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iwritefandomimagines · 1 year

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NOT FOR HIM — BENEDICT BRIDGERTON

masterlist

pairing: benedict bridgerton x reader [plus platonic anthony x reader where he’s being a matchmaker/shitstirrer]

description: you may not have been the season’s diamond, but your debut had caused quite the stir in many a man’s heart — your childhood best friend benedict bridgerton included. however, given that the viscount had decided that he would marry this season, benedict cannot see why you would choose him over his brother.

warnings: kinda tiny bit of angst (if you squint) into tooth-rotting fluff !!! tiny bit of suggestive benedict at the very end but it’s not much !

author’s note: this is basically like a reverse to the anthony one i wrote because i have a big ol’ soft spot for benedict too after my latest rewatch. enjoy !!! [edited, but not thoroughly — will be returning to do so asap]

“You look astonishing, Y/N,” Benedict’s eyes were wide when he saw you, “Absolutely astonishing.”

You blushed crimson under the intensity of his gaze, “You don’t look too bad yourself this evening, Lord Bridgerton.”

You never called him that — you’d known him far too long to consistently comply with formalities — but considering that it was one of your very first balls of your very first season, you had to be the picture of manners.

“It is so strange to hear you call me Lord Bridgerton,” Benedict screwed his face up, “Even if it does give me some small hope that you might consider me too as one of your many suitors.”

You shook your head gently with a laugh, “Oh, Benedict, as if you would wish to court me.”

Before he had a chance to retaliate with stern disagreement at your idea that it was such a preposterous notion, your eyes snapped up to see his brother entering the ballroom.

“Ah,” you grinned, noticing that he had spotted you both immediately and was on his way over to you, “It appears your brother has finally arrived!”

You didn’t look at Benedict for long enough to see the frown on his face at your apparent excitement.

For years, everyone around you had speculated about the closeness of your relationship with Benedict.

Granted, you were close with the whole family, but the tenderness with which Benedict treated you had always teetered on blatant romance even if neither of you had seen it before.

Of course he was aware of it now — he’d realised he was in love with you long ago as silly young teenagers, and now that you were finally out in society (emphasis on finally, as you had delayed doing so as much as possible) he had hoped to make that clear.

But of course your eyes were fixed on his brother, the Viscount, who had finally decided he wished to marry and therefore seemingly snatched all of your attention away from him.

“Good evening, my lord,” you curtsied, and Anthony laughed, “Such formality! How are you enjoying your first ball, Y/N? I trust my brother has not let you leave his side?”

You giggled, and as much as Benedict adored the sound of your laughter he couldn’t help the clenching of his jaw at his brother’s remark and your evident amusement.

“He has taken great care of me, undoubtedly,” you smiled, hands resting on Benedict’s upper arm for a moment as you leaned into him, “How do you feel about your first ball on the hunt for a wife?”

Anthony scoffed, “Consumed with dread, as expected,” he joked, “Brother, would you mind if I stole Y/N away for one dance? Only so that I might enjoy one last moment of vague freedom before I endure the onslaught of mamas I see staring me down?”

Benedict swallowed thickly, because yes he very much did mind you being stolen away to dance with a man who could provide for you so much better than he could.

He had always been second best to his brother, but never with you.

And now he felt rather ridiculous as he nodded meekly and watched you saunter away at the side of his own brother, who would never love you like he did nor treat you as more than a friend and a commodity necessary to the life of an important man.

“Of course.”

You smiled shyly over at Benedict as you followed Anthony away, and made a mental note to confront him about the sad look gracing his features as you did so.

“My brother is staring daggers into my skull already,” Anthony chuckled as you took your positions to dance, “I rather wonder why he was not dancing with you if he is so bothered by my doing so.”

You bit your lip, “We have danced together twice already, Anthony. In fact, I’ve danced only with him so far tonight. I feel… safe with Benedict. This is all so terrifying.”

As Anthony beamed down at you knowingly, you realised quite what he had initially said, “Whatever do you mean by him staring daggers? Why would he be doing that?”

“Oh, my dear Y/N, you must see that my poor fool of a brother is overcome with jealousy at our interaction,” he laughed as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, “Particularly now that I plan to marry. He quite clearly thinks that it is you I wish to do so with.”

You looked down at your feet for a moment, suddenly feeling shy.

When you remembered that you were talking to a man you knew like he was part of your own family, however, your head snapped back up — a smirk gracing your face.

“Oh, am I not to become Viscountess? I so had my hopes up!” you feigned a gasp, “In all seriousness, Anthony, why on earth would Benedict think we might marry and more so why on earth would he care so much?”

Anthony heaved out a deep sigh at that as you danced, almost irritated by your blatant ignorance to what was so clear.

“I don’t believe I should tell you the answer to that if you are somehow quite unaware of it yourself,” he shook his head, briefly meeting the eyes of his brother as he spun you, and smiled almost teasingly at him, “I hope that after stealing you from him for this dance he might finally discuss it with you himself.”

You rolled your eyes, “You jest, Anthony, because if you are trying to imply that he has affections towards me I’m sure you are sorely mistaken.”

Anthony stopped abruptly, quirking his eyebrow at you, “You truly are oblivious?”

You looked at him curiously, doe eyed and inquisitive as you waited for him to continue — or to resume dancing so you didn’t continue to feel all eyes on your frozen frames.

“Right, very well. I am going to walk away now, all smiles,” he informed you, plastering a smile on his face and nodding at the onlookers as he kissed the back of your hand to show no ill-will had halted your dance, “I would suggest that you get some fresh air, perhaps? My brother might… Come to check on you.”

You forced a smile as he silently moved away from you and towards the buffet table at the other side of the hall.

With a sharp breath you took his advice, despite your confusion, and lifted your skirt a little to busy your hands as you traipsed out of the ballroom and onto the balcony.

Like clockwork, Benedict Bridgerton found himself at your side in mere moments.

“Are you waiting here for my brother?”

The tension in the air was palpable, his voice low as he failed to hide the disappointment at his suspicions.

“Not for him, no.”

“Then for another?”

“I suppose so.”

“Apologies, then. I’ll leave you to it.”

You spun on your heel now as he turned to leave, touching his shoulder, “No, Benedict, I was waiting— for you.”

“For me?”

The incredulous smile on his face made your heart swell with hope — perhaps Anthony was right.

Maybe what you had spent all these years perceiving as friendship truly was reciprocated love all this time.

“Anthony claimed he believed you jealous, and that you thought we were attached,” you giggled, and he swore his heart melted at the sound of your gentle laughter, “And I was utterly unsure as to why you would believe that, let alone be jealous of it. But then he told me to get some fresh air and that you might find me here and I became hopeful.”

“Hopeful?”

“Yes. Hopeful that perhaps the feelings that have steadily grown on my part throughout the time I have known you might be returned. That perhaps you were not joking when you said you hoped I might consider you a suitor this season,” you blushed crimson as you served him your honest feelings on a silver platter.

He cocked his head to the side curiously, not quite believing you entirely though you were evidently being sincere, “Do you not wish to marry my brother?”

You scoffed, quickly covering your mouth with your hand at the outburst, but then sighed as you looked deeply into his eyes, “Of course not, Benedict.”

“But he is a Viscount — he could offer you so much more than I, and he seemed taken with you.”

“He was taken with making you jealous enough to confront me, my dear Benedict. He spent our dance essentially telling me to wise up and talk to you,” you bit your lip nervously, “Because he knows that I have long loved you, and believes that you feel the same.”

The curious smile on his face grew now into a beaming grin, his hands flying to take yours within them and bring them to his lips for a gentle kiss.

“I—, Y/N, I cannot— I cannot even begin to express the joy that those words have brought me,” the words tumbled from his lips like he couldn’t think fast enough to convey his feelings, “I have been in love with you for as long as I can remember. I settled for cherishing mere friendship because I feared I would not be… I would not be the man for you beyond that.”

You shook your head, “Benedict, surely you know how dear you are to me? I— at the very least in my heart, you are the man for me. I’ve been certain of it for so long and that is why I feared entering society so much. I didn’t want to marry for the sake of marriage and have to have the man I truly love as a mere friend. You are more than enough for me, Benedict, I feel safe with you — you are home to me.”

“And you are home to me, Y/N,” he was trying so very hard not to kiss you, his words soft and delicate as his breath fanned over your face due to your newfound close proximity, “If you would allow me to… I would like to court you. In fact, I would propose to you now if I was to allow my selfishness to take control. But I want you to be sure it is me you want, even if it hurts to see you dance and converse with others.”

“You’re all I could ever want, Benedict,” you spoke like it was utterly obvious, “And when you do propose, you can be certain of my acceptance. For now I am happy to share every dance with you and pretend we need to get to know each other to form an engagement. We have all of the time in the world.”

“We do.”

You were both breathing heavily, eyes glossy with the sheer emotion of the confessions you had just shared.

“I wish so badly that I could kiss you right now, but I fear I may not be able to control myself in future once I do,” his voice was barely above a whisper as you licked your lips, swallowing thickly.

“I wish— I wish you might kiss me too,” your reply was hardly even coherent, too love drunk to properly formulate your words, “More than anything.”

He was still holding onto your hands, and so he brought them up to ghost another kiss over them again, settling for this as he fought his urge to press his lips to yours instead.

“As you said, my love, we have all the time in the world,” there was a subtle undertone of what you might describe as lust in his tone now, intertwined with the love struck lilt he had been speaking with.

Your breath hitched in your throat as his lips ghosted up your forearm briefly before he brought them back down to your hands.

“And I cannot wait.”

———

horny benedict at the end to satiate my own need for that despite the intention for this to just be fluffy hahaha. hope you enjoyed !!!

feel free to keep requesting — and in the mean time here is my masterlist.

#bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton imagines #benedict bridgerton fluff #anthony bridgerton #benedict bridgerton one shot #bridgerton one shot

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prying-pandora666 · 2 months

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I don’t know how to say this tactfully, but I’ll do my best.

If other fans online have convinced you to see the gentle, optimistic, empathetic, fun loving, whimsical, forgiving, wise beyond his years genocide survivor, as a sexist, racist, xenophobic, abusive, pro-colonization, sexual assault perpetrator who doesn’t care about anyone else and doesn’t understand trauma…

You have been LIED TO.

Please just think for a moment!

ATLA was banned in China from the beginning for a reason. Because they didn’t want anyone empathizing with a character based on Tibetan monks. Why? Because they are an actual oppressed and persecuted minority IRL. Their religious leader lives in exile. Their second most important spiritual figure is the youngest political prisoner ever taken (and to this day no one knows if he’s alive or dead!). China has actual prison and labor camps. Tibetan people get sent there for “re-education”.

