, with his soft, dark chestnut hair falling over his eyes, his thick, kissable lips, his long, slender fingers, his broad chest.

Her brief shock was swiftly eclipsed by the fact that this inadvertent change was actually driving her even closer to the edge.

And so, she gave in to her base desires, and allowed the Seong-Jin in her imagination to fuck her senseless. It didn’t take long for her to come, and when she did, it was powerful, soaking the sheets beneath her, her body trembling as her free hand fisted her pillow.

There was pleasure, and then there was pleasure, and she sure as hell knew what the differentiating factor was.

She did feel slightly guilty after the first time. Was this considered cheating? Was she being unfaithful?

She had gotten off before with visions of other men, but those were celebrities, persons with whom she would never have a chance in real life, and so she never felt they counted.

But now…

Now, she had just had one of the best orgasms of her life with Seong-Jin. A real, actual person whom she spent her days and nights with.

What was going on? Why had he even materialised? Was this some Freudian thing? No.

No.

Friends, she had told herself sternly. We’re just friends. It was starting to be a mantra, almost, the number of times she had to tell herself that whenever Seong-Jin was around. Or even when he wasn’t around.

She decided to just shelve the incident as a one-time oddity, convinced that it would not happen again.

Until it did. Again. And again. And again.

And so, she gave up. Gave up feeling guilty. Gave up making excuses.

And just indulged herself in this dirty little secret.

That fucking Ha Seong-Jin in her fantasies was giving her the most delicious orgasms she had ever experienced.

Guess he was now infiltrating her dreams, too.

She takes a deep, steadying breath and stills her wandering fingers and mind, looking at the clock: 8:45am. Jung-hee should be in the air by now; he had said he would take an early flight out, so that he could be home in time for dinner.

Unbidden, the thought of making love with him tonight pops into her head. Her lips twist, and her stomach squirms at the fact that the thought brings her no joy at all.

Months ago, she might have been happy to finally have her husband’s cock filling her up.

But now…

She wonders if she might end up calling Seong-Jin’s name while in the throes of passion.

Snorting dryly, she imagines Jung-hee filing for divorce on their wedding anniversary.

Rather telling, that the most disturbing thing to her about this possibility is what her family might say.

With a heavy sigh and mixed feelings, she gets up, and gets to checking that the final touches to her preparations are all in order.

She had made all his favourite dishes in advance (including a particularly onerous duck pâté en croûte), and they were just waiting to be enjoyed. Her gift to him was wrapped and ready on their bedroom dresser.

After lunch, she takes a leisurely, relaxing bath, then dresses in her new lingerie and dress, a figure-hugging black piece with buttons running down the front. She also applies some makeup, and admires the finished effect in her full-length mirror.

There was no denying that she was an extremely attractive woman.

She had always received attention because of her looks, but while she was fully aware of this fact, she would never take advantage of it, preferring to let her engaging personality shine through, which always did. She resented being ‘just a pretty face’.

Ironic that I’m now a trophy wife, she thinks wryly.

The intercom buzzes, interrupting her thoughts. She glances at the clock again: almost 4:30pm. That had to be Seong-Jin.

She buzzes him in and opens the front door, greeting him there as usual.

Seong-Jin exits his car, and as he catches sight of her, he stops, stunned.

Ga-eul is a vision today.

Admittedly, she was beautiful every time he saw her, but he had never seen her dressed up like this before.

Her eyes were winged and her lips a deep wine red, hair in sexy waves around her lovely face, and her dress.

Goodness.

Desire rises in him, the same desire he has had to contend with whenever she touched him or came close.

Whenever she ran her hand through her hair, mussing it a little, so that she looked as though she had just rolled out of bed.

Whenever she licked her fingers clean of frosting or cake batter while busy in the kitchen, or sucked on a spoon thoughtfully, thinking if she ought to add more seasoning to a dish.

Whenever she crossed and uncrossed her long legs while seated, whether on the living room sofa or at the dining table, the upper leg gently swaying to the beat of whatever song she was playing in the background (mainly Christmas classics by the likes of Michael Bublé and Dean Martin lately).

The same desire that was fuelling his night-time fantasies of having her. Pleasing her. Loving her.

Worshipping her body in ways that made him groan her name, that made him feel his every nerve was on fire, that finished him in mere minutes.

Her usual sparkling laugh brings him back to his senses.

“Is it too much? Thought I ought to dress up for my wedding anniversary.”

“You look perfect.” He assures her, his desire vanishing quite rapidly at the words ‘wedding anniversary’. He hopes his smile isn’t as wooden as it feels.

He is quite ill at the thought of Ga-eul and Jung-hee celebrating their marriage, but he knows he must pretend otherwise.

What else can he do?

“Congratulations, too, on your anniversary.”

“It’s just the first, but I’m grateful that he’s making the effort to come home for it, at least.”

“And may there be many more to come.”

“Thank you! Come on, let’s go have tea. I baked a Christmas pear tarte tatin. I think you’ll like it.”

“How do you make a pear tarte tatin Christmassy?” He asks curiously, placing his bag, coat, and shoes at their usual spots. “Did you make the pears look like snowmen or something?”

“Huh. There’s an idea. But no, nothing so fancy, I’m afraid. Just extra cinnamon, that’s all.”

“It’s fancy enough.” He smiles, taking their usual mugs from the rack to make their usual coffees.

They had found a pair of matching ceramic mugs while browsing through a department store months back, and both had been very taken by the cute, fluffy, cartoon alpaca with the red scarf that was printed on them.

His alpaca was munching on a baguette (“looks just like you stuffing your face!” Ga-eul had laughed), while hers was sipping tea (Seong-Jin’s comment that the alpaca drank tea more daintily than Ga-eul had earned him a well-placed jab in his ribs).

“I’m very spoiled here, you know.”

“Are you truly still not bored with my cooking yet?” She asks as she serves them a slice of the tarte tatin each.

“Told you I’d never be bored with you.”

She beams at him as he brings their full mugs over, sliding into his usual spot next to her on the breakfast bench, before suddenly jerking upright.

“Oh! Almost forgot. Hang on.” He sidles out, disappearing into the foyer before Ga-eul can ask him what’s wrong.

He reappears shortly, a medium-sized package in his hands.

“I ordered this for you some time ago, but it just arrived last night.” He answers her questioning look, passing the package to her.

She gives him a smile laced with reproach and gratitude as she takes the gift. It is rectangular, solid, and somewhat flat. Prying open the tape securing the brown paper wrapping, she opens it to reveal –

“Oh!”

Her exhale of surprise is soft as her hands halt, taking in the item.

It is a piece by Potos, one of her favourite illustrators.

Done on plywood, the canvas depicts a rosy-cheeked girl dressed in a marigold-yellow parka, a sled in one hand, a giant paper umbrella open in another, sheltering herself and her little cat from the glowing orbs of snow floating down on them.

She tears her gaze away from the piece and turns to Seong-Jin, her eyes shining, voice breathy, giddy with happiness.

“But – I thought this piece wasn’t for sale.”

They had visited an exhibition by Potos a few weeks back, and while Ga-eul had adored all of her works, being a fan, she had been particularly drawn to this one, stating that the sweet whimsy of it made her feel exceptionally warm and fuzzy inside.

She had then asked one of the staff if she could procure it, or a replica at least, but the staff had regretfully explained that all the works on display were not for sale, replica or otherwise.

Ga-eul had been quite disappointed, and Seong-Jin had asked her during their drive home if that was why she didn’t have any of Potos’ pieces in her house, because they were for exhibition purposes only.

“Oh, no. She does sell replicas, but because they’re all handmade, she very rarely accepts orders, and even then, only select designs are released for sale.”

“I see. Is it the same with the other artist you like? Fullsstein? You only have one of her works at home.”

“Nope, Fullsstein’s works are more accessible, thankfully. But Jung-hee only allowed me that one piece that’s in the living room.”

“He – what?” Seong-Jin was nonplussed.

She had shrugged. “He believes the only art worthy of wall space are those by whom he calls ‘real artists’. You know, those whose works are in the Louvre, for example.”

Seong-Jin had struggled to comprehend this, because it seemed such an incredibly snobbish thing to believe in, but more disturbingly, what kind of husband would deny his wife her desire to decorate their home as she wished?

He did not comment though, despite his intense dislike of Jung-hee deepening even further.

Ga-eul being Ga-eul, she had gotten over her disappointment fairly quickly, but Seong-Jin knew then that he had to acquire that piece for her, by whatever means.

Through his resources, he had just managed to do so, and the arrival of the artwork the evening before meant he would be gifting it to her on her wedding anniversary, which gratified him immensely.

Nothing could have been a bigger ‘fuck you’ to Jung-hee than giving his wife something she so badly wanted that was against his taste, on a day that was causing Seong-Jin so much misery.

As always, Seong-Jin basks in Ga-eul’s joy, but this gift, he could tell, definitely topped everything else he had given her so far.

“It isn’t. I had to actually pester Potos quite a bit before she relented and agreed to do this piece.”

“You pestered?” Ga-eul’s eyes went even wider.

“Yeah.” Seong-Jin laughs. “One thing about her, she definitely has scruples. I tried to, uh, sway her with a very generous offer at first, but she wouldn’t budge. Said it wasn’t about the money.”

Ga-eul’s eyes now narrow at him, her look reproachful again.

“What? I just wanted to pay her well for her time and effort!” He chuckles sheepishly.

“So how did you convince her in the end?”

He hesitates, briefly wondering how to tell the truth, and then decides to convey just a part of it.

“I told her that you were a really huge fan, and what her work meant to you.”

“That’s it? That’s what changed her mind?”

No. I also told her how much I love you, and that you mean the world to me, like how her art means the world to you. And if she could help me give you the world, that would make us both so happy.

“Yup. I guess she just wanted to ensure that her work would be properly appreciated? But I definitely also made sure she was well compensated. I was really thankful that she agreed to do it.”

“Me too. Wow. Seong-Jin.” She takes his hand, weaving her fingers with his as she squeezes it, and he feels his heart throb violently. “I love this. I really, really do. Thank you. I don’t know what I did to deserve this, honestly –”

“Don’t say that.” He squeezes her hand back, never wanting to let go. “You deserve this, and so much more. I’m just glad you love it.”

“I do! I’m going to force Jung-hee to let me put this up somewhere. I don’t care. He’s not going to deny me this time.”

“Woah. I don’t want to become a point of contention between you both on your anniversary.”

“Pfft. You won’t be, Seong-Jin. If anything, it’ll be him. But anyway, that’s a matter for later.” She lets go of his hand, and tenderly traces the painting, her face alight with bliss. “Thank you again. So much.”

“You’re most welcome.”

As always, in Seong-Jin’s company, Ga-eul loses sense of time. When she glances at the clock again, she is shocked to see it is almost 6pm.

“Oh! Jung-hee’s plane should have landed by now.” She checks her mobile phone, but sees no missed call or messages from him.

“Hmmm. I think I’ll give him a call to see where he is.”

“Shall I leave now?” Seong-Jin half rises from his seat.

“No, no. Let me see where he is first. Hang on.” She dials Jung-hee’s number and moves to the next room for privacy.

The phone rings but there is no answer. Ga-eul tries again.

Same result. She starts to feel worried. Did something happen? Surely his flight had landed safely?

As she begins to text him, his call comes in. Relieved, she answers.

“Jung-hee?”

“Ga-eul! I’m so sorry. I was in a meeting.”

“You’re taking a meeting in the car?”

“No, I’m not. What do you mean?”

“Shouldn’t you be coming from the airport by now? Did your flight get delayed?”

“Flight? Oh. Oh, Ga-eul. I’m so, so sorry.” He realises what she means, and she, hearing his tone, realises what is happening.

“You forgot you’re supposed to be home today.”

“No, no, I didn’t. I mean, I had booked the flight and all, but then a work crisis happened, and I had to settle it, and I lost track of time.”

“So, you’re still abroad.” She starts to feel angry.

“Yes. I’m sorry, my dear, but I’m still in the thick of this matter. They can’t do without me –”

“But I can? Your wife can? Our marriage can?” For some reason, her anger is at boiling point now.

“Ga-eul. You don’t understand how serious this is.”

“No, Jung-hee. You don’t understand how serious this is.”

“What would you have me do? I’m CEO! I can’t just pack up and leave when the company needs me!”

“You’re also a husband! And I need you! Your wife needs you! Or have you forgotten the vows you made one year ago, to me?” Her voice is raised, her fury white hot and blazing.

“You’re not being fair. You knew what you were getting into when you married me.”

“Yeah, this is all my fault. You could have called in advance, informed me. I prepared your favourite dishes, Jung-hee. I prepared – your stupid duck – I wanted you to be here, for once, for ONCE, to feel like I actually have a husband!”

“I said I was sorry, right? I didn’t forget to call on purpose, I was just so busy! I’m under a lot of pressure, Ga-eul, and you’re not helping.”

“Oh.” She laughs sardonically. “Sorry for not helping. Let me help you and get out of your way.”

“Ga-eul. What did you mean by that?”

She hangs up on him, shaking with rage and disappointment. Her phone rings again and she sees it’s Jung-hee. Turning off her phone, she flings it across the room.

Then, overwhelmed by the whirlwind of emotions, she slides down the wall she is leaning against and starts to cry.

She doesn’t understand why she is so mad, so upset. Why is she even crying? She didn’t even want him home in the first place.

But she feels played, like an idiot.

She had given him credit for trying to be a husband for once, and she had decided to give him a chance, and to try for him, as he was trying for her.

But it was starkly clear now: his job was what he was married to. He had made that obvious for months and months. Why had she believed he would keep his promise to prioritise her and their marriage just because it was their anniversary?

What a fool she is.

Seong-Jin had heard the entire exchange from the kitchen next door. He had hesitated, wondering if he ought to move further to give Ga-eul more privacy, but her raised voice kept him back.

He could hear her enraged frustration, and while he was indignant that Jung-hee would do this to her, he wasn’t surprised. The months of absence, physical and otherwise, had already cemented the impression Seong-Jin had of Jung-hee: he didn’t deserve a wife, least of all someone like Ga-eul.

But he never voiced his true opinion to her, respecting the fact that her marriage was between her and Jung-hee, and didn’t need his unsolicited view.

He hears her crying, and feels his heart break for her. Grabbing the box of tissues on the kitchen counter, he cautiously approaches the room and enters.

She is crouching against the wall, head in her hands, sobbing.

Quietly, he sits beside her, facing her, and folds her into his arms, desperate to soothe her, hating that she is crying, hating Jung-hee for making her cry.

She melts into him, pressing her wet face into his chest, and as he gently rocks her, caressing her hair, rubbing her back, her tears gradually subside.

“I’m sorry.” She sniffles. “I don’t even know why I’m crying. I’m such an idiot. I should have known this would happen.”

“How could you have known? You trusted him. He let you down. Don’t apologise. It isn’t your fault at all.”

Ga-eul raises her head to look at Seong-Jin, and he moves one hand to her face, softly wiping her tear-stained cheeks, her smudged eye makeup, her runny nose with the tissues he had brought.

What a beautiful mess she is.

As he takes in the hurt in her eyes, the next words come rushing out of him.

“He isn’t worthy of you, Ga-eul. And you deserve so much more than him, than what he is giving you. You should be happy, loved, cherished.”

She is silent, newly aware of their physical closeness.

Their bodies are pressed together, faces mere inches apart, her arms around his waist, his left arm cradling her back, his right hand still holding her face, fingers brushing her hair, her cheeks, her lips.

The lips he craves to feel on his.

He gently traces them with his thumb as he looks at her.

“I would never make you cry, Ga-eul. I would only ever make you happy. Believe me. I love you.”

Ga-eul feels her world spin.

He loves me?

Confusion springs up, adding to the emotional vortex within her, but at the same time, so does – what was that?

Was that elation? Delight? Gratification?

Why was his confession sending these thrills through her?

Seong-Jin moves his head closer, closer.

Her heart beats faster, faster.

And then, his lips are on hers.

The pillowy lips that she had just dreamt about that same morning.

Was she back in that dream?

It is dark in the room, the blinds drawn. She can smell his cologne, the heady, woody scent.

She feels him pause, tentative, and she gives him the answer he is looking for.

She kisses him back.

The hunger and urgency she had dreamt of now manifesting in reality.

The repressed, secret longing of months finally breaking free.

She kisses him deeply, opening her mouth to allow his tongue access to hers, and a soft moan escapes her as he matches her fervour.

Desperate to feel him, to verify that this is really happening, that this is not just another one of her fantasies, she pulls his sweater up, running her hands all over his lean, muscled chest and stomach, confirming that he does indeed feel as good, no, better, in real life than he did in her head.

He is equally desperate to feel skin, and he pulls his top over his head, flinging it to the side before resuming kissing her, moving slowly down her neck, her chest, marking her with his mouth, unbuttoning her dress as he goes.

The last button undone, her dress falls open, revealing the lingerie of black lace and sheer silk that she has on.

He drinks her in greedily, sighing in pleasure.

“God, you’re so beautiful.” He gently lays her down as he kisses his way south, his lips further fuelling the ache that is rapidly developing in her centre, so that by the time he reaches her cunt, he finds her already soaked through her thong.

He inhales deeply, savouring her sweet scent, and, pushing the thin fabric aside, goes for the prize.

She arches her back to the skill of his mouth, her eyelids fluttering, breathing growing ragged the longer he pays homage to her pussy. As he executes a particularly delicious curl of his tongue, she tugs his hair roughly.

“Seong-Jiiiiiin.” She whines.

He looks up at her, smiling as he wipes his stained lower face with the back of his hand. “You taste even better than I imagined.”

She sobers a little, enough to register his words.

“You… thought about giving me oral?”

“Amongst other things, yes.” He showers the inside of her thighs with light kisses as his fingers trace her slick folds, making her shiver.

“What… things…” She breathes, as he removes her thong before making his way back up to her, discarding her bustier in the process.

“Like how wet and tight your pussy would feel. How sexy you would sound. When you said my name just now… so damn hot.”

His fingers return to her pussy, resuming their onslaught, thumbing her clit, sliding into her hot, tight depths, brushing against her g-spot, so that she is almost crying again, but this time from lust.

“Seong-Jin, please – please –” She whimpers.

He groans at her voice, at her squirming, naked form beneath him, and he removes the rest of his clothing, her scrambling hands helping him make quick work of them.

He moves to lie between her, her thighs falling open willingly to accommodate him, his hands holding her head as he kisses her roughly.

She bites on his lower lip as she reaches down and takes his cock in her hand; his girth and length are impressive, and he is so stiff that she can feel veins popping along the sides, his head wet with precum.

Running her thumb over his tip, she spreads his juices as she pumps her fingers around him, and Seong-Jin grunts and bucks, brushing his lips to her ear.

“Ga-eul… oh… you’re driving me nuts…”

She smirks, guiding him to her entrance, which is ready for him. Yearning for him. There is no stopping now. No turning back.

“Want you inside me.” She whispers.

He pauses at the very tip. “You sure?”

She looks at him, his solemn face; he needed this confirmation. That this is what she really wants. That he is what she really wants.

“Yes. Please.” She implores, voice soft, body compliant, and he gladly acquiesces.

With a push, he enters her, his forehead pressed against hers as he stretches her and fills her up slowly, both of them gasping from the sensation, a pleasure so intense they feel they are seeing stars.

He starts to move, slowly at first, then more quickly, spurred on by her moans which are getting louder, one hand clawing marks into his back, the other pinned down by his own, their fingers interlocked, clinging on for dear life as they rapidly spiral out of control.

She is teetering at the very brink.

“So close – Seong-Jin – unnnhhhh – deeper – please–”

“Does my baby want it deeper?” He pants as he drives more vigorously into her, and her cries increase in volume. “That good? Whatever my baby wants –”

He pulls her knees together and pushes them back towards her breasts, and she feels him even more acutely at this angle, hitting pleasure points in her she never knew existed, and then, and then –

He feels her tremble inside, and, with a cry that is almost feral, her body stiffens, her nails sinking deep into his flesh, and he feels her spasm and gush all around him, wave after wave of pure ecstasy, so powerful he feels he might drown beneath them. But he wills himself to hold on, wanting her to savour her orgasm thoroughly.

As she starts to descend from her high, her body relaxing, she focuses on his face, and realises he’s in agony.

“I – I’m not going to last much longer.” He hisses through gritted teeth, still pounding into her, sending her hypersensitive nerves into overdrive.

“Then come – mmmm – come inside me.”

He slows his tempo. “Inside?”

“Yes. I’m on the pill, don’t worry. Want to have your cum inside me.”

He growls, her words stoking the inferno within him, and in a few thrusts, he reaches his own peak, burying himself deep inside her as he fills her up, groaning into her neck.

