#<- skipped once a week for two years and some change. but that's not relevant

[muppetminge]

constantly finding out new insane things about american culture is just one of those things about being online i guess but like i genuinely saw a bunch of real, grown americans throwing a fit about the idea of a high schooler having ~14 days of absence a year and like... please tell you all aren't genuinely like this asdkqeq like that's insane

[tokiro07]

Undead Unluck ch. 140 thoughts

[A Trip Down Memory Lane]

Once again, I’ve misunderstood the timeskip mechanic from 138, the current year is 1999, not 2000. I thought she said “pass” AT 1999, not that that was where she ended up. I also thought she skipped 26 years from 1974, not 1973, but whatever, it was an easy mistake to make. Retroactively this means that the “next tragedy” Fuuko wants to avoid is in 2002, but that doesn’t change the fact that Fuuko was still willing to skip VOID KILLING SOMEONE

Moving on! Three weeks of this point is too many!

Fuuko rushes straight towards one of Autumn’s Juniors to get bit and turned into a book. Nico questions if Fuuko ever has second thoughts about anything, to which Fuuko bluntly responds “never,” which once again illustrates just how much influence Andy has had on her. The moment a thought enters that man’s head he’s already acted on it two seconds prior, and Fuuko has become just as self-assured in her travels. Just like Andy, she knows what she needs to do and does it without hesitation. The key difference, though, is that Andy was always able to do that because he knew he’d be okay no matter what as Undead; Fuuko on the other hand has absolute, unwavering trust in her friends, knowing that they’ll have her back and do whatever they need to to make sure she stays safe. Andy definitely had shades of that too, especially later on, but for him it was a safe bet regardless, while for Fuuko it truly is life or death, so I think it means a lot more for Fuuko to put her faith in others like that especially after being a recluse for so long

In a quick flashback, Fuuko tells Gina that she killed her in the previous Loop. My gut reaction was that Andy killed her, but looking back at it objectively, no, Fuuko definitely did it, she just used Andy as the weapon, throwing his Unluck-charged head into Gina’s barrier to force a Union laser to redirect itself at her. There were several degrees of separation that make it easy to forget, but Fuuko absolutely is responsible. What we the audience think of that, though, isn’t as relevant as what Gina thinks of it, and Fuuko gives Gina the option to come to her own conclusions and do what she will with the information, even abandon Fuuko and the group. I’m sure Fuuko has faith that Gina will choose to help, but at the same time I’m sure that Fuuko would wholeheartedly understand and accept Gina’s decision to leave if she did. Whether she has some kind of contingency for that, I don’t know, but she’s kind of the Luffy type of protagonist; “do what you want, but I know you well enough that I know you’ll want to do what I’m expecting”

Fuuko’s book becomes a tower, though one that’s probably only a few stories tall at most rather than reaching into literal god damn outer space like Andy’s. Naturally, this is because she’s been alive for about 200 years whereas Andy was nearly 500 billion years old at the time. I wonder if one could calculate how much time is crammed into each page based on the height of the book...

Gina finds herself into Fuuko’s memory of their first meeting and notes that Fuuko looks more plump than her current self, likely to reflect that she hadn’t gotten much exercise back then. She also is shocked to see how she looks at 66, not because she hasn’t seemed to age, but because she dresses like a Japanese schoolgirl and finds it cringe, which frankly is hilarious. Speaking of how she dresses, we can see that the previous Gina is wearing her heart-shaped earrings, which she was not actually depicted with in her first appearance! At least, not in her first panel. See, this isn’t a simple continuity error; this is an example of Tozuka’s growth as an artist! If you go back to chapter 5, you’ll notice that Gina’s earrings seem to appear and disappear at random, along with the sketchy and inconsistently thick outlines. The current iteration of this scene is much smoother and keeps the character designs consistent, so it provides a fantastic before-and-after shot. I’m so proud

Gina learns that her previous self died so that Andy could join the Union, but the biggest takeaway for her was that she and Fuuko both loved Andy. While she herself may not recognize Andy, the tragedy of her own death was not lost on her; presumably her speech about not being able to change and the lives she’s taken, as well as Andy’s denial that age had taken her beauty, resonated with the current Gina and allowed her to understand that this was the best outcome that her past self could have hoped for. My question though is what her opinion on Andy is, I wouldn’t be surprised if she finds herself crushing on him when she finally meets him in X-number of chapters. I think that’d be kind of cute, but I’d rather not have a full on love triangle for Fuuko...that said, she does say that Fuuko is as special to her as Andy was to her previous self, sooo...

We cut to the restaurant where Andy made dinner reservations and he and Fuuko mourned Gina, and Gina sees her own ghost sitting at a table watching the two of them. She’s so surprised that she spits out her drink, which naturally is stopped midair before reaching Gina 100. Gina 100 notes that current Gina has freckles and recognizes that she’s her younger self; Gina 100 in Andy’s flashback doesn’t have freckles, so I’m not actually sure if Gina just wore makeup to hide the freckles, if they disappeared as she got older, or if it’s a detail that Tozuka thought of later, but I’m definitely gonna keep an eye out for them in the anime just in case

The fact that Gina 100′s ghost is present even in Fuuko’s memory is really interesting; this implies that the world as a whole exists in its entirety within the context of Autumn’s books, even things that the “main character” isn’t aware of. Not only that, but Ghost wouldn’t be added for at least four more months, so how did Gina’s ghost exist? Well, if you’ll recall, when Shen was dying of donutification, he saw the ghost of his sister Mei. Not only that, but Andy had already learned to control his soul from his time in his own memories, both of which prove that souls and spirits existed PRIOR to the introduction of Ghost. This implies that Ghost’s addition only actually added a “tangible” (for lack of a better word) form to said spirits, but they’ve definitely been present all along

Gina 100 is surprised to learn that Fuuko has become the new leader of the Union, though she doesn’t seem too surprised to hear about the Loop. I imagine this was to truncate the explanation of the Loop since we already know everything about it, it just feels oddly delivered since we know Juiz never told anyone

It’s cute that Gina 100 calls Juiz “Jaunty Justy” though I’m sure in Japanese it’s something like “Jasuto-chan,” as Andy is “Deddo-kun” and I imagine Fuuko’s is “Rakki-chan.” It’s not hard to see her calling everyone something to the effect of “Rule-kun/chan,” but I really like the alliterative translations and I’d like to see more of them. Maybe we’ll get to with the current Gina?

EDIT: Gina is NOT saying -chan or -kun, she is always saying -chin! User tokiro07 has been taken out back and shot for this grievous and obvious mistranslation

Gina 100 refuses to teach the current Gina how to use Unchange as it would be helping Fuuko, her rival in love, but changes her mind when she sees that Fuuko gave the new Gina her old jacket, evidenced by the Love Umbrella embroidered in the lining. Now, you may be wondering: how did Fuuko bring Gina’s Union jacket with her through the Loop? She didn’t have a bag or anything with her when she looped, so where was it? Well, she was wearing a jacket around her waist at the time, which can only mean one thing: the jacket Fuuko has been wearing since she joined the Union in the first place was in fact Gina’s the entire time! I don’t know if this was ever said in an omake or anything, but I certainly never made that connection, so this is a cute and fun revelation for me! Come to think of it, Fuuko was pretty much always wearing it tied around her waist, very rarely wearing it as a jacket if ever, I wonder if that was cus it would have been too baggy on her?

Gina 100 tells Gina that Unchange is controlled through her heart rather than logic; unwavering (or Unchanging) desire to keep things as they are reflects in the world as Unchanging constructs. This is consistent with her profile from volume 2, where she claimed not to understand the logic behind her own ability and instead just focused on what she wanted to accomplish. As always, I love Tozuka’s sense of consistency

As I joked about earlier, Gina says that Fuuko is someone special to her, though apparently as a friend. Gina 100 says their friendship will remain forever unchanged, but I don’t know, I’d appreciate it if it changed into something more. I know it won’t, but I’ll cling to whatever poly-rep I can find, dammit!

Back in the real world, Nico dives to protect Ichico from Autumn, which I’m willing to bet will contribute to their burgeoning romance (especially helpful since they’re scheduled to have a daughter pretty soon). However, this proves unnecessary, as Gina returns with her Unchange back to its former glory, holding off Autumn with two Unchanging air hands, as seen by the rain. Once again, nice forethought on Tozuka’s part; it was already raining when the group arrived to fight Autumn, and while at first it may seem like it was for dramatic effect, it was actually for this moment so we could see the fruits of Gina’s little adventure!

Our final panel sees Gina making an expression much closer to what we’re used to from her predecessor, her eyes sharpened with confidence and conviction. I’m extremely glad that we finally get a bit of an arc for Gina, I was so sad that she was removed from the story so early on when her power and dynamic with Andy and Fuuko were all so interesting. I’ve been looking forward to this ever since I realized that this was a timeloop story, but I never thought it would go this well. Gina was always interesting, but I think this chapter has made her one of my favorite characters. That said, I think pretty much everyone’s backstory chapters have done that so far. The flashbacks are always just so good, honestly, everyone is so endearing in this series

Can’t wait for Tozuka to actually make me like Void in a few weeks

[calpalsworld]