Can you please think about what these “fans” are saying when they stomp all over this allegory in TLA and try to frame Aang as the oppressor?

Do you really think it’s appropriate or these people who call Aang all these horrible (and inaccurate) things are being in anyway fair when they call Aang “white coded”???

Even without the real world context, Aang is explicitly the only survivor of a genocide. The last of his people. He has lost more than anyone else in the entire franchise. There’s a reason he clings so hard to Appa.

Do you think it’s fair to compare a 12 year old misreading signals and trying to kiss a girl who already consensually kissed him before, and immediately backing off and giving her space when she says no, to rape?

Tweens and teens miscommunicating and trying to comfort each other with kisses, only to realize that’s not what their friend needed and immediately backing off is the same as having your body violently violated against your will? The same as having your “no” ignored?

How do you think this makes survivors feel? To see people use their experiences as a shield and cudgel for ship discourse? It certainly upsets me as someone who experienced intimate partner violence, let me tell you! And I know I’m not the only one.

And how is it in anyway feminist or pro-Katara to ignore her own agency and deep love she shows for Aang? Yes, that includes her own crush on him! It IS reciprocated!

Lastly, you don’t need to demonize Aang to ship whatever you want to ship. Please understand that the majority of these takes are bad faith and born out of bitterness and insecurity over a friggin FANON SHIP.

And none of it is necessary! You can ship whatever you want! You don’t need permission or excuses. You can just ship them! You can make your case for why you like another pairing better without misrepresenting what happened in the show and what these characters are like, let alone what they represent.

There’s already plenty to work with in the show as it is! Otherwise why bother?

I’m imploring fans taken in by persuasive and manipulative metas to please just think about it. Get off social media and rewatch the show for yourself thoughtfully.

It doesn’t need to be like this.

#atla #avatar the last airbender #avatar #Aang #pro aang #anti Aang hate #Kataang

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the-cat-and-the-birdie · 3 months

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Friendly reminder that Gwen's father was most likely going to shoot her.

And Miguel might've legit saved Gwen's life.

Rewatching ATSV - This scene always just gets be HEATED. Everytime I catch something that makes me

'Okay. Okay yeah, yeah - AHHHHHHHHHHHH-'

And this time I realized. Oh. OH.

Gwen's dad was PLANNING to shoot her - Or.. if we consider cop training, he was mere seconds away from actually firing on her.

And he would've had Miguel not been there.

In Gwen's confrontation scene - her father WAS actively threatened and afraid of her. And from what we see, he was VERY VERY close to acting on it, more than you think.

The point in the scene begins with him pointing the gun at her, and as he speaks and Gwen begins to beg, he begins to gradually lower it.

Until she steps closer to him. And then he starts pulling it on her again.

He is literally re-raising the gun at his daughter, because she took a step towards him.

So not only is she his daughter, she's also like... 5'6 and sixteen years old.

And he's still afraid of her, enough so that when she takes even one step closer, he is ready to threaten her life again.

You can hear the fear in his voice, and I don't doubt for a second he would pull the trigger - either on a warning shot, or a 'nonlethal' blow.

We've all heard cops say it before. 'I panicked', 'it was self defense'.

And Friendly reminder-

MIGUEL saves Gwen's life here.

Now look at this first photo.

And before you keep reading, please guess what's really really REALLY bad about that photo. Just look.

Trigger Discipline.

If you don't know, trigger discipline is the concept taught to gun-owners in order to reduce accidental shootings and firings.

Trigger Discipline is the idea that your finger should NEVER be on the trigger of gun unless you plan to fire it in the next two-three seconds.

Otherwise, THIS is the proper position to hold a gun.

Gwen's father is a cop. He's 100% been trained in trigger discipline. He knows not to do this.

Which implies - George Stacy was ACTIVELY PLANNING on shooting Gwen right then and there. As in, seconds away from pulling the trigger.

Raising a gun to his daughter at close range, finger on the trigger.

I think his actions can speak for themselves. He was going to shoot her.

And the only reason he didn't, was because Miguel saw this - and forcefully took the gun from him. (Like a proper Spider-man put some respeckt on his name)

George didn't care that there were TWO adults standing there as witness. He didn't care that he's not supposed to touch the trigger. In that moment, truly all he cared about was imprisoning Gwen - by any AND ALL means necessary.

And to top this off -

Friendly reminder, he never apologized. For ANYTHING.

He doesn't apologize for pulling a gun on her. He doesn't apologize for forcing her into homelessness. He didn't apologize for accusing her of murder.

He doesn't even ADMIT that she DIDN'T KILL PETER.

All he does is quit and compliment her. No apology. No acknowledgment about how his identity as a cop turned him into a toxic horrible father. No acknowledgment that Gwen isn't a killer.

Just 'I quit'.

Had Miguel not been there - I'm very sure George would've posed a VERY real danger to Gwen's life.

He doesn't deserve to be forgiven. And really, considering his arc, glorification - and his failure to even apologize - it really goes to show that at some points ATSV really teeters on casual copaganda.

Also Miguel that was really really cool of you (you saving Gwen's life totally makes up for the whole chokeslamming Miles thing <3 /j)

#i hate George Stacy #All my Hobies hate George Stacy (not as typo)#justice for Gwendolyn #spiderman #atsv #spider man #marvel #across the spiderverse #gwen stacy #spider gwen #spider woman #spidergwen #ghost spider #ghostspider #George Stacy #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara #spider man 2099 #spiderwoman

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crows-home · 10 months

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hang on one more Nimona thing i realized. I'm so used to movies where the protagonist is inherently talented with no reason and is able to overpower the antagonists. Like, they're always unexplainably powerful and "oh wow, this person is stronger than these other people that have been training for years."

So, on my first watch, I thought that's what it was for Ballister. He fought a bunch of his fellow knights, overpowered them, disarmed the prodigy, Goldenloin.

THEN i rewatched, paid more attention, and holy shit. He's been like this since the beginning.

And then i started to notice the little things that subtly supported this.

He makes his own arm, that must take intellectual skill. He grabs a can that was about the fall off the shelf and make noise, without even looking at it.

And during the fight scene at the institute!! At first, I was like ok, typical protagonist fight scene where they overpower tons of other people. Because Plot.

But no!! the more i think about it, it's reasonable. It's established early on that Ballister is competent, he's skilled. He's very aware of things going on around him. He's able to knock out knights that around coming up behind him without looking, swiftly disable opponents.

Rewatching it always makes me go back and see these characters in a new light. So my view on Ballister went from "ah, mess of a man that's put in a tough situation. Able to do these crazy things because they're necessary to the plot." to "Oh he's competent!! That's the point!! He's still a mess but :0"

#nimona #nimona spoilers #aksdbkhasbf was this obvious? probably.#BUT I MUST. REITERATE. I DIDNT KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT NIMONA GOING IN. I ALSO MAY BE STUPID. A BIT.#i treated this like any other kids' movie that i could maybe watch with my family. just kinda vibing.#not included is his recording the director's confession. WHERE was he in order to get that angle.#i know it was probably so that the viewers expected it less but. man

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ataraxiaspainting · 3 months

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Cherry Wine.

Yan Chrollo x F Reader.

Synopsis: It is your last day of actual freedom, and Chrollo intends to have it end with a mix of your design and his own. Everything is perfectly set. All he has to do now is wait for you to come into the web.

Warnings: Yandere themes, a wild Feitan appears, stalking, drugging/restraining (chloroform/handcuffs), and kidnapping.

Word Count: 1k.

*~*~*~*

A familiar jingle accompanies the turntable’s rendition of Tchaikovsky’s Waltz of the Flowers. It is your keychain, moving with your key as you unlock your apartment door, moving as your feet shuffle on your doormat to get rid of the dirt the soles had acquired from walking. The sounds of tired sighs, your headphones being placed beside the rack where your jackets and umbrellas and shoes are placed. Chrollo knows all of these melodies by heart because those notes make up the beautiful orchestra that is you.

He hears the little creaking noise of the door closing, along with the lock being turned, sealing your fate. A small sound of the closet you keep near the entrance, which holds your bags and fancier footwear like high heels. Chrollo respected the silent rule of never wearing shoes inside, something that is out of character for him whenever he breaks into other peoples’ homes, and had placed his own black loafers behind that one expensive purse you only used one time for a presentation you had to make for your professors and peers.

He had Shalnark record the entire thing and has rewatched it multiple times, each one seeming better than the last.

Everything about you, from how you walked, how you were so expressive with your facial expressions, how you seemed to be able to befriend anyone, everything about you felt like it came from another world. Or perhaps he is the one who came from another world, metaphorically? Chrollo chuckles at the thought. It would make sense, really, Meteor City felt like another world, that is for certain.

One of your cats meows loudly, the larger but older one from the way the meow was scratchy like nails on a blackboard, most likely being right next to you. He is distressed, perhaps. Chrollo is an unwanted visitor, after all, and despite being more of a cat person, he had to deal with your cats more than your dog, oddly enough. While your dog cowered and hid under the table, whining like she had been reduced to that of the small puppy she was when you first adopted her, your cats teamed up to attempt to scratch his eyes out whenever they jumped on the kitchen table or couch, hissing and possibly screaming bloody murder. Somewhere deep within Chrollo’s heart, it hurts a bit.

He knows that because of your naivety, you will just pet the cat, take off your coat, and your boots, and go upstairs, where your dining table has been set by Chrollo. It’s a welcome gift, in Chrollo’s opinion, but also perhaps an apology one as well.

As soon as you walk into the kitchen, your fate is as doomed as a little fly caught in a spider’s web.

“Come on,” You grumble. “Already? Geez. I just got that bag too…” Are you talking to your cat? “What the hell? I know you have stomach problems but… gosh.”

Ah. Do you plan on switching out the brand of cat food again?

“I guess that’s my own fault though for getting a cat I knew has digestive issues, huh? I can’t be mad at you. You’re almost the same age as me and… that’s a lot in cat years.” Chrollo hears the sound of a yawn as he presumes you are stretching. You must be tired, you have been on your feet all day today helping out your peers with their assignments, as usual. “It’s just now I have to clean up all this puke… argh.”

Should I speed things along?

A text message from Feitan, who has been outside your apartment door, though you didn’t see him, unsurprisingly. He is most likely getting annoyed, from the tone of the writing, because Feitan can be doing much more important things for the Troupe instead of helping you “settle in” as Chrollo put it.