Both catching their breaths, they nuzzle, kissing each other gently as they return to reality.

~~~

How strange that one’s existence can change in just 20 minutes.

Just 20 minutes of mind-blowing passion.

They both hardly dared believe what they had done initially, shocked that they had given in to their innermost, wildest desires.

Having made love, reality was starkly in their faces, like an overexposed photograph, throwing everything into sharp relief, and they could no longer pretend that what they had was purely platonic.

They had stayed snuggled up together on the hardwood floors for some time after, Ga-eul resting her head on Seong-Jin’s arm, him holding her close, his fingers tracing her back, hers tracing his chest, neither wanting to move nor talk, as if doing so would shatter this delicate state they were in.

She breaks the silence first.

“Did you… really fantasise about me?”

He laughs quietly.

“That’s the first thing you have to ask?”

She is smiling. “Tell me.”

He looks at her, expression tender.

“Yes, Ga-eul. Almost every day.”

Feeling shy (although she didn’t know why she was embarrassed; it wasn’t like he didn’t just fuck her brains out), she admits the truth.

“Me too, you know. Well, not almost every day. But, whenever.”

“Really?” He beams, thrilled with her disclosure, and she giggles.

“Yes, really.”

“Huh. Knew you couldn’t resist the lethal combo of my handsomeness and roguish charm.”

She shoves him, but he tightens his arms around her, both laughing.

Then, gently disentangling herself from his embrace, she props herself up so that she is lying on her stomach, looking down at him.

“Anyway, I’m sorry.”

A crease of confusion appears between his brows. “For?”

She takes a deep breath in and lets out an awkward laugh. “I don’t know. I just feel like I took advantage of you.”

“That would be me, wouldn’t it? You were upset, and I just… came crashing in with my confession and all.”

“Well, maybe, but I should have stopped you. I’m the adult here.”

“We’re both adults, Ga-eul.” His expression is serious as he reaches a hand up to cup her face. “Do you regret what we did?”

She looks him right in his eyes, and places her hand over his, pressing it to her cheek. “No. Not at all.”

“Neither do I.”

“But… what does this mean, Seong-Jin? What are we?”

“Aren’t we just two people who love each other? I meant what I said, Ga-eul. It wasn’t just to – well – get you to sleep with me, or anything like that. I love you. I really, really do. I have for some time now. Believe me.”

“I do.” She whispers, as she lowers her lips to his and kisses him. “I do, but… I don’t see how anything can develop from this. Let’s be brutally honest here. The truth is, I’m having an affair. I’m an adulteress.”

She gives a humourless laugh.

“I’ve only been married a year, and look at the state I’m in. I don’t think I can divorce Jung-hee, because… it’s just such a stigma. And even if I do, it’s not like we can be together.”

“Why not?” The furrow between his brows deepens.

“You’re joking, right? Seong-Jin, you’re the sole heir to an empire. People like you must make respectable, advantageous matches. People like you don’t end up with people like me: older divorcees with nothing to their name but the dishonour of, well, being a divorcee.”

“I would never think of you that way, Ga-eul.”

“And your parents? Your family? Your peers? The general public?”

“I thought you didn’t care who my parents were.”

“I don’t, in the context of being your professor, or friend. But as your romantic partner? It’s too much, Seong-Jin. It’ll never work.”

“And if I don’t care? If I choose to forsake my family, the estate, everything for you?”

“I would never let you do that. You’d resent me.”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

“Yes, you would! Eventually, someday, you would. You’d miss your parents. Your lifestyle. You’d regret it, Seong-Jin. Please don’t make me bear that burden. I could never stand between you and your family. I’d be guilty forever.”

Seong-Jin takes her into his arms, and she lies on his chest, hearing his heartbeat.

“I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to, Ga-eul. But please understand this: I don’t want a future without you in it. I can’t see my life without you in it. I’m yours, whether you will have me or not. Can you understand this?”

“You just... you haven’t met the right woman yet.”

“You’re not listening, Ga-eul.” Seong-Jin moves her, so that she is now on her back, and he is looking down at her. “There is no other woman. There is nobody else. There is only you.”

“But what do we do?” She feels despair. Why couldn’t they have met before Jung-hee? But even if they had, she still wouldn’t be considered an appropriate match for him, with their age difference and her humble background.

Were they really doomed?

Seong-Jin holds her face again, caressing it. “Do you love me?”

She gazes up at him, her own hands running over his, and finally expresses in words the emotion that had been blossoming in her for months; a small kernel that took root and thrived, flourishing into a full-fledged secret garden, and now, at last, verbalised.

“Yes. I do. I love you.”

“I love you too. That’s enough for me. Can it be enough for you too?”

She continues to gaze at him, his earnest expression, the ardent look in his eyes, the tender yet resolute conviction of his words.

Fuck it, she thinks.

“Yes. It’s enough. You’re enough.”

His handsome face breaks into a wide smile, and he kisses her.

#just for fun #fiction #no y/n #bts ksj #bts knj #bts fanfic #bts smut #serendipity #bangtan #RJ cameo

[uberaalison]

So because I’m still so shook over the amount of PLL fans who absolutely worship Emison and insist that Alison became some absolutely redeemed, adorable angel and how dare anyone dislike her, let’s recap her actions from the beginning to the end of the series:

Constantly fat-shamed Hanna and then followed up by teaching her to throw up her food as a way to “get rid of” the weight

Slut-shamed Hanna the first time any guy showed any interest in her, and made sure she knew it wasn’t because she could be viewed as attractive

Blackmailed Byron for thousands of dollars after finding out about his affair

Held said affair over Aria’s head for months on end and used it to manipulate her into doing whatever Alison wanted

Gave Spencer an ultimatum over her kiss with Ian and, as with Aria, constantly held it over her head

Led Emily on with sweet interactions and a kiss when she knew that Emily was in love with her

Completely ripped Emily apart, made her feel weird and wrong for liking girls, and pushed her back into the closet

Regularly teased Emily in front of others over her sexuality

Nearly outed both Emily and Paige by writing a fake love letter on Emily’s stationary and threatening to expose Paige’s response to it

Bullied Paige relentlessly, almost to the point of suicide

Threw a lit firecracker into a small space when she knew people were inside, blinding Jenna in the process

Proceeded to blackmail Toby into taking the blame and going to juvie, then created a false narrative in which Spencer was the mastermind behind the incident in case the girls were caught

Mercilessly bullied Mona, Lucas, and countless others

Drugged her friends the night of her disappearance

Knew that the Liars were being tormented by “A,” and not only did not return to help them, but never offered them any valuable information during her mysterious visits, and even outright claimed to know who “A” was and not tell them

Isolated Emily from the other girls with the narrative that Emily was the only one she could trust

Let Spencer believe that she could have tried to kill Alison, or killed Bethany, that night even though she knew Spencer was in agony over it

Immediately lied to the police upon her return, without so much as consulting her friends before dragging them into her kidnapping story

Claimed she returned Emily’s feelings right when Emily was about to go meet Paige, then used Emily’s attraction to her to manipulate her later in the episode (trying to kiss her when Emily was upset with her)

Immediately responded to “A’s” return by planning to run away again, thus leaving her friends to not only deal with “A” on their own - AGAIN - but to clean up the huge mess she left behind with her lies

Snuck around in Spencer’s backyard dressed as “A,” then became incredibly defensive when confronted instead of explaining

Staged a traumatizing attack on Hanna’s mom just so an adult would believe her story

Went behind the Liars’ backs throughout the entire Cyrus ordeal for her own self-preservation without including them in any of her plans, all under the guise of “keeping them safe”

Conspired with Holbrook to make sure that the questions asked during her lie detector test would cast suspicion on Spencer for Bethany’s murder

Showed up at Mona’s funeral wearing a heinously inappropriate dress, when she knew she was the number one suspect

Apologized in jail to Hanna for “bossing her around,” but not for the slut-shaming, fat-shaming, or encouraging her to develop an eating disorder

Nearly threw Hanna under the bus for Mona’s murder to save herself until Veronica reminded her of the negative effects it would have on *her*

Whined and bitched incessantly after the dollhouse about how difficult things were for her, straight to her friends who had been kidnapped and tortured

Did not hesitate to show sympathy and understanding for Charles, once again to the people who were tortured and kidnapped by this person

Responded to an argument with Hanna by refusing to attend Aria’s big gallery opening and not so much as texting her about it

Openly claimed that Spencer “never even liked her” when just months before Spencer had literally shielded her from gunfire with her own body

Attempted to demand that the Liars testify on Charlotte’s behalf and completely disregarded their feelings or trauma, even going so far as to send a cheery “good news!” text afterward

Proceeded to then throw all of them under the bus for Charlotte’s murder because Aria had to go back to work

Spent all of the last season moping and complaining instead of helping the Liars take down A.D.

Was a nasty, juvenile bully toward Paige, after she was supposedly so remorseful for how she’d treated her in high school

Made constant nasty remarks to her friends, such as screaming at Hanna to shut up, whining that when Hanna “panics like that I can’t even think,” and screeching “what the hell are you doing here?” at Aria

Snarking “grudge, much?” at the woman she literally blinded and never so much as apologized to

Threatened her 16 year old student

Okay but to be fair, let’s look at all of the good things that Ali did too:

Helped get the girls out of the dollhouse

Once asked Aria if she wanted something to eat

#pll #pretty little liars #alison dilaurentis #anti alison #emily fields #hanna marin #spencer hastings #aria montgomery #core four #pll rant

[leverage-commentary]

Leverage Season 2, Episode 9, The Lost Heir Job, Audio Commentary Transcript

Peter: This is Peter Winther, the Director of episode...

John: 209.

Peter: 209.

John: John Rogers, Executive Producer.

Chris: Chris Downey, Executive Producer and Writer of this episode, entitled The Lost Heir Job.

John: There you go. Chris, where did this episode come from?

Chris: Well, there was a different episode, very different episode, that didn't come together, and uh, I called Dean, Dean Devlin, our Executive Producer, and I kinda asked him, ‘What kinda bad guys are you thinking about, we haven't done?’ And one of the things he said was, ‘How about an evil lawyer?’ And me being—

John: And you used to be an evil lawyer!

Chris: And me being a former evil lawyer, I thought okay, I can work with that. And it kinda sprung from there.

John: The uh, Peter, uh, this is a lovely affecting scene. Is this in our hospital set that we get enormous mileage out of, or are we in a hospital today?

Peter: Ah, no this is the hospital set that we redesigned to look like a different hospital set.

John: Nicely done. This is very touching. Peter, let me ask you, this is the first episode of Leverage that you've directed, and there's Peter Reigert as the evil lawyer.

Peter: Yes.

John: When you're coming onto a new show to direct for the first time, what's your prep? What do you do?

Peter: Well, you know, first of all, you read the amazing script by the writers. And yeah, I cried, I laughed. Yeah, then you do the normal stuff, you location scout, you find anything that you need to find, and you kinda work with—I mean luckily for me, like a lot of the guys that worked on Leverage, I've worked with before, whether it's through the Dean Devlin world of Independence Day and Godzilla, so...

John: And Librarian, you directed the first Librarian.

Peter: And the first Librarian.

John: A big thing about this episode is- Uh, and that's London. A big thing about this—

Peter: We went to London.

Chris: If you can't tell, there's Big Ben right there.

John: Ah, we like to assume that whenever we find Sophie, she's standing in front of the most recognizable landmark ever. 'Who's dead?' I love that reaction by the way. This was a challenge. This was the first episode where we knew that we needed a female grifter for the team; we had to introduce her, we wanted to check in with Sophie, and kind of establish why we were going to introduce a semi-permanent character. A lot of struts and bolts had to be thrown up here.

Chris: Yeah, yeah.

John: That was the real challenge. We had to have a scene that made us not think this relationship was broken, but that she wasn't coming back.

Chris: Well, I mean, the hard thing is when you're introducing a new character who's gonna take over, you wanna make sure that the audience understands that that character has been approved of by the character that she's replacing.

John: Yeah, to a great degree you need—it's weird—you need Gina's character to be the initiator of the replacement in order for the, you know-

Chris: And there's kind of a story about the Mary Tyler Moore pilot, that I heard from Jim Brooks, who wrote- the great Jim Brooks, apparently when they tested the Mary Tyler Moore pilot, the audience initially hated the Rhoda character.

John: Really?

Chris: Absolutely hated her. And the network said, 'You gotta get rid of her.' And Jim Brooks re-shot a scene in which Phyllis's daughter, Phyllis the neighbor upstairs, hugs the Rhoda character, just gives her a hug in one of the scenes. They tested again, went through the roof. And what they realized was, all they needed was someone on the cast that the audience liked to give their approval of this character. And Dean really was the driving force here because he said, 'We have to make sure that the audience buys into this.'

John: Yeah, a lot of shows replace people in between seasons, but coming up with a substitute person in the middle of the season has—I've never seen it successfully done.

Peter: Until now.

John: Until now. And this is interesting, this was tricky, is, essentially we talked about bringing the Tara character in, we'd beaten out the backstory of the character, given it to Jeri Ryan, so, you know, she could consider it, and consider signing on, and then we originally were talking about her coming straight in, and then realized we'd need at least—particularly since this episode is kind of a classic Rockford mystery—that we needed to throw a little spin on it.

Chris: Yeah, this episode doesn't have a— doesn't really have a con in it, but what— and I think this was your idea, John—was to make Tara's presence in the episode the con. That she cons the rest of the team.

John: At least engaging so we could get ahead with the story rather than the audience like, 'Wait, who's she? Why am I watching her?' Instead it's- we're playing this as if she could be a character on a, you know- And you stage this beautifully, by the way, putting her on the same side of the table, you know, really locking in for the audience who that is. And we know that most of the audience thought ‘Oh, they're gonna take this lawyer character and corrupt her.’ And the twist worked right up until the end; it was nicely done.

Peter: And especially when you see Jeri Ryan come in, you assume that something's gonna happen with her. So the whole game is to make it seem like she's just playing this part. Nothing else.

John: TV audiences have seen a lot of TV; it's very hard to fool a TV audience.

Peter: Yeah, exactly. They're like, ‘Ooh, she's a special guest, there's something significant's gonna happen with her.’ So we have to keep clouding that and make it seem like nothing's happening with her, and she played it great.

John: Yeah, this is just the guest star, yeah.

Peter: Just the guest star, that's it.

Timestamp: [5:00]

John: That's a nice shot of the bar I don't think we've done before, with the light coming in, like it's 4 o'clock, 5 o'clock in the afternoon.

Peter: And this is Anna Campbell, by the way. She actually is a local actress, and she did a terrific job. She's on Mad Men, as well.

John: Oh yeah!

Chris: Was she on Mad Men? Wow.

John: That was a great vic scene, by the way. That was really- when I was watching this the first time, I'm like, wow, dragging away the nice young woman, helping the old alzheimer guy, this is a dark one, man. You know what? I hate that guy. And getting Peter Reigert was a stunning bit of casting.

Chris: And that we have to give credit to Tim. Tim, who has lots of friends who are terrific actors in New York, and he suggested Peter, who, you know—I didn't even think was on the list of our casting people to even consider. Peter Reigert of course, you would know from Animal House, played Boon in Animal House, and my favourite movie of all time, Local Hero, which I asked him about incessantly about during the week of filming.

Peter: Yeah, see, Chris was stalking Peter, pretty much. On the weekends, Chris would track him down and keep asking him stuff.

Chris: [Laughs] There's not a frame of that movie I didn't ask him about.

John: The, uh, this is a nice conversation, the whole way that she digs in here, and the way she gets very righteous. And what we're kind of doing here, is making her be the way Nate Ford used to be before his fall. And that was—that's pretty much how this worked.

Peter: And it was very interesting. She was like, she had a hard time of it, because she's used to playing very strong, independent, powerful women, and not naive at all, and that's who she is as a person too. So she was really going and taking a risk by playing this person.

Chris: She was- she was very—and she said, 'Is the audience gonna buy, me, you know, an adult woman in—'

John: Paragon of virtue.

Chris: Yeah.

John: But you know, that's a role that people played in the 40s and 50s all the time. You know, this is very much kind of our take on a classic con, classic con movie. Ah, and that's 'we never let Vicki Vale in the Batcave.' That was my big beef from the original Batman movie, is, 'No one must ever know I'm Batman! Except for the nine or ten women who've wandered through here at any given time.' C'mon man, that's the whole point.

Chris: This is a tricky scene too, to do, because you- Uh, Peter, maybe talk about the kind of emotional—you gotta cover a lot of emotional ground here.

Peter: Well these scenes, I mean, it was interesting for me, being the first time I've done these episodes. They've all done, you guys have done these informational scenes in front of the screens before. This scene scared the hell out of me, 'cause how much, like the explainer scene can you do, you know? And uh, but it was great because, the way you guys wrote the script, we could play the comedy of him getting busted, going there, and then lead into it. So it took a little bit of the curse of trying to explain it, you added some comedy, and like—

John: I also like how you've got them appearing around him at first, so he has to keep turning and looking.

Peter: [Laughing] Yeah, exactly.

Chris: And these little, kind of, photoshopped shots look great. I mean it really does look like he's in London.

John: And what's a lot of fun about the—and they're tormenting him, this is very much the family vibe. What's really kinda fun about this is, you know, we dread these scenes as writers too. And the fans love them.

Peter: Oh no, I know, it is. But that's because every time you do a little twist on it, you know, and this scene had a lot of emotional beats; there's the fun of teasing him, and then they find out she's not coming back, which you have to really then transition into a big emotional moment there, and then he's gotta rally everyone back, and now they gotta get it.

John: Yeah it's like three or four emotional beats in one one scene, yeah.

Peter: So it's really tough. But it turned out really well, I thought.

John: And then you let the screens go to black, to show their mood. That was a nice choice. I'm sure that was totally intentional.

Peter: Oh yeah, exactly. I'm a genius like that. I'm an accidental genius.

John: You are. And, uh, Eliot knowing this is not a good idea; everyone knowing this is not a good idea, and...what was I gonna say? Oh, that's the key to these scenes also, is, get somebody pissed off in it. Someone in one of these informational scenes has to either not like the con, or not like the—

Chris: By the way, I need to interject, this is one of my favorite montages ever. This is an industrialist, and I think there's a picture of a, of like a drum of oil—

John: Look, there's a drum of goo poisoning children, and then an oil well fire, and him drinking a whiskey. [Evil laughter] I like, also, that this is a magazine called Lawyer Monthly. Is there a Lawyer Monthly? Is there an evil Lawyer Monthly magazine? I would like to get a subscription to that. And again, this was kind of the thing that we were learning, is that, you know, the lost heir, and the lost will, is a crime trope from the 1600s, that has been done on a lot of different crime shows, a lot of different con show, and so the fun is taking it and finding the variation that fits your show. You know, that's one of the great things about working in a genre that has a long history. To a great degree, you're almost like—it's more like what your variation on this theme is than the actual theme itself.

Peter: It's your homage.

Timestamp: [10:00]

John: It's more than an homage, it's uh, you know. Homages are more accurate.

Peter: Yeah it's more like folk music, you know, like—

John: You're supposed to put a little spin on it, you know, and your spin adds to it.

Peter: Yeah, you're updating it, that's what it's all about.

John: Exactly. God this is a long informational scene.

Peter: I know.

Chris: This is a big one; it's a lot.

John: We gotta do the character beats, we gotta do the—and that was the other thing we found, is, you know, that you can hang out—even in like, really fast moving episodes—you can hang out for half an act in this room.

Chris: Yeah. I mean, that's what we learned.

John: As long as there's emotional beats, or you open it really strong, and, you know, uh, taking away alzheimer dude's only hope really lands it. Now this is amazing. Where are we here, guys?

Peter: Uh.

Chris: Well, we're at a jail that was built outside of Portland, and then they ran out of money. So it's basically been just sitting there, and really, this whole act was designed because we knew we had this jail. And here is of course, we wanna introduce—

John: The 'pan up legs' shot.

Chris: The pan up from the pair of legs.

Peter: We had a slow motion version, but I didn't [mumbles] time to shoot. It was a little, a little too much.

John: It was a little buttery.

Peter: Yeah, you know, I've got, I like buttery though.

Chris: But the happy accident was that, like, whatever that stuff was in the air that was blowing—

John: Gave, like, a view.

Peter: I had a guy there, he was sorta—

John: You just had a big thing of pollen?

Peter: Yeah. We did it in the Patriot actually once, where it was like, we had—it was all this stuff and there was no really apparent reason for it, but it was up in the air.

John: Looks really pretty.

Peter: Yeah, exactly. That's the reason.

John: 'Put some more schmutz, put schmutz in the air. I want schmutz, Peter.'

Peter: Yeah, pretty much.

John: And this is again, you know, outside our character, different attitude, lot of fun. And not being able to tell the truth—this is another thing where we—

Chris: This was Guys and Dolls, it was when we were breaking it, this was- we're gonna see if we can corrupt her.

John: And that was the idea, is originally, you know, we didn't know how Tara was gonna come in, and who the character was. We talked about a Guys and Dolls variation, where we would corrupt the character, and then realized that would take too much explanation, and wouldn't be approved by Sophie... but we used every part of the animal.

Chris: Yes.

John: Wow, Chris wound up really rocking those 70s sunglasses this season. He really looks like he's come out of um, Grand Theft Auto there. Ah, this shot.

Chris: Oh this guy. This guy, uh, is this actor, Tobias Anderson, is a local actor in Portland, and is just fantastic. As a matter of fact, when we were looking—when we were doing this shot, right here, I went up to Tim afterwards and I said, ‘I wanna—can we do Chinatown? Can we remake Chinatown with you in the Jack Nicholson role, and him as.. not Walter…

John: Walter Huston?

Chris: The Walter Huston role, 'cause he really just had that perfect, kind of patrician accent.

Peter: And he was the last guy I saw, like, cast. Everyone else I was like, ‘eh, I dunno’, and then finally he came in.

John: This was kind of a recurring theme this year, to. We were really busting on the whole white collar, minimum security jails, 'cause I'm like seriously man, if you steal a billion dollars, your ass gets sent to the pen. Why do you get a vacation? It was also probably tied into the fact that at this point, we were working fourteen to sixteen hours a day, and a stint in a white collar jail sounded really good to me. I was like 'so I can't work at all, I gotta sit in there and be in jail.' Oh, this was my favorite character we did all year. This is very Rockford, this is Jimmy Joe Meeker.

Peter: I have to say, when he first came in with that blue suit, I wasn't too sure about it, but [snaps fingers] his character, he totally pulled it off, like after the first scene I'm like 'Okay, I get it, I totally get it.'

Chris: Well the thing is that in the cons, essentially when Nate is in these roles, his job is to get under the skin of the mark. I mea,n that's really what it is, because that's gonna lead the mark to make bad decisions, so that's what— there was actually more to this whole sequence too, where he actually—

John: This sequence, he gets dragged out outside and beaten up.

Peter: Oh yeah, yeah, because he's that irritating. Or the suit was that blue.

John: And also, you haven't done a Rockford homage until you had the gut punch.

Peter: And this was my first shot on Leverage; right here, this is where we started.

John: Oh really, great, nice. Look at this production value in Portland, wow.

Peter: And I have to tell you, these guys are the right guys to start your career on Leverage with, these two guys, because they are so hilarious–

John: It's really just, roll the camera and get out of their way, isn't it?

Peter: It's roll the camera [laughs] and like, let the guys play.

John: Look at that!

Chris: Look at that, isn't that a great-? Look at that shot. I mean, this pristine jail. Yeah, I mean the key we've found with them was to give them a funny attitude to play. If you find an attitude for them to play, it doesn't really matter what the script is, they know what to do.

Peter: Right, you just give them, like, guidelines and a goal at the end, and where to start, and then you roll. And these guys just go—especially these two together are like, amazing.

John: And nicely enough it's a happy blend, because it's not totally improv, they really do go off the dialogue, but there's always a little twist right at the end.

Peter: Absolutely.

Chris: Oh, but boy, him playing the traumatized prison guard just killed me.

John: Yeah, just the panic—he does panic very well. [Chris laughs] And again, Hardison, Hardison always goes over the top, always a little up.

Peter: But his over the top works, because every time I was watching him I was 'he's almost–he's not quite over the top, he's just at the edge of it, he keeps it right there.'

John: Well, cause the whole point is to make you so uncomfortable you're distracted. That's a lot of—

Peter: It's all sleight of hand.

Timestamp: [15:00]

Chris: And also to sell to him the idea that to go to maximum security prison would be the end of his life.

John: Is an unspeakable nightmare, yeah. Oh, I forgot, that’s our nurse, right, that's, um...

Chris: Yes, uh, in the picture.

John: We shouldn't say her name actually so she's not stalked, but yeah. And this is a lovely ventilation shaft scene, um, really, you can't go more than two episodes on Leverage without a ventilation shaft scene.

Peter: You would think that when people make buildings they would, like, stop making ventilation shafts, because that's how everybody steals the stuff, you know what I mean?

John: Well they tend to make them small, but Beth is very small.

Chris: By the way, she's just adorable in ventilation shafts, just the childlike wonder that she has.

Peter: Just goes together.

John: I also love that Hardison's managed to find Orangina even in a prison. He's just found an orange drink, even there.

Chris: And this is Doug Brookes, who was great also.

John: Yeah, he's the other guard here.

Peter: He was hilarious. I mean there was so much stuff—this was one of— I could have shot this for three day straight, this scene, because we were cracking up the whole time.

John: And what's really interesting here is, this is something that if you're going to shoot comedy, don't over complicate comedy. Your best friend on a comedy shot is a locked off comedy shot. It's just like—you see how often we just go back to this wide right here? 'Cause all comedy plays—well that's a Woody Allen rule, comedy plays on a two shot. And this is all attitudes and reactions. You know, there's no fucking camera movement, yeah, exactly.

Peter: Because you see two different reactions in one shot that's why it works.

John: Oh, and he's so hurt. He's so hurt.

Chris: And I love him yelling ‘clear’, I mean he just digs in.

Peter: And then usually, as you guys know, we just roll the camera at him and he just keeps talking. We'll keep rolling for another two minutes, he's got—he will never stop, we have to cut.

John: I love that this is what was—this is the worst frameup in history. I remember we were pitching this in the room, we came up with stuff like, like an M16 he'd assembled out of bed parts—

Peter: But it's the tone of the show, you can get away with it.

Chris: It's all he needs, it's a Nazi armband and a picture of Hitler.

John: But why the picture of Hitler??!!

Peter: But what about the first Nazi armband they gave me? It was like, yellow and white, I'm like...

Chris: Kudos to the wardrobe department, who quickly, maybe a bit too quickly, sewed a Nazi armband when we needed.

Peter: Maybe they didn't sew it; maybe they just had one.

John: But this was also, it's pretty amazing when you think, alright we're a cable show, we're in Portland, our wardrobe department had to come up with all these prisoner outfits, because random outfits are much easier, people often wear their own clothes when they're extras. All the uniforms, all the prisoner outfits, on like half a week of prep, by the time they get the script and everything, you know for blocking. And, the bookending scene.

Peter: And I will say, Tim's suits, they pulled out of their derriere as well, because that was kind of a last minute addition, and they went to some pimp store, and found it in Oregon.

John: There's a pimp store in Oregon?

Peter: I think so.

John: Wow, I wouldn't think there'd be enough pimps to support a mini culture like that.

Peter: I mean if you look at his jackets, there's like a little button that you can hang it on from the back on, it's like, really a great jacket.

John: And she's being great, she's really selling the whole innocent lawyer. There was a moment, when we were doing this, watching the dailies, I was like 'I'm gonna miss this character'. I kinda like Jeri as this—

Peter: As the earnest...

John: Yeah, as the earnest lawyer, because she usually plays so aggressive. Because she's a very good looking, powerful woman, and, uh, it was really great. That suit's magnificent. 

Peter: Yes.

John: And this is another one, when our guys—the only way to put pressure on our guys is, things are moving too fast, they're constrained in time and space, you know, it's—

Peter: Here's one I love; I love this shot. Whoop, and then—

John: Aaand, that's.. you're right, there it is.

Peter: The button—

John: And ripping out the pages, and here, here's what I love about Reigert here, if I may, and we wrote it a little like this, but really, most of our bad guys are like, 'what the hell are you doing here?' Reigert has, in theory, been an evil dude for thirty five years. He has buried a lot of bodies. This Papadokalis—this Tim Hutton character is not gonna throw him.

Chris: No, that was really the key, the key was for him to underestimate him for the entire episode, and this, this scene to me just epitomizes the whole episode. These two guys—

John: This is one of my favorite bad guy scenes, absolutely.

Peter: And these- we put them on opposite sides of the table for obvious reasons, but then these two guys really just—again, it was like the prison scene, but in a different way—these guys really, I mean, ad libbed, and played off each other the whole time. And it was pretty amazing, it was fun to watch.

John: That's a lot of craft at that table, right there.

Peter: A lot of craft. And it really worked, there was like, they were kinda playing with each other on an actor level, and on a character level at the same time, and it worked both ways.

John: Kinda trying to one up each other a little bit in the scene. That's a great set—what is, what offices were those?

Peter: That was a real lawyer office.

Chris: Yeah, I mean we—

Timestamp: [20:00]

John: Look at that deadpan, just that total dead-eyed—

Peter: Yeah and it's great, it's really like a fire and ice kinda scene, because Jimmy Papadokalis is all over the place, and he's like this, and Peter's just cool as ice.

John: And that's another thing, and you'll see it—we kinda found the rhythm as we went into the back half of second season, the bad guys get progressively scarier. And more competent. I like to think that the Leverage crew has cleaned out all the easy white collar dudes. Like in their first year, they got all the easy marks.

Chris: Well, I gotta give credit to Peter Reigert, I mean, he so inhabits this character. I remember being on set and people talking about, ‘I think this guy's killed people before’. Like, literally, when people debate about the backstory, you know you've hit a home run.

John: Now this one I like, is that we go out, and we're strung and we have no answer, and you're watching Nate Ford play chess here in his head. He's putting the facts together, he's doing detective work. And again, this is the thing we mention in a couple of the commentaries, a lot of second season was realizing, criminals are like detectives - they know crime, they can put stuff together. And Nate Ford was a detective, so you know, when he throws this together, it's using the available facts in a convincing way. And he's reading Reigert.

Chris: Yeah.

Peter: And the way Tim plays it, he was really brilliant in the scene, because you really feel like he's making this stuff up as he goes along. You do. I mean, you're like—like I'm watching, like we were watching and we were like, like what's he gonna do now? It was, like, it was amazing.

John: How is he saying the words, they seem fresh.

Peter: Yeah, and you just get sucked in, he's like, I mean he's—those looks, those blue eyes he's got man, they're just a killer.

John: And that's, again, structurally, this episode really is, we need X information, we do a mini con in act two to get X information. That information is not what we think it is, therefore we have to change the plan in act three. In act four, the violent ramifications of that changed plan comes to the fore. It's the template, it's the one comforting blanket...

Peter: What I love about this episode—besides 'I directed it'— was that I really felt, even when I was watching it, as a fan, later, I was like 'I don’t know how they're gonna defeat this guy', you know, like he's not gonna get ruffled.

John: He's a good bad guy.

Peter: And even like, in the scene that's about to happen, when she comes in, it's like, he doesn't buy that for a second either.

John: That's a big difference on shows, is, uh, a lot of times for us it's not are they going to defeat this guy, because meta structure—again, TV audiences have seen a lot of TV—it's how. This is one of the few times it's like 'I don't really know— I dunno if they're gonna do this.'

Chris: Well, I mean, that's what was so nice about introducing The Lost Heir Con, fairly deep into the show, I mean you know, there could have been an episode where that came out of the briefing scene, but because it became a development...

Peter: Right, because a lot of the episodes I saw, like that— they figured out the con at the end of the first act—

Chris: This is the con, this is what we're gonna do.

John: And that's really tricky, 'cause we really know we're not a detective show, because we have broken some episodes where there's like an investigatory first and second act. We always wind up throwing out those outlines. You know, it's gotta be a weird mix of investigation first and second act—

Chris: Well...

John: Because you do. If you introduce the con too early, you run out of steam.

Chris: But I think what we learned here was, that what the audience wants at the end is a twist. And you can give them a detective twist if we put it, like with the Tara character, if there's a con shell around it.