How Zane Julien Dies

Zane, identifying so strongly with his humanity and his memories, of course, would live, so long as he kept them. But as an android, years went on and on, stretching far past the death of all the other ninja, sans Lloyd and Pixal. His first friends' passing, in the grand scheme, would ultimately feel akin to the time he took his first steps, or spoke his first words. Zane would gain and lose many more friends who he loved, of course. But the ninja would hold a special place in his head. Zane would live past many many more of his own deaths as well, but in some way or another, his soul would always linger, and he would be rebuilt. Eventually, Zane wouldn't be able to hold all his memories at once. He's used to making backups. He starts to make an archive of himself, beginning with a small computer he keeps in his childhood home -- the tree where his father built him. Eventually, the structure that was his home weathers away, but he builds a new one, expanding the underground facility. He visits once a year, like viewing tapes on a special holiday. He has so many memories: late night conversations, treks across the realms, going out to watch a movie. His dear moments can't all fit on one hard drive. No, it is like a server room, computers upon computers hosting memories while preventing their deterioration. Sometimes, Zane talks to Lloyd and Pixal and brings up old times. After their conversations, he visits his archive more often to confirm the details his two old friends have forgotten. He feels those memories again full force, laughing with his friends who have passed on, hugging them and fighting at their sides. Its comforting. He starts visiting once a week, struggling to keep decamilliniums of memories straight, until eventually he becomes reclusive. He only sends out an occasional message. One per year. Just to make sure his friends know he's not dead. Hes very much not, recalling his past adventures. But eventually, there is a skip, a spike of uncomfortableness. Something that cannot be right. Every now and then, errors appear in the sensations of his archived memories. After a decade of the errors' first appearance, they become so frequent that he cant ignore them. The computers need maintenance. They are old, and Zane has forgot how to do it on his own. He manages to tells Pixal where he is, requesting her help. Zane was always in tune with nature, and now Pixal sees him in tune with a reality made of the past. Pixal, after almost forgetting where she had come from, after almost forgetting Cyrus, after staying up to date, still relevant in the changing world, looks back. Staring into the bottomless pit of memories, she almost gets lost, like a kid in a toy store. Many of them are moments she had shared with Zane, and they make them both happy. They have fun reliving them together. But she isn't afraid to pull away, to see that Zane's body is deteriorating, his projection of faux skin malfunctioning, the titanium structure underneath breaking off in chunks. She notices the walls sagging under the pressure of changing tectonic plates. The Birchwood Forest is not geographically where it used to be. Ninjago is not shaped like it used to be. Pixals body is pristine, flexible and multi-function, but almost organic. Made of energy, minimal minerals, and held together by will. She was never one to shy away from change. She could be anything -- an android, a program in someone elses head, an AI system, an innovation, a soul, a concept. But she knew Zane was very, very afraid of that, frozen, focused elsewhere. She can't bring herself to tear him away. Finally, Pixal accepts that something has to be done, and asks Lloyd for help. Lloyd too has become different over the course of time. Adapting to the new world, Lloyd has changed form by choice to look less human. But still, even detached from his archive, Zane recognizes the embrace of his two old friends, and knows they want to help him. Through gentle patience, the two are able to remove Zane from the facility. Not long after, just a month, seeming like a blink of an eye to Zane, the memory storage collapses, and Zane grieves his past self. He aches. But being in the natural world again, no matter how different from how it once was, feels good, too. Lloyd and Pixal help him recall what its like to be in the present. Although rusty, awkward, Zane starts to meet new people again, and feels time pass day by day. Thinking about the future he will inevitably experience, Zane is still scared. As time will become uncountable and the laws of reality will change, he is scared to become something with less humanity, less familiar. But he will have time to grow past that fear, to grow into someone new. It came naturally, the fact that Zane could no longer remember his past. But sometimes, he feels a special warmth in his chest. A nostalgia that he can't remember the meaning of, but he finds it completely familiar.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hi!

I'm here for a pretty stupid thing actually but I've always found it annoying to do: summaries for fics. I never know how much is too little, how much is too much, or if what I'm putting is going to make people think “wow this sounds interesting” or “wow what a shit, keep scrolling”

Do you think it is better to make a summary as such, or include some lines from the story? Idk, any advice would be appreciated

Thanks for taking your time to read!

Hugss🥰

Hey Nonny!! *HUGS*

Ah, the bane of all writers... the blasted summary to describe your story in as little words as possible to get people interested. The LITERAL very last thing you have to do on a story. Always a fun time.

And it's daunting and can feel very overwhelming, because, just like in advertising (my professional background), you have a TINY window to grasp people's attention and make them WANT to click on your fic to read. As an avid reader of fanfic, I do have my own preferences on what I look for... but as a professional, I think I can offer some wisdom in this part here, for a change. PLEASE KNOW that this is different for EVERYONE! These are just some things I picked up in my 20 years in advertising, and applying it to – what is essentially – a "classifieds" board for stories.

Attention-Grabbing Title – Not PERTINENT, but the average reader is more likely to continue reading what you have to offer if your headline is interesting. Even one word ones can grab attention. Something whimsical or metaphorical to your story is always a winner.

Short and Concise Description / Call to Action – One to two sentences is an average attention span before someone gets bored and moves on to the next post. You need to entice someone into reading MORE of your summary in those first two sentences, if you have a long summary. Start your summary with the subject of the story. ie. "John has a problem: he's well hung." That example right there will entice someone to read your summary further.

Grammar Check your Summary – BECAUSE the summary is a representation of what's to come in your story, make sure you get that summary spell-checked or beta'd with your beta. It's a small thing, but it can help bring people in, and especially if you're trying to appeal to a language that you're unfamiliar with. Your beta can even help you refine the summary so it's more attention-grabbing.

Rate Your Story – "Not Rated" stories have a lesser chance of being read than something rated. Doesn't matter what it is, just put a rating there. At least, if people are doing a ratings filter, then you will show up in a search result.

If You're Writing a WiP, State the status of your story at the end of your summary. Many people such as myself don't want to start a WiP without the certainty that it will be done. Stating something like "Story is finished, new chapter every Friday" is a GREAT way to get engagement on your story, AND generate excitement and buzz for it from the day-oners. THEY are your advertisers. A LOT of people like the suspense of a week-to-week model... it's why syndicated television is still alive! A lot of our Fandom authors do their stories this way, working on chapters weeks in advance while posting chapters "approved". It gives YOU time to write and proof, while also having a Live / Active WiP Story that will keep people coming back.

So yeah, those are some tips from an advertising standpoint.

As a reader, though, my PERSONAL interest in a fic is based solely on these 4 things:

The Ship Tags – use "/" (slash for Slash-fiction) for romantic and sexual relationships, and "&" for platonic/friendships or non-sexual relationships. I, for a fact, DO filter stories by the ship tags FIRST, so I'm sure other people do too. Make sure that you use them.

The Story Tags – Ao3 has spoiled us with these!... List relevant tags, tropes, Universes, and genres that pertain to your story... these are what help get your story found in the search algorithm. Don't write "tumblr-style tags" (ie. "this story took way too long") into this field. It is a big turn off for many people (myself included), AND it fucks with the Ao3 search results. Use author notes or descriptions to write your Tumblr-style musings! The tags should ONLY contain content within your story that may appeal to people OR help trigger/content warn against stuff. Yes, I understand that many authors poo-poo on "spoilers in tags", but in all the years I have been reccing fics, I have NEVER ONCE been told that people don't like how meticulous I tag everything I rec. A LOT of people will use those tags to filter OUT stuff that they personally can't read or don't like. Apart from the summary, the Tags are VERY important, AND it can help you come up with a more interesting and short summary that doesn't need to be descriptive. Use the suggested tags that Ao3 offers when you start typing – these are tags, I believe, that have been used frequently on the site.

The Summary – I KNOW it is legit the worst thing to have to come up with, but your story has a higher chance of being read if you stick to writing a concise summary as I've pointed out above. Some people also may choose to use an interesting blurb from their stories as a preview, which some DON'T like, but it's honestly better than nothing. I know for a fact that I have skipped over stories that don't have SOMETHING in the summary box NOR any tags. I know this isn't what you want to hear, Lovely, but put something here, even if it's just "A literal fuck-tonne of porn without plot" (I give authors permission to steal that pun, LOL).

WiP or Not – This is one of those "gamble" things. As I mentioned above, some authors do a week-to-week advanced model for their story chapters, while others "post each chapter when done". The latter tends to wind up with stories in limbo. PERSONALLY, I don't read WiP's for the simple fact that I get confused REALLY easily on plot lines when I do – I like reading one whole story in one go. But PLEASE don't take this as the golden end-all/be-all. This is a personal preference, since I read a LOT of fics and I have very little time these days to do it. Some people love WiPs. A good way to indicate that you have a story plotted out, but is NOT a week-to-week model? Add the Chapter count, rather than leaving it as "?". People are more likely to follow your WiP WITH a chapter count, since it gives the illusion that you have a rough draft written out and you know how long it will be.

So yeah! I hope this helped you out a bit, Nonny. Sorry it's so long, but I thought with how long I've been reading fics and with how picky I am with fics, these tips would be helpful for you. Again, at the end of the day, it's ALWAYS up to personal preferences of the readers. And don't take it personally if you can't "get an audience" right away. Just be yourself, write because you LOVE writing, and you will have a fruitful and enjoyable time publishing your story!

If any experienced authors in the fandom want to add their two cents from a WRITER'S perspective, please do! <3

[gureishi]

I'm the same anon who asked!

Could you talk about Saeran? It doesn't need to be detailed or NSFW, I'm good with anything, I just want to know more about your headcanons!

Hello again lovely anon! ♡

Oops aaaand once again (no surprise, I know): it’s long. I just wanna preface this one with a couple things:

1. There are quite a few Certified Saeran Simps on this site who truly know him much better than I do. Take whatever I say with a grain of salt—I’m no expert!

2. I’m also not an expert on DID! Which isn’t the focus of these HCs, but is obviously relevant. I read lots of books! About brains n stuff! But please never hesitate to tell me if I describe something poorly.

3. I wrote for the AS timeline here but if you want me to talk about SE Saeran or Unknown tell me and you know I will <3

Tw: discussion of childhood abuse, neglect, and subsequent trauma symptoms

Saeran’s body headcanons

A child who grows up the way Saeran did—kept indoors, often physically restrained, and sometimes starved—is not going to develop in a healthy way. There’s a reason why, even as an adult, Saeran is a full 2 cm shorter than his identical twin: he never gets the nutrition and exercise that kids need in order to grow.

We know that his mother uses his sickliness as an excuse to keep him indoors: but was he born sickly, or is he sick and weak because he’s been malnourished and kept from running or playing or interacting with other children? He breathes stale, dry air all day; he’s living on mostly white bread, and not always at regular intervals (plus whatever sweets his brother can steal for him from the outside world). He is not well.

Child Saeran never learns any sports or games. He doesn’t learn how to play with other children, or tie his shoes, or make himself a snack. Adult Saeran doesn’t know how to skip—you’ll have to teach him.

If the twins didn’t have each other, neither one of them would have survived.

And as we know, the neglect that Saeran endures worsens tenfold after Saeyoung leaves. Any glimpses he was getting of the outside world—sneaking out when their mother was unconscious, getting whatever snacks and books Saeyoung could gather for him at church—are cut off.

I’m not gonna tell you when the alters appear, because I am by no means an expert on DID. From studies I’ve read, I can say that typically alters become manifest after a “traumatic turning point” (which is not necessarily the “worst” trauma endured, but simply a particularly salient traumatic experience). It’s definitely possible that the alters emerge in late childhood, while he is still in the house with his mother.

When Saeran is taken from his mother’s home by Rika and V, he is (needless to say) not in good shape. He is painfully skinny, extremely malnourished, and very weak. He still has his red hair and golden eyes, but already he is looking less and less like his brother: his cheeks are hollow and his eyes are dull. 

There is a brief period of time, before his “cleansing” (Oh god. We’ll get there), where he is reasonably well cared for. For the first time in his life, he is eating meals—and he is getting to bathe regularly, and he is getting his hair cut and combed. He still believes, at this time, that he’ll be reunited with his brother. And he is going outside! He is learning how the grass feels between his toes and how the sky looks through clear eyes.

As we know: this doesn’t last.

The elixir is a truly horrifying combination of hallucinogenic substances. No human could consume this cocktail of drugs repeatedly and feel well: and Saeran is already physically weak, and severely underweight. The fact that he survives as long as he does under these conditions is a miracle.