That won’t be necessary. Trust me. Everything is going as planned so far, even if this is a minor setback.

The reason why Chrollo didn’t choose someone like Phinks or Nobunaga to help him with this task is because Feitan is the most silent. He can easily imagine the other two scaring you away accidentally if they accidentally lose their cover.

The table is set, with flowers and books and other things you love. All he has to do is wait.

You should have just brought Machi.

Chrollo sighs at that, just barely audible. But he knows Feitan is nothing but loyal to him, so he knows that he will not try anything that he does not like.

Machi is busy shopping with Paku and Shizuku for the other things I need for [First], it would be rude to ruin their own task, Fei.

With that, Chrollo’s message is left on read.

Everything is going according to plan, and Feitan will not ruin it, even if he had wanted to.

All that is left is to wait. You’ll come on your own.

Feitan is only here if you attempt to run afterward, after you see your gifts, after all.

He hears footsteps, coming up the stairs, at long last.

One.

Two.

A large meal is placed on the side of the table that has an empty chair. Chrollo sits across, smiling. Plates and bowls filled with things that are sweet, savory, and everything else in between. They are all your favorites, Chrollo double-checked with Shalnark before he had left. Other items are placed on the table as well, like that jewelry set you were eyeing last week but unfortunately was too expensive for you. You were trying to limit how much you spend, a good habit to build surely. It is a shame you will never get to use that skill, though. Unless Chrollo gives you an allowance each week based on how well you behave, an entertaining concept in his opinion, but if it ever becomes reality it will have to wait a few weeks at the very least.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Chrollo also had Feitan carry handcuffs, in case the chloroform does not work as it was intended to.

But that is after you two talk, it would be rude to not introduce himself and show off everything he has bought for you.

Seven.

#aya abstractions #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere hxh #yandere chrollo #yandere chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo lucilfer x reader #yandere chrollo lucilfer #yandere hunter x hunter x reader #yandere hxh x reader #chrollo x reader #chrollo lucilfer x reader #hxh x reader #hunter x hunter x reader

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ghostfacd · 6 months

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I’M HERE, I’M THERE, I’M EVERYWHERE | LUKE HUGHES

synopsis: in which capitol mentor luke hughes, falls inlove with his tribute, yn dubois.

song recommendation: can’t catch me now by olivia rodrigo

author’s note: in honor of the ballad of the songbirds coming out in the next 2 weeks and olivia’s amazing song, here is my favorite person (lukey warren hughes) in one of my favorite fictional books ever, the hunger games! this was so fun to write, and as always, enjoy <3

It was in the early years of the Hunger Games, where students at the academy in the Capitol were still allowed to train the incoming tributes from the district. Luke Hughes, a teenage boy who had been born and raised in the Capitol had finally achieved his lifelong dream; to mentor the awaiting tributes for the 6th Annual Hunger Games.

His best friend, Kelsey Ivies, shared his excitement, for they had both aspired to this role since they were kids. In their eyes, the Hunger Games were necessary, a punishment for the districts that had once rebelled, which had resulted in not only the loss of many lives in the District, but also in the Capitol. Luke’s grandfather was one of the victims, and he remembered how his father used to tell him when he was younger.

He hated the districts, they were like salt to a wound.

Luke's heart raced as he stepped into the training center, knowing that he was about to meet the tribute he'd be responsible for, a girl from District 2. His breath hitched as he laid eyes on her for the first time, shocked by her beauty.

“I’m Luke,” he says, placing out a hand for her to exchange. He’d never seen a district girl in his life, and it gave him a sense of adrenaline.

“I’m Y/N,” she says, her eyes felt like they were piercing through Luke’s insides. “Y/N Dubois from District 2.”

Over the weeks leading up to the Games, Luke and Y/N spent countless hours together, training and getting to know each other. He taught her how to differentiate berries, for some of them were poisonous in the arena. He had rewatched every single hunger games leading up to the one now, for he wanted to be the best mentor in his academy. He wanted to make his father proud, so that meant he had to make sure Y/N would come out the winner.

While they were practicing Y/N's swimming skills in a secluded lake, she playfully extended her arm out to him.

“Hey Luke,” she says, her smile loosely hanging on her lips.

He quirked his eyebrows, but nonetheless held her hand. He liked how it felt, anyway.

Suddenly, the girl yanked him into the water, making him let out a shriek of surprise, causing her to laugh hysterically. For the first time, Luke was able to see Y/N not as a tribute, but as a girl who he was falling in love with.

The following night, Luke managed to sneak Y/N out from the tribute cages, holding her hand tightly as the both tried not to giggle to loudly. The sky was clear and starry, and the two found themselves on the rooftop of a building, laying side by side. Luke’s hand brushed against Y/N’s as they gazed up at the night sky, away from the chaos and expectations that weighed on both of their shoulders. The stars above seemed to twinkle knowingly, as if they held secrets of their own.

Luke, who was normally reserved and didn’t talk much about his personal life, decided to open up to Y/N. If she were to die in the games anyways, it wouldn’t matter what she knew. His voice trembled as he spoke, "Y/N, there's something I've never told anyone before." He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. "My father, he's always expected me to be the best mentor, to uphold the Capitol's values and ideals. But it's suffocating, you know? The pressure, the constant scrutiny. He made me feel like I was never enough."

Y/N turned to him, her eyes filled with understanding and empathy. She took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I can imagine how tough that must be, Luke."

Tears welled up in Luke's eyes as he continued, "I've always felt like I was living in his shadow. But being here with you, it's the first time I've felt like I could be myself. I don't have to pretend, and I don't have to meet anyone's expectations. For the first time, I feel free."

Y/N smiled warmly and leaned her head on Luke's shoulder. "I love you Luke."

He knew he couldn’t say it back, he couldn’t. He was from the Capitol, and she was merely a tribute. He could feel her stiffen beside him when she’s responded back with silence. He only wrapped his arm around her frame, pulling her in.

As the Games drew nearer, Kelsey noticed how Luke had become increasingly anxious and distraught.

She scoffed. “What, don’t tell me you’re falling inlove with her?”

Luke’s lips form a thin line, “why does it matter Kels?”

“Because it’s pathetic Luke.” The brunette girl laughs. “I mean, cmon, a mentor falling inlove with his tribute?”

Luke didn’t expect for his best friend to be so outright bitchy. “What game are you playing at Kelsey?” He grunts out.

“Nothing,” Kelsey shrugs. “But you’re playing a dangerous game here, Hughes.”

However, the unexpected had happened. A rebellion began to form among the tributes a day before the games were set to start.

Luke panicked, his eyes moving in a fast motion as he searched for the one person that mattered. Y/N, his Y/N.

He was shocked to find her in the crowd, along with the other rebelling tributes. When the peacekeepers start firing, Y/N, filled with fear and anger, made a run into the nearby woods, and Luke, driven by an need to go after her, followed.

Unbeknownst to Luke, Kelsey had watched this with her calculated eyes. Positioning a peacekeeper gun around her shoulders, she made her way into the woods after the pair.

When they caught up to Y/N, Luke was overwhelmed with emotions. "Y/N, you weren't supposed to rebel," he said with a mixture of anger and desperation.

Y/N, eyes bloodshot, stood baffled, looking him in the eyes. "The Games are evil, Luke. Evil. And you’ve just been brainwashed into thinking they're necessary.”

Kelsey, who had been lurking behind them, saw an opportunity waiting to be used. She sneered and positioned the gun in her hand, ready to put an end to the rebellion and silence the tribute that had been bringing her annoyance since her arrival at the Capitol. But before she could pull the trigger, a idea flashed in her mind. She thrust the gun into Luke's trembling hands, knowing this was going to make it all more satisfying.

"Shoot her, Luke," Kelsey hissed. "Or I'll rat you out for treason, and you’ll die with her.”

Luke was trapped. He felt like he couldn’t move, and his heart ached as he stared at Y/N, the girl he had come to love despite everything he had once stood for. With tears in his eyes, he reluctantly obeyed Kelsey's command and aimed the gun at Y/N.

Her eyes, now falling with tears had practically begged silently with his to not do it.

“Luke, Luke.” Y/N begs, “what happened to our swimming practices? Don’t you remember what you said to me that one night on the roof? Did it mean nothing, Luke?”

Tears streamed down Luke's face as his hands shook with the gun in them.

Kelsey puffs in annoyance, elbowing Luke harshly on the side. “Well? Are you gonna do it? Or do I have to shoot both of you?”

Luke closed his eyes as he pulled the trigger, and he watched the girl he once loved crumble to the floor, eyes that leaked tears earlier now remain lifeless.

She’s dead, and it was all his fault.

- - -

Luke suddenly woke up in a cold sweat, his body shoot up his bed.

He had been experiencing the same dreams of him shooting Y/N, only each time, it showed a new detail, one that struck every corner of his heart.

“Are you okay?” Luke’s mom had awoken from a loud sound in Luke’s room. She placed her hand on his forehead and frowned. “What happened?”

“I’m fine..” he says, although it seemed like he was reassuring himself more than he was her.

“You can’t bottle up your feelings forever.” She sighs, but she leaves him alone, thankfully.

He swears he sees her everywhere. In his dreams, in random people he sees at his academy. She’s everywhere, even in the meadow grass, or in the corner of his eyes.

Her face of betrayal never leaves Luke’s mind, staying ingrained like a portrait.

- - -

Years have passed since everything had occurred, and although Luke’s heart felt like it was ripped in two, he forced the memory of Y/N into the deepest parts of his brain, wanting to erase every memory of her.

He ended up marrying Kelsey, whom he had 2 kids with. Two boys named Hermes and Lucretius.

One evening as the family gathered to watch the latest Games on their holographic screens, Hermes and Lucretius were jumping in their seats with excitement.

“Mama! One day, me and Hermes will get to mentor a tribute too, right?” Lucretius says excitedly, holding onto Kelsey’s hand.

“Isn’t that right dad? Me and Lucre will be mentors!”

Luke and Kelsey exchanged a knowing glance. The memory of Y/N, flashed through Luke's mind for the first time in years, felt like a painful echo from the past. The ache in his heart remained.

Kelsey placed a reassuring hand on Luke's shoulder, “You know, it’s a pretty big position, takes a lot of responsibility," she said, trying to explain the weight of the role to their children.

Their youngest son, Hermes, looked at Luke with wide eyes, "Dad, did you ever mentor someone?"