John: Yeah. You could easily do this as a private investigation episode, on any other show. 'Bye bye. Out. Get out.' And Parker's utter inability to act now.

Chris: 'Are we gonna go get meth?'

Peter: Dude, the meth line, we were all in tears. And there's like four different versions, and they're all awesome, and uh, yeah.

John: It's really hat-rific in there today, look at that. That's one, two, three, that suit's really a hat. [All laugh] Uh, that's three hats in there. And I remember breaking this, and going over like, women's names, or what we could possibly do, we had to look up and see uh, what had been, what could wind up on drivers licenses, when the drivers licenses were digitized—

Chris: Well the tricky thing here was, and you came up with it, was finding ways to bury the colorblind... because if you kinda like, if they they keyed up on colorblindness here, really we're tipping the ending, and it was just, trying to find a way to throw it in.

John: But that's one of those times where writing is really, we describe it as making the license plates, you sit in the writer's room for six hours, staring at the ceiling, until the answer comes, you know and just throwing out crap.

Peter: Yeah but it was a great 'gun in the drawer' kinda thing, you know, where it's like, he really—

Chris: He saw it up there, it landed visually, he mentions is—

Peter: Yeah, it's right in front of your face, and then it comes back later and no one sees it coming, and that's the best way. I always hate shows where it's like, suddenly they come up with a magic answer, and it was like, we never saw it. Here, you put it in front, but it's all sleight of hand.

John: There's a—Dean Devlin's father had a great thing, which is 'there are no drive ups in the third act', and we have the same thing. There's no new information in the fifth act. You're not allowed to give anything new, it has to be something, a version of what we've already seen.

Chris: That's a nice transition, too.

John: Yeah it is, a nice whip over to her. And there was actually an original scene, another scene in this, too, where he's kind of talking her into doing this? But the fun—it turns out this is much better, just knowing that somehow he's conned her into this.

Chris: The audience, you should know, this episode was eight minutes long when we finished it, and we kept—and it was a real hard thing to edit it down—

Timestamp: [25:00]

John: Oh, there's a lot of good scenes on the floor, in this one.

Chris: But I still feel like in the end, the final edit was the best edit. I mean, you've really like- when you get into it, you find out that you really didn't need all this stuff.

John: Yeah, a lot of the other stuff were grace notes.

Chris: And the eating stuff was Peter's—Peter likes eating scenes. [All Laugh]

John: All actors like eating scenes.

Peter: They do, it gives them some—they need business.

John: By the way, that's one of Spielberg's tricks.

Chris: Really?

John: One of Spielberg's tricks is to show, if he wants you to like people, he shows them—he shows them cooking.

Chris: That's interesting. Well, I guess it also shows how little, you know, disregard he has for everything.

John: And this was another trick, was to figure out a way to involve the lawyer character in the con, in a way that didn't violate the character, and the idea is, we were sitting there, 'but she's supposed to be scrupulously honest,' and we realized, well, we use that, that's the point.

Chris: And also it answers the question as to, wouldn't this guy just ask for a DNA test? Well, we always find—

John: Oh that's right, that was the big argument in the room, is, how do you get him to not want a DNA test?

Chris: Well, you convince him it's the worst possible option. Ah, and this is a great scene, too.

John: And, a couple months afterwards, it was in the news, a way to fake DNA tests. We killed ourselves, we killed ourselves to figure out some way to get him to not ask for the DNA, and then a couple months later in the news there was a way about how to fake it.

Peter: They probably saw the episode and —

John: Yeah, I sent them all the research. This is a very classic, this is, we could stamp a Quinn Martin production on this scene.

Chris: He looks like the, uh, actor here, who I'm gonna look up his name quickly—

Peter: David.

Chris: Is it David?

Peter: I think so.

Chris: Yeah. He— right out of a Quinn Martin production.

John: Actually I — He could play in Spencer as the, uh, the heavyset Boston sargeant that's his buddy, yeah. And this is, a good, uh, good showdown on the docks scene. This was originally an alley, in a parking garage,

Chris: Yeah, wasn't it, it was a parking garage, and what was—what led to you guys scouting out here?

Peter: You know what, it was just, for me, I'd watched all the episodes, and I just felt, you- There was this whole river thing, and in Boston there's a river even though, you know- 

Chris: It worked great.

Peter: But I just wanted to open it up, you know, give some size to it, and I dunno, the parking garage, there was no good alley parking garage in Portland. So, we went into this scene. And it opened it up a little bit, 'cause we were in a lot of rooms, up until then.

John: Yeah, there's that whole, that whole second act, to a great degree, is prison, lawyers office, and that's a good- you know what, any act break where a dude's aiming a gun at you is a good act break.

Peter: It's always good.

John: You know what, I'm gonna—I'm gonna stand by that. Now, what happened is, people were wondering, how did Eliot see this guy? This is Eliot's job. Eliot's job is to walk the perimeter and beat the hell out of people.

Peter: He showed up with them in the car, and then like, got out earlier—

John: They dropped him off so he could— now this is great.

Chris: This is great, there we go.

John: This is not CG. [Referring to Eliot chucking a rock at a guy's head.]

Peter: This is not, this is real, and this was- this was Christian's idea, you know, to throw the rock, because we had played softball that weekend, and he was shortstop and he was so good and then he came up "Dude, you saw how good I was at shortstop, right? I can do that, I can throw that." And he kept it in frame and everything.

Chris: And his, uh, his baseball skills become in evidence later in the season, I'd say.

John: Yeah, exactly. This is also a nice fight, because it really showcases something that Kevin Jackson really tried to do this year, which was, all of Eliot's fight style, because he's, you know, he's fast, is getting inside your reach and just working the ribs; it's not big kicks, his job is to get in there, break your ribs, and make you lay down. Yeah, maybe break an elbow, uh, and this was also great. We had to figure out how to get a time constraint on it, having him shoot the tires out, it was just a nice bit of work.

Peter: Yeah.

John: We should have used the Hyundai Genesis for this, though. Why the hell didn't we do that? Oh, we shot the tires out, that's right. That's right, you can't really do an endorsement for a car that you shoot.

Peter: Right, exactly.

Chris: Aww.

John: Aww, this is fantastic.

Peter: Oh, this is the best.

John: And Reigert's acting—

Peter: And by the way, we were in a mad rush right now, because the sun's going down.

John: Yeah. And just, gimme the gun. There you go. Thank you. Boom. Oh god!

Peter: And he's so blasé.

Chris: [Laughing] He says thanks!

John: Ahh. Dude, he has so put a bullet in a junkie, like in 1985 in an alley.

Peter: We had a great moment there, too, where he drives off and the guy's left in the dust. But it's really extra.

Chris: And I can say that this episode, in the earliest versions, one of the earliest nuggets of it was this fourth act, which was a race to the courthouse. It was one of those things we always knew was, there was gonna be Eliot and Parker, racing to the courthouse, and cops trying to shoot them, and it was the gauntlet.

John: Yeah, and that's, again, very simple goal, one goal per act, you can make—

Peter: I just love, like they think 'Oh I'm gonna put on some shades, no one will recognize us.' 

[All Laugh]

John: And this, this is really my favorite Eliot-Parker run in the entire two years. Because it's one of the times that we're really reminded of the fact that they are the two most dangerous people on the team, and then when they're not with the others, they can sometimes allow themselves that.

Timestamp: [30:00]

John: You know, they pretend to be normal humans around Hardison and Nate and Sophie, because they know they're not supposed to be, you know, like, not supposed to enjoy this. And now a good gloat from Reigert, that's nice.

Peter: Yeah, exactly.

Chris: 'Crawl under a rock.'

John: Yeah, so the entire thing was us sitting around like, what are the three or four locations, if you're trying to get to the courthouse, you know, what could the possible obstacles be? And I think this, this whole run was uh, I think this one's mine just because I did the key bit, remember?

Chris: Yeah the key bit, I think that was gonna be something with a ball bearing at one point?

John: Yeah, we played around with it, and just um, it was... oh, it was jury duty. It was like, the only thing that's keeping you from getting into a courtroom, really, is a metal detector. I love this push in on the reverse by the way,

Peter: Yeah, this was great, this was like, we really blocked this out big time, but then Mark shot-

John: There you go!

Chris: Oh, that's an iconic shot.

John: Yeah it is. And what's kinda interesting there is, he's not looking forward to it, and she's smiling, she genuinely is looking forward to it. And there's our naive lawyer, completely hung, and we've just said this girl is not part of it.

Peter: But this is the scene that, like, I think people really believe that she really is that person, and really is naive. She really sells—

Chris: Yeah, she did.

John: She sold the hell out of it. Now, she was—you know what, you get a new actor to come to your show in the middle of your season, it could be a disaster in a lot of ways. Jeri was nothing but a professional, and she was sweet and she's funny as hell, seriously, it couldn't have gone better.

Peter: And so, so prepared, you know when she's so prepared, you can play around a little bit.

John: You know what, this also comes from - my mom, when I was eight, we flew down to see friends of hers in San Antonio, she was taking kielbasa from this deli in Worcester with us—

Peter: This is already a good story.

John: But we go through the x-ray—it was one of the first times they'd had an x-ray machine—so there are three, uh, tinfoil wrapped cylinders that looked like explosives in my mother's luggage. And I remember at eight, like the guards just descending on us.

Peter: I love that. That's like, let's be blatant shall we?

John: You know what, television is not [???]

Peter: No, no, no. But here's what's great about Peter in this scene - he really made everyone around him feel nervous, like he was like really doing that thing. He did like, you know, acting-directing, you know, which I always love.

John: Okay—THERE, THE CATCH!

Chris: The catch! By the way, after he did that, he came up to me—because I wasn't there for this—and he said 'You gotta call Rogers and tell him I caught the bullet.' I mean he was like a little kid, talking about that.

Peter: He did it on three different takes, he caught the bullet.

John: He did it on three takes without—and she tasers him without looking. And the little smile...

Peter: Loves it. And then she gives him another one as she bails.

John: And just the look back to him, like, 'What? What? I'm supposed to not do that?'

Peter: 'I just went to the dark side for a second.'

Chris: And just one little *zzz* jolt on the way out.

Peter: It's so great with her, 'cause she's so sweet looking, and then she's got this little dark side which is awesome.

John: And that was the other thing, you really see that coming out in the back half of the season. Like from here on—it was nice because things had slowed down and we were like, 'Alright, what are some beats that we haven't hit in a while? Oh that's right, Parker's crazy.'

Chris: Yeah, she's crazy. That's a beautiful entrance too, that sweeping camera.

John: Great courtroom. Was this the same courtroom we shot yours in?

Chris: Same courtroom we shot in.

John: Nice. But they're not in Belbridge, they're in Boston proper.

Peter: It is the best, it's like the peacock, you know, he's totally got his mirror out, and—

Chris: Well that, I'll tell you where that was from, Gerald Shargel, the great mob lawyer. I remember there's a famous story where he was doing a mob trial and opened his briefcase before he was about to do a cross examination, and it was all hairbrushes. [Peter laughs] it was like, there was not one file folder...

John: Yeah, you think anybody else is gonna wander in here, no. She’s—and now we're doing our courtrooms. Oh, look at that. Was that a federal courthouse?

Chris: It was a former federal courthouse, and you know, I said this, I think, in the earlier one, there are, in a lot of American cities, there are beautiful federal courthouses built in the twenties and thirties. And then, you know, they decided 'no, they don't work for us anymore', built brand new federal courthouses with your tax dollars, and these things are sitting there—

John: Just sitting around empty.

Chris: Just waiting for television shows to arrive.

John: We could do a courtroom drama, we could just live in this place, yeah.

Peter: And by the way, Jeri feeling very at home in a courtroom because of Boston Legal. She was like, she had that down, but in a different way. She was playing, more of an innocent...

John: Yeah, not the shark. No the, uh, and then the show becomes a courtroom drama. The show really is, like, four different episodes, you know? There's kind of an early Rockford, then there's the gauntlet—

Chris: And then becomes a courtroom drama.

John: —and now it's Perry Mason.

Chris: It really is, that's it.

John: Except Peter Reigert is much more formidable than Hamilton Burger. Hamilton Burger, a reference only five of you will get. Oh no, and now he's really starting to get pissed off. No it was interesting, we actually played around a lot with, like, how evidence is admitted, and what the...

Chris: Yeah, you know me, I get very...

John: No, it was interesting, it was one of the few times that I've been, ‘I wanna make sure I get this right’. And you were explaining that what is allowed as evidence is pretty much up to the judge. 

Chris: It is, yeah. I mean, this was all, I vetted this, this is pretty much all on the level. 

Timestamp: [35:00]

Peter: What I love about this scene is like, on one level, we have no idea how he as a character, Tim as a character, is gonna, like, pull this off, because we're not thinking about the color blind thing. But on another level, Tim is like ad-libbing a lot in there, and so the actors are also like, they don't know what's gonna come at them. So everyone's like on their toes, which worked really perfectly for the scene, because you really had to listen to everything he said, because everyone had to react to it. And all the actors, including the judge, the local actors, they all rose up and like, really handled it well, and it makes the scene work terrific. 

John: This was interesting, I just, looking at these shots, because this is not a designed courthouse but a real courthouse, a designed courthouse would have more gack on either side on those sight-lines. You know, there'd just be like high risers, or wouldn't be quite so deep, you know.

Chris: But this was, I remember, there's a few times when you're watching, you know, filming something, when you're like, this is something special. And there was a take here where it was like, between the two of these guys ad libbing, that was really something special. And I remember the three of us looked—it was you, me, and Dean—were like, wow, that's it.

Peter: No, it really was.

John: The, uh, and then now the launch. The whole unraveling, and she's really sympathetic; that was good casting on our part.

Peter: So sympathetic.

Chris: She was fantastic.

John: 'What color?'— that was the moment in the room when we got it. Because we're trying to figure out like, what's the moment? What's the one thing that'll lock it in? Because we were doing the lost heir con, and we hadn't come up with the idea that she was the lost heir yet.

Chris: Yeah that was a fairly late addition.

Peter: And all this stuff that Tim does, where he's like, it looks like he's trying to—but now as a character, he's playing Peter Reigert's character, like, 'Oh I don't really know what I'm doing,' but his character totally does.

Chris: It's the typical like, ‘I'm just a country lawyer. I dunno about you big—’

John: It's very Columbo.

Chris: ‘—you big city lawyers, I mean all I know is this.’

John: 'Pardon me, just one more thing before I leave, my wife's very excited that I met you, I gotta ask—'

Chris: 'Now, maestro—'

John: 'Maestro, when you doing one of these orchestra things? Exactly how long are you playing here?' And that's when we do the revelations of observation.

Chris: Here's where he figured it all out. Colorblindness, trying to play fair.

John: See, if you go back on the DVD, right there, it's right there.

Peter: All those shots are there.

Chris: There was a lot of debate about how much to see of the flowers in that scene, it was—

John: No, because you're focused on Jeri Ryan.

Peter: But the whole thing for me is, you have to see all that stuff, but not see it at the same time. But it has to be there, else you're cheating.

John: I'd forgotten that. That's one of my favorite moments in the room this year, where we're just sitting there, staring at the ceiling, and we've just been beating at this for hours, and all of a sudden, 'what color is my tie?' and you just saw like the walls fall into place, like, bang bang bang bang.

Chris: And a great choice of Tim here to drop the Papadokalis character. Like by now, by now he becomes Nate Ford, lawyer.

John: And sympathetic dad. You know, he kinda, he genuinely, he's figured out that there's a massive tragedy at the center of this, you know? And we had a big talk about, like, redemption and what the- why this guy would try to change, and... lovely. It's a nice little episode. I think everybody dug this one. Yeah. And she's working the hell out of that, look at that, she's tearing up.

Peter: She's so good. No, and she totally gets it, you know, for me, acting's all about transitions; it's all about, that's the most important part, the change. And she really gets it, she's like, really... and Tim really helped a lot, like on the off camera stuff, 'cause he would just start rattling off all this different stuff to help her get there.

John: I gotta tell you, that was kinda cool, when you're up there in Portland, and you're watching, like, local actors get a seminar with Tim Hutton. Because he worked with the girl who played the victim's daughter in the opening one. I'm like, you're a fifteen year old Portland actor, and you're working with an Oscar—

Peter: She, by the way, was fantastic.

John: She was fantastic. Yeah, and you're working with Tim Hutton. I mean, you're not gonna get this anywhere else. No, we loved the Portland actors. We love shooting there, it's a great place. Now, he's losing it.

Chris: Now he's completely unhinged. [Laughing]

Peter: He's suddenly realized. And it's only now that you realize, he's gonna lose. And it took this long, and that's what's great, is like—

John: 'Papadokalis!!'

Peter: Yeah, dude. That was the best. 

[All Laughing]

John: And he's gone, now Nate's gone from the clown to the guy in charge. And it's, yeah, utterly unmanned him. And I love the fact that, if you go back and watch this now, knowing what Tara is, she's running, like, a double con at this moment.

Chris: Yeah.

Peter: But at this point, you would never guess it, because the Papadokalis character is so big, it camouflages everything that Tara is doing, you know what I mean? And uh, and that's what helped it, her performance and Jimmy Papadokalis being so big, makes you not think about it.

John: I like that wink he threw her, too. That moment, it was a really sweet moment. And uh, a little gloat.

Chris: Oh, here's the gloat. Dean loves the gloat.

John: Dean's rules, the villain must suffer, and there should always be a gloat, if you're going for optimal. I love that she kisses stuff when she gets—she kisses money, she kisses—this is her, she gets pleasure from stealing. No other way around it.

Peter: I gave her like, what that was, in the thing, what's in the paper, and then she kissed it, but I wouldn't tell you what it was because it's private.

John: What? Aww.

Timestamp: [40:00]

Peter: I'll tell you after the DVD thing.

Chris: Oh, and he's dragged away.

John: Dragged away! Ruined! That, my friend—

Peter: I love how she perches up there; she's like a percher. She likes to perch on things.

John: Actually, in another episode, you know, we note the fact that you almost never see her enter a room. Usually the camera comes around, and she's just sitting there. You have no idea how she got there.

Chris: And here this really sells that; you think this is the end of the line for her.

John: Oh, special guest star Jeri Ryan.

Chris: This is like, you know, 'I hope you learned from me.' 'I think you learned something from me.' Like, the audience goes, ‘Oh okay, that's the end of Jeri Ryan.’

Peter: That was a good part for Jeri. That was a good thing for her.

Chris: Now this is very much a Rockford scene, because in every Rockford, there's usually a scene with the girl at the taco stand at the very end, when Rockford surmises why what happened happened. And he doesn't really know why, he just, he's taking a guess with his Rockford wisdom, and that's what Tim is doing right here. I felt very much writing this, that this was the quintessential coda Rockford scene.

John: Yeah. And the sort of, you know, the universe is a disordered place, and our job is to bring order to it. And you really have to read Harlan Ellisons—

Peter: I always love that entrance, these guys 'eh, we all happened to come in and enter right at this time.'

John: They wait around for each other outside, they know the effect they have when they walk in. And now the flip. And look at each one of them locking it in in a different way.

Peter: This is the zoinks moment; that's the zoinks moment.

Chris: And there she is, rocking the boots.

John: And she looks a little different there.

Peter: Slightly.

Chris: That's no librarian!

John: This was great. And it was a great way to introduce the character. Because again, the team is hypercompetent, you really have to... there's only so many ways you get a character to come in here and ordinarily, if you're bringing in a new character, as most shows do in the pilot, it’s the rookie story. We can't have this be the rookie story, because we're in the middle of a season. So, you know.

Peter: I just love, I love the interplay between her, Jeri and Beth, it's great. Because like, you know, that's the two girls and she's the biggest defender for Gina's character.

John: Yes, exactly. And they, by the end, they became really fantastic friends over the course of the season. And it really started being a lot of fun just putting the two of them in scenes together, because they'd found a really nice rhythm between Parker and Tara.

Chris: And I think the actors hung out a lot, they had a really nice—

John: They did; that's what I'm saying, they really were very good friends.

Peter: Well, especially because it's such a guys club, you know. [Laughs]

John: Especially since Gina wasn't, by that point, not in the [mumbles] because of her pregnancy, so this—and we had a bigger scene here and this was just a nice look. This is just—

Chris: That smile!

Peter: And that's her like, in her full like, 'Oh, this is gonna be great.'

John: And it was. We had a great time with her. And the turn, and ‘Dad, make it stop’, and there you go.

Chris: 'What did I just do?' That's—we went out on our summer season finale.

John: On that. Exactly. And this wasn't supposed to be the summer season finale, and it turned out to be a great one. It really was a great, solid, sort of back to basics episode.

Peter: It just makes sense, when you're introducing that new character, now it's like, a whole new change, and then you make 'em wait to get the next ep.

John: Uh, anything you want to say to the nice folks before we wrap it up?

Peter: Well for me, I had a great time doing it. It was a great time in Portland, except for the writers on the set—

John: I understand. Nothing but trouble. 

[Chris Laughs]

Peter: Yeah, nothing but trouble. But otherwise, I mean, great cast, great crew, everything was a lot of fun.

Chris: We had a good time.

#Leverage #Leverage TNT #Leverage Audio Commentary Transcripts #Audio Commentary #Transcripts #Parker #Alec Hardison #Elliot Spencer #Nate Ford #Sophie Deveraux #Season 2 #Episode 9 #Season 2 Episode 9 #The Lost Heir Job

[sasorikigai]

Could you love Kuai Liang even when you are a ghost? A formless demon set to kill and nothing else.

Lets play 20 questions, the first 20 asks I get send I will answer, no matter how personal, creepy or sexual (11/20) || anonymous, mention of @indulgentia & @frozenbreath || accepting

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 || Whenever the subterranean inferno sea of his mind were disturbed, Scorpion plunges inward, and struggles downward, as he would suffocate beneath the onslaught maelstrom of his emotions. Kicking strongly, purposefully, as if he wished to break through the depths his own dark fantasies. Serrated blades of white iridescent gaze narrow and sharpen, as amalgamation of rage and displeasure and stupefaction all engulf him, intending to drown him beneath his own charring, searing viciousness. It’s not the halcyon joyfulness keeps his heart and face young; it’s the searing, agonizing torment, remembering his Harumi and Satoshi, and all the Shirai Ryu that have perished that fuels him to incessantly burn.

The fissuring rumble of his volatile, eruptive wrath permeates, as the clouds of his shellshocked expression crumbles with sinking burden of guilt and remorse, as he imagines unspeakable feat of his brutality and barbaric cruelty done in the name of righteous vengeance turned askew. Sanguine squelch sticking to his boots, with so much sanguine squelch and dusted cinder and ash scattered to suffocate his throat and settle in his lungs. The arid, asphyxiating air cracks and buries Hanzo Hasashi’s own skies, as the lack of life throbbing beneath his disintegrated heart heavy and bittersweet. The air charges with nostalgia, as Scorpion resiliently braves the torrential madness and chaos taking over the ravaged flood of his viscera, lapping viciously against his ribcage and rattling his still human heart. 

“I know my absolute best will never be good enough for the Lin Kuei Grandmaster,” Scorpion’s clangorous revelation should never shock anyone. He knows this - with innocents’ blood in his hands, with their siphoned souls eternally suffering beneath the Nether’s conflagration - that he couldn’t ever atone for his sins in complete absolution. For no longer, Scorpion embodies the grace and sweetness of magnanimous warmth and unfading fragrance of comfort. The wraith is putrescent rot, the rigor mortis of death, and eternal damnation of purgatory. 

“All I can do is to follow Grandmaster Hasashi’s dying wishes, to seek acceptance and redemption by following the right path, thus achieving what it needs to be done for the Earthrealm with Sub-Zero.” Stirred desire and aspirations alight him in blazing tendrils of fire ablaze, as his ever-piercing eyes shut, his long lashes trembling as his aching heart coaxes Scorpion’s heart to crawl into his hollows. All he ever wanted to do was to stay true to himself, but never compromising the sake and sanctity of his home. Even a wretched undead demon like him can truly believe the tenets of what makes one a human; love passionately and desperately, so that the diminishing light in his heart could be propelled to become the dawning radiance. ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ 🔥 || 

#✗ the ineffable testimony of spawned hellfire (scorpion) #✗ roaming untethered hellfire (ii) #✗ hellfire fibrillating beneath his skin (iv) #✗ again and always (scorpion x sub-zero) #✗ an innocuous unknown (anonymous messages) #hanzo hasashi #kuai liang #subscorp #(thermodynamic equilibrium) #(gee destroy me will ya) #anonymous

[accioadhdmeds]

Sweater weather ( part 1?)

Hi this is my first ever fic I’ve ever wrote, although I may be under the influence of some wine, I do want to continue it if people seem to like it. ( not my gif).

Pairings : Draco Malfoy x Gryffindor! reader

Warnings: none, as of right now.

Welcome to your fifth year at Hogwarts you thought to yourself. You’ve spent the last five years learning everything you need to know about magic, much to your fathers dismay. Your mother was a witch, while your father was a muggle who fell in love with Y/M/N. At the beginning he didn’t know anything about magic or even that existed. But once you were born, it all changed when you were changed the color of your cat by just looking at it.

Now here you were fifth year at Hogwarts, unpacking in your room with Hermione Granger. You two had been rooming together since your second year, ever since you had a falling out with your previous roomate. ( she stole your favorite dress and ruined it so you hexed her without the professors finding out,surprisingly). While you were getting your robes out Hermione was blabbering on about her summer with Ron and Harry while you half listened thinking about how much you missed the lake side of your family’s cottage.

“What was that Mione?”. You asked when you realized how much you went listening to her questions.

“Well, I had asked how you were feeling about having advanced potions with Sytherins this year .” She asked quizzically.

You realized you hadn’t thought about it much less knowing that you even had that class with the Sytherins. You shuddered thinking about what that would entail. While you liked potions, even if Snape taught it, you knew that the rowdy group sought disrupt your marks.

“Well, I guess I’m more worried that they will distract me from actually learning anything.” You stated grimacing. “ I just hope that I can focus in that classing knowing that they arn’t gonna let us breathe in there.” You said pondering how the class was going to go. You got dressed in your Gryffindor robes as you waited for Hermione to finish tying her tie. Once she finished you gazed up at her with a small smile on your face as you awaited dinner at the Great Hall.

“ You’re tie looks fine come on, I’m starving let’s go” you said to Hermione itching to go stuff your face with the feast you knew that was going to be present.

“All right, all right I’m done” she said with an eye roll as you walked out of your dorms giggling to eachother about how much of a goody goody she is.

You two reached the Great Hall after a minute of laughing to yourselves about your divinations class last year and how you told Mrs. Trelawney that Neville was going to fail Herbology because he had to tie his shoe during an exam. While it was the lamest prediction you could come up with, she believed it none the less.

Once you had walked in the Great Hall you found the Gryffindor table right away. Seeing Ron stuffing his face was as evident as ever as you chuckled to yourself about how much that boy can eat. You and Hermione walked over and sitting down with you next to Ron, while she sat down next to Harry. Before the feast began Dumbledore was taking about the new teachers of the year and how he was excited to start the new semester fresh. You started tuning out once he said ‘Welcome back’ infavor of glancing around the house tables, while you lingered on the Sytherin table.

You spotted a perfectly placed white blonde hairdo while glancing around, you knew exactly who it belonged to. Draco Malfoy, the kid/man you’ve been trying to avoid since the first year. You knew the rumors and how cruel and ruthless he could be to kids with muggleborn parents. And frankly you were not trying to be on the receiving end of that torment. While you have been successful most of the time, doesn’t mean his minions don’t occasionally corner you in the library or the halls to torment you. You knew Slytherins were ruthless, but doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt at all. You loved your mom with all your heart and she was your rock when you didn’t know what else to do. Then when hearing these cruel boys call her a ‘ filthy blood traitor’ had hurt you to your core, although you didn’t show it.

While you were looking around the the room you caught eyes with the Sytherin Prince himself, you didn’t mean to, but he gave you a scowl while lifting his lips up and mouthed to you ‘what are you looking at’ and you quickly averted your gaze to Dumbledore as you heard the finishing remarks of his speech. Once he finished the Great Hall was decorated in the most delicious looking food you could ever imagine. You and the rest of the students dug in like it was your last meal. After your plate was filled and you were eating your mashed potatoes like your life depended on it you overheard a loud remark at the Slytherin table.

“God Potter acts like he owns the place, just because he’s ‘saved ‘ Hogwarts before doesn’t mean he gets to waltz around here like royalty.” You heard the blonde boy practically yell to his friends. “I mean what is exactly so special about him, literally anyone with two sense could figure out half the shit he can” he retorted. You gaze over at him with slight anger in your eyes. Muttering to yourself about how much of a git he was, although it was almost like he read your mind and locked eyes with you with and a sarcastic smirk pressed onto his face. He raised his eyebrow as if challenging you to think something else as you held your gaze with him. You rolled your eyes and broke eye contact with him during back toward the conversation that Ron was having with Harry. You slightly overheard them talking about their upcoming quittich practice and at that point you got bored . You love the game, but hearing the boys talk about it incessantly tends to make you bored. So, instead to decided to ignore them infavor of your pumpkin juice in your cup.

Once dinner was over everyone started bustling towards their common rooms, eager to get into their beds or talk with old friends. You were feeling th exact same way, ready to get to your room and flop onto your bed ans fall into a deep sleep. Although your thoughts were rudely interrupted as the Slytherin Prince himself pushed your shoulder almost knocking you off balance in the hall. He looked at you and rolled his eyes.

“Of course some bloody trash would get in my way.” He muttered to himself in his mind, although almost saying out loud . But you picked yourself up and brushed off your skirt and stared right into his grey eyes.

“Well Malfoy, you may think I’m trash, but have your ever tried looking a bloody mirror? Your face may surprise you.” You said said while rolling your eyes and storming off not waiting for a sarcastic remark back. Although you would’ve missed the baffled boy behind you wondering how in the hell you heard him:

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #this is my first fic #I wrote it while drunk #please be gentle #I’m not done though #harry potter #angst #gryffindor #syltherin #maybe smut idk yet #Draco

[imasimpforstevengrant]

Into you

@raven-romanoff

@maristela1968

@flaky178

_________________________________________

Author's note:

First off... Gif made from the original video.

https://youtu.be/iqDUGD8SHF4

_________________________________________

I have to confess I wanted to write another smut for Arthur/Harleen since the first one I wrote wasn't so satisfying... So, here it is! It took me a long time to write it (two months, actually. Bless the writer's block, FFS) so I hope you like it!

Second, sorry for any typos because english is not my first language (Chilean Spanish Strikes Back once again lol).

________________________________________

Summary: Follow up to "I feel you". After his first night with Harleen, Arthur cannot get enough of her... And she has more in store for him than just a few warm, kind words.

Warnings: insecurity, (considerable) age gap, self loathing, swearing, masturbation (both receiving), strong sexual themes, unprotected sex, mild dirty talk... And smut.

Words: 8.540 (sorry if it's too long. I hope you don't get bored)

________________________________________

The clock marked 5:46 a.m. when Arthur opened his eyes. He had a blanket over his frail, undressed form and was alone. The missing presence of Harleen alarmed him, believing it was another painful hallucination or worse. The idea she regretted the union and decided to lock in her bedroom to sleep by herself  harassed his mind incessantly. 

As soon as the neon lights shone before his eyes, he knew everything was alright. He almost fell on the couch again, relieved. But he never stopped asking where she was, though the calm background around him tenderly convinced the convulsed psyche to not keep tormenting. 

As he yawned, taking a seat, he replayed everything that happened a few hours ago. 

He just had sex.

Chuckling, he lit up a cigarette. And thought about what happened one more time so his brain would memorize it. 

Harleen allowed him to touch her. 

The memory of her moaning and straddling him set him on fire. Harleen had such a good time and he loved to see her enjoying it. The killing eagerness to repeat the act, just to see her again coming undone, to hear her lustful moans slowly took over his mind. 