We know that he is being tortured at this time, too: physically as well as emotionally. Saeran has scars, like his brother; while Saeyoung has lots and lots of tiny scars all over his body, Saeran has larger, more distinct scars: perhaps on his wrists, and his throat, and his ankles.

It is around this time that his eyes and hair change. The means by which this happens is incredibly vague in-game, and everyone’s individual HCs are valid. My personal belief is this: he dyes his own hair—first, in a frenzied, desperate attempt to stop seeing his brother looking back at him from the mirror. He keeps dying it because Rika approves: and he never does a good job, and it’s rough and fried, and that “pink” at the bottom? Just the red showing through his patchy dye job.

As for his eyes: I personally believe they change as a result of the elixir. If they were contacts, I don’t think that GE Saeran would necessarily still wear them—and in every timeline, he has those startling blue-green eyes.

The alters take care of the body in different ways.

Ray does not feed himself. He lives on caffeine pills and sweets (and, of course, the concoction of drugs that he’s being fed in increasingly large amounts). The body becomes even skinner when Ray is fronting. And he bites his nails and fingers—brutally, so they are chapped and cut and scarred. But Ray goes outside, and he works in the garden under the sun: his body is getting some form of exercise: and this is good for his lungs, and invigorates his weak, tired muscles.

Ray also takes care of his appearance—something Saeran never did before. He brushes and styles his hair; he dresses himself carefully in the clothes Rika has picked for him; he covers himself in beautiful scents so that he is more appealing to you.

When Suit is fronting, he wants to strip his body of anything that reminds him of Ray. So he styles his hair differently (but still: he is styling it), and he tries desperately to wash the scent of Ray off his skin. He doesn’t feed himself, either—but, if any of the alters are trying to become physically strong, it is Suit (of course). I’m certain that the Believers have a workout regime they’re supposed to be following; maybe Suit even does it (on his own, of course, in secret). He knows he needs to be able to protect himself—and he needs to feel powerful.

When you meet Ray, you don’t notice right away just how poorly he is doing. Rika has intentionally dressed him in a way that hides just how bony he is—and he wears those little gloves, of course, so you don’t see his ravaged fingers. But it doesn’t take long to catch on: he is so skinny you could almost blow him away, and there are dark shadows under his eyes, and he doesn’t sound like he’s taken a deep breath in years.

By the time you meet Suit, you already know the state their body is in: malnourished and weak. Ray cooked for you, but you wish you could cook for all of them; and even when Suit is starving you (in other words: reenacting the very abuse that was dealt to him in childhood), you wish you could wrap him in a big blanket and feed him a bowl of soup.

The Saeran that escapes Magenta with you—GE Saeran: the fusion of Ray and Suit (or a new alter, depending on what you believe)—has never made a single choice for himself in his whole life, until this moment. He never got to pick his own clothes, or what he would eat (if he ate at all), or how he would speak, or what he would do. Running away with you is the first real choice he has ever made—and no wonder this is pivotal and transformative for him.

The AE doesn’t portray the timeline of healing in a realistic way. After two weeks, we see GE Saeran so much healthier, both physically and mentally. And yes: two weeks of eating real food and sleeping in a bed make a difference: we see him with fuller cheeks and brighter eyes.

But what the game doesn’t address is the withdrawal he likely endures when he stops taking the elixir, which is full of substances that are both dangerous and addictive. It doesn’t address the time it takes to build up muscle mass, and get accustomed to healthy sleeping and eating habits, and to begin to heal from years and years of repeated trauma.

GE Saeran doesn’t heal right away, because healing doesn’t work that way. It’s not linear, or straightforward, or simple, or beautiful. It’s slow, and sometimes it’s painful.

But he does heal.

A Saeran who is in love with you is soft, and patient, and willing to put in the months and years (a lifetime!) of hard work to heal his body and his heart. You’ll get to watch as the dark circles under his eyes disappear, and his cheeks become less hollow, and his body grows stronger as he cooks (with you, and for you) and eats real meals and learns to run in the grass the way he never did before. He’ll make a garden, and you’ll get to see how he looks with sun on his face, his eyes clear as the sky as he gazes up at you—smiling.

You can show him how to moisturize his dry lips and cracked hands; you can help him pick out clothes he likes to wear; and you will learn how to support him when his memories haunt him.

And you can hold him: this beautiful, small, soft man, with his thin shoulders and scarred fingers. He’ll close his eyes and you’ll taste the sun on his skin as you kiss his eyelashes. He smells of earth and sky; he loves you with all the power of the universe.

[flowerwrites06]

blossoms and blood finale — jjk

Plot: Two lovers are ripped apart in the name of duty.

Pairing(s): Prince/King!Jungkook x Princess/Queen!OC (Name: Belle)

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Word Count: 5k

Genre: Royal | Angst | Smut

Tags & Warnings: violence, angst, explicit smut, blood

Authors Note: I know a couple of you wanted this so I hope you like!

Pungent scent of medicated potions lingered in the air of the Queens’ bedroom as it now transformed itself into a makeshift home clinic. The royal physician Taehyung sat on the edge of the bed while Jungkook lay on the soft surface, half conscious. White cloth pressed against the males’ forehead, sweat beads gathered around his temples. Every breath he took trembled as light whines emitted at each weak heave.

Belle stood near one of the pillars of her bed, concern twisting her features even though she tried her to keep her composure. As far as everyone was concerned, she still had an arranged marriage with Hoseok. So an air of calmness had to stretch across her face.

Taehyung hooked a fingers on the bandage, letting a light sigh as he did. A patch of red soak through the bandage already. “It’s a surface wound. They will heal in a week or two.” He turned to face the Queen, hands placed on his lap.

“Thank you, Taehyung.” Belle crossed her arms over her chest. Scrubbing sounds made her ears prick up. The maids spend most of the morning getting rid of the blood stains on the floor. “I expected to have enemies…” Her tone rung solemn.

“It’s the side effect of bringing a lot of people together. Powerful but often prone to differences.” Taehyung answered in a plain tone as he packed his things back into his satchel. A few glasses clinked inside of it while he hung it gently over his shoulder. “Let me know if there are any abnormal changes.”

Her eyes were still fixated on Jungkook. How his chest rose and fell, a film of sweat covering his body all the while his features contorting. Anything but a peaceful sleep. Quickly Belle met Taehyungs’ gaze and nodded. “Yes of course.”

The physician padded closer and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry yourself too much, Your Majesty. King Jungkook is known for surviving many battles. This is but a scratch.”

A scratch she should have received. Not him. Belle stayed silent and gave him a faint smile before he walked out of the room.

Minutes later, the maids also bowed down and excused themselves from her chambers as the room now had a faint flowery smell from the cleaning supplies. Apparently a few people had been concocting liquid that gave off a more pleasant smell after cleaning rather than the rancid one she remembered as a child.

Silence overcame the room as Belle was left to watch Jungkook struggling to keep still from the troubles in his weary mind. She knew the male had always been prone to dreadful nightmares considering the amount of battles he fought in from a young age. Fingers itched to comfort him. A more sensible part of her yelled not to dive too deep into this weakening state. But the part that wished she took the hit instead of him spoke a different story. She padded closer to the edge of the bed and sat down.

Pulling the wet cloth away from his forehead, Belle dipped it back into the basin of water placed on the nightstand. She lifted the heavy piece and squeezed out the excess before carefully resting it back on his warm head. Taehyung left the tray of simple tools over next to the bed. Grabbing another cloth the woman softly patted away the film of sweat on his bare torso.

She could still make out the faint traces of scars from previous battles. One stab wound right in the middle, the faint camel toned mark leftover. Scratch marks from a war tiger on his chest looking far less threatening than she recalled. Belle could still see how proud he looked having a mark of a glorious creature on his skin as if it were a sign of good luck. Then the newest addition. Bandaged and slightly soaking through with fresh blood.

Even to this day, Jungkook took a terrible wound somehow and still breathed. Taehyung wasn’t wrong in saying that he suffered far worse than this but the tug in her belly never changed. She still had to look at him in this manner. Breathing uneven and a pained expression across the features she loved so much.

Then Belle’s gaze caught something glimmering around Jungkooks’ neck. A plain silver necklace wrapped around his neck a little too tightly. Gently she pulled at the chain to fix it up and felt a larger object dangling from it just behind his jawline. Brows furrowed, Belle carefully brought the pendant back to the front of his chest and her heart skipped a few beats.

Breath caught in her throat as her shaking thumb brushed over the blossom design. It still shone so bright after all these years, capturing a simplistic beauty of a shy warriors’ gesture of love. Thick tears flooded at the brim of her eyes. The last time she saw this it had been drowning in a puddle of her mothers’ blood. Now as if a ghost of the past came back to haunt her, she had the ring in her hand. Reminding her of just that. It was the past.

Something she could never fix. The only she could fix was the future.

Belle looked over at Jungkooks’ half-conscious form, lips trembling. “You have to wake up for me.” She whispered, caressing his glowing cheek. “You have to be okay.” Tears trickled down her face as she leaned in and pressed a soft kiss at the corner of his lips.

The door clicked open. “Your Majesty?” Seokjins’ voice rung through the room.

Belle hurriedly wiped away the wetness from her cheeks and took a deep breath. Standing up from the bed, she clasped her fingers together, standing as professionally as she could. “Yes?”

Seokjin stood near the door, glancing over at Jungkooks’ form before looking at her again. “I have some important news.”

She looked over her shoulder for a moment checking if the male didn’t change in his demeanor. “Okay.” Belle addressed walking out of the room despite feeling utterly disquiet about leaving Jungkook alone.

-

Leaving a small crack in the door, Belle turned to face the Prince with as much as of a calm expression as she could muster. Although her eyes were still reddened and her posture a little deflated. “What kind of news?” She continued the conversation in a small voice so it would not echo too much against the walls of the hallway.

Seokjin glanced over his shoulder at the four guards now stationed near the Queens’ chambers. Their expression blank as per usual but they both knew their ears now stood sharper than ever for any strange sign. Facing Belle again, he spoke under his breath. “I started asking around about the incident and what might have allowed the assailant to get this far into your chambers.”

Curiosity piqued, she straightened up. “And?”

“A few servants…” He side glanced possibly at the guards once again. “They saw King Hoseok conversing with the guards and handing them a jug of something. The guards that were supposed to posted last night were found unconscious.”

Belle took a deep breath feeling a rush of heat burst through her body hearing that name. She wanted to be extremely shocked by the whole ordeal but admittedly Hoseok had been welcomed with open arms to cause whatever secret havoc he needed to. Of course he’d take it in a heartbeat. “Was the assailant one of his men?”

“Well, no...” Seokjin leaned on the wall beside him. “…he was one of ours.”

The Queen averted her gaze, hardly any shock spread across her features. “Not really ours, was he?” Not everyone could be elated about her taking over all those kingdoms. Last night now became a painful reminder of that notion.