Luke hesitated for a moment, his gaze distant. Finally, he replied, "Yes, I did once. I attended the same academy you guys are attending.”

Lucretius, always having been curious, continued, "What was it like, Dad? Was it fun? Did your tribute win?”

A heavy silence hung in the room as Luke reflected on the question. Kelsey squeezed his shoulder, before getting up to bring the dishes to the sink.

“I did my best, but sometimes, things don’t go as planned.”

Their children, oblivious to the hurt behind their father’s words continued to chat excitedly about the Games. But in that moment, as they watched the televised games, Luke’s brain couldn't help itself but revisit the past, his heart heavy with the memory of Y/N, and the lingering question of what could have been if he had chosen differently.

#luke hughes #luke hughes x you #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes x oc #luke hughes fluff #luke hughes blurb #luke hughes fic #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes fanfic #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes imagines #luke hughes angst #luke hughes smut #hughes brothers #nhl x y/n #nhl x you #nhl x reader

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five-flavor-soup · 4 months

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Why the endgame couples in A:TLA weren’t necessary: a frustrated ramble

Listen I’m a Zutara shipper through and through (developed after my second rewatch in 2013) but by Tui Agni and La am I glad that it never happened in canon?? Like Kataang and Maiko themselves already felt so rushed and almost out-of-nowhere and their canonisation added like nothing to the plot. Aang’s crush on Katara is a plot device; Zuko’s relationship with Mai at the start of S3 is a plot device. I can barely fathom how Zutara would’ve turned out and I also kinda don’t want to. Imagine Zuko and Katara kissing at the end of the series: it feels completely out of left field, doesn’t it? Knowing that who-ends-up-with-who was an argument in the writer’s room for almost all three seasons means that it could’ve happened.

It shouldn’t have. I don’t think the Kataang kiss or the Maiko romance-reunion should’ve happened either. It’s unnecessary to add—there’s just no need for it, and my nagging here isn’t because I like Zutara and I don’t like how Maiko and Kataang turned out. It’s because the ships and couples and whatever the fuck else are NOT, and should not, be the point of A:TLA—and the ‘couple gets together in the very last scene and all is well :)’ shot suggests that it is.

A:TLA, to me, tried to show the horrifying nature of war and all its victims: the harrowing poverty, the deep-rooted trauma, the bloody violence. I interpreted the most prominent message of A:TLA to be that what was happening during those 100 years is wrong, that war is wrong—it affects the humanity within people, affects what point we offer empathy and kindness, because horrific trauma and needless violence muddies it all up. Why would you hold out a hand for someone who would’ve murdered you if they had the chance? Why would you physically support someone who hurt you and those you care about deeply? Those of the other nations can barely scrounge up empathy for someone from the Fire Nation, because those of the Fire Nation present themselves as inhuman. Those of the Fire Nation can barely scrounge up empathy for someone from any of the other nations, because the Fire Nation presents them as inhuman. And A:TLA shows that all these people are human, good and bad and all of that in between, because that’s just what humanity is. Varied and morally grey.

THAT’S what the GAang learns. That’s what the people around them learn. It’s what Iroh, a war criminal in his own right, tries to teach every child and teen who he interacts with: not in a preachy way, but in a vague way that implies he’d rather have them figure it out themselves lest they interpret his direct teachings wrong. He got indoctrinated into this terrorising, imperialist regime from the day he was born and onwards and it took a personal loss — the death of his son during a siege Iroh himself was leading, a siege in which Iroh and Lu Ten were the aggressors — for him to start thinking that maybe it’s all wrong. Maybe what he was taught is wrong. And he doesn’t want these children to take as long as he did.

The GAang and their (teenage) enemies and small antagonists have all been touched by war, almost to the point of no return. None of the need for violence, the calm in the face of battle and death, the willingness to sacrifice innocents for a sliver of retribution, the extensive knowledge of How To Fight A Battle And Win—none these qualities that these children (!!) may or may not portray are ‘normal’ teenage behaviours. They simply have to have them, or they die or freeze. Their childhoods were stopped in their tracks early because of experiences no child should ever experience. Such is the reality of war. And yet, in spite of the hurt and harm, the GAang is still capable of kindness and empathy. That’s what it’s about.

To end the series with explicit romance — Sokka/Suki doesn’t count, their relationship is not as in-your-face as The Scenes — just feels wrong. Maybe with another season of development it could’ve worked far better (and less unexpected, especially since the previous one-on-one Kataang interaction was Katara getting cross with Aang for kissing her when she was confused; and the previous one-on-one Maiko interaction was Zuko locking Mai in a cell/out of the way and then leaving without looking back). But with the three seasons that we got, it feels odd that the romance is highlighted at the end—especially when Zuko was miserable with Mai (with her being the human representation of ‘close your eyes and pretend everything’s fine’), and there ALSO was a perfectly good ending scene with the GAang bickering right there. Right before the ending kiss.

Why end it like that, when the series isn’t about romance, but about familial and platonic love and love for humanity instead? Why not just hint towards getting (back) together? What’s the point of these confirmations other than ‘the hero gets the girl’ in both instances?

#atla critical #avatar: the last airbender #kataang critical #maiko critical #anti kataang #anti maiko #just to be safe #they should’ve been developed way more imo #they just felt rushed idk what to say #the gaang #atla #LOVE zutara. am endlessly glad it isn’t canon #atla meta #i suppose??#long post

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wandamaximoffsbadgirl · 2 months

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Let's Talk About That Chapter 4

Warnings: talks of mental health (PTSD, anxiety, panic attacks), mentions of death/dying, anger issues, angst and fluff

Word count: 1,969

A/N: listen I love rewatching Marvel movies but having to watch civil war and pause every 5 seconds for the accords scenes killed me, but it would have bothered me if the lines weren't accurate so here you go.

May 19th 2016

You were in your office when Natasha came round telling you that you had to go to the meeting room. The secretary of state was here to talk with the Avengers. You knew this couldn't be good, but you got up with your laptop in hand just in case you needed it.

All of you sat around the meeting room while Secretary Ross spoke, "The world owes the Avengers an unpayable debt. You have fought for us, protected us, risked your lives, but while a great many people see you as heroes there are some who would prefer the word 'Vigilantes'." Your grip on Wanda's thigh tightens and her hand goes over yours. Trying not to cause a scene, but you must have squeezed a little too tightly. You release it completely, balling and unballing your fist.

"And what word would you use, Mr. Secretary?" Natasha asks.

"How about dangerous?" He replies. "What would you call a group of U.S. based enhanced individuals who routinely ignore sovereign borders and inflict their will wherever they choose and who frankly seem unconcerned with what they leave behind." Ross speaks freely, but you interject.

"Excuse me Sir, but if you'd have gone over my notes thoroughly about everyone's after mission session when things go good and when things go not great there is in fact a difference in their psyches. This team though we are enhanced individuals still have emotions and feelings. We still care about others and it's the exact reason we do what we do. Just because the world doesn't see them break down. I do." You stand up. "Tony has severe anxiety and suffers from panic attacks when things go wrong. Steve and Natasha have PTSD. Wanda," you look at her and she nods, " thinks every goddamn day about how she could have done better in Lagos. If she had been able to hold on a second longer than no one would have gotten hurt that day. Those lives every one of them rests on her mind." You tell him though he doesn't seem to care much as he shows a video, you sit back down, moving closer to Wanda and she holds your hand, your fingers intertwining.

"New York, Washington D.C." He's showing the group's past failures as you look over at Steve and Natasha, watching their faces pale as both try to stay in the moment. "Sokovia." The battle for Sokovia from Ultron, the one you missed. You feel her hand squeeze yours as you move your other hand to her thigh to try and soothe her, "Lagos." The footage starts playing of the building that got caught in the blast Wanda had tried to contain. The close up of a dead girl in the ruble is shown and you can feel her shift as you pull her against your chest and whisper,

"Don't look. I've got you."

"Alright that's enough." Steve calls out. I mouth a thank you to him as I let Wanda go once the footage stops.

"Good to know we'll need a group therapy session after this." You say flatly. As you turn back to the front of the room.

"For the past four years you've operated with unlimited power and no supervision. That's an arrangement the governments of the world can no longer tolerate, but I think we have a solution." He hands over a binder to you.

"The Sokovia Accords?" You ask, thumbing through it with Wanda.

"Approved by 117 Countries. It states that the Avengers shall no longer be a private organization. Instead you'll operate under the supervision of the United Nations panel. Only when and if that panel deems it necessary." Ross informs you all.

"The Avengers were formed to make the world a safer place. I feel we've done that." Steve interjects.

"Tell me Captain, do you know where Thor and Banner are right now? If I misplaced a couple of mega 30 ton nukes you can bet there would be consequences. Compromise, reassurance, that's how the world works. Believe me, this is the middle ground." Ross states.

"So," Rhodey starts. "There are contingencies?"

"Three days from now the U.N. meets in Vienna to ratify the accords." Ross tells us and you see Steve finally acknowledge Tony sitting in the corner away from the rest of us. "Talk it over."

"And if we come to a decision you don't like?" Natasha asks. Ross stops his exit from the room.

"Then you retire." Ross answers.

"Sir. I'm 19." You remind him

"Good thing you went to college already. Whole life ahead of you unlike the rest of your team." He says and you've never wanted to break someone's neck more and once he and his men leave the room, you hand your laptop to Wanda and have everyone back up from the table as you slam my fist into it, reducing it to rubble.

"You're paying for that." Tony mentions.

"You pay me. So you're paying for that." You remind him and you're lucky it wasn't his face." You say taking your laptop back from Wanda. "Thank you sweet girl."

As the tension in the room simmered and Secretary Ross exited, leaving the group to grapple with the weight of his ultimatum, a heavy silence settled over you. You could feel the collective unease radiating from your teammates, each grappling with their own thoughts and emotions in the wake of his proposition. The mix of all the feelings makes you nauseous.

Turning to face your fellow Avengers, you could see the turmoil etched on their faces, the weight of Ross's words bearing down upon us like a crushing weight. But amidst the uncertainty and fear, there was also a glimmer of determination in their eyes, a silent vow to stand together in the face of adversity.

"We need to talk," Steve's voice cut through the silence, his gaze sweeping across the room as he addressed each of you in turn. "This isn't a decision to be made lightly. We need to weigh the consequences, consider our options, and come to a consensus as a team."