He took a deep breath and looked for his hoodie. The cloth in question was found on a puddle of mixed garments, which included her peach coloured pajamas and his pants. Arthur took the blanket off partially to grab the sleeveless shirt with certain desperation to smell it, to prove himself this wasn’t his imagination. The sweet, fruity smell filled his nose, almost submerging him into a high state. It wasn’t enough, though. A profound nuzzle into the garment served as a vain way to revive the sensations experimented as Harleen let his mouth roam over her chest. He absorbed the fresh, fruity scent. Eventually the need the dirty habit brought with it overcame the ritual that reduced Arthur to a starving animal. As the hunger diminished, he put the piece of clothing aside. Arthur took his time, remembering the initial goal by rummaging the cloth puddle: the pack of cigarettes showed up coming out the right pocket in a scalene triangle shape. He took it immediately, also taking the lighter. 

As he smoked his cigarette, for the first time he thought how lucky he was. As a malevolent chuckle reverberated through the air, he finally savoured what was that contact he yearned so much. A sensation of being an ordinary man nested on his heart. That’s what an ordinary man had, right? A job, a girlfriend, a sex life. He laid back on the couch again, bathing in this new, positive emotions. Looking at the shelf full of books, small crystal figures and a portrait of her holding a scroll, most likely her diploma once she got her degree. Arthur quickly got up to hold the portrait, watching it carefully. She seemed so… happy. 

Returning the portrait to its original place, he stepped to the couch again. His thoughts clouded by the wonderful moment Harleen shared with him: loved how gentle she was, how considerate and patiently handled the loss of his celibacy in such an skilled way. It was the first time he truly felt in tune with someone in his entire fucking life. It was way beyond the physical bonding. He couldn’t find the words for it but he was sure about how he felt. 

Seen. 

While Arthur was searching another cigarette to smoke, another rowdy idea swarmed in his mind: he had never found himself attractive, given his eternal history of rejection from everyone and his frail appearance just increased the mute but obvious aura of dislike around him. What were the odds for a woman like Harleen to fall for him? One in a million. Her looks could perfectly allow her a good life as a model and her kindness and easygoing personality would even take her farther away from the poverty of the building. Yet, she didn't seem interested in pursue a better, new life. She could perfectly have any man at her mercy and still she preferred to stay, actually giving a damn about others. 

Suddenly his self loathing bloomed fully again. What could he possibly offer her, except for misery and sorrow? Nothing. Nothing but a unquenchable thirst for her. An aged, pained soul devoid of love. She deserved better. A strong man. 

A man of her own age. 

Quickly his eyes closed. The hated guilt, the same he swore he had overcome, came back like a furious, stormy surge. Arthur felt he had committed an unforgivable sin by sleeping with her. She was so precious, so joyful... And so young. Things Arthur was far from. He was so inexperienced, so clumsy, so flawed... A dark part of him felt he had defiled her, that he had taken advantage of her gentleness to sate his own selfish desires. This sense of perversion flooded his mind, reducing the happy moment to a mistake that shouldn't have been. His lungs crumpled the air, if the smoke didn't disperse it. The hand that left free palmed the forehead, to drive away the negativity. 

Suddenly his mind remembered the laughing fit. And the gentle hug that followed it. The pieces in this puzzle came together. Harleen holding him right against her chest in a searing yet tender embrace. Not even his mother would offer such comforting balm. 

Arthur then let a short cackle to shatter the silence. He definitely had something but he did not know for sure what was that something. It had to be more than just being a 'hard working man'. If she was so gentle with him, surely a feeling was on the way. To his mind comes the tender memory of their first meeting. The first thing he got from her was a warm, kind smile through the fence.

Of course, the cursed fit fucked up everything. But it happened! The open palm patted his chest, calming down the turbulent flow inside of him. The happy memory of their first meeting brought also the passionate moment of the first kiss which almost led them to the bed. 

Arthur processed a thousand things that night. But one thing was for certain: that night Harleen awoke a hunger he had never felt in his life. Never saying it but showing it in their kissing sessions. He remembered that one time when he was expecting her to return after her shift. It was late at night. His knee bounced while Arthur smoked three cigarettes in the meantime. But he wasn’t alone. There were two young men a few feet away who minded their own business. Arthur feared them to be robbers but nothing happened. He put his hoodie on and kept smoking. A bus arrived but she wasn’t among the four people who stepped down from the vehicle. Two more came, but she was never among them. It started to get on his nerves when a taxi finally stopped and revealed the lovely passenger:

As soon as Harleen set foot outside, Arthur jumped out from the bench. The two other men witnessed the scene: their faces changed from curiousity to actual surprise when the blonde threw her arms to the man who evidently was older than her. But the lovers didn’t care. Their kiss was so heated that the youngest of the two muttered “damn” under his breath. They couldn’t stop staring at them, but Arthur was too focused on sharing their lips in a desperate dance. He was oblivious to the envy he inspired in every man whenever Harleen would display her affection in public. Therefore, he didn’t care. He longed to take the initiative in their eventual intimate encounter but the fear his inexperience would ruin it prevented any attempt to start intimacy. Harleen was aware of how hard was for him to begin with physical contact, though he never denied it. She could tell he had so much to say by just looking at his eyes. Patience with him would pay off. And the worst part of all this? The fits. 

The fucking laughing fits. And Harleen could only hug the pain away against her chest while his head found shelter in it. He froze in the position where he basically clawed to her body. It was the third time he had one in front of her, the second being in the empty subway after a date. It was after a careless kiss Harleen granted to his lips while waiting for him to go off work. He could tell she had been drinking: she was way more affectionate than usual. The spontaneous caress on his lips took him by surprise. He laughed at his fucking frustration on how he could possibly cope with what was regarded as the ultimate loss of personal space. He considered himself as a romantic at heart but Harleen’s overwhelming passion reminded him of how inexperienced he was, how unsure he was actually feeling relating to his damaged masculinity. 

It was almost like a pessimistic prelude before their first night together, since Arthur did not have the chance to come closer to her disregarding sex. He just had kissed and embraced her, restraining his touches to her face, neck and waist but never beyond there. Arthur preferred the silent sensuality of passiveness, though he desired to sink down deep inside of her. 

The crude self loathing drifted to another question: Where was she?  

Taking the blanket off him and putting his pants on, Arthur wandered over the flat and saw a dim orange light glowing behind the door, which was open just a crack. Analysing the lit lines, he then paid attention to the steam coming from the bathroom. He stopped breathing, closing his eyes to not commit the sin to spy on her. 

His right hand knocked the door, leaning into it expecting the answer. A few seconds later, her voice approved him to get into the place. Arthur got in, anxious. 

The sight of her completely overrode his senses. He stood completely frozen trying to process, once again, what was happening. The mere action of this impious gaze was enough to make him turn his head. She bursted out laughing. And hearing she wasn't upset with his presence managed to look at her.  

Harleen was on the bathtub, laying on her back. Her damp hair covered her chest while the foam didnt allow to see more of her body. This didn't upset him, of course. This new glimpse of his lover was something he would never forget. 

Amused by his priceless expression, Harleen covered her face.

"Are you in need for another ride, Mr. Fleck?", She asked, temptingly. 

Arthur licked his lips as he closed the door behind him. 

"After that? Always". The steps towards her made Harleen change her position to lie on her side, to grant him a better sight. He sat on the floor, eyes concentrated maniacally in her figure. Her soft, wet hand touched his own, intertwining her fingers with his for a brief moment to kiss them. 

Arthur stared at her for long seconds. Harleen didn't seem uncomfortable despite how much he struggled to remain modest. She couldn't blame the poor guy. Her pose was way too sensual to be indifferent. The appreciation showed a silent invitation for more intimate contact, for more comfort and company. He could only see her precious lower curvature showing partially. Her left arm covered her chest while supporting herself on the edge of the bathtub with the other hand. He loved how much sensuality she oozed even when she did nothing.  

“Did you have a good sleep?”

Arthur replayed the question to process it.

“Yes” he simply nodded, “but it seems you didn’t. You weren’t there when I woke up”.

“I don’t sleep too much, Arthur. Just needed to take a bath to refresh myself after our hot, noisy turmoil”.

Arthur grinned widely. And it wasn’t only for the friendly reminder of why he felt excited. He darted his eyes towards the platinum strands of hair stuck on her face, falling down to stick to her shoulders and forearm, creating a sinuous curve that lined her hip with blue shades. After a few awkward seconds of silence, Harleen finally pronounced:

“So, since we’re in this situation… would you like to talk about what happened?”

“Yes”. Arthur was anxious to take advantage of any chance he’d had to end up in the bed with her. But he was too nervous to start a conversation about the subject. She noticed it and did her best to not put him in an uncomfortable position. Arthur just glared at her. 

“It feels so different when you don’t have to lay your hands on yourself”, he cleaned the sweat that formed in his forehead, “it’s different to have a… um”, doing his best to retain the stammer that prevented a fluid talk, he tried to look for the right words to describe what happened in his head. 

“A…?” 

“It’s different when you see it than to experience it. It feels better when you have a body next to you”, he gulped, trying to swallow the nervousness, “it was a long little yearn since I began to understand these things about…”

“About sex?”

“Yes” was his answer, “I’m sorry if I sound strange. But this conversation is too personal and… and all this is new for me. I never thought I would be with a woman like that and it turns out it’s better than I expected”.

Harleen tilted her head, paying attention to every single word. 

“Is there something you liked in particular?”

Arthur lowered his head, trying to think and replay the scene. From the passionate, tenderly patient foreplay to the scandalous and thirsty ride. There were so many good moments to pick one in particular. But then, her voice broke his thoughtful immersion. 

“Or maybe was there something you did not like?” 

This drew a devilish, naughty grin in Arthur. 

"What's not to like about it?” his hand slicking back the fluffy hair, “We fucked like crazy and you ask me if there's something I did not like about it?", the verdant glow turned darker. Harleen rose an eyebrow, expectant. Arthur began to pant and cleared his throat in an almost hilarious way to hide his incipient arousal.

"I couldn't resist... I simply couldn't... because I've been wanting to do those things to you since I saw you--" a chuckle left his mouth at the raw confession. A painful slap on his mouth to quieten down the noise made Harleen immediately sat in case a fit of laughter would tear his throat apart again. Extending her hands to grab his forearms, the violent move shook her long, wet hair which allowed the loner to catch a glimpse of her naked chest. 

The fit, thank goodness, never came. Arthur just coughed, waving his hand so any sense of worry Harleen felt would dispel in time. As things settled down, Arthur continued the talk where it left off.

“This—this feels like a very good beginning. But—“ his words concluded but his expression reflected a profound thought he couldn’t put words on yet.

“It’s alright. You can tell me”. 

It took a long while to answer. There was almost completely silent if it wasn’t the for the tense breathing that Arthur fought to control. 

“You really enjoy doing this to me, do you?”, Arthur embed the green spell his eyes had cast on her.

Harleen’s expression went from amusement to actual surprise. There was more from him to tell her, however. She nodded almost imperceptibly to give him the confidence he needed. 

“You never felt uncomfortable with me even when you knew the things I wanted to do to you from the beginning. You let me kiss you, you let me touch you… you were never afraid to show me your body from the first day as you now do” he came closer to her, demanding answers, “until a while ago, I thought I could never awake those reactions on a woman. But I did”. He licked his lips, tilting his head to stare at her, “do you enjoy doing this to me?”

“By saying ’this’ you refer to… provocation?” 

“Yes”, Arthur’s tone of voice revealed his relief to finally know the word for the aforementioned action. 

Harleen hummed, thoughtful. 

“I did not intend to provoke you to torture you. I intended it just to get your attention. You left just before the best part in our first kiss and I’ve been craving you in that way as well since. I wanted you to touch me… yet our caresses did not go beyond a cuddle or a kiss, so I thought that leaving the door unlocked after I arrived from work, wearing a few pretty clothes would give you a hint to come to me so we could be together like that at last”.

Arthur was completely mute at this point. 

“But if you feel uncomfortable with me like this, I won’t keep on” she raised her hands in a childish sign of surrender. Arthur shook his head.

“It’s not the fact I don’t want to touch you. It’s… another thing. I know you won’t deny me your body. There are so many things…” he ruffled the disheveled hair in an involuntary move to relax. 

“What?”

Arthur sighed, finally finding the courage to voice what troubled him. 

“How’s that you don't feel uncomfortable with my condition or—“

“Or…?”

Arthur gulped. 

The hardest (and the most perverted) part would come to be verbalised. 

“My… appearance?”

“What the fuck is wrong with your appearance?”, Arthur sighed and replied:

“I look old enough to be your father!” the green eyes pierced hers. If only the thought of it was dirty, confessing it was downright indecent. Eyelids were tightened to the point it caused him pain, in a futile attempt to erase any improper thought in which Harleen was the protagonist. However, her voice exploded with loud cackles, splashing the water with open palms. Was she actually laughing at him? He frowned, getting upset and impatient to obtain a good answer.

“And…?” was all she said, much to his chagrin. The puzzled glare did not display satisfaction for his part. 

“Doesn’t that… disturb you?”

“In the slightest. It’s actually quite the opposite” she supported her chin on the edge of the bathtub, staring up to him while biting her lip playfully. Then in a false pretension of innocence, she giggled, her hand making a move to tell him to come closer to her. 

“That’s one of the many reasons why I like you very, very much”. The sweet sinful sound of the whisper was irresistible to Arthur, whose lids were almost completely closed, jaw slightly dropped. The reality of this situation caught him off guard. It was unbelievable to the point of obscenity and a persistent need to step back from his lewd intentions out of disgust on behalf of common modesty. 

“I like you, Arthur Fleck" her face came closer to his and in a manner so typical of her, took his hand to open it from the fist it had reduced to in order to grant it a provocative kiss on his fingers, sliding the bottom lip against them. 

Remaining silent and completely hypnotized by the scene, Harleen proceeded to trace invisible lines with the tip of her fingers on the early, harsh wrinkles that were more of a proof of how devastating his life was. It was a testament, a living, bleeding monument of how much cruelty and indifference could drive a man to insanity. Her thumb ran assiduously on his lip scar, which she found gorgeous to look upon. His breath shortened, pupils dilated, blood flowing to his groin. 

Her digits now went over those adorable dimples that only increased the odd beauty of his mirthless, worn out face. His eyes moved from one direction to another, trying to cope with this tender attention, closing them eventually, leaving the embarrassment aside. He smiled but her voice shattered the moment. 

“How can I judge you for a condition you did not wish to suffer?”, her fingertips ran over the notorious wrinkles in his forehead, “it’s not your fault”.

She admired the subtle silver hair that would make the brown hue fade in time, ending the journey all over his face. 

“You find me… attractive?”

“Well of course I fucking do”.

Again, the green menacing eyes had the effect on her. 

“What is it that I have that you like so much?” 

Murmuring against his lips, she replied:

“You’re oddly attractive” she held his face to reinforce their bond, “and yet you don’t know it” she kissed the lip scar, “of all the men I've been with, no one has looked at me in the way you do".

Arthur set all his focus on the praising words, which served to mend or to relieve a little the inhuman treatment he had received from the world as long as he remembered. There was nothing he could do, except process and replay the words every time a silence took place between them. Kindness seemed a far ghost, a laughable little dream, a cruel joke.

A pause allowed them to hear a few cars passing by, followed by sirens of an ambulance. It didn’t matter, since none of them mentioned it. 

"I've never met a man who's been so grateful for a kind greet or a simple smile. I couldn't help it that rainy day you came back from work to talk to you. At first I had an idea about my secret admirer simply being another guy who drooled over my ass. I would have never imagined the man behind my steps was so hungry for affection. Your eyes are an open book, Arthur. I noticed your intentions... and I liked the idea of you and me together like that from that night”.

Arthur directed his hands to her lips, holding the ever persistent, painful question that scarred his psyche:

Was she real?

His hands touched down her jawline and neck. Just a stare and Arthur told her everything. Because, somehow he knew that it was through an intense stare that lovers could tell the most intimate things. He spoke through his body, through dance. But what about sex? What about the act that dazed him so much? She actually understood why he needed intimate contact with such urge. The repression he hated so ardently for being a cruel insult to his ego tasted so differently now that she sated the thirst just to leave him craving for more. He felt… like all the years with no female attention were worth it if the pleasure people would lose their heads about was true. 

"I want to make you feel good. It’s what you deserve. And if no one gives you relief, then I’ll gladly do”, she put a curly lock behind his ear. 

But before any sparkly iniciative took ahold of his voice to manifest the need to consummate their relationship for a second time, Harleen pronounced, as a pleasant surprise for his intentions:

"Because you know” her gaze was pure, burning lust, “I could use a good fuck right now". Her tone of voice was seductive, though secretive, like confessing a small misdemeanor. His hand was not free from her soft grasp and her teeth gifted it with a tiny nibble. Arthur’s body stiffened, processing the words. However, no reply emerged from his mouth. The attention was entirely drawn to her face. The suggestive smile betrayed her reciprocity related to his intentions. He was so lost with the tantalising promise of more affection that he missed out the loving, yet flirtatious offer Harleen uttered. 

"Huh?" Arthur shook his head. 

"Come on, I'm bored". Her mouth adopted a puerile pouting in an attempt to persuade him, "I'm bored, play with me". 

Harleen crawled out from the bathtub, exposing her bare, wet body for the loner to see. Arthur's breath immediately cut off, his heart galloping wildly. Her milky, marmoreal skin glistened with drops of water which marked thin creeks all her body before the enraptured glance of the loner. This was an erotic image that Arthur could have only dreamt of. 

Once again his hands served as the eccentric – and intrusive – instrument to trace the almost invisible, indiscernible line between fantasy and reality while the blonde was only entertained by his obvious, euphoric goodwill to comply her wish. She sat next to him. 

"P-play... with you?" He repeated, battling the urge to faint, holding her body in his arms. 

"Like you did on the couch with me", her hands held his face gently to kiss it, to then throw her arms to his shoulders, “touch me, Arthur. Touch me. Don’t be afraid”. The mentioned man was unable to pronounce anything, reducing his exploration by touching blindly her waist and back. She continued pressing her nude body, taking delight on watching her Arthur plunged her into a solid, vigorous embrace, absorbing her, holding her nape so hard to not allow her escape, focused on how good her wet hair felt against his chest… as if her bare bossom wasn’t the best part of it. 

Harleen slid her fingers over his left shoulder, becoming more familiar with the protruding bone. She placed her hand in the same place where Arthur told her not to. This caused an immediate response from him. As Harleen noticed the horrible, vast bruise all over the right shoulder blade. A gutural groan warned her. She quickly apologized. But Arthur shook his head.

“It’s nothing. People are not precisely kind when they see me at work”.

The dark brown eyebrows arched in a sad expression. Her left arm assured a stable position for what she had in store for him. Arthur had no idea of what it was, but he knew it would be mind-blowing. 

“I can make you feel good”, he leaned his head in her forehead. Despite his celibacy was no more, all these touches were still new for him and he wanted to treasure them as much as he could. Air was heavy. The fear of another laughing fit ruining the moment clouded his mind but Harleen didn't seem to notice. The devoted, passionate embrace that held them so close just fed the fire inside him to take things to another level. 

Specially when her hand, teasing and avid, slipped above the pants where his manhood had responded to the visual, constant incentive. Fumbling the part to gradually pull down the pants in an enthralling motion that rendered the loner totally speechless. Once the cloth allowed his member to be graced by her hand. 

He gasped, jolting at the sensation of the damp but warm hand around his length. It was so unbelievable that just yesterday, that part had met his own contact during years. The rapture again battled with the persistent and its idea that everything was his imagination. Negative thoughts misting the moment. No kind touches except from Penny. But even she seemed aloof, unaware on how much damaged her own son was. This fade away once the caresses grew steadier. 

The rhythm of his breathing violently shook his chest up and down. He undid the hug partially to stare at the zone she paid so much attention to. His fully erect hardness receiving such caring treatment was taken straight out of a fantasy. His eyes couldn’stop glaring at the precious sight of the delicate hand going up and down in a maddening sway. He threw his head back, panting. 

“Like that--just like that- please. Don’t stop it”, he whispered, holding to the border of the tub, his voice broke out in agonizing moans, varying from groans and hoarse screaming, mixed with very sharp swearing as the building up to the peak made presence as minutes went by. His legs trembled almost uncontrollably, hips thrusting up constantly. 

Harleen of course was greedy. Taking advantage of the situation, her mouth sucked the prominence located at his neck to then lick it. Her sensual chuckle vibrated as she slid down the free hand on his convulsed chest, tenderly pressing it to calm down the crazed heartbeat. It didn’t take too long for him to start feeling a vertiginous shiver that expanded all over his groin. Sensing the situation was started to get out of his hands, the blonde rushed in: 

“Don’t hold back. Do it”. 

Arthur gasped as the climax hit him. He groaned into the air as the fierce hustle concluded. He was shaking, trying to not make a mess. The niveous strings spread all over the floor. Harleen glanced the scene, amazed to see Arthur a little less stressed. He lolled his head back, still pursuing the first intense feeling standing motionless, arms to his side, almost in a trance. Nothing could take the wide smile off him.  

A soft massage to his collarbone made the aforementioned man react at last. 

“My, my. You’re such a bombshell” Arthur muttered, blatantly ogling her. She smiled, smooching his cheek to quickly get up, much to his surprise. Harleen took a towel to wipe her hands and her body, leading her steps out of the  bathroom. The loner was about to protest when she asked:

"Are you waiting for an invitation, Mr. Fleck? Or isn't the sight enough to motivate you to come to bed with me?" 

The fascination held him still for a second, thinking the words that echoed in his mind repeatedly while enjoying the blonde's shameless exhibitionism. He turned the lights off as he searched for her. The outside lights prevented a complete darkness in the apartment. The drizzle hit the windows, creating a perfect, almost dreamlike atmosphere. 

He had to see her to confirm his yearn could become real. And so, he found her stepping into the promised place, while the towel dried the mane, which seemed longer now, almost reaching the highest part of her thighs. Arthur got rid of his pants immediately. 

Just about to reach the other foot to the room, Arthur extended his hand to reach her shoulder so she could turn to face him. Harleen was unable to suppress a surprised expression at the glimpse of his now completely naked body, causing to drop the towel. 

Once she called his name, Arthur  took her face between his hands to crash his lips on hers, pressing them into his several times to crown the passionate caress leading her in to the bedroom, their bodies entangled, anguished in a needy dance. They almost tripped over but the weak white light coming from a small lamp on the nightstand prevented it. He didn't pay too much attention to the surroundings once his body fell over hers on the bed. It were only them in this moment, and being on top of her unleashed a feverish want his psyche and body were not capable to contain anymore. 

"You've chosen wisely, Mr. Fle--" his tongue was so insisting on earning a place inside her mouth that her words didn't come. Not that it bothered her, of course. Arthur’s eyes shone in a different light. It wasn’t just an exciting new hue. His fluffy dark hair, his lean muscles made a combination that made Harleen genuinely think that the man who was just a breath away to possess her wasn’t Arthur. His eyes had become greener. His stare was not only predacious. It gave the impression that he intended to enter not only her body but her soul too. 

Harleen extended her hand towards the lamp to sink the room in darkness. She was close to success in her action if it wasn’t for Arthur mimicking it, just to ask her not to. 

“It’s more exciting in the dark.”

“Why?”

“Because you only feel. You see nothing”.

Arthur whispered against her mouth:

“But I want to see you”.

Harleen rolled her eyes, laughing. 

“Alright then” she chirped. Arthur covered her neck with doubtful kisses, afraid to make a wrong move. He then remembered: 

(Like in the couch).

He stopped his course to descend to her chest. Harleen paid extreme attention to his reactions, which drifted from amazement to utter joy. 

The man stood quietly, admiring the messy mane at her sides. A pink, bluish disaster covering her chest. The dark sense of dominance proper of a man who finally felt control over his life acquired a lighter shade as he distanced himself from her just enough to appreciate her astonishing beauty. Carefully, he slid a hand to dedicate his attention to the blue strands of hair, curling it around his finger, as he fantasized about for so long.

Harleen did not interrupt at all. This eccentric – but precious - way of communication was also new for her. What started as a simple invitation for a sexual encounter was progressively turning into a passionate discovery about each other. She knew Arthur wasn’t the most experienced man when it came to sex… but his enthusiasm was in no way to be questioned. Actions spoke louder than words. 

The pink strands of hair winded around his fingers, uncoiling as his digits made it aside to have a good vision of her uncovered breasts. So focused he was that he did not come to realize Harleen moved her arms to allow him a better access. She looked at those arms. God, those arms. Veiny, hairy, bony. Inhabited by little spots near the elbow. It drew a sharp contrast with the softness of her skin. Soon, she would pay attention to them. 

His facial expressions were a wonderful mixture of arousing disbelief and sincere admiration. Arthur seemed to be thoughtful for a few seconds on what he was going to do but he dared to slide his fingers over her collarbone, not leaving any inch of skin untouched. Then, he lowered to the sternum, circling it carefully to direct his ravenous digits to her left breast, studying the orbed part cautiously, examining its shape. The dedicated, paused fondling of it elicited a soft moan from her.

An evil, perverse grimace delineated his lips. Ah, that beautiful, sensual sound resounding again. How could he resist it? 

It was with a predatory inflame that Arthur threw himself to pamper the zone with his mouth. The sudden outburst made Harleen grunt for air, grabbing the bedsheets, a violent spasm shaking her legs, making her toes curl. The voracious appetite he devoured the breast was combined with such despair that seemed the act was far from satisfying. Despite she was aware of Arthur's consistent (and certainly disturbing) fixation with female chests, she preferred to stay quiet about it and enjoy the use he gave to such compulsion. He did not restrict it to a simple suckling, as Harleen saw how he nuzzled his face against it to then cover the damp, shiny skin with kisses, sending shivers down her spine. 

“Oh, Mr. Fleck… You do know how to put your mouth in use, do you?”, she felt high. As if she had taken a drug. 

The flattering words enlivened him to concede the other breast the same treatment and Harleen couldn't stop flailing, now completely taken by the action. The unoccupied hand fondled her belly to pass over the hip to end in her thigh. When his mouth detached from the hardened nipple, he licked all the way up her chest and neck, savouring the salty taste of her sweat, causing Harleen to ragingly rear up. Arthur ascended to face her once more just for her to grasp the strongly angular wrist once his arms found themselves near her waist. He frowned, confused. But his apparent disapproving look contorted to a one of complete flabbergast when Harleen opened her mouth so her tongue would coax his index and middle fingers, oiling them to steer the hand towards her searing feminity. His eyes widened, like a small kid watching in awe a mischievous deed. The absolute lewd look in her eyes erased any logic sense on him, if there was any in first place.

“Sure you want to warm up things first before diving in, do you mr. Fleck?” she spread her legs and Arthur lowered his head, dealing with the joy that overflowed his being. 

“Yeah”, his murmur was impatient and euphoric, “I can’t wait to…” he couldn’t say it. 

“Come on. Don’t be shy” she chuckled, frisky, “say it”. 

“I just can’t wait to do it inside you”. She gladly approved as their hands went on tune on her intimacy. Arthur was startled, “but I don’t… I have never done this to a woman”.

Harleen nodded eagerly. 

“Then allow me to show you how”, a toothy, naughty grin was all he got as a reply. He ended up emulating her. The grin was substituted to a temptative whisper: 

"There... There". The first touches to become familiar and then to please them. This new action left Arthur completely speechless. A mess of joined hands constantly massaged the silky, wet little space of hers. It didn't had an effect on Harleen only, making the rigid consistency return.

He smirked, evilly, as they took their time. Despite his restiveness, he knew patience would pay off. The caress went over the slick folds which soon would welcome him, kneading it constantly. His slender fingers then began to approach by own initiative, applying what he just had learned. Seconds later, with the same patience, Harleen made him stop precisely at the weakest point of a woman. He sensed a humid nub. As their hands began rubbing it, Arthur noticed it made her body jounce, a chain of gratifying sounds fleeing her throat. He was not able to stop staring at the body part receiving the sweet and lecherous attention, putting more effort into it. Gradually her hand got away to let him take the iniciative now, encircling it. 

The uncontrollable tremble that shook her legs made her close her eyes. Arthur stood there, his hand still stimulating her sex as intensely as posible, spellbound, captivated by her reactions. He leaned a bit when her breaths stirred her chest for more air. The blonde panted, trying to look for something to cling to as she was coming to her peak.  

“Arthur… I can't—I can’t endure it anym—“ The phrase marked the last thing she could control before the fulminant end. Mellifluous moans came from her mouth, praising him, calling his name repeatedly. He was certainly bewitched at the image. So lost in the ecstasy that only the amatory practice could bring her, Harleen missed the fact Arthur did not blink in any moment, recording obsessively every move.

“Now that’s what I’m fucking talking about” his chuckle causing her insides quiver. He loved how her muscles twitched on his hand, priding himself on the magnificent reaction he had caused on her.  

Arthur patiently awaited for her to regain her breath before the best part would take place. He placed his hands at her sides to remain firm, his muscles tense and strong as a rock, marking the defined biceps Harleen loved so much. She opened her eyes just in the right moment when the hungry loner expected to end the hunger that harmed their souls so much. 

Harleen caressed his cheeks with the backs of her hands. Arthur leaned so their foreheads would touch. It was a torture for him as well. He placed a hand on her hip, sliding it down to the inner thigh, aligning his stiffened arousal in her entrance, brushing the sensitive nub with his tip. The tease took her breath away, making her spine twist. 

"Oh, God… please… please…", her vision blurred, her senses numb. 

"I know"

"Please!" She begged, "I need you inside of me, please". The hopelessness in her voice did not manage to act immediately but it certainly had a great impact on him. The fear of not being capable of carrying the dominance now sparked a furious, impetuous need to silence the voices that insisted he wasn’t man enough to please a woman. 

Through a furious, vehement move, Arthur finally made his way inside her, a sharp hiss and a vivid expression of sexual bliss seizing his facial features. He abruptly shut his eyes at the tight inner grip, lips slightly parted, hearing Harleen let out a long, languishing moan. She arched her back, squirming beneath him. Arthur smiled, extremely pleased at the erotic reaction while still trying to find a more comfortable angle to keep doing his part. He wanted more, however, and he was gonna manifest it by holding her chin in his thumb and index finger. Harleen opened her eyes while Arthur awaited her reaction as she received him fully. Taking a deep breath, he managed to open his eyes to cherish the fantastic view of her trying to handle his hard length making a place inside the best way she could. She held his head, carefully tugging his curls.

Invader and invaded stared at each other. 

"Take your time... We're not in a rush". The calm words soothed the anxiety prior to sex but the pleasure the act had to offer them rushed him to resume their act: Arthur deepened the insertion into her hot, velvety intimacy. Harleen gasped while becoming used to his presence inside of her, taking utter delight in the raw feeling of her warm walls adjusting to the intrusion, sensing every nerve shuddering and throbbing around him. Her mouth was open, yet no words were articulated. Maybe because they weren’t necessary. 

As for the loner, his vocal expressions of pleasure went from a heavy gasp, then to a loud groan to a thunderous moan. 

"Fuck---!" Arthur cried out, while struggling to form a coherent word but he was way too aroused to dedicate energy to other action, except for moaning against each other's mouth, never breaking eye contact. 