Seokjin sighed. “There’s one other thing.” His voice rung lower. “While the scene was being investigated they found a potion spilled on the floor. I asked for them to get a sample.”

Belle could vaguely remember the assailant holding something over her but the events just after waking up replayed in a fuzzy manner. “What was it?”

“According to the potions master, it’s an elixir to get douse someone’s willpower. For a small amount of hours of course.” He lifted a shoulder.

“Long enough to sign any contract.”

“Or make any public announcement that he wants you to make.”

The more evidence came to light, the more Belle knew Hoseok was not a man of change if it meant he needed to change. It only became relevant when things were moving his way. Poor traits of a King but also fooled when turned around, she thought.

“Should we organize an arrest?”

“No.” She shook her head. “Not yet.”

Seokjins’ brows furrowed searching her expression. On a normal day, an execution or exile would have been organized at most but he noticed a rare glint in her eye. “What did you want to do?”

Belle met the Princes’ eyes. “King Hoseok isn’t fully aware of the aftermath, I’m assuming.”

“No he isn’t.”

“Perhaps we can deal with this situation on more familiar grounds to the Sun King.” Chin raised, the glint in her gaze became clearer now. A sense of mischief and manipulation for the traitor King. Any monarch with a strong will to do his bidding loved hearing things that benefit him somehow. Even if it was a bold-faced lie.

The Prince couldn’t help but have a tiny smile tug at his pillowy lips. “I’m sure that can arranged, Your Majesty.”

She nodded. “Good.”

-

Large mat laid out on the grounds of the royal garden, dark mahogany floor table placed in the middle as Queen Belle sat on one side and Sun King Hoseok on the other. Colorful rice cakes centering the two cups of auburn tinted tea, light wafts of steam still flowing up from it. The maid neatened up Belle’s dress train around her for comfort. Golden dress with meshed sleeves adorned in rich floral patterns and pink flowers around the borders of her straight neckline. Colours of the Queens’ dress contrasted beautifully amongst the pinks and purples of the garden and matched pleasantly with Hoseok sky blue ensemble.

From afar they may have looked like the perfect royal couple despite the light twinge of disgust at the back of Belle’s mind, knowing just what kind of a person she was betrothed to. “I’m not sure if you’ve heard. There was an attack in the palace last night.”

Hoseok had been taking a careful sip of tea when she spoke. He hummed in response, placing the tea back onto the table before nodding. “I did hear King Jungkook got injured. Has he been recovering well?” The man was talented in playing the saint. Every conqueror had to, after all, try to convince everyone that what they were doing was good hearted to prevent any revolution.

“He is. It’s a surface wound so he’ll be ready for trial.” Belle picked her cup, blowing onto it gently before taking a small sip only enough to disappear on her tongue and barely reach her throat.

“Trial?” His brows furrowed.

“Well a few servants saw him wandering around the hallways during the attack. It’s a classic move.” Belle took one of the smaller rice cakes and bit into it carefully.

Hoseok searched the Queens’ expression with an air of interest, leaves rustling a little against the day breeze. “You think maybe he tried to plant himself as an innocent bystander?” He stated rather than asked. Truthfully he never expected her to blame him so easily but it was understandable considering their dark history.

“Of course he did.” She placed the half bitten rice cake back on her plate. “Sending a servant to do his dirty work was already in poor taste as it were.”

The corner of his lip twitched as he tried to keep a neutral face while the Queen insulted his tactics. No, Jungkooks’ tactics. “That’s true.” Hoseok spoke through a slightly tightened jaw. “Usually professional assassins are chimed in for those situations.”

“Right.” Belle smiled. “If you ever think of assassinating me during our marriage, please do send your best.” She mused.

Hoseok let out an almost forced chuckle. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Anyway he’ll be held on trial as soon as he’s awake. Then that kingdom is as good as ours.” A bright grin graced the Queens’ features.

“I can see why you’re the most feared Queen in our land.” Hoseok chuckled.

“Are you afraid of me?”

“What fun is life without a little fear, yes?”

Belle hummed in agreement.

-

Candles lit to welcome the night. Another fresh bandage now wrapped around Jungkooks’ shoulder. Belle had a significant rush of relief watching the male breath in calm patterns with his face relaxed from any nightmare induced contorts. He looked relieved from pain. She stood near her vanity as one maid folded up some used clothes and stuffed them into the hamper.

Her hair now completely open from any pins, she could finally let the tightening headache pass from the release. Fluffing through the locks the Queen turned to smile at the maid as she bowed and walked out of the room with the hamper rested on her hip.

Once the door closed, Belle relaxed in the comforting silence of her bed chambers for the night as she sat on the empty side of her bed.

During the early years of her reign she remembered breaking down on the floor. When all the eyes were off her and the young Queen was left to her lonesome, dark thoughts and painful memories sunk right into her very core. It overwhelmed every vein and limb to a point where a maid sometimes found Belle sleeping on the floor. Namjoon caught her in that state more times that she would like to admit. He would immediately carry her back to bed without speaking of it again for her comfort.

Recalling that vulnerable version of herself in the past, Belle felt a slight twinge of accomplishment that she could sit in her chambers with pride. Not grief or heartbreak.

Except one thing had been left unresolved as of late. She turned to see Jungkook stirring, a long drawling sigh passing through his nose. Belle shifted closer as her hand caressed his forehead to help him relax. She pushed back his long locks watching him slowly flicker his eyes open.

Vision blurred as Jungkook finally stirred awake, the room slowly materializing around him. He relished in a familiar warm touch on his forehead causing a hum under his breath. When his gaze turned over to the side, he felt an immediate rush of comfort seeing Belle’s face. For so long the man had been dreaming of waking up to see her every morning only to find an empty space beside him.

Now every piece of his damaged body and mind calmed as if a long held wish came true. “You’re here.” Jungkook whispered in a rasp, clearing his dried throat.

Belle smiled before nodding. “I’m here.”

With a light grunt, the male tried to push himself up before a hot flash of pain caused him to drop down again. “Shit.” He hissed.

Belle placed a hand at back of his neck, helping him lift up gently before adjusting the pillows so he could sit up comfortably. His back now rested on against the soft headboard. She reached out to the nightstand and grabbed a cup of water.

Jungkooks’ eyes partially closed as his body tingled, getting used to the new position after lying down for who knows how long. A few seconds passed and he felt something cold touch his lips.

“It’s water.”

The word immediately caused his parched lips to part. Refreshing, cool liquid gracing his tongue and dampening his throat while the heaviness in his head slowly lightened. A light hum emitted from under Jungkook’s breath as he swallowed down the nourishment. Even as the cup emptied, he kept suckling on for more.

Pulling the cup away, she gave him a faint smile. “I’ll get some more.” Before Belle could climb out of the bed however Jungkook quickly used his good arm to hold onto hers.

“Stay. Please.” He let out a relaxed sigh, mind clearing in almost minutes.

The Queen looked at the male over her shoulder before nodding. She placed the cup back onto the nightstand and sat next to him, body facing him completely. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like I just got slashed on the chest with a sword.” Jungkook chuckled weakly. Licking his lips, his gaze fixated on the woman before memories of last night began sinking in. “Are you hurt?” Instinctively, he reached out to touch her hand. Thought of consequences seemed to bury itself somewhere deep under his weak state.

Belle shook her head with a reassuring smile. “Thanks to you.” She gulped down. “You didn’t have to do that though.”

“No one has to risk their life for someone.” His lips curled up. “But I’ll always want to for you.”

“That’s not comforting.” She frowned. “How did you think I was going to feel if you died protecting me?” Belle’s brows furrowed as the freshly lingering memories of last nights’ events now burst in harsh colours around them. She could almost still feel his blood between her fingers as it soaked through her robe.

“Belle…” He whispered, the grip on her hand tightening. “It’s what I do. I’m a soldier, remember?”

“You’re not just a solider and you know that.” Her voice cracked heavier at every word, eyes growing glossy. “You’re a King, all those people are looking up to you.” She nodded towards the door. “You can’t just come back to me after so long and then leave me alone again, it hurts.” Belle hung her head, swallowing the painful lump in her throat. She never thought after all these years, seeing Jungkook hurt brought her the same deep sorrow it always did. “The last thing I said to you was I don’t love you.”

Jungkook blinked slowly, lips twitching a little. “I know.” He whispered.

Belle let out a shaky sigh, eyes flickered up to meet his glossy gaze. “I-I didn’t mean—” She shook her head looking down at their hands connected. Caressing the top of his hand, she brought it up to her cheek. Warmth from his palm radiated to her skin.

He felt a rush of comfort touching her again. The distant broken visions of their past now hitting him like a bag of rocks to his chest. It’s been so long. Too long. How he survived without her touch for so many years. Unable to bear the distance, Jungkook leaned in, nose nudging on hers affectionately.

Heart raced out of her ribcages as her free hand came up to softly caress the side of his neck. Belle slid closer until their lips brushed. Thick heat tingled through her limbs feeling those familiar lips again.

As soon as their twin flesh touched, Jungkook took her bottom lip and suckled lightly. The faintest tinge of sweet berry still lingering on it intoxicating him further than he already was. A buzz swirled around his head. He wound his good arm around her waist, pulling her close against his body.

Hum emitting under her breath, Belle shifted as he held her, one leg swinging over so she straddled him. She felt his tongue slip through her teeth. Jaw slacked, she let him explore her mouth while her soft dress rode up, exposing her thighs.

Jungkooks’ hand snuck under the hem of her dress, nails grazing down the soft skin causing a tingle down Belle’s spine. Further and further he moved until he reached the swell of her ass. Instinctively, he kneaded the bouncy flesh.

Feeling the firm squeeze, Belle swayed her hips against his feeling something hardening between his legs. She felt the males’ grip tighten at every grind.

Jungkook broke the kiss moving his flushed lips down to her jawline. A flowery scent from the day lurked from the back of her ear as he nibbled on the lobe. His hands continued to push her dress up until the long skirt bunched at her waist. Her whole lower body now left exposed while she rubbed against his growing tent.

The more Belle grinded her bare core against the bulge, the more she could wetness soaking the thin fabric. Sloppy sounds slowly floating in the thickening air of long suppressed pleasure. A light moan croaked from her throat when she brushed onto a particular sensitive spot.

Pausing his small kisses, the male stared up at the beauty watching her features twist elegantly as she relished in the tiny waves of ecstasy passing through her. Jungkook could come undone just staring at that tiny smile appearing whenever Belle felt the right surge. Fingers dug into her hips, guiding them back and forth until his pants were practically drenched with both their arousals.

Belle met his hazy eyes, brushing their noses again before locking their lips into another heated kiss. Tongue almost immediately danced together as her hips grew relentless in its movements. She felt bundled area of heat collecting around her lower belly and shivering through her thighs causing a drawling hum to vibrate into the kiss. “I want you.” She mumbled breathily, their lips still barely connected.