You nodded in agreement, your mind already racing with the implications of Ross's proposal. The Sokovia Accords represented a fundamental shift in the way the Avengers would operate, a relinquishing of your autonomy in exchange for the illusion of oversight. But at what cost? Would you be forced to compromise your principles, to bend to the will of bureaucrats and politicians who viewed you as nothing more than tools to be wielded at their whim?

As the group dispersed from the meeting room, each lost in your own thoughts, you felt Wanda's hand slip into yours, her touch a comforting anchor amidst the storm of uncertainty that raged within you currently. With her by your side, you knew that whatever decision we ultimately made, you would face it together, united in your commitment to stand up for what you believed in, no matter the consequences. And as you retreated to the solace of our shared quarters, you knew that your journey was far from over, that the road ahead would be fraught with challenges and trials, but that so long as you faced them together, you would emerge stronger, more resilient, than ever before.

===========================================================

As the team goes back and forth arguing sides of right and wrong and if things are better in your hands or in the U.N. Wanda speaks up, "You're saying they'll come for me." Before you can speak, Vision does beside you after you had nudged your way in when he tried to sit next to Wanda, "We would protect you."

"They'll come for me too. Wanda was given powers by the mind stone." You flick it on Vision's forehead, he flinches a bit, but you know it doesn't hurt, not like your own, "But this stone in my chest is a ticking time bomb. Something I've never told you guys is I have never once used 100% of my power. I had talked with Thor who knew about the stones." You gently touch your purple stone, reacting to your touch with a soft glow. "This stone in the past was held and wielded by Celestials, Gods in their own rights, used to decimate worlds." You look around the room. Faces of various degrees of worried or scared or nervous. "If I were to lose control...there's a possibility there won't be an Earth anymore. I know how dangerous I am with this stone, but much like Tony's arc reactor, If we extract this from me. I'm going to die. Last time Bruce did a check up for me...the stone...the stone is wrapped around my heart and lungs. Bruce and I did some tests of moving the stone around and we came to the conclusion it's more than likely to make my lungs collapse and my heart stop if it's pulled out." You look down, unable to look at any of them. "If they take me it might be for the better, but no matter what. I want to keep fighting and keep helping. If I sign that...I'm signing over to my own arrest basically."

"Well it sounds like that might be a good thing." Tony states.

"Fuck you Tony! I've only ever wanted to help people! I never want to hurt or kill people! I'd rather just go live my life as a psychiatrist! Work a normal day and come home to a nice home cooked meal, but I can't just do that! You brought me into this world. Now if you want me to stand down, I guess you'll have to take me out." You state before leaving. You hear Wanda follow behind you, catching up as she holds your hand and arm.

"That is probably the scariest couple with the powers they possess." You hear Tony say just before the two of you get out of hearing range.

As you two left the heated discussion behind, Wanda's hand in yours providing a grounding reassurance, a silent acknowledgment of the challenges you faced together. The weight of the impending decision pressed down on your shoulders, each step echoing the tumultuous thoughts swirling in your mind.

The two of you found solace in a quiet corner of the compound, away from the prying eyes and the cacophony of conflicting opinions. The moon cast a gentle glow over you as you turned to face Wanda, her eyes reflecting a mix of concern and determination.

"I can't believe they'd even suggest something like this," Wanda murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "To turn against our own, to put us in a position where we have to choose between our principles and our freedom."

"They're scared," you replied, gently squeezing her hand. "Scared of what we can do, scared of the power we wield. But we can't let fear dictate our choices. We need to stand up for what we believe is right, even if it means going against those we once called allies."

Wanda nodded, a quiet resolve settling over her features. "I won't let them take you, Y/N. No matter what they decide. We'll find a way to navigate through this mess together."

A mixture of gratitude and warmth enveloped you as you leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "And I won't let them take you either. We'll face whatever comes our way, side by side."

As the night stretched before you, uncertainty lingering in the air, the two of you stood united against the challenges that awaited you. The Avengers, once a symbol of unity, found themselves at a crossroads, and the choices we made in the days to come would shape the course of our future, both as individuals and as a team.

#ley speaks #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #ley writes #wanda x reader #wanda x you #natasha romanoff #captain america #sam wilson #vision #tony stark #rhodey

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towns-end-bindery · 5 months

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The Night Circus

By Erin Morgenstern

🎪

A rebind that I will be gifting to a friend as a Christmas present.

I read this book when I first started college, I think. The thing that stuck with me since reading it has always been the beauty and magic of the circus itself. Normally, I’d get lost or bored of extensive detail or descriptions about the setting, but the Circus of Dreams was an ✨aesthetic✨ that stirred my imagination. I was surprised at how much I loved it.

🎡

Regarding process:

So I recently rewatched the DAS video about paper labels, and creating a “well” for the label to sit in. And I thought to myself, what if I made the entire cover design the “label” and centered it on the cover?

The design was printed on vinyl adhesive paper, and it’s pasted right in the center of a large recess on the cover. Spine and back was hand foiled.

🎠

Well, it’s seems I’m on a roll. There will be many more rebinds to come before the end of the year, if I don’t lose momentum. I’m excited to see my projects take flight, but it’s also honestly quite daunting as well. 😮‍💨

As a side note…

When I first started this hobby, I was ambitious to achieve a level of quality comparable to many IG and tiktok bookbinders I’d been seeing out there. Many of them were binding fanfiction or doing rebinds of popular fiction, fantasies and romance.

And a LOT of them (or at least the popular accounts) were using special cutting machines like cricut, and heat transfer vinyl to create clean, professional looking designs. Shiny and metallic seems to be a highly sought after look, and admittedly it is attention grabbing for many casual viewers who stumble upon these videos. The same can also be said of the more traditional binders who make leather books and use special techniques for embossing and foiling.

While those beautiful machines and materials and tools like htv or leather-working aren’t NECESSARY for the hobby, it’s clear that any simple amateur bookbinders trying to build their accounts and show people their work really won’t be getting as much reach without making books that are as shiny and attention grabbing in the same ways.

And trying to achieve those looks of metallic vinyl, or beautifully embossed leather, felt pretty inaccessible to me. I’m sure many other amateur binders feel same the way.

That’s why I’m glad I can demonstrate how to achieve beautiful, high quality looking books in alternative ways. Feel free to reach out and ask me about my techniques! I’m no expert, but I’d be happy to help you find solutions and new methods.

12/15/2023

#bookbinding #handmade #erin morgenstern #the night circus #handbound book #book binding #arts and crafts #bookbinder #hand bound book #ficbinding #renegade bookbinding #renegade publishing

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florart98 · 4 months

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Jackson Lamb in season three.

I just finished my rewatch of the third season for a fanfic I'm thinking about. And I can't stop thinking about Lamb and his whole reaction to Standish's kidnapping.

Lamb is the first to realize that Standish didn't show up for work, and he quickly understands that this means something bad happened, because she never arrives late without warning, nor does her cell phone run out of battery, nor does she take the tube to come. He is worried, even angry at River for not following Donovan when he bumped into him the previous afternoon. (Although it is normal for him to get angry with River, in this case it is more exaggerated than normal, how would River know that they wanted to kidnap Catherine)

Throughout the season Lamb is violent about getting Catherine back, from the first moment when River doesn't dare to tell him that he saw Donovan before and Lamb says:

Or when Louisa calls him to tell him that everything indicates that Catherine was kidnapped, she asks why anyone would do that, and Lamb responds:

And when they release River, he asks him what you would have done if you got this photo and he says:

There's a great moment where he and Chapman are in the laundromat, Chapman offers him a drink and Lamb declines.

Chapman's face when he tell him that they took Standish seems perfect to me, because he knows Lamb, he knows how he defends his people, and, of all his people, they took Catherine. This is big. Catherine is not just anyone.

Then, when he discovers that Catherine is not in real danger, he is visibly calmer, at least for a few minutes, until he discovers that the Tiger Team has revealed itself and now Catherine really is a hostage.

We have that great moment where he gets into Sly's car and then into Judd's lunch. He is so angry that he talks to more and more powerful people until someone brings Standish back to him. But that doesn't happen and he has to go look for her himself. Thanks to the help of Standish herself, who pointed to the wall in her kidnapped photo, Roddy is able to discover where they are keeping her locked up.

So Lamb spends all day doing everything he can to get to Standish back. And he himself is going to rescue her

And he arrives and she's sitting there playing scrabble. After he home-aloneing the house and getting out of there, comes the big fight and the big reveal.

When they are in the car with Standish, just before the fight at the gas station starts, she talks to Roddy and tells him that she knows how to read people and Lamb makes fun of her. (referring to how he has no idea what Charles did)

When they park at the station, Lamb is upset, not angry, he's not yelling like he usually does, but instead he's silent, which is why she says he never wants to talk about anything.

I think Lamb is upset because he spent all day trying to find her but when he gets there she only talks about Charles. And I understand that he hates Charles, the man betrayed them and because of him his companions died. But you have to understand that Catherine doesn't know anything about that, in her eyes he is the perfect man who extended a hand to her when everyone abandoned her.

Catherine has no idea that Charles was worse than Ingrid or Diana, for her he was an honorable man, and Lamb hates that, he hates that she has him on a pedestal, so, knowing that he is going to hurt her, he tells her the truth that he had been hiding from her for years. And not only does he tell her that Charles betrayed them all, but he also used her.

Also, it really bothers him that she says Charles was an honorable man, because he wasn't. And Lamb may be many things but he truly has honor, he will never betray his people, and he would do whatever is necessary to save them.

So, in my opinion, Lamb didn't think about it, not really, he was tired, he was angry with Charles's betrayal and with Standish for admiring him so much, that he needed to break that illusion in her. I think at the end of the day he regrets doing it. He really does, as he tells Judd, Standish runs my diary, now I don't know what he'll do without her. He did everything to find her and when he finds her, he loses her.

Special mention for Marcus saying what we all think:

#slow horses #catherine standish #jackson lamb #season three

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bitchlessdino · 1 year

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When We Didn't (m)

A SVTHUB COLLAB

Pairing: afab!reader x jihoon

Genre: fluff, slice of life, angst, smut

word count: 4.9k

tags: extrovert!reader, opposites attract, flashbacks, college au, slow burn, pussy drunk!Jihoon, slight exhibitionism, oral (f. recieving), fingering

Summary: Remember when we almost? But we didn’t. And now what, you’re gonna sit alone, underneath your barely standing Christmas tree and not expect me to sit next to you? Maybe we should’ve.

author note: make sure to check out all the other member this collab at this link or @svthub !

5 years ago

You scramble to get to the first class of the morning, thinking to yourself it should’ve been a crime to have classes before 10 am. It was the first day of freshman year and you were already late.