The first few seconds following their fleshes fully merging into one, Arthur experimented with paused and insecure moves, afraid to hurt her if he ever accelerated the pace but also afraid to ridicule himself if he’d last less than one minute. His slow thrusts allowed a better way to cope with the overwhelming, tight heat that kept their privacies tied together. He caught an steady rhythm that finally eased down. Sliding in and out, down and forward. Just two individuals who tried to bond despite their differences. 

“Y—You”, Harleen suddenly pronounced herself. Arthur huffed for air as he paid attention, “you feel… you feel so good inside me”.

“I can--, I can tell”, he could hardly articulate. 

Pressing his body against hers, Harleen whispered:

“We really lost a lot of time, did we?” 

She let her hands, avidly and blindly, over his chest and collarbone as his hips, by mere sexual instinct, insisted on a faster, harder pace. To increase his confidence and to let him know she enjoyed it, her legs pressed his hips. For a moment, Arthur stopped, taking the opportunity to regain all the air in heavy pants. Harleen held his face, making aside the curly, sweaty locks that formed over his face. His aroused but exhausted expression was a delight to see. 

“I swear to God—“ his ragged breath made his voice sound raspy, “if you keep doing that—“ another difficult exhaling move, “I won’t last too long”.

“I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to”.

"I'm not upset" his shortened breath intake aroused her just as much his insertion did.   

The rain intensified. Drops clashed against the window. It proved to be a pleasant background sound as the two lovers expressed their feelings through their bodies. Arthur certainly had the time of his entire fucking life engulfing himself in her over and over and over again. The rhythm worked perfectly slow for the two of them as they slid together, in perfect harmony, over the bed. The pace that carried them away from sanity was combined with passionate, wet kisses, sometimes tugging on his bottom lip and tangling her tongue in his mouth, kissing him behind the earlobe, whispering sensual words.

Arthur had the perfect gift to reaffirm his existence and Harleen’s whispery voice calling his name just ended up pushing him deeper and deeper. Where did he suddenly become so strong to hold on for so long? He’d never know. 

Between moans and kisses, Harleen returned the passionate gestures with a strong, bloody scratch in his ribs. Arthur broke the kiss with a loud, pleased groan, responding to the scratch with a harsh thrust. Harleen screamed beneath him. Arthur, lightheaded by the sexually charged response, just stood still, trying to not give in to the already close peak of the act. 

Harleen was ready to make clear how much the sudden irruption had upset her when she heard an unintelligible mumble. 

"Uhh. What?" Harleen could hardly heard his petition. 

"Do that again", he whispered. The frown on her eyebrows revealed how much puzzled she was. 

"Do wha--?”

The harsh thrust took her by surprise, as expressed by the intoxicating sound that made Arthur so infatuated. As he delighted in the joy of obtaining exactly what he wanted, Harleen heard a a sweet, malevolent whisper: 

"That’s better...". It ghosted his lips, more to himself. He supported entirely on his arms, to keep on the rough onslaught. Those screams were music to his ears and he had plenty of reasons on why he deserved to hear more of them when he believed she had something else to say. 

The blonde mouthed. And Arthur read her lips. 

(Harder)

Harleen placed her hands at the sides of her head, abandoning herself to Arthur‘s mercy. She wanted it? She would get it. Another plea gone with the air, an arm on the matress reinforcing the pace to make it rougher and rougher. She felt she was unable to speak his name anymore, not knowing what aroused her the most: if having him inside her or hearing his assiduous effort to breathe through the final and most exciting part of their act. 

Exhaling aggressively, Arthur hung on to the mattress to harden the already brutal slamming that had reduced Harleen to an incoherent mess. His jaw dropped as the pleasure was becoming unbearable, growling as he leaned his head to keep closer to her. His arm was a key to maintain the disastrous rhythm as unrestrained but steady, grasping the wood which mattress was made of. The limb showed hard lines, ligaments standing out of the skin.

She legitimately thought, in a short moment of lucidity, that his arm would end up breaking it down. Neither of them heard a furious knocking on the wall, asking them to quiet down their sounds. Even if they did, they wouldn't care. Harleen sensed he'd love the idea of the whole building hearing their  scandal. 

When the excessive sensitivity down there traced a faint line between pain and pleasure, her moans echoed louder and louder, pushing Arthur to his limit. 

“Look at me”

It was hard to keep eyes open at this point. Harleen did her best but Arthur mistook it as another little game of hers.

“Look at me”, he hissed.

She inhaled deeply, turning her head towards him.

“Look at me!” he yelled, desperate.

She quickly did as he demanded.  

“Look at me when it happens”, he was not angry, despite the fierce, crazed stare suggested otherwise. 

“Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck” he hissed under his breath, trying to keep up with the rampant search for release despite how much exhausting it proved to him. He wasn’t willing to be defeated: his hands fell to her sides to pound faster and more erratically, almost tearing the bedsheets. Harleen was unable to speak now, restricting to whimpers that granted him an inconmensurable feeling of power. 

Then it happened. It caught him sooner than he initially had intended, but that didn't make it any less delightful. The blonde screamed his name at the top of her lungs as the spectacular orgasm hit her. 

That was too much for him to bear. 

One more enthusiastic, desperate thrust and it was over. Harleen had no control over her reaction, imprisoning him completely with her legs and arms crossed over his body. A hot attempt to retain her lover, clenching as hard as she could possibly do. They shared a fleeting gaze as he spilled himself in a wave of nervous, uncontrollable convulsions that spurred his nerves. She would never forget the expression that moulded by the moment: his face was an authentic, vivid expression of ecstasy. His eyes closed, catching air, sweating profusely, rebellious locks falling down. The desperation in his voice diminished to a pleasured groan to a exhausted, but satisfied series of sighs. He finally collapsed on top of her, hiding their faces in each other's neck. 

“Easy…” she muttered while Arthur bathed in his newfound masculinity. She knew the magnitude of his enrapture when he displayed no reaction at all when she caressed his hair. 

Arthur was enjoying his blissful release inside her, memorising every little sensation. The soft sighs escaping his mouth made her believe he had finally lost the little touch he had left with reality. 

He still wanted more, though. Arthur refused to break the physical bond, not getting over the warmth narrowing around him, looking for more thrills, seed still dripping. 

“You’re hard to quit” Arthur hissed, breathless. 

“I'm not asking you to ”, and both laughed. 

Harleen untangled a few curls, enjoying how they recoiled to their original form, emptiness replacing the fullness of his presence once he was gone. Laying on their sides to face each other, now under the blankets. The water falling in the sky helped them to concile slumber. 

"I'll be hardly out of you after this, Harleen" was the last thing she heard before lights were off. 

________________________________________

It was cold. It was wednesday and the train was full. Arthur had gone early to his weekly therapy with the social worker. Once he reached the building, waiting in the hallway. He smoked a cigarette, journal on the inner part of his hoodie, a confident smirk lining his lips. 

The grimace did not change at all when he got into the office, greeting her and taking a seat. It started with the usual 'how's your job?', 'are you having negative thoughts?'. Arthur replied more confidently, without avoiding eye contact as he always did. The worker noted immediately a dark, evil glint in his eyes. He couldn't stop smiling just as he couldn't see how much his new attitude unsettled her. She decided to ask for his journal, asking if there was something wrong or different. Arthur just took another long drag of his cigarette, smiling to himself. 

Once the copybook was handed to her, the worker noticed a brief, new sentence along a photograph of a beautiful young woman whose platinum hair showed different colours from the half down. She was dressed in a short red dress and smiled. 

She read outloud the phrase written in red. Arthur had to suppress a cackle to not get too much attention from her. He deducted by her expression she did not understand it but he did not expect her to. 

“I’m prod of mysel”.

#joker 2019 #2019 joker #joker movie #joker film #joaquin phoenix joker #joaquin phoenix #dc comics #joker arthur fleck #arthur fleck #arthur fleck x harleen quinzel #arthur x harley #margot robbie harley quinn #margot robbie #birds of prey #harleen quinzel #birds of prey and the fantabulous emancipation of one harley quinn #birds of prey and the emancipation of one harley quinn #harley quinn #joker x harley #jxhq #arthur fleck imagine #arthur fleck x reader #arthur x reader #joker 2019 fanfic #arthur fleck smut #harley quinn smut

[multsicorn]

trying to figure out the trajectory of Lan Wangji’s feelings towards Wei Wuxian, in the earlier part of the show:

* Lan Wangji first ~softens~ towards Wei Wuxian in episode 7.  We always talk about the lantern scene, but this is actually a multi-step process in which Lan Wangji starts to understand that the prankster Wei Wuxian is serious when it matters.  In the Cold Pond cave itself, and, in a greatly underrated moment!, keeping the secret of the cave from Nie Huaisang.  (For like... three whole episodes, lol?  But it’s the thought that counts.)

* Lan Wangji smiles at Wei Wuxian’s bunny lantern even before the vow!  Because it’s something Wei Wuxian made for him... and then Wei Wuxian, who can’t s t o p for one second, laughs (in delight! not at Lan Wangji! like that matters) and says ‘you smiled!,’ and Lan Wangji feels teased, and gets mad.   The boy he likes shouldn’t make fun of him for having emotions!

* Then of course comes ‘I, Wei Wuxian, wish I can always stand with justice and live with no regrets.’  And Lan Wangji drawing hearts all around Wei Wuxian’s name inside his head... while Wei Wuxian is looking up at the sky being all sweet and sincere, and does not get to see these hearteyes.

* After the lanterns Wei Wuxian picks a fight with Jin Zixuan, and is punished - told to kneel and reflect - and he kneels and fucks around with ants instead <3.  And when Lan Wangji comes by: first he asks ‘why did you do that’ - since maybe Wei Wuxian has reasons for things!? - and only when Wei Wuxian refuses to answer the question does he say ‘so unteachable’ and sweep off.  Right back to the annoyed affect.

* Which continues for the majority of the next several episodes.  Lan Wangji is annoyed to see Wei Wuxian again on the way to Dafan Mountain, in ep 8, after their parting in ep 7.  The two of them work together wonderfully when they face challenges, they catch each others’ plans on the fly, and trust in each others’ abilities, and, of course, worry for each others’ safety.  But when they’re just chatting with each other... Wei Wuxian’s constantly trying to joke, to play, to find something fun, and Lan Wangji’s the sternest grumpy cat.  Go bother someone else, he doesn’t want.

* This continues all the way through their visit to Yueyang and to the Unclean Realm, all the way up through their parting in episode 10.  At that last minute, however: when Lan Wangji hears a sound on his roof - he probably knows it’s Wei Wuxian already.  He smiles, a small, private, smile, in his room.  And although he’s impassive when Wei Wuxian declares that he’s sleeping there on the roof, once Wei Wuxian closes his eyes and lays back, Lan Wangji looks up at him to say goodbye and smiles once again.

(LOOK, RARE LWJ SMILES).

So what even is going on!?  You don’t (seem to) like him when he’s bouncing around, annoying you - (which might sound like a given, but ‘annoying Lan Wangji’ seems to be Wei Wuxian’s favorite hobby at this point in their lives, and: Lan Wangji likes him somehow, sometimes).  Only when he’s quiet and still? ;)  ... only when he’s sincere, and serious, which is more or less ‘same difference’?

... we talk about Wei Wuxian needing to learn how to read Lan Wangji a lot, which, given everything described in this post, (much less many more things that aren’t), makes a whole lot of sense.  He falls in love, and then looks annoyed!  Those faint curves of lips up above are smiles!  etc.  But we don’t talk as much about Lan Wangji needing to learn to read Wei Wuxian, and I think maybe that’s what’s going on here.

Despite everything, despite his better judgment, despite how incessantly Wei Wuxian teases, ... Lan Wangji loves the skilled and purpose-driven young man underneath all the sunshiney smiles.  (Or, whatever, an early stage of love.  They’re both young, it has lots of time to deepen.)  But he doesn’t like what he perceives as being constantly tormented.

Wei Wuxian only does it because he likes Lan Wangji so very very much - we all know this, everyone who’s not Lan Wangji knows it, Jiang Cheng knows, fucking Wen Chao knows, (and, no, I am never getting over that).  He wants his attention, he’ll die without it, etc., but when he catches up to Lan Wangji on the road to Dafan Mountain, he says ‘hi’ by throwing a loquat at Lan Wangji’s head.  Of course he expects Lan Wangji to catch it, and of course Lan Wangji does - they’re very well matched in some ways already, but this isn’t quite communication.  He says ‘are you afraid I’ll show you up,’ he says the Dancing Peri has a crush on Lan Wangji - twice! - ... he shows affection and interest with every molecule in his body, but not by being serious.

To Wei Wuxian being serious is being vulnerable.  Jokes charm people at the same time as they deflect the attention you’re getting away from ~the real you.~ Whereas to Lan Wangji, I think, serious is all he knows how to do.  And, more importantly, how to deal with - anything else is a transgression, at worst, (hey, Wei Wuxian is good at those!) - or meaningless (’boring,’ not worth talking about).

So Lan Wangji thinks Wei Wuxian is just teasing him? when they’re not working alongside each other - and of course he doesn’t like that.  But when Wei Wuxian’s just being there, being close, and not teasing... Lan Wangji still won’t smile where he can see.  He saw, that didn’t work out well!  But he can feel warmed by it, and he can smile, when Wei Wuxian can’t see his face.

#wangxian #lan wangji #the untamed #i was going to make gifs of the various ~soft~ moments #but maybe i'll do so sometime later... #and then this is leading into #don't flirt with someone if you don't mean it #etc etc #but. another meta for another time!

[rosaliekali]

Hi, I want to get into writing for Ikevamp but I only know so much about characters that are not released in English. So I was wondering if you could give me a brief explanation of all 15 Ikevamp guys personalities.

I don’t play JP but I can try my best. Starting with the ones we know and working down. Here is a word-vomit of what I have inferred their characters are and what I’ve seen people translate. 

Obviously HUGE, HUGE spoilers for unreleased routes and Act 2.

REALLY, REALLY LONG post under cut.

Napoleon: Napoleon’s personality is a little more subdued and hidden by teasing. He’s confident with his MC and calls her affectionately ‘nunuche’. He has an uproarious laughter that begins with a ‘snnnnrk’ and will tease MC incessantly if the ‘bear in her stomach’ growls. He also has a habit of sleeping in until the afternoon and will instinctually kiss anyone who wakes him up without a care as to who they are (and has kissed everyone in the mansion at least once).  When he’s with MC, he tends to be teasing of her and likes to spend time together. He’s the kind of ‘cool guy’ personality you expect coming from an Otome Game. I’d kind of compare him to a mixture of Alyn from MidCin except not as abrasive and Ray from IkeRev in terms of affectionate but still ‘cool’. He is best friends with Jean and Isaac.

Mozart: Mozart starts off very cool and aloof with his MC. He openly tells his MC that he hates her and finds her a nuisance. It takes him a while to open up to MC and realize he actually has a crush on her. Once they begin dating, he becomes very affectionate with her calling her ‘min schatz’, ‘his treasure’, or ‘his muse’. He tends to be closed off with the others but he is open with his MC and tends to have a pretty high sex drive with her. His personality is comparable to that of Louis from MidCin and Jonah from IkeRev. They both start off cold with their MC but end up becoming very affectionate in the end and are all perfectionists who detest messes and germs. He is best friends with Jean.

Leonardo: Leonardo is poised as the ‘older’ LI type. He calls his MC ‘cara mia’ and loves to tease her. He is more experienced than she is due to his age and is definitely very experienced / has a high sex drive as well. He tends to tease his MC more often and MC often feels like he has the advantage in the relationship because he can tease her relentlessly but he tends to be oblivious to her seduction efforts. He ends up falling in love with MC very early on and states that she is the only woman that he has ever loved and will ever love from then on. He does not ever want MC to become a vampire and tells her he would rather spend the rest of her life with her and keep her as is. His personality is that of Sirius in terms of the ‘older lover’ trope and perhaps Nobunaga from IkeSen although I don’t play it. He is best friends with Comte although he does tend to hang out with Isaac from time to time.

Arthur: Arthur is a little more of a complex character. At first glance, he’s a flirt who pretty much sleeps with a new girl (or multiple at the same time) every night and loves to be bold and unapologetically seductive, although more lurks under the surface. Deep down, he’s actually very insecure and traumatized from his time as a doctor not being able to save his patients. He sleeps with women to stave off the nightmares and ends up falling for MC early on in his route although he thinks she will never like him back because he essentially ‘assaulted’ her earlier. With his MC, he is very flirty and very seductive as well as starved for attention. He repeatedly tells her he will not do so much as look at another woman while with her, says they don’t interest him anymore, and likes to be confident in the fact that she is his although a part of him still worries she will leave him. His personality is like that of Leo from MidCin in terms of flirty but affectionate, and he has a VERY HIGH sex drive. He also doesn’t like Sherlock Holmes, his own character, because he is better than what Arthur seems himself as even though they have the same observational and intelligent deductive nature. He is best friends with Theo.

Vincent: Vincent is described as the ‘angelic’ LI in the game. He is very kind and sweet most willing to lend MC an ear when she needs it. He treats everyone he meets with kindness and is known to even draw the darker characters to his side because of his sweet personality. He’s a little oblivious when it comes to love and relationships, I think Theo alludes to the fact that he’s never been in love before, and he falls for MC pretty quickly but takes a bit to realize. When he and MC begin a relationship, he is very affectionate and wants to spend a lot of time together. He’s also very forgiving of other characters that have wronged him and likes to see the best in people. He is best friends with Shakespeare and Theo.

Isaac: Isaac is an unreleased English route (next on the schedule). He is very abrasive upon first meeting MC because he’s so painfully introverted. He gets tormented by Dazai and Arthur who have made him their favorite target of jokes. He tends to be more quiet and reclusive and has trouble expressing himself with others. The people around him like Leonardo have to clarify what he means to MC sometimes because he comes off sounding harsh although he’s actually a very kind person. He was known as ‘old, friendless Newt’ when he was alive because he never really had any friends and is a genius who is most often found with Napoleon teaching the kids down at the town or with Leonardo messing with things trying to fix them. A lot of his event stories show him trying to be more open with MC because he wants to be a better lover and is self conscious about how he comes off to her. He’s also hinted at being a beast because he drinks more blood than the other LIs and is a little more sex driven than the others. I’d compare his personality to Luka in terms of shyness, but he’s a lot more closed off and quiet than Luka and definitely more abrasive. He also hates apples and his apple-falling story and will become very upset if brought up. He is friends with Napoleon and Leonardo (and Dazai and Arthur despite how he complains about them).

Jean: Jean is a more complex character who is hardly ever seen on screen. He’s very quiet and unexpressive preferring to spend time on his own. He hates himself as a vampire and sees himself as something vile. While he took Comte’s offer on becoming a vampire, he didn’t realize what it would mean to accept the offer of immortality. For this reason, he hates Comte and refuses to even acknowledge him often times or do favors for him. He is friends with Mozart and Napoleon. He appreciates Mozart because they’re both quiet and can simply spend time together without needing chatter and Napoleon because they’re both soldiers and train together. He is hinted at suffering from depression and self-hatred and goes as far as to starve himself of blood because he wants to die. In Mozart’s route, he is shown to have a gun capable of killing vampires and refuses to answer why when asked although we can all guess why. In his route, I’ve heard he tries to push MC away for the grand majority of it until they eventually date and he asks her to kill him / stop him(?) if he ever becomes the monster he fears he is. He’s just very quiet and very self-doubting tending to keep everyone at an arm’s distance. I’d compare him to Louis in terms of aloofness but he’s definitely a lot more quiet and less rude / cold.

Theo: Theo is Vincent’s younger brother and described as the ‘devil’ to Vincent’s ‘angel’. He is rude, abrasive, and does not bite his tongue. He calls MC ‘knabbeltje’ (morsel) to remind her that she is food in a mansion full of vampires and ‘hondje’ (dog) to needle her. While friends with Arthur, he detests his ‘skirt chasing’ ways and is very cold / harsh when rejecting any women that want to get near him. It takes him a long while to open up to his MC, but, when he does, he is shown to be a very kind person. In his route, he lies to MC telling her that they are NOT vampires so that she will not be afraid while she has to stay with them and actually is shown to look out for her even outside of his route. He only pretends to be rude and condescending because he wants people to compare him to Vincent and like Vincent more. He was their parent’s favorite while Vincent went ignored and this has made him feel very guilty so he purposefully makes himself seem as worse as possible to make sure Vincent looks better. Really, he’s very emotionally mature when it comes to relationships and is very respectful of MC as a lover although he still teases her and likes to rile her up by mocking her. He acts as Arthur and Vincent’s wingman / relationship counselor and isn’t afraid to call them (mainly Arthur) out when they do something to offend MC in their own routes. I’d compare him to Kyle from IkeRev in terms of abrasive but very emotionally mature although he is much more cold than Kyle. 

Shakespeare: Will is the ‘yandere’ of the LIs and the main villain in the Act 1 arc. He is one of the first people, if not the first, Comte brought back and used to live in the mansion before he had a falling out with Comte and left. He is the only person that can get under Comte’s skin and he hates Leonardo. He has paired up with Vlad and seeks to write a tragedy starring whatever LI MC is with and herself. Deep down, he is very self conscious of how he ranks with the other Mansion Residents because he sees them all as geniuses in their own rights, but sees himself as something inferior to them. He has a particular way of speaking, speaks in poetry which I’d recommend using a Shakespeare translator when writing for him, and cannot see out of one eye. With MC, he is cold at first but has a way of masking it by making himself sound polite. He does not think much of her at first, thinks she is like any other girl out there, but ends up realizing she’s much more and falling in love with her. He states numerous times that he would love to lock her up somewhere where only he can see her and keep her for himself. The other characters (minus Vincent and Comte depending on the day) dislike / openly hate (like Theo and Leonardo) him and try to keep MC away from him. I think people have compared him to Kenshin from IkeSen although I don’t play the game.

Comte: Comte is the father figure of the mansion and a very complex character. He is the one who brought back all the residents using a magical door. Upon first glance, he is very sophisticated and a true gentleman, but Leonardo tells MC he used to be a wild child who would ‘smoke like a chimney’ and get into random fights back in the day. He is childhood friends with Vlad and they both decided to bring back historical men as vampires in order to ensure their talents are still used to further humanity. However, now he and Vlad do not speak because they had a falling out a long time ago and Comte took the door from him. Comte is hinted at having fallen in love with MC in every route although he tries hard to push her away in his own route. Deep down, he is a very lonely character and has seen centuries worth of humans he has cared about die. He tries to keep MC away from him at first because he is tired of falling in love only to lose someone to time. He rejects MC at first in his route but slowly falls in love and lets himself be open to her. In the end, he becomes a very affectionate LI and realizes that he should value the time he has with her rather than keep her away. Comte also wants to turn MC into a vampire and has offered to turn her in other routes if that is what she wishes. He sees no problem with turning MC or any other human. He tends to show his affection economically showering her with gifts and loves to go shopping with her so that he can purchase whatever she likes for her. The other characters have called him ‘daddy’ as a joke and he takes care of them economically as well (giving Arthur an allowance when he asks) and anything else they want that he can buy without complaint (unless its Leonardo because then he’ll call him a ‘drain on his resources’ and complain about spending money on him). 

Dazai: Dazai is the next character up on the JP game. He and Comte are the first two members of the Act 2 story line and are very cryptic. Dazai presents himself as the ‘class clown’ upon first meeting and seems to always be smiling and upbeat. He loves to tease Isaac with apples and often teams up with Arthur to rile him up although Arthur does not like him as a friend outside of that. Upon meeting MC, he pretends not to remember her name and instead calls her by several random Japanese names. In truth, he does remember her name and grows close to her, but he does not want her anywhere near him. Dazai is a very lonely character who suffered from horrific depression in life that culminated in him taking his own life, and, for that reason, cannot see himself as anyone desirable to anyone. He thinks MC is a very kind and upbeat person that would have to give up too much if she were with him, so he’d rather she stay far away. He does, however, spend time telling the children in town stories and does tend to step in and counsel MC or her LI in some routes if they’re willing to hear him out. Like Arthur, he is a writer and spends his time writing in the mansion, but he gets very upset if MC reads his stories because they are too dark for someone like her. He also tends to look after MC and the others worrying over their well-being when they are in danger and watches after MC specifically whenever Shakespeare gets too close. Really, he’s a complex character with a lot of layers and sadness. He might look upbeat and carefree upon first meeting, but the reality is anything but.

Sebastian: Sebastian is the only human at the mansion asides from MC. His real name is Akihiko (Akihiki?) Saitou. He is from Japan like MC and is a historian who is obsessed with history and keeps a record of the residents and what goes on in their daily lives. He greatly admires Napoleon and Leonardo and gets very excited when they compliment him or show they admire him as well. With MC, he tends to be very teasing and slightly distant. He is in charge of the chores with MC and is shown to order MC around and teases her when she gets something wrong. He is prone to flicking her on the forehead whenever she makes a mistake (MC calls him a tyrant as a result of his disciplining her), yet he does like MC and is willing to lend her an ear when she needs someone to listen or some advice. The others seem to have a lot of faith in him and he is the one running the mansion by keeping up to date with everyone’s meals, routines, habits, and needs. Really, he’s a kind character deep down once you get past the abrasive, cold, and teasing remarks. He also loves to tease MC and her LI in other routes and will root for her to get with the person she ends up with especially if its Napoleon. He is Comte’s confidante and is often found with Comte or doing chores.

Vlad: Vlad is the main villain in the IkeVam series. While Shakespeare is the villain in Act 1, Vlad is the true villain behind the curtain. He and Comte used to be old friends before Vlad traveled to the future and saw that humanity had destroyed itself. From then on, he decided he wanted to bring back famous historical figures and use them to fix / save humanity. However, unlike Comte who brought them back with freedom and with a desire to form a family unit with them, Vlad wants to enslave them to make sure they obey him and will work to save humanity. Vlad is shown to be very polite and kind although distant at first meet, but darkness lurks beneath the surface. In actuality, he sees everyone around him as tools to be used and hates weaknesses in any form. If someone or something is weak, he will discard them because his plans to save humanity have no room for disobedience and error. He runs a flower shop which MC has stumbled into independently (and I think Vincent too?). He appears to be a very sweet character and polite in the beginning but he is very aloof in actuality and, although he likes MC, he will not hesitate to use her to hurt Comte. He has brought back other historical figures in the past like Comte using a door that he has, but they come back incompletely or insane because he does not care to bring them back properly. He also is the one that brought back Napoleon and presumably brought Charles and Faust back since they both call him ‘His Excellency’ or ‘My Lord’. On a lighter note, he loves strawberries and loves gardening with a field of sunflowers that he and Comte used to hang out in being his favorite spot, and, like Comte, loves humanity deeply.

Charles: Charles is the second ‘yandere’ in the series and the former executioner of Marie Antoinette and King Louis XVI. However, he hates the fact that he used to be an executioner and goes simply by ‘Charles’ now. He is a doctor as a vampire and is shown to be very sweet and flirtatious. Like Arthur, he too goes home with a new girl every other night and flirts with MC upon first meeting her, but he tends to use a ‘sweeter’ and more ‘innocent’ flirting approach like Loki from IkeRev than Arthur’s more seductive flirting techniques. Upon first meeting MC, he falls in love with her right away and asks her multiple times in different events to ‘take him home’. However, his sweeter nature hides some darkness beneath. Like Shakespeare, he is a yandere and obsesses over MC. I’ve said before I consider him to be more dangerous than Shakespeare because, when Shakespeare is caught as a villain and Vincent / MC realize he has been using them, he drops the act-Charles keeps it going for much longer. Plus, Charles is not above kidnapping MC and tricking her into thinking that he is her lover (as was seen by an event story-although the premise of it was ‘horror’ so it may have been exaggerated) and is better at hiding his obsessive nature than Shakespeare. He’s more often seen with Faust and calls him ‘doctor’ although Faust doesn’t seem to be very close to him. He greatly admires Vlad and calls him ‘My Lord’ and will do his bidding although he does think it would be great if Vlad and Comte could get along and both sets of vampires could be friendly. 

Faust: Faust is the final character in the Act 2 storyline. Faust is a doctor / pastor who works in the local church. He comes off as extremely cold-hearted and harsh when first meeting him. He sees people as guinea pigs and would love to dissect MC or any of the other vampires if he could to experiment on them. He is based off of Johann Georg Faust, the alchemist, and is a ‘doctor’ with a great intrigue in human experimentation. There is an old legend about him trading his soul with the devil for immortal life which is ironic considering the fact he serves in a church. He has a very harsh outlook of religion and does not like the christian god or the christian church thinking that both are useless and religion isn’t worth the faith people have in it. However, while all these things make him seem harsh, he is hinted at being a kind character deep down. He looks after the orphanage as a member of the church and does seem to have some sort of soft spot for children. He also may abhor religion, but he does allow people to take comfort in him as a priest / pastor? when they need it. In one event story, he listened to a teenager’s confession of robbery and ‘forgave him’ for his sin because the teenager had just lost his father and needed comfort. Really, when it comes to young children, he is shown to be kind-ish although he still acts very harsh and aloof. He falls for MC slowly and without even realizing it with his first birthday story event showing him smiling at the thought of her without knowing. Meanwhile, when it comes to the other characters particularly Vlad and Comte, Faust seems to have some respect for Vlad, calling him ‘His Excellency’ but he isn’t the loyal follower Charles is. He tends to be more cold with Vlad and has remarked that he doesn’t care what happens to the ‘old men’ (Comte and Vlad) or which side wins as long as he has guinea pigs to examine.

[gatheringbones]

things I loved about border (2018) in no particular order

how the whole opening and whole sections of the film are more or less that leslie feinberg quote about nature holding them close and holding no fault with them.

how some of the first and most important pieces of information that we get about our viewpoint character and their living situation is that their home is filled, inexplicably, with a number of enormous shouting dogs that make them feel very unsafe, and also a man who does not appear to have ever encountered the concept of boundaries without throwing a tantrum over it. how it is implied to us that this home being filled with dogs and this awful man is how our viewpoint character prefers things, because of how much they cannot endure living by themselves with only their own company.

the difference in their body language when we’re looking at them in fluorescent light vs filtered light, clothed or unclothed, around their father or not. 

the framing of their particular skill as a superpowered form of intuition; that the way that they interact with the world is deeply intuitive and threat-detection based, that they can smell lies. how so much of the love scenes are about smelling, how much time is spent discerning good food from bad and smelling and tasting the difference, how the central betrayal of the film is the betrayal of that intuition, and how they handle that. 

the scene where they watch their companion demonstrate what one Does with incessantly barking dogs, and how you handle situations when you’re bigger and stronger and tougher than your opponent knows how to anticipate, and how much careful attention they pay to the results. 

the way most of this movie is a sort of gender nightmare maze being navigated by a heroic stocky tormented figure who has to figure out what their best guides and teachers really are, and how to maintain the best of themselves in the process.

every forest scene. every single one of them. every time they get to take all their clothes off and sit in the goddamn woods. 

the betrayal at the climax of the film being really hard to describe, but like, that terrifying disconnect of “I’m you but I’m not you, and what does that mean?” and how the entire nature of ugliness and evil gets dragged out for inspection in the process.

how it’s just an incredibly kind movie that’s still sort of harrowing and uncomfortable and bizarre, but how much it circles around the idea of goodness and beauty and what ugly really is, I think it’s that granny weatherwax quote about evil starting when you treat people and families like things.

it was just so goddamn good. 

#border #grans #ali abbasi #cw for violence and csa and body horror full warning

[jaxl-road]

Better Watch Out

Motley Crue and Guns N Roses have a Secret Santa gift exchange. What could go wrong?

Pairings: Nikki/Tommy, Slash/Axl, Duff/Izzy

This beast is over 10,000 words long, just fyi -_-;

(Also on AO3)