Lightly groaning from the constricted heat around his crotch, Jungkook latched one of his hands off her hips and fumbled with his pants. He pushed it down far enough down to his knees before shifting it to his ankles and kicking it aside. His length now sprung free already twitching as if it could sense her heat.

She reached down and wrapped her fingers around the base of his cock, lightly squeezing.

Jungkook hissed lightly as his other hand scratched down her thigh. He pulled at the hem of her dress over her head and threw it to the side. Wrapping both his arms around her waist, he dipped down to suckle on one of her nipples.

Belle threw her head back relishing the light tickles of pleasure from his tongue flicking at her erect nubs. She looked down at him pressing wet kisses on the valley of her breasts before traveling up to her neck. Affectionately, her fingers brushed through his cold hair. Her hips jerked a little feeling his teeth sink into the sweet spot of her neck, sucking until it made her head spin around in circles.

Impatience slowly creeping in, Belle raised herself a little causing Jungkook to softly detach from her neck and watch her ministrations. She positioned her dripping heat at the tip of his length carefully sinking down. A burning tinge of pain and mix of pleasure concocted in the bubbling reactions of her body.

He couldn’t help the deep groan vibrating in his throat when he felt her snug walls wrapped firmly around his cock to the point of near suffocation. If she moved too quick, Jungkook could have embarrassingly spurted in seconds. Nails dented the skin of her hips as his dark orbs watched his Queen adjust to his size. His whole body shivered a little seeing himself disappeared completely inside her.

Belle could feel the tip of his cock shyly brushing against her sweet spot causing a thick waft of pleasure to shoot through her. The ache from her stretched walls subsided, drowning in her desperate need to feel him again. She began with slow thrusts, grinding up and down to let the tip tease her spot at every move. One hand cupped at the back of his neck while the other gripped at his inner thigh. Hair curled over her face as the heat curdled around her lower belly, exuding through her skin in a light film of sweat.

Jungkook admired her little movements in awe, eyes near pitch black from lust. The deep friction from the patterned swaying caused his breathing to lose all control. Sounds of her cunt getting drenched by the second, squelching a little as she ground their hips together. Looking down, he saw the skin of his cock glistening more and more as she moved.

She bent her knees, pressing her feet against the soft bed as Jungkook wrapped an arm around her waist. Writhing bodies now stuck together, Belle gripped onto one of the ridges of the headboard to keep some of her balance. With an almost dizzying ease she began bouncing up and down his length. The new position allowed for stronger pressure on that tingling spot inside her while her clit rubbed against Jungkooks’ lower belly.

Sweaty skin burned a little as it rubbed against each other thrust after thrust. Slapping sounds echoed across the sin scented room. Belle’s wavy hair bounced along with her, lips parted and eyes closed, practically drowning in the thickening pleasure.

“I missed you so much.” Jungkook breathed out before biting down her collarbone to suppress a much louder groan.

Belle let out a shaky whimper, the pressure of her orgasm hurdling and his words creating a deadly mixture of emotions to bubble inside her. Tears gathered at the corners of the womans’ eyes. “I missed you too.” Lips quivered slightly as she moved legs as her feet rested on his thighs. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she quickened her pace up and down his member.

Trembling breaths passed through Jungkooks’ lips as he caressed the swell of her ass, nibbling on her earlobe. He felt the coil in his lower belly tightening beyond his own control. Arousal splattered all over their thighs from the relentless thrusts.

In a harsh sudden wave, her limbs locked as the pleasure shot through her shaking body. Arms grabbing onto him for dear life. Belle kept on with her sloppy thrusts despite her hips jerking at every contact against her sensitive clit.

Her walls clenched around him so tightly, it made his own orgasm burst out of him. Ropes of cum filling the beauty up to the brim until he could feel more wetness dripping down to his thighs. Body twitched as they held onto each other, catching their breath and letting their hot bursts switch to a serene bliss.

Cleaning themselves up with a washcloth, the couple lay down peacefully next to each other. Belle’s head rested on his chest tracing the stab scar on his torso. As the swimming feeling in her mind began to settle down back to reality, she was reminded of the responsibilities that needed to be taken care of tomorrow. “I know who did it.” She broke the calm silence.

Jungkook stared down at the woman, fingers still absentmindedly brushing through her hair. “Dare I even ask?” Sarcasm oozed in every word hardly needing any explanation as to who might have wanted Belle harmed. He let out a small sigh. “What’re you going to do?”

“There’s a small plan. I’m not completely proud of it but he’s already into it.” Belle looked up to meet the males’ gaze. “Except I might need your help.”

His brows furrowed. “What kind of help?”

-

In the early hours of the morning as the greyish horizon sported a golden lining, Queen Belle’s council along with the Sun King and his guards gathered in the main throne room.

Belle adorned a slightly casual dress with soft tones of blue and green. She sat on her throne with a calm demeanor as per usual even in situations that welcomed a great deal of stress both politically and personally. Sun King stood on her right holding a small smile either by habit or he simply dove headfirst into her little play.

The council and guests then quietened down to a pin drop silence watching the Queen in anticipation. “This trial has been held to try the one responsible for organizing an attempt of assassination during peace holdings.” Belle announced.

Double doors opened with a light thud followed by armors from the guards clanging as they made their way in. Jungkook positioned at the center keeping one arm bent and hand placed on his torso. He walked and halted a little in front of Belle.

Hoseok watched him with that same smirk growing the tiniest bit. The sense of accomplishment exuded from him a little too clearly.

Though at the same time, Jungkooks’ lips curled into a faint smile as he bowed down keeping a fixated gaze on his Queen. The slight darkness in his eyes hinted what he was thinking about causing a slight tingle down her spine. Turning on his heel, the male stood over next to Seokjin casually.

Her light smirk then faded into a more professional expression. “King Hoseok…” Belle spoke calmly. “Please make your way to the center for your trial.”

The council once again turned deathly silent, eyes turning to the Sun King. This kingdom had been no stranger to having Kings or Queens standing for their crimes and being punished accordingly. Hoseok simply entangled himself into a long running tradition of intolerance for abusing power.

Belle noticed Hoseok trying to look around the room to see if anyone else was as confused as he was but his search failed in seconds.

Hoseok scoffed lightly, keeping a close eye on his men peeking through some members of the council. He noticed their hands tightly wound around the hilt of their swords. The action gave him a slight ounce of reassurance. Walking to the center of the throne room, a small smile played on the Sun Kings’ lips. “I assume there’s been some kind of misunderstanding.”

Belle shrugged briefly. “You tell me. Evidence came to light that you were conversing with the guards outside my door, providing them with a jug which they were then found unconscious with the next day.” She restated the information written out to her before this trial. The woman decided to keep the witnesses anonymous to prevent any bloodshed only to keep a secret.

“I was attempting to test your guards’ ability to stay at their post.” He explained with an expert sense of casual tone. “Clearly they failed.”

“Your diligence as the possible future King of this empire is appreciated.” Belle nodded in acknowledgement. “However the assailant was also found with a potion known to strip anyone of their willpower.” Her gaze narrowed. “Who might want me to lose my willpower? So close to our wedding.”

“The loss of your willpower can benefit anyone, Your Majesty.” Hoseok shook his head, struggling to keep his smile together.

“Yet conveniently this servant was last seen talking to you.” Belle smiled.

Hoseok stayed silent this time. All the explanations that seemed to be smoothly rushing through his mind now halted all of a sudden. Every piece of evidence now lay exposed in front of everyone to hear. The staggering grin on his face made it all too obvious that the all-powerful Sun King had been cornered.

She leaned in and rested her elbows on the table. “See this is the difference between you and me. You inherited your empire from your mother. I built mine.” Belle explained in a lower tone but it still echoed in everyones’ ears. “And I most certainly didn’t do it by being an inattentive fool.”

One of Hoseoks’ guards screamed sheathing his sword alerting all his other men to do the same but Belle merely gestured. All her soldiers overwhelmed the small crowd, choking and sounds of slashing swords echoing across the room. Armor clanged to the ground along with the unconscious bodies now filling them causing Belle’s council members to move to the side. Some of them murmured to themselves but otherwise used to the sight of proud citizens trying to protect their problematic Kings because of duty.

Hoseok glared at the Queen after seeing his men limp on the ground. The intention to keep a fake smile now completely dissipated. “Killing me will only heighten your enemy count.”

“Which is why I have no intention in killing you or those men. If you listen.” Lips curled up into a small smirk. “I don’t want war…but I also don’t tolerate kings who don’t quite understand who they’re dealing with. Though I understand my small and pretty demeanor may sway delusional fools into thinking too loosely.” Her brow raised. “You will ride back to your kingdoms and we’ll continue on as silent neighbors…or I can kill you right now and take your lands. It’s easy for me and your people either way.” She leaned back on the chair. “Your choice.”

Hoseok swallowed down, a ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re good, Your Majesty.” He licked his teeth. Glancing around the room, the Sun King bowed down with a light bitter taste on his tongue as he did so. “I will take my leave. Let’s never meet again.”

“Lets.” Belle lightly scrunched her nose, a proud smile adorning her features as the Sun King finally walked away from her and Jungkooks’ life.

-

Belle and Jungkook stood at the main palace balcony watching the chariots of the Sun King ride out of their gates. Sun rose out from the mountains giving the kingdom a new refreshed golden glow to welcome the new day. When she saw the chariots finally disappear and the gates close with a piercing thud, she let out a deep sigh of relief.

“I’m starting to like this new side of you.” Jungkook leaned to her side, closer to her ear.

“When I’m threatening to kill people?” Belle chuckled lightly.

“Not exactly that but it’s exciting to look at.” He grinned, shoulders brushing against each other gently.

When the light chuckles between the couple died down, Jungkook hung his head in thought for a moment. “I’ll step down from my throne.” He muttered. “I might be good at protecting people but you’re better at protecting kingdoms.” He nodded towards the closed gates. Belle knew how to communicate in politics. To Kings and Queens. She made him realize how many sides of a person it takes to make a monarch.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter with you.” Belle shook her head, keeping her gaze on her people beginning their days. “You’re going to be King eventually anyway.”

Jungkook eyed the woman curiously, brows furrowed.

Belle met his confused gaze with an innocent expression. “Unless your previous offer isn’t on the table anymore.” She gave him a cheeky smirk.

A bright grin slowly faded across Jungkooks’ features as his heart burst into a fit of joy. He grabbed onto her hips, pressing her body close to his making her giggle lightly. “It always was.”

Belles’ eyes flickered down to his chest, the thing silver string glimmering on the sides of his neck.

Jungkook followed the womans’ gaze down immediately understanding what she was looking at. He reached behind his neck and unclasped the necklace. It coiled on his open palm as he pulled out the ring pendant.

Stuffing the chain into one of his pockets, he held one of her hands up and slid the piece onto her ring finger. Another beautiful burst of memory spread through him reliving this moment again after so many years. He brought her ringed hand to his lips, pressing a chaste kiss.