The lecture hall was packed to the brim seconds before classes would start. You’d scan the descending seats, hopeful for even a few inches of space. A faint voice starts to speak out next to you and looking down you see a man with utterly soft fairytale-like features. He initially stuns you at first until you realize he’s telling you there’s an empty seat next to him and you whisper to him plenty of words of thanks.

You settle beside him, taking out things from your backpack, throwing quick glances back at him, and eventually realize the severity of your consequences when you notice how you forgot to pack all the necessary items for your first day. “Fuck.”

The quiet man nonchalantly offers a pen, peeking through his specs. “Here.”

“Really?” You take it from his grasp. “Thank you.”

He nods and turns back mindlessly to his journal, preparing himself for the note-taking. After some more scrambling, you sheepishly poke at his shoulder and avert his attention back on you, seeing that awkward apologetic grin on your face. “I don’t want to bother you again, but can I have a sheet of paper?”

He nods, tearing one out and handing it to you the same way he had the pen, which you accepted graciously. “And…I didn't bring my textbook so–”

“I’m not tearing you pages from my textbook because you don’t have yours.”

“Not that,” you reassure, unsure whether he made a joke or if he actually thought you’d ask that of him, “If you don’t mind sharing, that’d be great. It’d only ever be for one time.”

The man sighs, begrudgingly pushing his book until it centers the both of you. “There.”

“Thank you,” you whisper and scoot closer to him, almost too close for comfort.

He pays you no mind for the rest of the time, even when you cross the invisible lines that were essential to common courtesy. He knew he just had to deal with it one day (which was far from the actual truth), and lucky for him, you knew how to be quiet for the most part anyway. The class came to an end eventually and he was grateful for that, he just had two more classes for the rest of the day. Picking up his belongings, you block off his path with a smile.

“Thanks again,” You bring out your hand for him to shake, “I’m Y/n.”

“Jihoon.” He answers plainly, barely reciprocating your gesture before getting up to follow everyone else through the exits.

You mouth his name as if committing it to memory and was quick to get a step behind him. “You should let me thank you sometime…Jihoon.”

“That’s not necessary.”

You halt in front of him before he could exit the doors. “At least a coffee. We are gonna be classmates after all.”

He sighs, avoiding those puppy eyes that come naturally to your golden retriever energy. He usually avoided people like you. People like you were draining, distracting, and he’d rather stay cooped up in his apartment rewatching Inuyasha for the thousandth time.

Yet.

“Just a coffee?”

Your eyes light up like the fourth of July. “And your insta?”

Present Day Christmas Eve

“But I wanted to celebrate Christmas with you,” You whine over the phone.

Your mother’s reassuring voice resonated from your phone. “Sweetie, you’re young and able-bodied, you’ll find something better to do than hanging around two old coots.”

“Well, you old coots have a one way trip to Hawaii, how will I top that?”

It turns out your parents hit the jackpot on some bingo night at the community center and would be traveling without you. No doubt, it hurt that you wouldn’t be going, but it hurt more that you wouldn’t be with your family since you spent pretty much every Christmas with each other. It was like things were changing before your eyes. You were growing older and older and you weren’t their little kid anymore. You were on your own.

“There’s always next year, sweetheart.”

You sigh defeatedly and hang up before trying someone else. The dial tone became an incessant noise in your ear after several attempts of contacting your friends. The messages blew up soon after rejection and apologies. Who knew on the Eve of Christmas no one would be available? (Of course, you knew but it couldn’t help to try).

“Y/n, I’m sorry.”

Groaning into the phone in frustration, almost sobbing into the phone about to hear another rejection come from a loved one’s lips. “You’re kidding.”

“This is me and Mingyu’s first Christmas together. Maybe try Cheol? Yeri? Joshua?”

“They’ve been talking about their alps for months!” You slump in your loveseat and whimper into the cushions. You could hear your friend’s sigh of pity on the other line. “Come on, there has to be one other person in your same predicament.”

“I don’t know about that.”

You've gone up and down your contact list, almost closing in on coworker numbers, and acquaintances, including a hookup that slipped his number in your phone without looking. Even that sounded tempting at this point. Lucky for you, you weren’t that desperate.

There was one last person you thought to call though. They’re also the first person you thought to spend Christmas with besides family. A person that you thought could spend all your time with. The question was whether he wanted to spend such a holiday with you.

Sometime after your first encounter

Jihoon planned to continue his quaint life as a college student, but you didn’t make it easy. Despite the lack of assigned seating, you made sure to take the seat next to him every day, waving at him when you enter the classroom after him a beat later. You made sure you wouldn’t come to class late again just to sit next to him.

“Hi, desk mate—I mean Jihoon. See I remembered.”

He sees you take your seat, settling in on the fact that there was pretty much his designated seat now no matter how early he arrives, “Hey.”

Taking his things out of his bag to be blindsided by you who pushes packaged convenience food in front of him. “Breakfast!”

“You said it’d only be coffee.” He points out a matter of fact.

“I did.” You point to bottled expresso. “Right there. Everything else is interest.”

He sighs, taking the coffee and stuffing it in his bag. “I’ll just take this. Thanks.”

“Come on, you’ll be hungry later.”

He flips through pages of his textbook, happy being using it alone, “I’ll survive.”

You somehow became a thorn in his side seeing you routinely and he made no effort in changing that. Where he was, you went. You made yourself nearly impossible to avoid. Over time, he found himself relying on you because of it. Though he found you a nuisance at times, it wasn’t all bad. You were chirpy and clingy, but that proved yourself to be useful at times.

“Shit!”

Jihoon never runs for a few reasons: it’s tiring, he gets sweaty, and he gets red. Really red. So, being tardy to lectures was not on the agenda, until the day he had no choice.

He burst through the lecture hall much like your first day, late for the first time ever in his life, he blames it all on his dorm mate that came home drunk and insisted on him dancing with him in the middle of the common area for no reason and cleaning up his puke soon after (yeah maybe his roommate’s name rhymes with toonyoung).

He tries getting to a seat inconspicuously as possible if any were available, and that’s when he hears your harsh whisper. Your hand waves him over and pointed at the seat next to you that had your backpack currently occupying it.

He sighs but nods at you in a quiet thanks before accepting the invitation. You grin from ear to ear watching him get in his seat and pass him a Pocari sweat, like some kind of guardian angel. “You’re a bit red. Have at it.”

He gulps looking back at the refreshment and accepts it before chugging half of it down in desperation. “Thank you.”

“There’s always more if you need it.” You lightly nudge him before directing your attention to the lecture.

He glances back at you, wondering how you always keep that optimistic smile on your face relentlessly, how you never grow tired, and he starts to think about what motivates it all. You were an average student like he is. What was there to smile about?

Class ends again like aways and much like other days, here you were following him like a newborn puppy. Most days he ignored you, but that day he didn’t bother trying. Instead, he felt a sense of gratitude.

“Does this mean you’ll let me have your insta now?”

Not stopping in his stride, he flattens out his hand in your direction. “Phone.”

“Really?” You ask as happily as a child, already taking it out and unlocking it before handing it to him.

He immediately pulls up your contact list and adds himself in, his name as plain and straightforward as possible. He hands it back to you. “I put in my number. I don’t have Instagram.”

“That’s fine! I can call you all the time now.”

You try retrieving it before he pulls it away with an authoritative expression. “Not all the time.”

“Alright, alright.” Finally grabbing hold and editing the name by adding a heart to the end. “So, what’s the rest of our day look like?”

Present day Christmas Eve

“Y/n.”

Your relationship with Jihoon now was hard to put into words. You were no longer classmates, and now you even wonder if you are even classified as friends. Your history was everything but nothing all at once. If you had a gun pointed at your head, your brain wouldn’t process the answer fast enough to save yourself. Just exactly what were you to each other? Better yet, what were you to him.”

“What’s up?”

He could hear your signature chipper on the other line, somehow weirdly nostalgic. “You called me.”

“I know, but it’s Christmas Eve, what are you doing?”

“Mmh, just, around.”

You scratch your head at his vague answer. Jihoon was indeed a man of few words but not that few. “You’re alone, aren’t you?”

Jihoon may have forgotten about the holidays coming around the corner and made no plans, but that was easy being the workaholic he was. He clears his throat, lingering in the awkward silence he’s put upon himself, “…Well—“

You shake your head at him as if he could see you, “Oh god, you are. I’m coming over.”

He could hear you rustling in the background, eyes rapidly blinking at his realization. “W-w-why?”

“Well, because.” You answer, the rattle of your keys heard through the phone.

He blinks, awaiting for other words to follow only for them to never do. “Because?”

“Yeah. Because.” You bite your lips, hoping he doesn’t hear how hard you’re smiling.

“…Don’t you have plans?”

You hum, breaking out into that smile you tried suppressing. “I do. With you.”

Last year of college

“No.”

“Why the hell not?”

Jihoon was open about being a hermit. He didn’t make an effort to go to places like parties, clubs, or even school events. Not that he didn’t get invited, because he had plenty of invites, trust him. He just thought it was a desperate attempt for most people to do the inevitable: get drunk, get laid, or get embarrassed.

“I don’t like parties.”

“But I’ll be there.” You tug his arm, pleading with him with your eyes.

He pulls himself away from your grasp. “More than enough reason not to go.”

“You love me don’t lie. I’m the light of your life.”

The unamused look on his face told you otherwise but despite the protests, you convince him somehow to come through. Never in this lifetime did he think someone could persuade him to willingly go to a frat party and now here he was with his peers, who were all drunk and out of their minds, including you.

You had plenty of drink, quickly becoming one with the music and atmosphere that almost worried the introvert. If you weren’t careful and he hadn’t been around, who knows what would’ve happened? Even if you had been annoying, you became tolerable, he desire no ill will disposed on you.

You cling to him harsher than you usually do, which he let happen. The stench of cheap beer and wine coolers staining your clothes and breath. Jihoon knew who could’ve been in a better situation, but at this moment it could’ve been worse. If not for you, there’d be more people coming up to him that he could help without pestering him to drink, play beer pong, or something of the equivalent. You were more than the perfect excuse to do no more socializing than necessary. So as far as he knew it, tonight should’ve been just fine.

“Jihoon…Jihoon…” You play chopsticks on his shoulders, imagining them as a big piano.

“What?” He answers, nudging you off him.

You drape your limp arms over him. Your hot breath tickles his cheeks, which on grew pinker from the body heat. “I’m like, super, fucked…”

Of course, the downside of all this was you were drunk enough on behalf of everyone else attending this party combined.