~~~~~~~

“WHY are there so many people in our tiny ass apartment?” Nikki groaned, running a hand through his hair.

Axl scoffed, “You guys hold ragers in your ‘tiny ass apartment’ practically every night.”

“Yeah, but I’m usually wasted when that happens. Right now I’m sober.”

“That’s your own fault,” Duff smirked, taking a long sip from his water bottle that everyone was suddenly positive was not filled with water.

Nikki sighed as Tommy skipped over and patted him on the shoulder. Their dilapidated living room was packed full with the members of Motley Crue and Guns N’ Roses. It was late morning, which in Nikki’s opinion was way too early to be dealing with this many rockers in his apartment. Mick and Slash were sitting on the couch, the former looking annoyed and the latter looking calm and content (or in other words, high). Vince sat next to them on the back of the couch, glaring childishly at Axl who was sprawled across the armchair and looking far too at home in the blonde’s opinion. Izzy leaned against the back of the armchair, smirking in the direction of where Duff was standing, the bassist now casually holding his water bottle above his head while Steven tried in vain to snag it. Finally, still standing at the start of the hallway, Tommy threw an arm around Nikki’s shoulder to keep the dark haired man from returning to bed.

“Come on, Nikki, don’t be grumpy!”

“Have you met Nikki?”

“This is gonna be fun!” Tommy grinned, ignoring Slash’s comment, even as Nikki flipped the guitarist off. “Steven had the best idea, so I invited them all over!”

“Ah fuck, the drummers are responsible for this?” Mick leaned his head back dramatically to stare at the ceiling, “This is going to be more annoying than I thought.”

Steven laughed, moving to stand by Tommy and Nikki, “If by ‘annoying’, you mean FUN!”

“I do not.”

“Anyway,” Steven clapped his hands, “We’re gonna do a Secret Santa!”

There was a long pause as all eyes stared at the blonde drummer and processed his words.

Then they all started talking at once.

“What?” Nikki exclaimed.

“Oh Hell no,” Mick muttered.

“Oh Hell YES!” Slash countered.

“Presents? Presents!” Vince’s eyes lit up, “Gimme pretty things! Whoever gets me I have a list for you!”

“This is going to blow up spectacularly, and honestly I’m down for it,” Duff shrugged.

Izzy sighed and leaned his head on his hand, “See I’m torn. I want to watch the chaos, but I don’t want to be involved in the chaos. Dilemmas, dilemmas.”

Axl leaned back, letting his head hang over the arm of his seat. Narrowing his eyes, he pointed at Steven, “I will agree on ONE CONDITION.”

The attention of the room shifted to the red-head. Steven cocked his head curiously, “What?”

“We do this game on hard-mode.”

“I’m going to regret asking,” Mick sighed, “but what’s hard-mode?”

Crossing his arms, Axl answered firmly, “No giving drugs or alcohol as a gift.”

Immediately, there was a riot.

“Oh COME ON!”

“But I WANT drugs and alcohol!”

“These fuckers’ entire personality is based around drugs and alcohol, what the fuck else am I supposed to get them?”

“If I don’t get Vodka, Christmas is cancelled.”

“You can’t just-”

“Izzy, take Christmas away from Axl!”

“It’s cute you think I have any power over him.”

“Hey! HEY!” Tommy shouted, finally getting everyone’s attention and putting a stop to the bickering. “Look, I love drugs as much as the rest of you, but I have to admit, I think it’s a good idea,” he rolled his eyes when several people groaned in response, “It makes it more of a challenge!”

It took a bit of convincing, but eventually the group reluctantly conceded, Axl smirking victoriously. With the rockers appeased, Steven pulled a top hat out of seemingly nowhere.

Slash sat up straight and glared, “Hey! I’ve been looking for that!”

Ignoring him, Steven tossed about the small pieces of paper inside the hat, “Okay, we’ve got everyone’s names written down, so take one and pass it. And no peeking!” As the names got passed around, Steven continued, “So, I don’t think we need a price limit, cause we’re all pretty broke.”

“We know, but hey!” Vince muttered as he took the hat.

“How about we meet up for the exchange one week from today?”

“At your place, next time,” Nikki huffed.

Axl shrugged, “Whatever, fair enough.”

“Cool,” Nikki nodded, “Now get the fuck out of our apartment.”

~~~~~~~

Izzy would be the first to admit that he hadn’t been on board with the whole Secret Santa thing at first. He didn’t dislike Christmas or anything, but he wasn’t a hugely festive person either. So the idea of partaking in a theoretically light-hearted game with a group of hardrockers didn’t exactly appeal to him.

That is, until Duff came home the next day with an armful of Christmas lights.

“Woah,” Slash chuckled as the bassist walked past with strings of lights trailing behind him, “what, did you rob Whoville or something?”

Grinning, Duff opened his arms to let the mass of lights fall onto the ground in the middle of the living room, “I will neither confirm nor deny where I got these.”

“Fuck yeah, I didn’t think we were gonna decorate the place!” Steven smiled excitedly.

Shrugging, Duff looked away, a touch of embarrassment on his face, only noticeable if you were looking (and Izzy was always looking), “I dunno, I wasn’t planning to at first. I never really got into the holidays, even when I was younger. But since we’re doing the Secret Santa thing with the Crue, I figured, why not?”

He smiled so shyly, and Izzy’s heart fluttered.

That was when he realized that he’d been handed the perfect opportunity. Izzy had been crushing on the tall blonde for awhile now, much to Axl’s amusement and Izzy’s torment. But he’d be the first to admit that he wasn’t the best at expressing his feelings, and everytime he had Duff’s full attention he forgot every word he had ever practiced in front of the mirror and ended up chickening out and running away to get high (he’d also tried getting high first, but the results were the same).

So maybe, giving Duff a gift was the perfect way to try to confess his feelings; a way to help take some of the pressure off his words.

And watching Steven and Slash wrap the lights around Duff, seeing him twirl and laugh when they plugged them in, looking at the way the lights reflected in his eyes and illuminated his smile, Izzy knew he was going to need all the help he could get.

~~~~~

If Nikki was going to participate in this Secret Santa bullshit (and not even get any coke out of it) then he was going to fucking give a gift to Tommy and no one else. He had already been trying to psych himself up to do some sort of romantic holiday shit, but the game with the two bands provided a perfect opportunity. The only thing standing in his way was the name scrawled on the scrap of paper in his hand.

Izzy

Leaning heavily on the kitchen table, Nikki steeled himself for the trip he was about to make. It wasn’t like he could judge Guns N’ Roses for their living situation, given the squalor Motley Crue currently called a home, but it always felt weird seeing them by himself. He didn’t like being outnumbered.

But from what he could tell, neither Vince nor Mick had Tommy’s name (if they did, they’d be teasing him incessantly)(he still didn’t understand how his feelings managed to be so blatant to Vince and Mick while still going right over Tommy’s head). So that meant someone in the other band had his drummer’s name, and he was going to get it if it was the last thing he did.

~~~~~

It was weird for anyone to knock on their door when the sun was still out, Slash thought as he cautiously made his way to the entrance. Cracking the door open, wondering if any of the idiots he lived with had done anything worth a house visit from the cops lately, he was instead met with the wild black hair and smudged eyeliner of none other than the very person he was tasked with finding a gift for.

“Oh,” the guitarist blinked in surprise, opening the door wider, “What’s up Sixx? Wasn’t expecting you.”

“No one ever expects me. My presence is either surprising or disappointing, but never anticipated.”

Rolling his eyes, Slash moved aside to let the other man inside, “Yeah, yeah, whatever you drama queen.”

“I don’t think you can call me a drama queen in good faith when you live with fucking Axl.”

“You got me there,” he chuckled, “But seriously, what brings you to our humble Hell House?”

Sighing heavily, Nikki cut straight to the chase, “Did you get Tommy’s name for the Secret Santa?”

Slash raised an eyebrow, “I thought this thing was supposed to be, you know… secret?”

“Oh fuck off,” Nikki huffed, “No one in Crue has it, which means someone here does, and I fucking want it.”

“Why?”

“…Cause.”

“Ooooooh,” a slow grin spread on the guitarist’s face, “I get it.”

“Don’t-”

“You’ve got a cru~ush~” he sang teasingly.

“Shut up!” Nikki shoved him lightly, his cheeks reddening as he scowled.

Slash laughed, “Okay, okay, jeez! To be honest I assumed you guys were already a thing. Like, sometimes I can’t tell where one of you ends and the other begins. It’s super gross.” He gave an exaggerated shudder.

“Oh please, you and Axl are always fucking hanging off each other.”

Sputtering, Slash gaped, “We do not!”

Blinking, Nikki raised his eyebrows in surprise, “Holy shit. Don’t tell me you two aren’t actually a couple.”

“Keep your voice down, he’s in the other room!”

“Holy shit! And you were fucking with me about Tommy!”

“Shhhhhh!” Slash covered the bassist mouth with his hands, “Okay, alright, we’re both lovesick idiots. I’ll tell you who has Tommy’s name and then we can both never speak of this again, deal?”

Smirking, Nikki pushed his hands away, “Deal.”

Nodding, Slash crossed his arms, “I heard Axl complaining about having to shop for ‘fucking sunshine drummers’.”

“Let’s be real, that could mean Tommy or Steven,” Nikki pointed out.

Slash shrugged, “If it had been Steven he wouldn’t have kept his voice down.”

“You know what? That’s fair.” Nodding decisively, he turned to walk into the next room, “Thanks man.”

“Yeah, yeah…”

Turning the corner, Nikki found himself in a small, dingy kitchen, empty save for the red-headed singer sitting on the counter. He was kicking his legs back and forth, a mug in one hand and a book in his lap. He looked so peaceful and innocent, but Nikki knew better than to let his guard down around the little terror.

Point made when the singer’s head snapped up as he entered, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Good to see you too, Rose.”

Axl’s only response was to quirk an eyebrow, so Nikki sighed, “Look, I need a favor.”

That made Axl’s eyes light up in interest, “Oh?”

Yeah, Nikki was gonna be fucked. Asking Axl for a favor was like making a deal with the devil. But, well, desperate fucking times and all. “Yeah,” he glanced away, “I heard you got Tommy’s name for the Secret Santa. Is that true?”

“Maybe,” Axl drawled, placing his mug and book to the side so he could lean forward and give Nikki his full attention, “What of it?”

“I want to trade.”

“Hm,” the singer considered for a minute. Finally he jerked his head at the bassist, “Whose name did you get?”

“Izzy,” he replied, “He’s like, your best friend, right? So it’s perfect.”

Axl snorted, “I don’t like him that much.” He tilted his head side to side as he thought. Nikki held his breath, hoping to God that this could just be simple. But when Axl grinned slowly at him, he knew that he’d have no such luck.

“I’ll tell you what,” he offered, “I’ll give you Tommy, if you get me Slash.”

For a long minute, Nikki could only blink. Finally, he deadpanned, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” If he wasn’t certain that one or both of them would murder him on the spot, he’d just drag Slash in here right now and tell them to bang or whatever. But he was, in fact, certain that one or both of them would murder him on the spot. So.

“That’s my offer, take it or leave it,” Axl shrugged.

Goddamn pining idiots. “Ugh, fine!” Nikki threw his arms up in exasperation. He was pretty sure he knew who had Slash’s name, but it was going to be annoying as fuck.

Axl snickered as he stomped out of the house, shoving past Steven without a word. “What was that about?” The drummer questioned.

“Oh, you know,” Axl grinned, “just the holidays, bringing people together.”

~~~~~~

Izzy sighed from his spot outside the liquor store, pulling his jacket tighter around his body as he took a long drag from his cigarette. The slip of paper with Mick written on it weighed heavy in his pocket. He’d been eavesdropping on his bandmates, and as far as he could tell none of them had Duff’s name. The idea of trekking over to Motley Crue and asking one of them to trade made him wince.

Speak of the devil though. As he ground his cigarette under his heel, he saw a tall, curly haired drummer make his way over.

“Oh! Hey Izzy!” Tommy grinned, “Fancy meeting you here!”

“Yeah,” Izzy shrugged, “Just grabbing a couple things. Too lazy to go all the way to the market.”

“I know that feeling,” Tommy laughed.

Eyeing him carefully, Izzy tried to keep his voice casual as he asked impulsively, “So, how’s the Secret Santa shopping going?”

To his surprise, Tommy’s face fell a little, “Oh, it’s fine. I don’t really know what to get them though,” he rubbed the back of his neck and mumbled to himself, “I was kind of hoping to get a different bassist…”

No fucking way.

Izzy gaped for a moment. What were the odds? He never got this lucky! “You got Duff?” He blurted out.

“Ah, fuck, it’s supposed to be a secret,” Tommy floundered.

“No, no, it’s cool!” Izzy was quick to calm him, “You want Nikki’s name, right?”

“Yeah,” the drummer admitted. Then he lit up, “Do you have his name?”

“Well, no…” Izzy confessed, “But, I was hoping to get Duff. So maybe we could…?” He trailed off, looking at the taller man expectantly.

Looking at the drummer though you’d think Izzy just kicked his puppy, “I really want Nikki though. He like, never celebrated Christmas, and sometimes the holidays make him sad, and I don’t want him to be sad, so I just want to get him something special, y’know?”

Yes. Izzy did know, because he was in a very similar situation. Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose, “Right. Okay. If I can get Nikki’s name though, you’ll trade with me?”

Perking back up, Tommy nodded enthusiastically, “Absolutely, dude!”