“This time, no more leaving.” Belle whispered, staring up at the male.

“No more.” Jungkook pressed his forehead against hers.

After what felt like an eternity of distance and dread, they could finally feel like their kingdoms were home again. Their own shared home just like they always wanted.

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[mings]

Some context...

...in relation to that last post. This is a lo-o-o-o-ong read, so feel free to skip right by if catharsis bores you.

This starts way before I joined tumblr; in fact, long before tumblr was even a thing.

Twenty years ago, we lived in a huge house backing onto the English Channel. We moved there from Scotland, which turned out to be (probably) the biggest mistake of my life. 

Within nine months of buying the place, the company I’d moved to work for nearly folded. I and most of the workforce were made redundant. That set in motion an existential battle with our mortgage insurer, which refused to pay out because I “must have known” when taking out the insurance. (I didn’t, and they eventually caved in after destroying my credit record, but that’s another story.)

Work wasn’t immediately available; none that would at least cover the bills. We got inventive, wrote a business plan, obtained finance & bought a franchise. It went pretty well for the first three years, but we had to bust a gut to make the required income. It wasn’t easy. Eventually, the franchise operator messed up relations with several key players in our insurance market. Within three months, we lost 75% of our revenue. I had to close the workshop & find part time work to make ends meet. Ultimately, we decided to close the business, sell the house and downsize to something more manageable.

What’s the relevance of this? We tried hard to keep our precarious financial state form the kids. Maybe we didn’t do as well as we thought. Our son had already become withdrawn. He’d fallen in with a group of local lads about whom we had grave misgivings. Of course, there was no discussing it. We were “over-reacting” and unreasonable. It was around that time that he decided to jack in his education. I couldn’t criticise; I’d done the same. I pulled some strings and got him a job at our local Royal Mail delivery office.

We moved to our new place. It was a stressful move. Trying to fit into a house that was literally half the size was never going to be an easy task. One afternoon, our son came home from work and soon after announced he was going out. “See you later.” Only we didn’t. He didn’t come home that night. Nor did he turn up for work the next day. Nor the day after. And nor the day after that. Within a week he was written up for unauthorised absence. We had no way of contacting him. His case was heard in the following weeks. I could offer no mitigation. He was sacked for abandonment of duty. That tag that means he’ll never work for them again. 

We still had no idea where he was. We only knew he was alive because we met a couple of his friends who couldn’t believe he’d not been in touch. Still no word. My wife was in shreds; I suspect any of you who are parents can identify with that. I was alternating between trying to prop her up and stay on top of my job, all the while under a constant barrage of barracking (Oh, we don’t mean anything by it, it’s just banter....)

About three months in I’d had enough. Sleep was a scarce resource so I rose at the crack of dawn and started on a trip, rousting one after another of the friends and acquaintances that I knew, following leads until finally I tracked him down to a sordid bedsit several towns and 40 miles away. At least he answered the door and looked sheepish. He offered no explanation or apology, and has never done so to date. He refused to come back home, but promised to keep in touch. 

We know he bounced from one sofa to another in the next few months. He spent time in some of the worst areas in the county for drug abuse. He fell into a relationship with a girl that looked promising initially and subsequently fell apart. Later, he surfaced in another town with another girl whom he subsequently married. She often spoke of his irascible temperament and moods. Ultimately the marriage was doomed; she was younger than him, found a new interest and moved out. One wonders now how much of that was her and how much she’d put up with before voting with her feet.

He’s stumbled from one financial crisis to another. Money just evaporates. It’s as though adulting is a mystery beyond his reach. I’ve lost count of the times that we’ve thrown money at him and I don’t want to even think about how much. It’s literally thousands, always a loan, yet he never, ever pays back.

He left his job. That was inevitable too; he worked for his ex-father-in-law’s company. Heaven only knows how long the writing was on the wall; it was pretty swift once she left. He drifted again. He chose to live in a squalid flat with no heating rather than move back with us. Absolutely his choice, not ours. 

We moved to Scotland. That meant all his stuff had to go into storage. Quick rewind - he moved all his stuff to ours when he gave up the house he & his ex lived in, but refused to move back home. I had to rent a storage unit to make space for all his gear & when we moved I shifted all his gear into the store, gave him the key & told him I’d paid three months up front; after that it was his to deal with. Apparently, he surrendered the store and moved all his gear into the flat...

Fast forward to a couple of months back. He’d run out of options at the flat. His flatmate was “really difficult” to live with. His ex had moved away, taking their son with her. He had nothing left to stay for and, surprise, he’d lost his job again so he couldn’t afford the rent. 

My wife convinced me we should give him one last shot, citing his fragile mental health. I agreed on the strict understanding that we are simply no longer in a position to support him. He assured us he’d be applying for work as soon as he got here. We rarely see him before midday...

We agreed the end of the first week in March. We knew he’d arrive with a ton of stuff so we had (again) to create space. That’s infinitely more difficult now we’re running a B&B, but we set to the task. Suddenly, two weeks sooner than we’d agreed, he rented a van and was on his way. No discussion, no warning. We only found out because he put something on FB. 

Finally, after trying to reach him most of the day, he phoned. Whilst we should have been relieved, instead we were treated to a barrage of abuse because all the petrol stations were shut. Of course they were. It was in a national lockdown and why would they stay open when there was no one on the roads? JFC, who embarks on a journey in sub-zero temperatures across some of the most inhospitable country in the UK without enough fuel? With a six year old child. Yes, not only did he forget to tell us about his change of plans, he forgot to tell us he was bringing his son too.

We drove south through the night for two hours to find him somewhere in the Cairngorms where he’d run out of fuel. No fuel meant no heaters at 1500 feet in deep snow. The ambient temperature was -5ºC/23ºF & with wind chill that was probably around -10ºC/14ºF. We found him & refuelled his van. No thanks, just another barrage of abuse, because he was tired. We took his son into our car & drove the two hours back in near silence. I think we knew then that it was an awful predictor of what was to come.

We’ve had row after row. He accused me of being passive-aggressive in the last. He actually ticks all the boxes for passive-aggressive behaviour. I’ve never been tagged with that before; if anything I’m too forthright, blunt even. That’s a failing to which I will admit. If by that he meant that I don’t talk about the elephant in the room, it’s only because we fear it’ll lead to another explosion.

He never saw the damage that we sustained during our fostering years. He was never there. Yet here we are, experiencing flashbacks to those traumatic incidents; the parallels are exact. We have the benefit of years of training. We recognise manipulative behaviour when we see it - we were trained by some of the nations best exponents - and we know divisive tactics implicitly.  What he doesn’t know is that he will succeed only in pushing us closer together and alienating himself even further.

There are clear and well-documented links between cannabis and mental health issues. He is allowing the drug to determine his life choices. Although I may be wrong, I think he’s cultivating skunk, which is nothing like the weed that circulated in my youth. The smell that pervades our hallway is instantly evocative of high strength Afghan resin. It’s also going to be acutely difficult to eradicate before we’re due to open.

We’ve endured 20 years of this treatment. I know that even if we have a ritual burning, it will only be a matter of time before we’re back here again. We’re old. We’re tired. And we’ve worked our socks off (and still do) to achieve what we have. Maybe somewhere along the way we missed something. But I’m at a stage where I’m so far beyond this I just want it to stop.

[vminity21]

+1 | kth

Pairing: HighschoolCrush!Taehyung X StillProcessingIt!Reader

Word Count: 4.3k

Genre: angst/fluff/smut

Warning(s): slight language use, angst (if you read b/w the lines), pretty much smutty kissing, hand groping, mention of alcohol, breast worship, nipple play; Rated: 18+

Summary: When a crush you had in high school unexpectedly returns to your life six years later, this is the experience you have with him when you collected the courage to invite him over to hangout.

Credit to: @suhdays​ for the amazing cover!

Inspiration comes in the form of little expectancy especially when life seems to throw a curveball you never dreamed would be a potential possibility; but, here you are, tapping upon the keyboard of your five-year-old laptop decorated in stickers of celebs you've admired over the years mingled with relevant quotes that have bustled yet again- inspiration that motivates you day by day to continue to be the human being that you are. Inspiration though can appear in lyrical melodies broadcasted globally for millions to pine over; or, published in numerous pages creating imaginary worlds where ones can escape to; or, sketched in a meticulous design to build whatever idea had been desired to come to life; or, filmed in scenes of an edited story by talented persons determined to enter the spotlight in any way they can; or, painted along a canvas in colors of calculated detail bringing forth the picture of accomplishment. Inspiration derives from a mere moment- one that sparks the instinct to gather the materials needed to pour out your heart in ways that may bring a sense of peace.

For you, it used to be in the lines of a song penciled into a crinkled notebook from your backpack hidden away for no one to discover; it used to be countless childhood journals where you expressed your inward battles in order to find enough solace to sleep at night. You've lost your touch over the years because life changes in the blink of an eye, as you grow older, and work can distract from the time taken to focus on yourself; thankfully graduating college to gain the degree you now behold landed you a job, one you hope lasts for many years, and you are currently living in a two-bedroom apartment with your best friend, Monica, who's presently slumbering as you brush some loose strands of hair from your vision.

Your dog is curled at the end of your bed as you write, which is something that you haven't done in what feels like forever, but the reasoning behind this sporadic urge ignited when the familiar pair of brown eyes from six years prior, re-entered your world without your preparation and his presence from a recent night shared seems to echo in every space of your brain to where you've finally had enough. It's about time to reach out, the devil on your shoulder whispers, but the angel sitting on the opposite begs to differ. Shaking your head, you pause momentarily, cracking your knuckles before resting your forehead on the desk, exhaling slowly while the memory of his touch seems to haunt your skin.

He was someone you once admired in high school- roaming the hallways where girls giggled giddily each time he'd pass by; star of the basketball team, rising popularity to the point everyone knew his name, collecting homework answers from budding friendships, and it all began once he started his junior year at a new school- the school where you attended. But the difference that set him apart from the typical cliché's of the prevalent students you never seemed to relate to, was that he talked to absolutely everybody and anybody- no judgment on what group the person took part in, his kindness won the hearts of many other than the evident attraction of his physical features. He didn't care who you were or what you were into, he would be your friend, and that, considering he was viewed on a higher level, made him even more special.

Despite never admitting it then, you had a crush on him. He was more of an acquaintance, but you enjoyed his company when he came around, and when a past friend, who is now married with a few kids, used to have a crush on the same person, your heart sank, because with every guy thinking she was hot, you felt as though you would never stand a chance. Especially not with this guy who made your hands jittery and the beat in your chest skip- the guy who is none other than Kim Taehyung.