He rolls his eyes knowingly, a taut grin on his face as he tried helping you from falling over in your seat. “I know. I was there when you almost drank yourself to death.”

“But, but…I have a secret…shhhh, don’t tell anyone.”

He shrugs his shoulders, mindlessly tending and listening to the ramblings of a drunk college student. “Who would I tell?”

You stabilize yourself against him, cupping a hand to his ear. “To be honest…I like you a lot…”

He softly scoffs in disbelief. He pushes away sweaty strands of your hair away from your forehead before flicking it lightly, tossing you back with a giggle leaving your lips. “I see…Well, that’s a shame. I tolerate you.”

You pout childishly, latching to his bicep helplessly, “That’s okay...”

He pinches his nose, “…You reek of alcohol.”

“I should reek of you.”

“That made absolutely no sense.” He says, playing dumb.

“It means…I want to kiss you.”

He didn’t like how that affected him. Even with his sobriety, he could feel how his heart’s pace match yours without delay. This awe-stricken gaze in your eyes he couldn’t comprehend paired with the sweet image of your puckered lips aiming towards his face. Why was he even a little bit tempted?

His palm falls flat against your lips, protecting you, and maybe even himself, from a mistake waiting to happen. “…You’re drunk…You’ll forget all this next morning.”

And that’s what happened. After that night, you puked your guts out, holding on to the toilet bowl for dear life, and were knocked out soon after with the aid of Jihoon and your dormmates. You don’t remember a wink of that night, waking up the next day with a headache and Tylenol with water by your bedside. You don’t remember your drunk confession, or the way you openly threw yourself at him, nor the look in his eyes when you admitted it.

Jihoon, however, remembered everything. It haunted him. He feared it happening ever again. He couldn’t like you and you weren’t supposed to like him. It was better off this way. Right?

Present day Christmas Eve

Although a lot of things changed, a lot still didn't. Jihoon still didn’t drink, but he had to have been drunk if you were actually standing in the middle of his apartment right now with a grocery Christmas ham and a carton of eggnog (the worst possible combination by the way). Your all too familiar smile woke up the pit of his stomach that was vacant when he last saw you. It brought back that same fear again. A part of himself wanted to close the door on you but every other fiber in being was resilient against it.

So now here you were, heading to his kitchen, placing the eggnog in his fridge, and taking out the grocery ham from its packaging. “I’d have more food, but I was in charge of the ham and eggnog this year. The turkey’s less popular cousin and the season’s choice of drink: dairy…I obviously got the shorter straw. Ha-ha mom and dad.”

His eyes just curiously followed your every move, wondering what made you decide to be here of all places after all this time. You raid his cabinets like it's your own home, taking out a small sum of food he had, thinking to yourself that you could probably conjure up something appetizing. Otherwise, it was gonna be coke zero for dinner, which didn’t sound too bad at this point. “Thank god you have more than ramen in here. I was worried I was gonna have to throw you an intervention after visiting.”

“What are you doing here, Y/n?” He finally asks.

You look up from your busy hand and meet his eyes, still unreadable and solemn. “I’m celebrating Christmas with you.”

“Why?”

“Why not–Oh my god, you have a tree.” You approach his barely hanging tree that was only a foot taller than its owner. “This is…cute. Questionable how it’s still standing, but cute.”

He raises a brow, “Now, you’re insulting my tree?”

“I said it's cute, didn't I?”

Jihoon felt his lips twitch in an almost smile. “You’re annoying as always.”

“Nice seeing you too Jihoon.”

Last year in December

“Funny. I thought you two would be going out by now, not, what’s his face, Wonwoo.”

You were often seen around the guy, chatting, laughing, and sympathizing. Wonwoo was part of your Latin History lecture and he knew how to keep you entertained. Rumor had it that you were seen spending more than platonic time together. It was almost the amount of time you were used to spending with Jihoon, if not more.

“Yeah, well. Up to them.”

Soonyoung looked back at his roommate with concern. Despite Jihoon having not said a word, His feelings for you were blossoming before Soonyoungs eyes and he finds his roommates wandering your presence. He felt the shorter man open up more because of you and maybe he could find his own happiness someday.

It was all until Wonwoo came into the picture. Tall, handsome, and sensitive. Untouchable, compare to Jihoon.

“He’s not even all that …okay, that’s a lie. I’m huffing copium right now, he’s gorgeous,” he admits as he scrolls through the spoken man’s instagram.

“What’s your point, Soonyoung?”

Jihoon lacked life in his eyes and if it was possible, Soonyoung could’ve heard his own heart shatter at the sight.

“Just..hang in there, buddy.” The blonde pats his peer on the back, and his ineffective reassurance goes unnoticed.

Whatever the hyperactive roommate meant was none of Jihoon’s concern. He was busy ignoring the erupting feelings he had for you. To make the matter worse, he had to deal with the fact that he perhaps lost the many chances to act on his feelings. For all he knew, Wonwoo could’ve been the real deal.

But then again, that wasn’t any of his business.

“Hey stranger,” You sit beside him in a place you were both familiar with.

He smells the whiff of hot cocoa with a hit of peppermint emitting from your cup. It was your usual. You placed it next to his toffee latte, sweeter than what he’s used to, but free of charge thanks to Seokmin who oozed desire for validation. He convinced himself that it was the caffeine making his heart twitch. “Hey.”

“Excited for winter break?”

“That’s…a word to describe it for someone.” He veers back to his laptop, pretending to work.

“What no plans again?” You pester with a playful smile, leisurely sipping.

Jihoon simply shrugs. “No.”

This was your favorite time of year and you believed everyone deserved to have a good time on this specific occasion. Every year, you spent it with family, presents, and dinner, just cherishing everything you had to be grateful for. It was contrary to Jihoon who had spent alone every year since college. His family was thousands of miles away from him and a ticket to reach them would've cost a leg and an arm. This was a lonely season for him.

“How about spending the holiday with me and my family this year?”

He pauses his movement to look up at you, your smile lets his infatuation for you fester like a disease, grinning cheek to cheek in that cute way it does which was indescribably delightful. He could feel his heart swell, the sweat on his forehead pour, and the unsettlement of his legs shake. It was only some time ago he came to terms with his feelings but the truth of the matter was he was never good with feelings. They were too intense for him to understand and he knew that only meant immense disappointment in the end. He wasn’t willing to take that chance.

“I think you should be with Wonwoo.” He returns back to his screen, typing the same word over and over again, “Good reason to check out the lights they put out in town.”

You scoff, your heart swelling for an entirely different reason. “Do you really mean that? You really rather I spend Christmas with Wonwoo than with you?”

There was this look in your eye and sternness in your tone. He had never heard something like that come out of you before, but he couldn’t help it. Self-sabotage came out naturally at this point. You being hurt was only momentarily, he reassures himself. He was doing the both of you a favor.

“Yeah. I think that’s the best use of your time.”

“…Fine.”

You pick yourself up to leave, tears brimming your eyes before finally walking towards the exit where the windchimes followed. The cold winter air hit you like a slap in the face, quickly drying the hot tears that came running down your cheeks.

This was it for you. You were done trying. For good this time.

Present day, Christmas Eve

When you insisted on helping him fix up his tree, you noticed how pretty looked under the Christmas fluorescent lights. He never realized that until now. Probably because he never had the chance.

Your attention to detail was admittedly admirable. He was glad that part of you hadn’t changed.

“I thought about this probably a thousand times, you know.”

“What?” Jihoon entertains.

You step down from the stepping stool to put it away after you gave the tree some finishing touches. Thank god for the popcorn in his pantry. “Spending Christmas with you. It was really hard to come here. And I'm not talking about several feet of snow I had to plow through to get here.”

“Why would you do that for me?”

You scoff, finding it ridiculous how easily he ignores the obvious. “I don’t know. Because you’re my friend. You deserve a nice Christmas. I like doing things out of the good of my heart. Like I was gonna leave you alone? Again?”

“What about you? Didn’t you have anyone to celebrate with?”

You roll your eyes. “Not the point.”

“Seems like the major point.” He retorts, almost sounding amused.

You sigh, walking towards him, “Yeah, everyone else canceled on me, but I’m glad that out of everyone you were available.”

“So I was last choice?”

You furrow your brows. “No, god, could you drop it? ”

“Just why spend Christmas here then?”

“Because I like you!” You shake your body furiously as you threw a tantrum, close to pulling your hair out from the roots. “God, knows why? You’re cold, mean, and distant. You couldn’t be more disinterested and it’s infuriating.”

“Why like me then?”

You body goes limp, clenching your fist helplessly, “I don’t know. Sometimes you were nice to me. It felt nice. And I hope that maybe…that meant something. Then you’d go ignore me like I did something wrong…I never had to work for it before.”

You felt your head spinning in circles. You were too old for this shit. You weakly falling to your knees, Jihoon quickly following to meet your level. “H-hey–”

“I thought if I approached you enough maybe you’d like me back. No matter how hard I tried, you wouldn’t do anything! God, was I naive and stupid. I should’ve never had co—“

Jihoon leans forward and kisses you square center on your lips, stealing your words and breath away. The pressure of his plush cushion makes your frustration dissipate; his hand takes the side of your head, stroking you tenderly. He parts from you when he feels your body calm down, looking back into your eyes glistening in the tears you didn’t realize you had shed.

“Maybe they worked…so your methods weren’t all terrible.”

You were the quiet one for once. His rare smile perks up his face, eyes filled with love and sincerity. You gaze at him as he hugs your cheek with his hands and wipes your tears away with the pads of his thumbs. He embraces your shaking body, soothing your back with the cool palm of his hand.

“...You’re such an asshole.”

“I know. I’m sorr—”

You tug on his sweater to reclaim him, melting into his sweet warmth, finally. You were over the moon. It only took you roughly five years. You finally had him where you wanted and now you were never willing to let him go. Five years all worth the wait.

Present day, New Year’s Eve

“Mmh, hmm…”

“Are you sure you’re getting this all down?”

“P-positive.”

Jihoon chuckles at your disposal. The vibrations of his soft laughter vibrate through your core and are quickly followed by the harsh stripe guided by his tongue. His arms underneath and around your thighs had your legs pressed against his cheeks, thumb teasing the shape of your clit before he’s pinching it as he engorges on your warmth. You hold the phone away from you briefly to whisper a ‘good god,’ and return to the conversation at hand.

“And you’re making sure Jihoon’s going. How did you manage that?”