Nodding firmly in response, Izzy agreed, “Alright. It’s a deal.”

~~~~~~~~

“Please?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No!”

“Pleeeeeeease?”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Mick slammed his magazine down, glaring at the bassist across from him, “Why the fuck do you want to trade so bad?”

“Because,” Nikki whined, “Why do you even care? You’re probably just going to get something generic no matter whose name you get.”

“It’s the principle of the matter,” Mick insisted.

“Come on, do you really want to deal with me annoying you over something that you couldn’t care less about? For that matter, do you really want me to bug you with all the bullshit details of why I need Slash’s name?”

“Fuck,” the guitarist muttered, even as he moved to rummage through his pockets, “I’ve been spending too much time around you crazy fuckers, ‘cause you’re starting to make sense.” He slapped the paper down, snatching the one Nikki offered in exchange, “You still owe me though.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll find some way to make it up to you,” Nikki grinned, jumping from his seat and running for the door, “Thanks, man!”

“Fuck you.”

~~~~~~~~

The club was packed, bodies pressing together and jumping to the beat of the loud, angry music. Slash sat at the bar with Duff and Axl, Steven and Izzy running late. Guns N Roses didn’t see Motley Crue perform too often, but apparently Nikki needed to meet up with Axl because of their Secret Santa bullshit, and the others tagged along out of habit. Slash figured it might give him some inspiration for what to get the bassist, anyway. The petty part of him wanted to tell him that directing him to Tommy’s name was his gift, but that felt cheap even for him.

But what the fuck did Nikki Sixx want, other than drugs and to fuck his drummer?

The crowd cheered loudly as the four rockers finished their set, making their way off stage as the next band began to set up. Axl chugged the rest of his drink, nodding at the others as he made his way towards the stage, presumably to meet up with Nikki. He and Duff chatted for a bit until the bassist was distracted by the bartender blatantly flirting. Slash rolled his eyes. He knew without a doubt that the tall blonde only had eyes for one person, but he was also the king of playing it up to get free drinks and, well, no one could fault him for that.

“Hey Slash!”

Turning at the sound of his name, he grinned as Tommy and Vince stumbled over to him, “Hey guys! Great show!”

“Thanks!”

“Hang on, I think I see a challenge,” Vince grinned deviously, abandoning Tommy and Slash in favor of competing with Duff for the bartender’s attention.

Slash snorted, shaking his head in amusement, “That’s not going to end well.”

Tommy laughed, swaying from alcohol or coke or both as he leaned against the bar and pushed sweaty curls out of his face, “Vince will be fine. If this doesn’t work out he’ll find another chick and be right as rain,” he waved his hand dismissively.

“Yeah, and I don’t think Duff will be heartbroken either.”

Sighing heavily, Tommy nodded, “Yeah, Duff’s a cool guy.” Biting his lip, he glanced away almost guiltily, “I feel bad for trying to trade his name away for the Santa thing…”

Slash blinked in surprise, “You got Duff?”

“Oh, Goddamn it!” Tommy exclaimed, “I am so bad at this fucking secret thing…”

Laughing, Slash patted his shoulder consolingly, “Hey man, it’s no biggie. Whose name are you trying to get, anyway?” He had a feeling he already knew.

Sure enough, Tommy sighed dreamily, “Nikki. He’s so great, y’know? And I just want to give him something special and nice so he knows I…. y’know,” he waved his hand vaguely.

Snorting, Slash reached into his pocket, “Oh, I know,” holding a hand out, Slash took pity on the kid. What could he say? The Terror Twins were fucking adorable. No matter how much he teased Nikki, he honestly didn’t mind helping them along.

Tommy blinked in confusion as he took Slash’s offering. When he saw what it was, his whole face lit up, smiling so wide it was practically blinding, “Dude! Seriously?!”

“Yup,” He motioned with his hand, and Tommy scrambled to give him his own paper, “Tidings of joy or whatever bullshit. Go get ‘em, tiger.”

“Seriously, dude, you’re the best!” Tommy wrapped the guitarist in a bone crushing hug, nearly knocking the wind out of him.

“Yeah, it’s cool, really, please, I can’t breath.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Izzy and Steven made it to the club during Motley Crue’s last song. Izzy had stopped by the house to change after working, finding Steven asleep on the couch. After shaking him awake (the drummer had completely forgotten about the group’s evening plans) they both made their way to the venue.

Despite snooping around, Izzy could not figure out who had Nikki’s name. He was starting to think someone from Crue must have it, or worse, Duff, which would make for an awkward affair if the blonde wanted to know why he wanted to trade. So he made up his mind to just grovel to the best of his ability and get Tommy to trade with him anyway.

The crowds, mixed with the loud music and the flashing lights made it hard to find anyone. Izzy and Steven eventually got separated, and he ran into Vince, who was too busy cozying up to a busty brunette to pay him much mind. For the first hour or so, he drifted around the floor, listening to the current band, occasionally snagging freebies from the rare fans who recognized him. Tired, and assuming that the Crue had already made their way back to their apartment for an afterparty, he made his way to the bar. As soon as he arrived, he flagged down the bartender and took two shots in quick succession, impatient to get a pleasant buzz going.

Looking across the bar, he finally found familiar faces. Duff was obviously well on his way to wasted, laughing at something with Axl, Slash, and Steven. Quickly slipping over to them, his bandmates greeted him enthusiastically.

“Izzy! We were wondering where you disappeared to!” Steven exclaimed.

“We missed you, buddy!” Duff grinned and slung an arm around Izzy’s waist and okay, screw Tommy, he wasn’t moving from this spot for the rest of the night. He pointedly ignored Axl’s knowing look and the conversation picked back up, the five friends laughing cheerfully and Duff’s hand warm on his hip.

He’d deal with the Secret Santa thing tomorrow.

~~~~~~~~~~

This was not supposed to be this hard.

Nikki had been wracking his brains on what to get Tommy. It needed to be something heartfelt, something Tommy would understand was supposed to be special, but still simple enough that he could give it to the drummer in front of the two bands. Ultimately, he decided that something homemade would be perfect- Tommy would lose his shit over Nikki putting actual time and effort into his gift.

That was how Nikki found himself in Motley Crue’s kitchen at 10am trying- and seriously, emphasis on trying- to bake cookies.

He had a limited window where he had the apartment to himself, and immediately took advantage of it. Baking supplies had been hidden in his room for the last day to keep the others from giving him shit or finding out his plan. The bag of chocolate chips had a recipe on the back, and Nikki could fucking read, so he figured it’d be easy.

The problem started when he realized that while he had purchased ingredients, he had forgotten to consider that their apartment was almost completely devoid of actual baking equipment. The biggest ‘bowl’ they had was an old metal pot, and he was forced to stir with a soup spoon.

Measuring was also tricky, since he hadn’t even thought about picking up measuring cups or anything. But hey, how hard could it be to eyeball it? They had cups, he could fill it halfway just fine.

Judging by the smoke coming out of the oven, it was not fine at all.

Sighing in frustration, Nikki scraped the paper thin and charred pastries into the sink. He had his fingers crossed for the next batch, saying a quick prayer to whoever was listening as he scooped them sloppily and slid them into the oven, not bothering to wait for the single sheet pan they owned to cool down.

He was standing impatiently in the middle of the kitchen when someone pounded on the door. Furrowing his brows, he didn’t know who to expect. People usually only knocked if they were there about a noise complaint, but the apartment was currently silent.

Opening the door, he was faced with a tired and hungover looking Izzy Stradlin.

The bassist had barely opened his mouth before Izzy was cutting him off, “I just need to talk to Tommy real quick.”

Raising an eyebrow, Nikki crossed his arms, “Why?”

“Because,” he ran a hand over his face, “Look, can I just-” he stopped suddenly, finally taking in the man in front of him, “Why the fuck are you covered in cocaine?”

Blinking in confusion, Nikki looked down at himself before sighing at the sight of his flour covered shirt, “It’s not cocaine. You know I’d never waste coke like this,” he gestured at himself.

“Then what-” Izzy paused again, this time his eyes widening as he glanced over Nikki’s shoulder, “-the FUCK is going on in your kitchen?!”

Spinning around, Nikki cursed loudly at the sight of black smoke wafting from the other room. Sprinting to the oven, he threw the door open, coughing when a wave of smoke billowed out. He snatched a dish towel and recklessly grabbed the tray of cookies, throwing the whole thing into the sink. Izzy, who had run up behind him, quickly reached over and flipped the faucet on, steam mixing with the smoke until the entire kitchen was in a haze.

Both rockers coughed and sputtered, waving their hands around their faces. “What the actual fuck, dude!” Izzy cried incredulously, “Were you cooking meth or something?”

Groaning, Nikki dropped his head onto the counter roughly, letting his hair hide the tears of frustration that threatened to well over, “I fucking wish.”

Glancing around the disaster zone of the kitchen, Izzy slowly pieced together what had happened, “Were you… baking?”

“Well I was trying!” Nikki shouted, tugging at his hair and still face down on the counter, “But I’m such a fuckup I can’t even do something as simple as make a fucking batch of fucking cookies without it literally going up in fucking flames!”

Okay, so Izzy definitely had not anticipated this when he came over. Hesitantly, he reached out to pat Nikki awkwardly on the back, “Um. There, there?” He glanced around helplessly, “Where the fuck is the rest of your band, maybe one of them could help with…”

“They’re not here right now,” Nikki finally straightened up, looking utterly miserable, “Vince is shacking up with whatever girl of the week he’s got, Mick is dealing with his ex, and Tommy’s at work.”

Izzy took a deep breath through his nose, trying to resist tearing his hair out, “Right. Okay, I’ll… make you a deal,” he grit out. How many fucking deals was he going to have to make this week?

“What?” Nikki mumbled.

“I’ll help you salvage your baking project if you tell me where Tommy works so I can fucking talk to him.”

“Really?” the bassist looked at him wide eyed and hopeful, “You’ll help? And not fucking tell anyone?” he tacked on with a glare.

“Yes, yes, whatever, let’s just do this so I can get out of here,” he looked around, “Where are your measuring cups?”

“Um…”

Izzy pinched the bridge of his nose. Lord have mercy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Steven hummed to himself from his spot laying on the couch in their living room. In his pocket was a scrap of paper with Axl scrawled on it. The drummer wanted so badly to get him something good- the singer was his best friend! Well, okay so maybe he considered all the members of Guns N’ Roses his best friend. And okay, maybe there was room for him and Axl to be better friends, but that was why this Secret Santa gift was important! It was a chance for Steven to build their relationship a little more. The problem was, he had no idea what Axl would want. He’d been wracking his brain all morning, but nothing felt right.

At that moment, laughter rang out from the kitchen, light and carefree, “Hey! Get your own!” Steven could hear the smile in Axl’s voice.

Hopping to his feet, he peeked around the corner into the kitchen. Axl was indeed smiling, no matter how hard he tried to look annoyed. Slash was grinning widely as he held a mug of coffee just out of the red-head’s reach, “Sharing is caring, Sweetheart!”

Axl was pressed against the guitarist’s back, his chin resting on Slash’s shoulder as he stretched his arms out to try to reach the mug Slash held in front of him. When Slash finally broke away, rushing to take two large gulps of the coffee, Axl gasped in exaggerated offense, “You asshole! It’s not sharing if you don’t leave any for me!”

Slash laughed, “I’ll give you more of the next mug.”

“Oh no, you wanted my cup? Fine,” the singer rushed to the coffee maker, grabbing the entire pot and holding it to his chest, “But THIS is mine!”

“What! No way! I can’t survive on one cup of coffee!”

“Serves you right!” Axl ran out of the kitchen, shouting between childlike laughs as Slash chased after him, complaining loudly even as his face showed nothing but joy. Listening to the two musicians as their voices rang through the house, Steven was struck by inspiration, a grin spreading slowly across his face.

He knew what to get Axl for Christmas.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Tommy sighed as another stack of plates was placed next to him, grabbing the first one to start scraping off excess food. God, he couldn’t wait until Motley Crue started making enough that they could all quit their shitty jobs. Washing dishes all day wasn’t that bad, but it wasn’t how he wanted to spend his day, either. He tossed his head back, trying to get a strand of hair that had come loose from his ponytail out of his face, when he heard some sort of commotion out in the restaurant.

He didn’t think much of it at first, shitty customers weren’t that uncommon. But then the voices started getting closer.

“Sir, you cannot go back there-”

“I’ll just be a minute.”

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave-”

“Yeah, yeah, in a minute.”

The voices were right outside the door, and just as Tommy turned, Izzy Stradlin burst in, followed closely by one of the managers. The guitarist looked frazzled, his hair a wild mess, dark circles under his eyes, and what looked like some sort of batter smeared on his shirt.

“Tommy! Fucking finally,” Izzy muttered, steadfastly ignoring the manager that was still trying to talk to him.

“Izzy? What the Hell are you-”

“Look, I have no idea who has Nikki’s name. Can you please just switch with me? I’ll owe you one or whatever, just do this one favor for me.”

Blinking slowly, it took Tommy a moment to figure out what Izzy was talking about. When he finally caught up, he winced, “Oooooh fuck.” Izzy stared at him, the manager still standing to the side just watching. “Um,” Tommy shuffled awkwardly, “I actually….”

“What?”

Gulping nervously, Tommy finally spit it out, “I don’t have Duff’s name anymore.“

Silence stretched for a long minute, Izzy staring blankly while Tommy’s manager looked back and forth between them in confusion. Finally, Izzy slowly stalked forward and Tommy was pretty sure he was about to get murdered.

Izzy stopped just inches away from him, “Who does?”

~~~~~~~~~~

“Slash, I need you to make out with Axl.”

Sputtering, Slash practically spit out his water in surprise and dismay, “What? Why??”

Taking a deep breath, Steven explained, “Okay, so I got Axl for the Secret Santa, right?” Slash opened his mouth, but Steven barreled on before he could speak, “And I want to get him something good, cause I love the dude. And I couldn’t figure out what to get him, cause like, what does Axl even want? But then I realized, he wants you!” Grinning widely, Steven didn’t even register the deep shade of red blooming across Slash’s face, “I’m pretty sure he wants you more than anything. So for his gift I figured I’d get you to kiss him! So will you do it? Please?”

Swallowing thickly, Slash brought one hand up, pushing his hair to try to hide his flaming face, “I- Um- …Hang on, I need to process this.”

Thankfully, Steven was happy to stand patiently while Slash’s brain rebooted. Logically, the guitarist knew on some level that his feelings for the red-head were mutual. At least, he hoped. After all, who’s to say their flirtation wasn’t just a friendly joke to Axl? He’d always been too anxious about being rejected to make any sort of blatant move; to do anything that didn’t have some element of plausible deniability.

But… Nikki had thought that they were already a couple. And now Steven was saying Axl wanted him. And, well…

That had to mean something, right?

Inhaling deeply, Slash finally met Steven’s gaze, “Okay. So. I see what you’re saying. But our Secret Santa gifts are going to be exchanged in front of a group, and do you really think Axl would appreciate me kissing him in front of an audience?” Just saying it had Slash’s blush reigniting.

Steven’s face fell, “Oh, I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Yeah. But… why don’t we trade names? And I’ll, uh, kiss Axl after the gift exchanged,” Jesus Christ he felt like a middle schooler. Fucking Axl messing with his fucking emotions.

The drummer hummed in consideration, “… You’ll tell him I helped though? Because I still want you making out with him to be my gift to him.”

“Fucking Hell, yes I’ll let you take credit if everything works out, so just stop talking and give me his damn name!”

Laughing, Steven swapped paper with the guitarist, “My work here is done.”

~~~~~~~~~

Axl glared at nothing as he stalked down the street. He was a fucking idiot. Why had he gone to the trouble of getting Slash’s name for the Secret Santa when he didn’t even know what the fuck to get him? He knew the type of shit the guitarist liked, and so in theory getting him a gift shouldn’t be that hard. But he wanted to give the other man a gift that would say something. Something that would maybe help… push things forward.

Unless Slash didn’t actually like Axl that way. In which case Axl needed to be able to laugh and say he was overthinking it. Plausible deniability and all.

Sighing, he wandered into another shop. This one seemed mostly full of novelties and souvenirs for tourists. He drifted aimlessly, kicking himself for getting into this situation and debating about just trading Slash’s name away to someone. But just as he was turning to leave the store, eyes burning with hopelessness, something caught his eye.

Picking up the item, he considered it carefully. It wasn’t some intimate symbol or heartfelt offering, but that almost made it better. Just something simple that would make Slash laugh and maybe hint at something more. Smiling, he swallowed back the lingering nervousness long enough to place the item on the counter to buy it.

~~~~~~~~~~

Slash kneeled on the floor, rifling through the single drawer of the coffee table in the living room. He was pretty sure he’d seen a spool of thread in there at one point…

There was a bundle of fabric shoved under the guitarist’s mattress in his room which had been there for almost two months now. The pattern had jumped out at him when he had passed a small stand where an older woman had been selling various crafts and knick-knacks on the street. At the time, he’d had no idea what to do with it, even as he shoved some crumpled bills into the woman’s hands and snatched the fabric. But he knew that he would kick himself later if he didn’t get it.

Months later and sure enough, he was so glad he had. He only needed to do a little bit of simple stitching for what he had in mind, nothing he hadn’t helped his mom with a million times. Now if he could just find that thread…

Suddenly, the front door slammed open. Jumping in surprise, Slash turned to see a frazzled looking Izzy. He barely had a chance to even process what was happening before the other man was stalking towards him, his teeth clenched as he practically collapsed onto his knees next to him.

“Slash,” he ground out, “I know Tommy traded you Duff’s name and I need you to give it to me so I can buy that giraffe bastard a fucking Christmas gift, okay?”

Oh boy. “Um…” Slash would love to tease his bandmate for his crush, but the situation felt a bit… volatile. Gulping nervously as he looked into Izzy’s hard eyes, he admitted, “I actually don’t have Duff’s name. I traded it for-”

“WhAT?!”

In the blink of an eye, Izzy was standing, hands fisted in the front of Slash’s shirt. Slash squeaked in surprise as he was dragged off the floor until their faces were inches apart. “What do you mean you traded it??” Izzy shouted.

“Holy shit, man,” Slash stared wide-eyed at his band mate, stumbling to steady himself and gripping Izzy’s wrists uselessly, “I-”

“Who the FUCK did you trade it to?” Izzy actually shook him, his eyes manic as he tried to shake the information out of the other man, “Who has Duff’s name now??”

“Steven! I traded with Steven! Fuck!”

“What’s going on? I heard my name?”

The drummer didn’t know what to expect, especially after walking in on what looked like Izzy threatening Slash. But before he could process what was happening, Izzy’s eyes snapped to look at him. Steven felt like a deer in the headlights, and in mere seconds Izzy had opened his hands, letting Slash drop unceremoniously to the ground with a ‘thud’ and an ‘oof!’, before full on sprinting and tackling Steven to the floor.

Shrieking, the two musicians tumbled to the ground, Izzy grabbing Steven’s shirt as he pinned him down, “Steven I swear to fuck if you tell me you traded Duff’s name-”

“No, no, I have it! I have it!” Steven blurted out in a panic, scrambling to pull the paper from his pocket.

Snatching the name from his hand, Izzy released him, standing shakily as he looked down at paper, “Fucking finally,” he muttered to himself. He reached into his own pocket and carelessly let it drift down onto Steven’s chest before walking away, slamming the door to his bedroom behind him.

Steven and Slash stood shakily, eyeing the closed door warily.

“What… the fuck?” Steven breathed, turning wide eyes to Slash, who only threw his hands up defensively.

“Fuck dude, I have no fucking clue. This Secret Santa thing is driving everyone crazy.”

“Ah man, am I gonna be the only one with no one to make out with after this thing?” the drummer pouted, leaning down to pick up his new name assignment from where it had fallen onto the floor, “I mean, I guess I wouldn’t mind kissing Mick.”

Slash snorted, shaking his head in amusement. He froze when he noticed Steven seriously considering the paper in his hand, “Stevie, no. Do NOT kiss Mick. We all love the dude, but we wouldn’t find your body after.”

Rolling his eyes, Steven laughed, “Haha, Dude, I’m just kidding,” he glanced back down at the name, “…unless?”

“Steven NO!”

~~~~~~~

Opening the door quietly, Tommy glanced around the apartment. Seeing that the coast was clear, he quickly entered, cradling his gift carefully in his hand. The door to Nikki’s room was closed, music blasting from within, so Tommy was able to sneak past easily and slip into his own room.

He hoped that Nikki understood his gift. The bassist tried to shrug it off, scoffing whenever the subject came up, but Tommy could tell the holidays were hard for him. It hurt Tommy’s heart to see the other man struggle, and he wouldn’t even really talk about it. The most the drummer got was some drunken muttering on the nights Nikki got really fucked up, but never enough for him to really get it off his chest and feel better, so he always awoke the next morning just as melancholy and frustrated and distant.

Sighing, Tommy placed his gift gently on the table next to his bed. Maybe it was far fetched, but he loved Nikki. He just hoped his present would communicate that.

~~~~~~~

Izzy was collapsed face down on his mattress, the same spot he’d been in for the last hour. When this week had started, he had not anticipated having to go through so much trouble to get his crush’s name. But it would all be worth it when he gave him his gift and-

His eyes snapped open.

Oh fuck.

He hadn’t gotten Duff a fucking gift yet.

~~~~~~~~

Sighing in relief, Duff finally made it home after a hellish double-shift. All he wanted to do was crawl into bed and pass out. He had finished his gift for Steven a few days after they all drew names, and he felt confident the drummer would like his gift when he got it the next night. When he walked into the living room, he waved tiredly at Steven, who was smoking lazily on the couch.

“Hey man,” the drummer nodded at him.

“Hey,” Duff sat next to him, leaning his head back, “Any crazy plans for tonight?”

Steven shrugged, “Nah, I need to figure out what to do for the Secret Santa thing.”

Duff snorted, “You’ve had a week and you’re doing this the night before?”

“It’s not my fault!” Steven whined, “I had to switch names last second.” He crossed his arms with a huff, and before Duff could question what he was talking about, the drummer muttered, “Izzy must’ve gotten you something really good, he wanted your name really bad.”

There was a long stretch of silence.

When Steven finally looked up, he immediately straightened in his seat, eyes widening at the sight of Duff’s pale face, “Dude? What’s wrong, are you ok-”

“Izzy got me for the exchange?” the bassist asked weakly.

“Well, I mean, he does now? He pretty much forced me to give it to him and-”

Duff stood abruptly, Steven following after him with his hands out because honestly Duff looked a little like he was going to pass out, “Oh my God. Oh my God, Izzy is going to give me something. I don’t have anything for him!”

“That’s okay, it’s okay!” Steven desperately tried to soothe him, “You’re only supposed to give a gift to your assigned person, so-”

“No!” Duff’s fingers curled into his own hair, eyes wide and panicky, “Izzy is getting me a gift! He- he deliberately got my name and I don’t have anything for him! That is not okay!”

“Fuck, okay, Duff, just breathe, okay? Oh God, please don’t cry! Duff if you start crying then I’m gonna start crying!”

Just then, the front door opened. Axl blinked in surprise, eyes darting between Steven and Duff and immediately rushing forward in concern, “What the Hell is going on? Why do you both look like you’re going to cry? Do I need to punch someone??”

Duff covered his face with his hands, “I fucked up and now Izzy is going to fucking hate me!”

“No, he’s not!” Steven insisted, rubbing Duff’s back as he turned to Axl, “Izzy has Duff’s name for the Secret Santa and now Duff is freaking out because he doesn’t have a gift for Izzy.”

Axl furrowed his brow in confusion, “But if you don’t have Izzy’s name then you weren’t supposed to get him a gift?”

“Fuck that!” Duff cried, “It- it’s Izzy! I can’t take something from him without giving him something back! He’ll think I don’t care!” His chest was heaving, “Oh my God, I can’t breathe, he’s going to think I don’t care, I can’t breathe, I’m dying-”

Scrambling, Steven and Axl gently pushed Duff back onto the couch, sitting on either side of him, “Duff, Duff, don’t think about that right now, just breathe okay? In and out, just copy us,” Axl’s deep voice was soft and comforting, Steven’s hand on his back grounding him as the two musicians beside him took exaggerated breaths.

As air finally started to reach his lungs, Duff wiped at his face roughly, “Fuck. Sorry.”

“Hey, you’re fine dude,” Steven insisted, Axl nodding in agreement. They were both a little shaken- they knew that Duff could get anxious, and he’d told them that he had had panic attacks before, but they’d never witnessed one before. Still, they managed to keep it together while Duff calmed down.

“Okay, so I still say you have nothing to worry about,” Axl began, “but if it will help, I know Nikki had Izzy’s name to start.”

“And I know no one in the house has his name,” Steven added, “So it’s definitely with someone in the Crue!”

Nodding, Duff took another deep breath, “Okay. Okay, so I’ll just go over, and switch, and… and figure out something to give him… tomorrow…” he ran a hand over his face, “Fuck.”

“It’ll be fine, you’ve totally got this!” Steven encouraged.

“Right. Fuck, I’m wasting time, I need to go,” Standing, Duff took a few steps towards the front door before stopping, turning on his heel and rushing into the room he shared with Steven. He emerged moments later with a paper bag clutched in his hand.

“What’s that?” Steven asked.

“Nothing. See ya,” And with that, Duff was running out the door.

Turning slowly towards Axl, Steven bit his lip nervously, “Should we…?”

Sighing, the red-head stood, “Yeah, probably.” The two men quickly ran out the door after the bassist, following after him down the street. Because they were good fucking friends.

~~~~~~~~~

Slash returned home after making a run to the liquor store and found the house dark, empty, and quiet. He glanced around in confusion, raising his hands in dismay.

“Where the fuck is everybody?”

~~~~~~~~~

“Maybe speed it up just a little?”

“I think the issue is more with the key than the speed,” Mick argued. Tommy hummed in consideration while Nikki made a few notes in his notebook. Motley Crue was crammed in their usual corner of the apartment dedicated to their band practice.

“Well, let’s start with a key change and then see how we feel,” Nikki decided. The others nodded in agreement, but before they could start playing, they all jumped as someone started pounding on their door.

“NIKKI!” A voice yelled, “Nikki, let me in!!”

All eyes snapped to the bassist, “What the fuck did you do, Sixx?” Vince questioned accusingly.

“I didn’t do anything!” Nikki replied, huffing defensively.

The pounding at the door suddenly stopped, and the four rockers heard more voices from outside, “Jesus fuck, Duff, will you please calm down?”

“Should we do another breathing exercise?”

“I’m fucking FINE, I just-”

Finally, Nikki hesitantly opened the door, revealing three fifths of Guns N Roses standing on his doorstep. “Uuuuuh… hi?”

“Nikki!” Duff exclaimed with relief, “Do you know who has Izzy’s name for the Secret Santa?”

“Mother fucker.”

Mick’s voice was more resigned than annoyed, and Duff immediately gave him his attention, “Mick do you have it? Can you-”

“Yes, fuck, whatever, I don’t care!” the guitarist threw his arms in the air in exasperation.

Beaming, Duff quickly jogged over, swapping scraps of paper and also handing Mick the paper bag he had brought with him.

Raising an eyebrow, Mick looked at it suspiciously, “What’s this?”

“Oh, I already had a gift, so you can just give it to him instead.”

“Hell yeah, that makes my life easier.”

“It was the least I could do,” Duff shrugged.

“Great, this has been fun,” Vince rolled his eyes, “Now get out, we’re busy being a better band than you guys.”

“Excuse me?!” Axl stepped forward, fists clenched and ready to go, but Duff swiftly wrapped his arms around his waist and lifted him off the floor. “Hey!!” the singer struggled, arms still reaching out as if he could get a hit in from his current position.

Duff nodded at the four men, “Thanks again. See you guys tomorrow!”

Calling out their farewells, Vince snickered as Axl cried out “This isn’t over, asshole!” just as the door closed behind them.

Nikki shook his head, “I get the feeling that tomorrow is going to be interesting.”