Taehyung would frequent the chorus room at times when you and your past friend would practice music pieces and he always was fond of your singing voice- something he praised you for often, while his attention was received from his talent regarding sports. Something he was so good at that it was spread that he may have gained quite the scholarship for college if he decided to go. There were memories of bravery where you seized the day just to steal a conversation and a hug; at one time, scribbling the words 'hot af' with an arrow pointing where he signed your friend, Min Yoongi's, yearbook; Yoongi playing it off as though he had no idea who the culprit was when Taehyung asked who wrote it. Utter surprise can't even fathom when you along with Taehyung were voted 'Most Likely to be Famous' by your graduating class when senior year was conquered. The inside joke was for you to hold the basketball while he placed his hands upon the keys of a piano, the picture you still couldn't process happened, but always remained grateful for.

Six years flew by and the conversation never necessarily held, but there were the rare messages from social media where he'd reach out hoping all had been well with you. Interestingly enough, a cover you posted harmonizing with a fellow singer happened to be his absolute favorite, one of the few Instagram posts he'd commented on, and one of the few singing videos he continuously would listen to repeatedly without your knowledge until a few weeks ago when he revealed that to you. A cover that is now near to be a four-year-old video that he still finds uplifting when he hears you and the way your voice blended so well with the other female. Your mind is reeling because after all this time, and even now, there are remains of the aftershock, trying to forget the feel of him, when there's no way you can, not with everything so fresh on your mind. So fresh on your heart.

It all occurred when Yoongi, who kept in touch with you occasionally after graduation brought you up to Taehyung who happened to think of you earlier when listening to his favorite cover of yours, and he agreed he'd like to hang out. He asked if his friend, Hoseok could join you, Monica, and Yoongi which of course you said yes to learn how sweet you found it, that he had traveled within the span of a day after visiting his grandparents, because he is a man of his word, planned to come see you even though the drive was five hours out of his way. The night was filled with so much laughter mixed with serious conversations to the point the card game that was supposed to be played was never finished, and it sprung the desire of wanting to see Taehyung again, and you couldn't come to terms with never knowing so after some encouragement from Monnie and Yoongi, you messaged T to hang out a few days later, but never opened his reply until you were safely home from work.

Taehyung: Gotcha! Hmmm, I haven't decided on what I intend on doing. Either being with family or hanging out with friends. If I don't hang out with family, you could be my plus 1 or bring whomever or vice versa

[Y/N]: Sorry I just got home from work! I'll definitely be your plus 1 if hanging with family doesn't work out! Sounds like a plan!

He asked if you wanted anything from the store when it was confirmed he was on his way which you responded with your typical answer of no, and with music playing from your Bluetooth speaker, you were highly humiliated when you lost track of four minutes of time, opening a message from him to see that he had been there, at your door. Heart racing you rushed to unlock it, head spinning when you saw he leaned against the stair railing with a plastic bag of two Arbor Mist wine bottles dangling from his hand, him promising everything was fine despite your profuse apologies- him slipping his phone in his back pocket while he followed you into your home.

Monnie happened to be staying the night with her family, so it would be just the two of you tonight, besides your dog who bounced at his legs while he reached down to pet her fluffy head. Taking in the sight of him, now that was something you found hard to believe. Just a simple pair of jeans, a gray t-shirt with a black jacket complementing the dark tendrils of hair spread across his forehead leading to the carefully sculpted lining of his jaw nearly brought you to your knees, but you held it together long enough to settle across from him at your dining room table. He had taken off his shoes at the door remembering upon a few days prior, and he set out the wine while you jumped to retrieve wine glasses (Yoongi happened to purchase for you) while banter still related to greetings.

One thing that truly intrigued you when first seeing Taehyung after six years were words, he had said that touched your heart more than you'd like to profess. "That's why I try to enjoy every moment with people because you never know what day will be your last," and you knew right then, that if there was anyone you wanted to share a moment with, it was him, and there he was, right before you, smiling about something you said while the sound of the fruity liquid-filled each glass.

"I really truly do not understand what you are so afraid of. What do you even have to lose?" Monnie tinkered with the lens to her camera while she sauntered through the living room. Exasperated from anxiety, you sucked in your lips before teasingly throwing her the side-eye.

"My dignity,"

"Oh c'mon," she paused, lifting a brow. You had been talking nonstop on how bad you wanted to invite Taehyung over, but fear of rejection including the fear of humiliation seemed to overwhelm you, although deep down you knew your best friend in the entire world was correct. You did not nor do you have anything to lose.

"Well!" You squawked, raising your palms dramatically in the air before slapping them to the sides of your thighs, "Why the hell would Kim Taehyung ever want to hang out with me anyway? Do you not see how farfetched this all is?"

"Bold of you to assume that my life isn't already farfetched enough as it is-"

"Not! The point!"

Monnie sighed, and when she saw the way your shoulders slumped in disappointment that shouldn't have been an issue, to begin with, she stepped closer, placing her hand on your shoulder, "First off, you are overthinking this, and you shouldn't. Besides, I think after hanging out as a group, he only sees you as a friend, meaning no expectations. So, go into it with that mindset okay? I'm sure he'd love to hang out with you. Secondly," she smiled, her serene expression filled with promises she always kept, "You've waited six years for this. I think you should ask him to hang out."

"You really think so?" Your grin reached your hopeful eyes, and the feeling in your chest seemed to react more positively despite your earlier turmoil.

"Yeah. The dude owes us a chair anyways,"

"Ah!" You cackled, back pressed against the dining room table as you remembered literally a few days ago when Taehyung accidentally broke a spindle of the chair in half with his foot when Yoongi scared him just by suddenly walking down the hallway. "I don't think I've ever seen a man so embarrassed."

"I'm not saying to hold it over his head, but," Monnie held up her index finger, "I think that gives him enough reason to come back," she giggled, setting her camera on the dining room table before waltzing into the kitchen.

You shrugged, "At least we can still sit on it."

"Look at it, it's staring at me," Taehyung pointed swiftly at where the vacant spindle would have been, your laughter reverberated throughout the space.

"T, really, you do not owe us new chairs. I promise, it's fine," you reassured him, realizing your cheeks were sore from how much you'd been smiling since he entered your 'realm of refuge' as you liked to describe your apartment. He snapped a picture of it, probably with the intention of getting a new chair for you and Monica regardless, and you found that appreciative although you would be happy if he didn't.

Shit. You pause from the computer screen, leaning back into your chair before folding your arms tight across your chest. Eyeballing the cursor, your vision narrows as it blinks, waiting for you to add more words to the memory that seems to spin in a cycle with the subtle goal of not stopping. Or, so you figure. If recalling every little detail isn't already hard enough, reliving the reminiscence of his fingers twirling in your hair, his sweet laugh when he looked at you, or the way he held you so tight-

But, everything in between, leading up to those mesmerizing flashes are just as important to you as what it led to. Maybe it was the conversation- the three hours of conversation before the move to the sofa which it was hard to fully focus on what else was being said because how could you properly concentrate when the one person, you'd been so worried about spending time with was seriously conversing with you like the pair of you had been friends your whole lives?

Miraculously, you were able to gather the stories of past vacations that resulted in mild disappointment revolving around the complaints of people surrounding him, or the goal of visiting as many places as possible leading Taehyung to scribble down a list of where he'd been to reveal you both have equally been to the same amount of places. Of course, the thrill of going on a mini adventure with him brought an excitement you haven't felt in a while; even the story of why he was transferred to your high school years ago due to a misunderstanding, and when the pair of you made your way to the couch, he nestled into one corner while you gladly took the other, wishing you could snuggle closer but fear prevented you from doing so.

It seemed as though that he didn't want to watch the movie anyhow, because he talked to you as though he never wanted to stop, and eventually it led to you asking one too many times if he was okay with spending the rest of the night with you. "It's up to you, I'll stay if you want me too," he promised, the way your heart fluttered when you replied, "Yes, can you please stay? I don't want you to go."

"Alright, alright! I'll stay," he smiled widely, both of his large hands reaching out, and there was not one ounce of hesitation from you- your hands grasped his before your dog jumped to beg for attention, trying to lick at his face causing your hands to undo. Laughter was contagious with Taehyung, and still cuddled into the corner of the couch, you were so elated that he was going to stay, you reached to hug him, his arms wrapping around you, the feel of your bodies aligning putting the biggest smile on your face. It was crazy how everything was seeming to fall into place- the stars aligning as though it was all magic; and, you couldn't get past how right everything felt. How right he felt. Pulling away, his smile never left him, "Are you shy?" His arm remained draped around your shoulders, and timidly you peer at his surprised gape, his black hair almost covered his crescent eyes.

"I mean... Yeah, I can be," you murmured, reaching to hug him again, but something washed over you this time, a thought that had crossed your mind repeatedly that you just couldn't take it anymore. The side of his face was blurred, placing your palm upon his cheek, and without even a moment of doubt, you kissed him. A sudden decision, but one of the best ones you could have made.

His lips were so soft, the way his mouth just seemed to mold with yours for only a few mere seconds, and the shock on his face when you pulled away, paired with the realization that his hands were held in the air, you hadn't expected his reaction. Shit! You cursed inwardly, immediately jumping back to persistently make sure he was okay; even when he moved to cuddle with you, him claiming everything was fine, but that he couldn't believe you kissed him being the both of you never once saw this coming especially six years ago during the high school days. His hand was fidgety as he swiftly rubbed your shoulder, your head buried on his chest while your mind spun in a continuous loop of how you could not believe that you kissed Taehyung. The Kim Taehyung.

He became quiet- too quiet, concern etched in your expression, maneuvering yourself back to the opposite corner of the couch, so you could face him. "T, are you sure you're okay? Did I freak you out?"

"No, no, I just can't believe you kissed me," he was in awe, eyes dazed as he ran his slim fingers through his hair, "Like, really I never saw this coming,"

"I mean, have you looked in the mirror?" You teased, knowing damn well he'd been aware of you finding him attractive, and he shook his head in dismissal of your compliment as he chuckled; it took you a whole sixty seconds to realize you were holding his hand, fingers linked, and him asking if you were nervous due to your clammy palm, though you tried to swear up and down you were not, the next round of words he said nearly brought you to tears when he finally spoke.

"You shouldn't sell yourself short," he looked you in the eyes without any faltering, although you tilted your head in mild confusion as to why he was saying this, to begin with, "I don't think you realize how much of an impact you've made on others, especially guys," ah, he was letting you down easy, and you knew it, but you're too stunned to speak as you listened, "I don't think you give yourself enough credit either. You're a great singer, you're pretty much a musician, you love animals, you have a job, you live on your own. Really, you shouldn't sell yourself short-"

"T," you breathed, pleading almost, but trying not to make it obvious, but he never broke eye contact, "We don't have to date or anything, I just- I just wanted a moment with you." You mentioned what inspired you to spend time with him- exposing how a few nights ago when he said he wanted to enjoy every moment with people- you knew you wanted to have a moment with him, too. Memories from high school were spoken momentarily, thirty minutes passing by which included a made-up handshake as well as the subtle twirl of his fingers in your hair- him complimenting how good your hair looked which made you blush even more.