“Oh,” you chuckle nervously, “just some, mmh, convincing.”

“Knew you could do it. He always did have a soft spot for you. Well, let me know what exactly you do also because I’ve been trying to get him to DJ my wedding all year—“

“Oh…right,” you bit your lips when you feel Jihoon’s tongue fuck inside you, tasting your insides and spreading you open.

His grunts were soft but coherent, exhibiting the satisfaction he was tasting inside you, sucking against your folds, dribbling his spit and your moisture all over his chin and neck. He can’t help but dig deeper, getting his nose in the action. He practically loses all his senses at this point, but he didn’t care; not that he couldn’t breathe, or how his heart pounded, or that you were on the phone with someone. You were worth the wait.

“Anyways, when are you coming?”

“Oh…soon…” You slur, hardly listening to a word.

Jihoon snickers.

“Great, because I know I said seven but since you’re bringing—“

Jihoon snatches the phone from you and puts the phone mic next to his swollen lips, “We’ll get there when we get there, Seungkwan.”

“Wait, Jihoon? You were with—wait are y’all l—YOU NAST—“

Jihoon hangs up before the younger man can finish, tossing the phone randomly somewhere on the bed, and is finally able to let you finish.

“B-baby…he definitely knows now…” you whine.

“Fuck, if I care. Just focus on me, hmm, you taste so fucking good.”

He brings your legs up to leverage you in the air. On his knees and your legs on either of his shoulders, he devours you ambitiously, fingers fucking your knuckles deep in until he feels you shake an earthquake. You shout his name without remorse, begging for more.

“I’m really about to cum, Jihoon. Please, can I?”

Your voice laced with honey, you look up at him with tears in your eyes, sweat beading down your forehead, Jihoon couldn't help but let you do whatever you want with him. “...In my mouth.”

He latched himself on you, tongue fucking your insides as he ran his fingers rampage along with it. Your hips twitch in his embrace until you're practically thrashing in bed, clutching pillows, throwing them aside, lacking almost all control of your limbs. When he comes back up to the surface for air, he’s wiping the mess on his face with the back of his hand.

“You’re a mess,” You laugh, heaving your chest.

“Speak for yourself.”

You snicker only to quickly be brought back to reality. “We do need to get those groceries though. Seungkwan needs them.”

He raises a brow at you, readjusting his legs to pin you by your wrist, that smile to first appear a few days ago not seeming to waver in the slightest. “Sounds like I haven’t tire you out enough.”

“Baby—“

“I have more work to do.”

Giggling, you feel him embracing your sweaty form beneath him, peppering kisses all over you neck and cheeks until the finally reach your lips, chasteful compared to the event just few moments ago. You smile against his kiss, “I guess we still have some time?”

He strokes your hair, kissing your forehead. “Of course, to make up for the times when we didn’t.”

#svthub.collab #svthub #woozi smut #seventeen smut #lee jihoon smut #seventeen woozi #woozi #lee jihoon #seventeen #seventeen jihoon #seventeen fanfic #seventeen x y/n #seventeen x you #seventeen x reader #woozi x reader #woozi x you #woozi x y/n

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laughhardrunfastbekindsblog · 6 days

Text

A question of loyalty: an analysis of two perspectives in season 1

The past few years, I have loved rewatching season 1 with the context of the finale, because it has been so interesting to really see things from Crosshair's perspective.

Our first hint that maybe Crosshair's motives aren't what we first thought:

Hunter's (and our) perspectives on the issue are further challenged:

And then we reach the ultimate accusation:

So, let's take a look at both sides.

POINT #1: "Crosshair was the one who kept attacking the squad! How could he POSSIBLY accuse the squad of betraying him??"

COUNTERPOINT: Because from his perspective, they had. We as the audience know the whole plan was for the squad to get Crosshair back after they escaped the brig on Kamino - in fact, Hunter was prepping to go back for Crosshair at the same time Crosshair was coming for them - but Crosshair doesn't know that. He had been arguing with his squad ever since Order 66, trying to get them to understand how important it was for them to follow orders, and they had yet another disagreement right before he was singled out. His inhibitor chip gets intensified, he gets sent after his brothers (as if Tarkin needed to do anything else to thoroughly disgust me...), and he finds them in the hangar prepping the Marauder to leave. (Just to reiterate: from Crosshair's perspective, he had recently been arguing with his brothers, and now he finds them readying to leave.) Hunter never tells him that they were coming back for him; instead, they engage in some back-and-forth about surrendering and following orders before the shooting begins.

Having left him on that note, it would be all too easy for Crosshair to work himself up over the perceived abandonment - especially if he started feeling any sort of regret over his actions toward his squad (finding a way to blame the other party is, after all, a common defense mechanism).

And every time they cross paths thereafter, instead of his brothers apologizing or listening or trying to come with him, they keep running away from him after arguing with him about how he's being controlled and forced to obey orders. I can't help but imagine that any mention of "programming" only served to stoke Crosshair's ornery side: he and his squad are "superior," after all; he can't be controlled, he is being a good soldier and following orders because HE chose to, not because of some stupid chip. (Cue Crosshair claiming it "doesn't matter" when he got his chip removed: his ideology remains the same, thank you very much.)

And so, from Crosshair's standpoint: his brothers abandoned him, they won't even talk to him except to try to convince him he's wrong about everything, and they're ruining any chance they have of finding "purpose" by remaining soldiers and serving the Empire.

POINT #2: "Hunter and the others didn't try hard enough to get Crosshair back - actually, they didn't try at all."

COUNTERPOINT: I think we overestimate just how much time passed between the Batch escaping Kamino and the events on Bracca (unless the squad was just hanging around in open space for weeks at a time, which I doubt). Consider how quickly events occur in the first eight episodes:

The squad narrowly escapes Kamino

They try to lay low at Cut and Suu's, but that lasts maybe two days before they are on the run again

The Marauder crashes

It's necessary to find a way to scramble the ship's signature, so they have to make a quick landing on Pantora

Enter Fennec

Well, now they have to find out why a bounty hunter is after Omega

Enter Cid

Cid pretty much immediately starts blackmailing them

They have to do another job for Cid - we don't know exactly how much time passed, but Cid doesn't seem to be one to wait to order the Bad Batch around, especially as this next job reasserts her claim on them.

Rex reappears - we don't know exactly how much time passed here, either, but I would guess Rex sought them out as soon as he was tipped off about them.

(Lest anyone think Tech must have just given up on the chip scanner after the Marauder crashed, remember that he needed comparative data in order to properly use the scanner. I can only imagine how much it must have eaten at Tech to not have any way of finding a source with the necessary data to complete the scanner - especially considering everything else going on - until Rex miraculously showed up.)

So, until reuniting on Bracca, there is precious little time or opportunity for the squad to formulate a plan to get Crosshair back... And then Bracca happens. Here, they are confronted by Crosshair, who responds to genuine pleas to reconsider his stance by hitting them where it hurts: "Aim for the kid." Crosshair then sets things up to literally incinerate them, and they barely make it out alive before being attacked by Cad Bane.

Now, they had seen what the chip had done to Wrecker, true; but Wrecker had previously acknowledged that he understood the chip existed and was willing to have it removed, AND it was squad+Rex against Wrecker (and even then they barely managed to subdue him). Crosshair refused to acknowledge even the possibility of a chip influencing his actions, obviously wasn't willing to have it removed at that point, had never shown any inclination of wanting to rejoin them, and squad+Rex against Crosshair+vast Imperial resources would have been suicide - ESPECIALLY since Crosshair proves time and again that he can predict their moves. There's no way around that.

So what does the squad decide to do? They run. They can't take Crosshair with them, but they aren't going to try to kill him either.

Crosshair remains too well protected for the squad to go after him, but we can see on Hunter's face as the squad leaves Ryloth after peripherally tangling with Crosshair that the situation REALLY doesn't sit well with Hunter.

And yet... WHAT ELSE CAN THEY DO?

So, from Hunter+squad's perspective: as far as they are aware, Crosshair is refusing all offers of help, and trying to go after Crosshair would be suicide. Crosshair can't be rescued if the squad is all dead.

An impasse, then.

ANOTHER FACTOR TO CONSIDER:

But the accusation of disloyalty goes far beyond Crosshair believing the squad left him behind; he sees disloyalty in the fact that they apparently don't share the same views. It's not just a conversation about why/how Crosshair was left behind; it's also an argument over ideology, as Hunter tries to point out the Empire's flaws while Crosshair is determined to remain a soldier with the one purpose he has always known.

And then we reach the climactic revelation: Hunter is trying to convince Crosshair that maybe his views are being controlled by the chip - only for Crosshair to tell Hunter he already knows about it and the chip is gone, AND he won't even tell Hunter when it happened. We can make educated guesses as to when Crosshair's chip was removed, but Hunter has been spending all this time trying to keep everyone else on the squad safe from a fellow brother who is being controlled by an inhibitor chip... only to find out that maybe Crosshair was acting of his own volition for who knows how long. This, I believe, is the point where Hunter started to consider Crosshair as having actually betrayed the Batch.

And no matter when the chip was removed, Crosshair is still convinced that the Empire is the right side, and believes that anyone who won't join the Empire is against him.

So, before the confrontation on Kamino: Crosshair is convinced the squad has abandoned him. Hunter and the squad can't feasibly do anything about it.

During the confrontation on Kamino, we learn that unless the squad is willing to join Crosshair and the Empire, he's going to continue to believe they have disowned him. And the squad will not join the Empire, much as they love Crosshair.

CONCLUSION: Crosshair's and Hunter's perspectives are both equally valid, especially based on what they know and later learn of the other's stance. Hunter rightly points out that wanting different things doesn't mean they have to be enemies; but as long as the rest of the squad members aren't willing to support tyranny enforce order, Crosshair will consider them disloyal to him, since they are opposed to the views he stands by, the views that - at that moment - define him. It will take other perspectives, outside the squad, to shift Crosshair's views (but that's the topic of another essay 😉). In the meantime, having finally had the chance to hear the other's side - even if they don't agree - Crosshair and the Bad Batch separate on at least marginally civil - if strained - terms... Though both still consider the other to be guilty of betraying the ideals of Clone Force 99.

#the bad batch #tbb #star wars #star wars the bad batch #clone force 99 #this is longer than i intended it to be #sorry not sorry #from a certain point of view #tbb hunter #tbb crosshair #tbb analysis #just passing the time until the series finale #by (over)analyzing certain topics #still rooting for a full reunion #i love them all so much

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