~~~~~~~~~~

By the time the two bands piled into the living room of the Hell House, every single one of them was some level of buzzed. Slash and Steven had smoked a bit earlier in the evening, Nikki, Tommy, and Vince had done a few lines, and the drinks were flowing early. Duff didn’t even bother with pretense this time, a bottle of Vodka held loosely in his hand.

“Man, we should have decorated the apartment!” Tommy pouted as he admired the Christmas lights that had been tossed around and hung haphazardly in the living room, Duff smiling proudly from his seat. Axl, Izzy, Vince, and Steven were pressed close together on the couch, Mick taking the only chair, while the rest of the group sat on the floor. The coffee table was piled up with their shoddily wrapped gifts in the middle of their circle.

“Alright, who’s starting this thing?” Nikki questioned.

For a moment, everyone was silent, each person looking around and waiting for someone else to volunteer. “Oh for fucks sake,” Axl rolled his eyes, “Steven, this whole thing was your idea, so you get to start.”

“Sure!” Steven grinned widely, reaching into the pile to grab a paper bag with a very familiar shape, “Merry Christmas, Mick!”

“Hey, wait a sec-” Axl protested.

Opening the bag, no one was surprised to see the bottle of vodka inside. There was a chorus of complaints, Nikki slamming his hands on the coffee table, “Dude, we said no alcohol!”

But the drummer only smirked mischievously, “That’s the real gift,” he explained, “My present to Mick is saying ‘fuck it’ to the rules.”

The group went silent, all of them considering his words. “Damn,” Slash muttered, “That’s actually pretty good.”

Even Mick couldn’t hold back a small smirk, nodding in appreciation, “I dig it. Thanks, drummer,” he raised the bottle with a nod of thanks, and Steven pumped his fist in victory. Slash mentally sighed in relief that at least the drummer hadn’t tried to kiss the man.

“Let’s just go clockwise, now,” Tommy suggested, “So Mick, you’re up next!”

“Well, surprise, surprise,” the older man rolled his eyes, “I got Steven. So here,” he grabbed the bag Duff had given him the day before, pushing it into the blonde’s arms.

Opening the bad excitedly, Steven gasped in excitement. He pulled out a pair of drumsticks, the handles covered in dark swirls and designs which, upon closer observation, looked like they had been practically carved on with ballpoint pen. “These are awesome! Thanks, ‘Mick’,” he looked at the guitarist first, before smiling at Duff. Slash and Izzy exchanged silent glances. Neither understood the exchange, shrugging nonchalantly and ultimately deciding not to worry about it.

Slash was next, and he shyly tossed a light package wrapped in tissue paper into Axl lap, “I got Axl. Merry Christmas, dude.”

A subtle pink spread across Axl’s cheeks before he even opened the package, but it got even worse once he did. Folded inside was a bandana. Everyone knew it was one of Axl’s favorite accessories to wear, so it made sense as a gift, but what really made him pause was the pattern on it. The black fabric was covered with designs of golden snakes wrapped around dark red roses.

Swallowing thickly, Axl cleared his throat, doing his best to smile casually, “This is awesome, man,” he looked up to meet Slash’s eyes, “Thank you.”

Mick took a long drink from his vodka.

“Okay! Tommy, you’re next!” Slash slapped at the drummer’s arm, desperate to get the attention away from himself and the singer.

“Oh, yeah, right!” Tommy nervously lunged forward, to grab his gift. His present was in a paper grocery bag, which he held carefully by the handles as he placed it in Nikki’s lap next to him, “Here you go, buddy!”

Nikki blinked in surprise, his heart skipping a few beats as he looked down at the bag. Opening it up, his eyes widened as he saw what it was. Moving carefully to keep it upright, Nikki pulled out a small potted succulent. The bassist couldn’t help but let out a small, breathy laugh.

Tommy gave him roots. The fucking, sappy bastard.

“Thanks, man!” He slung an arm around the drummer’s shoulders, pulling him close to his side, “I fucking love it!” He shook his head a little, letting his bangs cover his eyes that he knew were getting glassy. “And hey, what are the odds, I got your name,” the entire room rolled their eyes, a few of them chuckling at the reality of what they’d all gotten themselves into. Meanwhile, Nikki grabbed a foil wrapped bundle and handed it to Tommy.

Peeling back the foil eagerly, Tommy gasped, “Cookies!!”

While they weren’t exactly prize-winning, with Izzy’s help Nikki managed to make the pastries both edible and at least somewhat visually appealing. As he happily shoved a cookie into his mouth, Tommy almost choked when he saw, near the bottom of the pile where no one else could see, one large cookie shaped like a heart.

“Thnn yu nnk! Ahveum!” Tommy’s words were practically unintelligible as he tried to speak with his mouth full, but Nikki understood, especially when the taller boy pulled him into a tight hug.

“Anytime, dude,” both of them were beaming, and even as Nikki called for Duff to take his turn, the terror twins kept their arms around each other.

Duff took a large gulp of his vodka before shakily reaching for his gift. It was small and flat, wrapped in magazine pages, and he couldn’t quite meet Izzy’s eyes as he held it out to him, “Here you go, Izzy. Um, merry Christmas.”

Taking the gift, Izzy could feel himself gaping. He hadn’t expected Duff to get him for the game. Tearing the paper, he found himself pulling out a loop of bass strings. As he looked at it though, he realized that the four strings had been carefully braided together. The braid was then carefully twisted around before being wrapped tightly with a thin metal wire to hold it together as an intricate bracelet.

Izzy couldn’t stop staring at it, “Dude,” he breathed out, “this is amazing. Did you make this?”

Duff was twisting his fingers together so hard it had to be painful, “Uh, yeah, I…”

Smiling, Izzy slipped the bracelet on, only taking his eyes off it for a moment to look at the bassist, “It’s amazing. Thank you.”

Returning the smile, Duff allowed himself to relax, if only a little, “Anytime. Uh, Axl, you’re up.”

Steeling himself, the singer kept his face neutral as he tossed a small plastic bag across the coffee table, “Merry Christmas, Slasher,” he smirked, putting all his effort into not showing his nervousness.

Slash didn’t know what to expect, but when he opened the bag and saw what was inside, he immediately burst into a grin and started laughing. Axl smiled in relief, while the rest of the group looked on in confusion. Finally, Slash pulled out a pair of heart shaped sunglasses with soft red lenses.

The group laughed along with him, “Oh my gosh, you got him rose-colored glasses? That’s amazing,” Izzy chuckled, bumping his shoulder against Axl’s.

“Heart eyes, motherfucker!” Tommy laughed.

As his laughter trailed off, Slash looked up at Axl, his smile soft and sincere, “Thank you, Axl. They’re perfect.”

Ducking his head, Axl smiled back shyly before clearing his throat and turning to Izzy, “Alright Stradlin, your turn.”

The smile dropped off of Izzy’s face, replaced by anxiety and uncertainty. But there was no going back now. He had to fucking commit to the plan. He picked up a small box and handed it over to the tall blonde bassist, “Right. Merry Christmas, Duff.”

Duff looked almost as nervous as Izzy did (Axl didn’t know whether he wanted to smack them or hug them). Opening the box, he blinked in surprise. Tilting his head curiously, he pulled out one of Izzy’s wristwatches. “Oh, cool. Thank you!” Across from him, Izzy took a deep breath and finally managed to force out what he’d been practicing in his head all day.

“If there’s no time like the present, then there’s no present like the time.”

Everyone’s eyes snapped to the guitarist, and he felt his face grow warm with the attention. Then, Duff snorted, slapping a hand over his mouth at the sound. But it was no use- within seconds he had dissolved into giggles. The rest of the room soon followed.

“Oh my God. Oh my GOD,” Axl laughed loudly, “You got him a fucking dad joke for Christmas!”

Even Mick was chuckling, and Tommy grinned at Steven, “I think Izzy beat you as far as metaphorical gifts go, dude.”

“I’m okay with that,” Steven giggled.

By the time they all calmed down, Duff had fallen back to lay on the floor, clutching the watch to his chest as his laughter finally tapered off, “Oh, Izzy, I love- I love it. Thank you,” he was smiling so wide his face hurt, and Izzy’s cheeks were still bright red, but he didn’t care. It was worth it.

“Wait…” Slash suddenly narrowed his eyes, “Hold on a sec…” Scanning the room, his jaw dropped, “Who the fuck got Vince??”

“I DID, BITCHES!” the Motley Crue font man stood dramatically, flipping his hair as he made his revelation.

“What the fuck?” Steven gaped, “Did you draw your own name?”

“You bet your ass I did.”

“Why didn’t you say anything??”

“Because I deserve nice things and who better to treat me to them than me?” he grinned pretentiously, “For this exchange I got myself an entirely new makeup kit and a new scarf, which is way better than-” suddenly, Vince pouted, “Hey!” he cried, clearly offended, “At least go into another room!”

The rest of the boys followed his gaze, quickly groaning when they found Nikki practically in Tommy’s lap as the two kissed passionately. Axl made fake gagging noises, while Mick just took a long, long drink from his Christmas Vodka.

“Alright, I think we all need some drinks,” Axl rolled his eyes as he stood, “You two better cool it before I get back or I'm pouring ice water over your heads.” Nikki flipped him off without even breaking away from the drummer.

As the red-head rushed out of the room, Slash stood abruptly, “I’ll go help!” He quickly hurried into the kitchen behind him.

“I’m definitely down to get fucked up, but I need a smoke first,” Izzy sighed. Hesitating, he offered almost shyly, “You want one, Duff?” He held his box of cigarettes out in offering.

With a small smile, Duff stood to follow him outside, “Yeah, sure.”

As they left, Steven looked between the door that closed behind them, the entryway to the kitchen, and the terror twins still making out on the floor in front of them. Quietly, he reached out to hold hands with both Mick and Vince.

The guitarist narrowed his eyes, and started to pull away, “Don’t-”

“Shhhhhh, Mick,” Vince grinned as he shushed him, sitting down directly on Steven’s lap, “It’s Christmas.”

“…Jesus Christ,” Mick let out a long sigh, glancing upwards for just a moment. But when Steven and Vince shifted over to make room for him, he moved to sit next to them on the couch, allowing Steven to continue holding his hand as they passed the bottle of vodka between them. And as much as Mick might try to deny it, none of them could keep a smile off their faces.

~~~~~~~~~

“So, there’s a second part to my gift.”

Axl jumped slightly when Slash’s spoke behind him. Turning to face him, he felt his cheeks burning again just thinking about the gifts they had given each other, “Oh?”

Slash nodded, tugging on a strand of hair shyly.

After a long pause, Axl tilted his head questioningly, “…So-” But right as he tried to speak, Slash finally gathered his courage and surged forward, wrapping his arms around Axl’s waist and kissing him deeply.

For a moment, the singer felt frozen in shock, but once his brain catches up and he convinces himself that this isn’t some hyperrealistic fever dream, he can’t help but melt into Slash’s arms, kissing back passionately. They’ve both waited so long for this moment that they can’t help but stay pressed together until they’re forced to break for air, both gasping deeply into each other’s mouths.

“…That was actually Steven’s Christmas gift to you.”

“WhAT??”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The night air outside was brisk, but for two men who were raised outside of California it was pleasant. Duff and Izzy smoked quietly next to each other, standing in the dim glow of the only working light outside of the Hell House. With each drag of his cigarette, Izzy mentally worked himself up to just say something to Duff. Something, anything to even remotely explain his feelings.

But before he got a chance, Duff started rambling.

“Thank you again. For the gift, I mean. I mean the- not that the watch isn’t nice! I love it, honestly, but that joke man, I definitely didn’t see that coming. And I know sometimes my jokes are dumb, so I appreciate you… indulging me, or whatever,” he waved his hand vaguely, ducking his face in embarrassment, “It just, meant a lot to me. Which might seem weird, or dumb, but-”

Izzy interrupted him with a soft, gentle kiss that still managed to steal the breath from his lungs.

Pulling back, Izzy weaved a hand through Duff’s hair, cupping the back of his head lightly, “I love your jokes. And I love your smile, and your laugh, and your bass playing, and your singing, and… I fucking love you.”

“Oh,” Duff breathed quietly, his eyes wide with awe, “Thank God. Cause… I love you too.”

Laughing, Izzy didn’t have any more words to say. He simply pulled Duff down to kiss him softly again and again.

~~~~~~~~~~

Both bands got spectacularly wasted that night. They pooled their money and ordered five pizzas, and passed around bottles of nightrain and whiskey and vodka, and played music as loud as their speakers could go. Axl and Nikki started writing song lyrics on the walls, and Tommy and Steven drummed on every surface available including their bandmates. At first every kiss was met with groaning and gagging, but by the end of the night every kiss got a round of applause and drunken cheers. Steven even managed to steal a kiss from Mick without being punched in the face. Motley Crue ended up spending the night, half the group stumbling towards whatever mattresses were open, while the other half passed out on the floor of the living room.

Looking around at the group of rockers, Steven beamed happily.

“God bless us, every-”

Vince shoved a pillow into his face.

#my writing #Motley Crue #Guns n Roses #gnr #christmas fic #slaxl #terrorcest #duzzy

[lynsunrise]

After episode 8. Feelings...

Again thinking aloud. Expressing what I am feeling at the moment. Forgive me for causing pain. For many spoilers (I must warn you) that will be in my flow of thoughts. I have never found it so unbelievably hard to start writing what I feel. At first on Monday I thought I should type every word of pain and anguish squeezing my heart, I should have typed 100 pages of my most fierce ache, I should have done it, but the pain was so mortifying that I could not sit down for a long period of  time to write just because I was absolutely restless and I still am. I never found it so hard to raise my hand above a keyboard to press those letters. Just because inside of my heart the weight of feelings was crushing me. I don’t remember if I ever was so deeply wounded and moved by a cinema creation. I have given it such a power over me, I put myself in its power. And must suffer the consequences.

I feel bitter that I could not write earlier but maybe as they say time is the best judge. And days pass, a million sensations of different caliber are flashing through my mind and heart but what is adamant in its absolutely unchangeable persistence is the deep dull pain that speaks incessantly even when the sharp one subsides a bit. This dull pain inside, it is like in the core of my heart, it reminds me of what I didn’t say, of what I should say. I am balancing among three things: anger, sadness and denial not knowing which of them really dominates. Maybe all three are there together, equally wild and implacable, and that is why it is so hard to pull myself together. This week passes as in delirium, I can hardly recognize myself. But what I have been listening to all the time inside of me, what I have heard very distinctly and clearly was the cry of my heart begging the reason to start saying something, otherwise it would simply wither because of everything it is keeping inside of it. This was like a soft painful whisper haunting me. My thoughts at first were shouting in my head, my soul was covered with heavy clouds, it was such a rainy day in it, not a glimpse of light, and now I feel like even my thoughts discourse in whisper not to disturb my perturbed spirit.

But this happens when I am at some denial stage, and it is enough for me to remember the scene of Charlotte and Sidney before he left for London to start realizing that I still am in the most prominent anguish phase of feeling.

I see so clearly, I see that scene before my eyes no matter what I do, no matter where I go. I see that it contains the message of centuries' experience of being in love of millions of people. I see in it everything... The legacy of the most beautiful books and films about true love. The visual side. Contrasts own my heart. Black and white, strength and tenderness, wistfulness and trust, agony and hope, the captivating height difference, powerful statuesque tall figure of the man and beauteous charming fragile figure of a woman, broad shoulders and narrow shoulders, hot strong hands and tender small ones… And the way they close their eyes. The longing to kiss, to embrace. To remain like this forever. To stay close like this forever. Forever. Forever. This is echoing in my mind. Always when I watch them being together I have one thought “To remain like this forever”. There is such a powerful essential deep-rooted trueness of Feeling and beauty in them, they are the quintessence of how I always imagined a true romance that I do not question myself why I have given them my heart and a weapon to destroy it or redeem it. I am a hopeless romantic. And I sense in them the true essence of Love that “moves the stars”. Man and Woman, eternal force of life and beauty. The energy of romance, of never ending infatuation, of feelings that will never feel worn out, the picture in my mind when I am completely sure that they will be as passionate and in love every day of their life as at this moment. I am looking at them and I see this image so clearly, I see them always enchanted, always feeling the incandescence of affection, every day of their life ahead, I see: they wake up every morning, they smile at each other and there is never triviality, there is never just habit, there is never dullness. There is always intensity, hot intensity of feelings. It is like the sensation of putting freezing cold and the wave of heat together, this electricity of touch, this feeling when warm skin touches cold marble and even marble becomes calescent. Eyes look in eyes, hands in hands, the perfection of face falling in love with the perfection of another face. Faces like Narcissus fall in love with themselves reflected in each other’s eyes but aren’t punished for that. Firmness soft inside and softness strong inside. A fuse of the most alluring sensations. And so much more… This is only a small extract from an endless range of most fiery thoughts running through my mind and heart. It is like trying to capture the lightning in the middle of its path. In its motion.

The most prominent evidence of my being totally under their spell is that no matter what I do I never stop feeling that dull pain in my heart talking to me all the time, pleading to be expressed at least somehow. Time passes but the pain is not moving anywhere. It is as if it has always been there, with me. Maybe it is there partly because of ever existing fear to encounter the  possibility to see with my own eyes the harsh reality trying to make us more severe by “teaching us a lesson”. But if they chose Sidney and Charlotte to teach us the harsh lesson of the “reality” that often is different from what the heart wants they could not make a worse choice. Sidney and Charlotte are not the ones who should teach us that. NOT THESE TWO PEOPLE should pay the price of “portraying the cruel reality”. Not after what we sensed in them, not after what we saw, not after we saw them even for the first time. And I cannot believe they are not together. They are created for each other. In my head and in my heart they are already searching for a way to be together again. And all the Universe must help. They cannot be let down by it again.

First of all Sidney, because to not be saved this second time would be so cruel that I can hardly express it through words. What the creators were trying to tell us when posting the clip of his conversation with Tom in London and saying that Charlotte has healed him and this new man could not but save his brother? What are they trying to say to us through it now? Charlotte healed Sidney and now Sidney sacrificing himself will still be healed??! Or the thought of sacrificing himself must make Sidney content with this illusion of life? I consider that Sidney is a victim here. He saves Tom but does Tom know at what cost?.. Even if he does not, Sidney deserves happiness. Sidney sacrificed his Love for them. But why not give Sidney one more chance? Why to give these second chances to everyone besides the one who truly deserves it? They can say what they want but to leave Sidney like that just DOES NOT FEEL RIGHT. “Reality or not reality”, it does not even matter. Who cares for “reality” when such a man must be trapped? He had his portion of sadness, punishment and anguish of love in his life. Give him time to breathe. Give him happiness. He had already gone through hell, he cannot just go through it endlessly, all his life! This is what bothers me very much, very.

And I agree with what I read on Tumblr that Eliza just does not care about him, his opinion. Nothing. She only wants to win. It is an enigma for me. Cannot she see that the man is in agony near her? How cruel or absurdly indifferent in a way she is! We did not see it (scenes in London in search for money) but as it was brilliantly written on Tumblr, and I agree with it, it was like a deadlock for Sidney, he used every opportunity to avoid such a disaster I am adamant sure. Now imagine his despair… I imagine and cry. He loved E. long ago, she passed him over, he suffered ten years, he let her go. He let all the illusions of the past go. He found his true love. Love that he was waiting for all his life. And he realizes that in order to save his family he “voluntarily” must return to the hell on earth. He has an excellent heart. “The same man but much improved”. The same: willing to save, kind-hearted, honest, brave, witty. Heart able to love as few can love. Sensitive and vulnerable. Surrounded by walls to save itself from devastation. And now what? To throw this very heart in fire. For all his life. Charlotte I believe was too wounded by the fiercest pain imaginable to see that Mrs C. does not love Sidney. Now what is torturing me very elaborately is a devilish thought that if Charlotte had seen how little Mrs C. loves Sidney she could have told him not “You must not speak like that. She loves you…”. This is a hellish torment. What if…What if! But we understand it is impossible and that she was in so much pain. Poor girl!!!! Our sweetest Charlotte. Charlotte will never marry anyone else. It is either Sidney or nobody. So, with such a “realistic” end nobody gets happiness. I want to curl up in a ball and hide somewhere, when I imagine her pain after returning home and clarifying her thoughts a little more. She made him to be not a better man, she made him be himself, kind and soft. I am sure she forgave him, she is wise and she knows he had no other choices at that moment. He did not choose money. He chose the welfare of the beloved ones of the family and Charlotte understands everything. But to understand is one thing. When she will realize that Mrs C. cannot love him, does not love him, this will be agony indeed. Because his heart is in the prison of a woman that does not love him and will torment him. So there is no such illusion of consolation that Eliza loves Sidney. And I am sure Sidney feels how much Charlotte loves him. She loves him so much that she wishes to believe Eliza loves him. To know that you leave the love of your life in the prison of sadness is unbearable. He may try to lull the pain by making himself to believe that Charlotte will move on without him. She did not stop him then… But it is because she understood his situation too well. She loves him for who he is and this is torture again. Who he is, is the man who sacrifices his life basically for his close people. She knows, she sees. She loves him for all he is. And to love him so much but being forced by understanding to let go…it is like to cut the heart in two. Sidney was ready to abandon everything if she had only said but I guess we can understand why she did not. As was said by an amazing person, she is absolutely selfless. They both are selfless. Pure souls. They both are people who cannot love by halves. It means that no matter how well they understand each other, they will suffer all their lives if being apart. And this I cannot forgive. At least in my imagination I have portrayed episodes 9 and 10 and s2 when facing all deadlocks they find a way to be together.

The thought that he saved Tom and the family won't be able to “support” him all his life! Am I not right? The same situation is with Charlotte. The thought that she did not let him not to save his family…It is all sensibility, but what about the heart? The soul slowly dying inside. Shattered totally to pieces. No, it should not be like that. The creators must see this.

Also about Tom. I also understand clearly now that Sidney could not ask anybody for that money. Neither lord Babington because even he is not so rich and I cannot imagine Sidney at all asking his friend to do that, nor Georgiana because they did not reach that stage of their relationship when it can happen at all, because she does not trust him and I sometimes even think that even for Charlotte she could not do it because we simply did not have the time to pass through different stages of solving the conflict between her and the society around her, nor Esther yet because money belongs to Lady D. He must have gone through hell during that week in London. I remember Sidney's tense features of the face and intense gaze in the carriage when heading to London, he had a gut feeling but in his worst nightmares could not he imagine what will happen. As a fan was writing on Twitter “£80k would be £4.5 million”…now this sum is like a sword of Damocles over my soul. Poor Sidney! Poor Charlotte!  The bright side indeed is that we have Lady Susan that I believe haven’t played her major part yet. And Georgiana who still has a lot to say. There are so many loose ends, so many stories to tell!

I am as all admirers so crushed by the end and I am also sad that Sanditon might suffer because of the low ratings of its last 20 minutes. Otherwise, the ratings are good. The acting there is outstanding as in every second of the show.  It must not suffer because of its plot in the end. But I hope all this activity will help to make the creators know HOW much we love it.

Acting is superb. The quality, the power of it. It is more than one can ever dream about. Each feeling and each emotion is multilayered. So complex. There is not a single empty glance or phrase or movement. Every look, sigh, flutter of eyelashes, movement of body is charged with a lot of meaning and spiritual fire and energy of emotion. You do not feel betrayed or deceived when you stop at every step just to savour the beauty, complexity and genuiness of every emotion, every feeling. You know you can discover layer after layer, you know that each emotion has such a powerful inner background and of course it has such power because of the aesthetical perfection of the main characters.

Theo James is like a Jewel. He is Sidney, Sidney is he. He is simply created to portray him. The most mysterious, sensitive and long-suffering Austen male hero, the last Austen male hero…He is so brilliant that I lack words. His eloquent eyes, his voice, his figure…Regency era gentleman indeed. I was walking along the passages of history and came across a perfect man and never returned to the 21st century. His presence is what made Sanditon such a hit. As well as Rose's. She is so brilliant that I always lack words!! The way her voice broke in the last scene…It felt like earthquake for me. Also the way he was looking at the carriage being forced to stay behind… 💔

Whoever chose them for the role is Genius. I hope that when reading all heartbreaking comments they see how much we LOVE them and this is only the not happy ending that we are angry with. Not the show itself of course. 🙏🏻I am praying for season 2, because Charlotte and Sidney deserve to be happy, and this feels like the rightest thing on earth.✨🔥

Also I find it absolutely amazing how our thoughts complement one another, as if we fill in the possible gaps when searching for answers. Reading many outstanding analyses of my friends here, summing up thoughts, weighing opinions, reaching some unexpected depths of conclusions due to comparing my own thoughts and the wisdom of other amazing people. I am grateful for that. The Sanditon fandom is a place where my heart is at ease, all lovely beautiful supporting people, my friends are here, always ready to help. Thank you, Sanditon fandom. I learn so much from you.  I love you.

Also they wrote that Sidney and Charlotte are divided for now, this FOR NOW gives me so much hope. I will cling to it with all my heart. Still cannot watch the last episode from the beginning to the end. The kiss scene is my salvation. And what a scene!.. God... 😩🔥I wish we had more!!💔😩✨

Those two most heartrending scenes deserve all possible acting awards too because they just fracture one's heart: when Sidney tells Charlotte they cannot be happy and the last scene. Their eyes say it all. The tears, broken voice, heavy sighs, crushed chests. I hope that both Theo and Rose will be nominated many times and for many awards for their outstanding performance.

😩💔

It is hard not to think about Charlotte and Sidney every time time because there is this feeling that they are ALONE in their grief and there is nobody close to know about it and who can really ease that pain and comfort them. They need each other. And we need them. 😭

Can never forget their scenes. And that last scene.

“But after all the days of despair

I will meet you up there

Between the sky and heaven”

There on that clifftop where we first kissed

That was like a miracle, a heavenly bliss

Promise me you will never forget

The day when we first met

We are divided…for now

But I believe, I am sure

We'll endure every hardship

The cruel fate has in store…

“I will be right here waiting for you” season 2!!! Come quicker!!! We need happy Charlotte and Sidney in our lives.💔💔💔 We need that. To make the world a better place. Thank you.

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