Just when you thought he wasn't already smooth enough, you noticed Taehyung started teasing your dog, her pouncing at his chest before he'd lean in closer to you. Eyebrows scrunching, it took you a hot second to realize what he was doing. Each time Taehyung would scoot closer to you, he'd kiss you, sending the pair of you in boisterous laughter when your dog would try to break the kisses by jumping in between your faces. The more your lips would touch, it'd last a bit longer and longer, your hand clinging to the side of his jacket to pull him closer when things really started moving fast, eventually your dog left the room with the hint that attention was no longer available for her.

Still lip-locked, Taheyung's hands gripped your hips while you willingly moved to straddle him, arms resting on the top of the couch on either side of his head, the tip of your tongue glided along his, while he fanned his hands along your ass. You refrained from moaning into his kiss despite how bad you wanted to, yet you held yourself together, involuntarily grinding your clothed heat where his erection was felt. T smacked your ass before slithering the tips of his fingers to your shirt, slowly unbuttoning one by one.... One by one. His eyes were hazed from how much he was craving your mouth, and with a seductive nod in his direction, he continued until he made it to the final goal, your kisses never planning to stop, the sides of your shirt being brushed away for him to take in the sight of you.

"Ooh my God," his eyes darkened in evident lust when he saw the way your black bra cupped your breasts, "Oh my God," his voice deepened, him hardly knowing what to do with himself while your smirk remained subtlety on your mouth. Though you hadn't needed him to ask, he politely waited for your permission to touch your chest, a quick pang of frilly nerves ghosted your stomach.

"Yeah," you breathed seductively, gradually moving to capture his lips, trying to hold back a giggle when he gently moved his hands to your back, "You're not going to find it there," you mused, referring to the clip. He paused as if panicked, "It's in the front," you finally admitted, but failing miserably, Taehyung let you take initiative, you unclipped your bra uncovering what is now widening his brown eyes. "Oh my God!" His reaction made you want to cum right then and there, especially when his fingers made their way to squeeze your nipples when his mouth returned to yours. Taehyung worshiped your breasts, and for some odd, yet arousing reason, you lived for it.

You're uncertain of when the tv was switched off, and even now, as your hands continue to fly across the keyboard, one thing you do recall, one of the lingering memories of the evening was your shirt being off, thrown onto the floor mingled with your bra, and without any warning, Taehyung hoisted you in the air, your legs instinctively wrapped around his torso while he tightened his hold around your body. His steps were painfully careful, kissing you roughly while your arms kept their place behind his neck, and the direction was being taken to your bedroom where your heart pounded so anxiously to be. His jacket was shed before the bold act, and all that was left was his gray t-shirt and jeans. Laying you down with a bounce from your mattress, he remained above you, and your eyes refused to stray especially when he reached to remove his shirt- his smooth skin greeting yours sending waves of goosebumps spreading among your limbs.

There was no one like him in your eyes, and there never would be. Not in your heart. And with how perfect everything was going; you were not prepared for how hard it was going to be to stop before things went too far. Because what if he doesn't exactly feel the same? He was letting you down easy not even an hour ago, and here you were, hopes so high, you weren't sure how you were going to erase them back down. He kissed you until you couldn't breathe, your fingers dug into your comforter, while his palms glided all over your frame for however long you let him, but when he went to remove your leggings, you halted him.

Now, this is where your heart aches when you relive this part, because a conversation was held, one where you mentioned what if someone catches feelings if the both of you decided to solely be just friends with benefits? Taehyung said all you had to do was communicate with him because he was easy to get along with, and you've known this about him for six years. He was always someone easy to talk to, and you knew he would never treat you poorly over a situation like this. And, he hadn't. You made the executive decision to not sleep with him for you wanted him to remember you as the woman you are, and the woman, you've always been, and with the fear of going all the way being something that could change his image of you, you were satisfied to hear the loud echoes of his snoring after you changed into pajamas, gazing at his sleeping demeanor before you drifted into slumber as well.

When the morning came, you were not ready for him to leave, but he asked if you would walk him out, him throwing on his shirt and jacket while you rushed to brush your teeth. T asked if you had any other plans for the rest of the day which you proceeded to answer honestly with a no, as he mentioned that he was going to get breakfast.

"Let me know when you make it home," you said tenderly, "I want to know you're safe,"

"I will," he promised before you embraced him, turning just enough to place a peck to his cheek. It was his smile that decided to enter your recollection- the boxy smile that would plague you until the day you accept that you will never forget it.

And when you opened the door to the apartment where he gracefully waltzed through, you merely caught a glimpse of him leaving, ahead of you quietly shutting the door to whatever could have been.

Or, what could have started a beautiful story that has yet to unfold.

[sadachmesarthim]

yes this is a rewrite, feel free to fry my ass on anon about it.

content: starker being mean to each other, peter parker has Supportive Friends™, tony has daddy and mommy issues, quentin beck is a Mean Boss™, smoking, secondhand smoke.

word count: 3.0k

square filled: coffee shop au  -> link to playlist here

part two is here!

a little vocab lesson before continuing: mobster = really high up in the chain of command for this group of coffee shops. they go around training new hirees, and often decide who gets to move up the line of command. they get to travel on company money, and are very well respected in the workplace. mobsters usually come in groups - siblings, hires from the same groups, etc. 

Tony didn't like Richland.

Sure, okay, it was a serious step up from Federal Way. He was free from his parents, he could do whatever he wanted in a house all to himself, no one knew who he was - it was a refreshing change, one he definitely needed now that he was graduated, all grown up.

He'd moved back east about two months ago. He'd wanted to get as far away from home as possible, stretch his legs - he went under the guise of missing his grandma, wanting to go to school. He wasn't a terrible liar, either. Howard and Maria'd eaten it up, encouraging him to go as soon as he could.

"If you go now, you could get there in time for summer classes. Maybe even get a job before they stop hiring seasonally. You never know, but you might as well try!"

So here he was. Still jobless, still not yet enrolled in school. Enjoying his time in the (now autumn) sunshine, biding his time before he ran out of money. He'd planned well - he had enough cash to keep him covered for a while, as long as he didn't go blowing it.

He'd blown it.

He was a sucker for good coffee, though, and he missed Outback. He'd worked at one back home for almost a year before he left, and now... now, it was like an itch he couldn't scratch - he needed the interaction, needed to go make friends. He was too much of a social butterfly.

Yet again, he found himself in his truck, on the way to the nearest stand. He was pathetic, really. Here he was, wasting more money on coffee, when he could be out hiking or climbing or... literally doing anything else.

He knew it was worth it the second he pulled in. The cutest kid was running lines that day - shorts hugging his tight ass deliciously, in a way Tony knew his operator would get in trouble for if a Mobster or Coach saw.  Christ, they lettin' just anyone work here now, that it?

He had to keep his thoughts to himself, though - the kid had just finished the cars in front of him, and was headed straight for Tony, iPad in hand. He took a breath, putting on his best poker face. He needed a fucking cigarette.

"Hey handsome! Welcome to Outback, what're we drinkin' today?" Shit, he's cute. All bright and cheery - it might be fake, sure, customer service voice and all - but boy, did he play the part well. All big eyes and wide smile. He looked up at Tony expectantly, right hand hovering over the screen of the runner iPad. Shit, he still has to order something.

"Hi, just a small iced white vanilla breve please." Tony watched as the kid pressed a few spaces on the tablet, shocked at how fluidly he moved. Tony'd never seen him at this location before, but he obviously knew what he was doing. Location transfer, maybe? Mobster? He wasn't sure.

"Perfect! I've got you in - anything else, love?" God, he was too much. There's no way this was just the sickly facade Outback enforced - no, this was all him. "Nah, I'm okay. I'm paying card today, too." He reached his hand out for the tablet, wanting to tip this kid specifically.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, this card reader's broken. The one up at the window's working though! My girl Maia'll be up there waiting for you!" He turned with a smile, skipping off to the next car.

Jesus, who was this kid? And what did Tony have to do to see him again?

•|||•

Return an application, apparently.

Maia, the girl at the window, had let him know that they were hiring. He didn't have to feign interest - he had relevant experience, could work his way up if he needed to - and he'd get to see the mystery boy again. She'd ran and grabbed a small stack of papers for him, which he dutifully filled out and brought back a couple of hours later.

The closing shift lead had briefly interviewed him, practically giving him the job on the spot. Apparently she'd met his sister on a Mob trip, before - it paid to have connections, but damn... someone in town already knew who he was. Oh well. Not a big deal. These were still new people, fresh faces - he could make a clean reputation for himself, a fresh start...

It was exactly what he needed. And if he needed to use a bit of his influence with his sister to get it... so be it.

•|||•

"Emma, please, just... don't be a dick when he calls you. I need this job, it'll be good for m-"

"Save it, Tony. I don't want your excuses. If I say I'll do it, will you leave me alone?" She was being unusually short with him. Fuck. She and Rhodey were fighting again.

"Yes, yes, anything. Thank you so much." He was met with a bored sigh.

"Whatever, dude. I'll put in a good word. Talk to you later." She hung up before he could say anything else. Whatever - it wasn't the worst conversation he'd had with his sister, but it left a lot to be desired.

They hadn't been doing well since she & Rhodey got together. It was on-again-off-again... and they were honestly both to blame. Neither one of them was good at commitment, and it showed.

It put strain on both of their relationships with Tony, and didn't do much to help keep him in Federal Way. He sought comfort in the isolation of a new town, but it didn't seem to be helping anything.

Leaving never did, but it was really all he knew how to do.

•|||•

Peter hadn’t been at Outback long, but he’d enjoyed every minute of it.

He’d gotten hired almost immediately after graduation, not wanting to waste a second of his summer not making money. It was a bit of a difficult transition - he wasn’t a big fan of Beck, his boss, and training was really overwhelming. But after he’d hit that twelve week mark... it’s like something just clicked.

He was a whiz on bar, he was making friends right and left. He and Maia’d even gone to get tattoos together a couple weeks ago during a flash sale. He was getting faster and faster at running cars, he knew almost all of his regular customers. He genuinely felt like part of the family.

That didn’t really change when Beck hired a new group, either. There weren’t too many of them, helping keep their group small. They’d been spending a bit of time in the stand here and there, going over the rules, the ins and outs of making coffee, taking their menu test.

The three he was introducing today seemed okay enough. He just barely caught the tail end of Beck's “congrats on becoming a full employee” monologue before the man set the fresh meat loose. Not that they could really go far - it was maybe a good spit's distance from corner to corner. But, if it helped them get their bearings...

He was pulled from his thoughts before they could take off too far. “Hey, Parker! Come say hi to the green beans!”

•|||•

The red haired girl was nice enough. They'd introduced themselves, exchanged snap usernames, gushed over Peter's tattoos, and bonded over the typical new job anxiety. He'd forged a sweet new friendship with Bri, and was hopeful she'd stick around. He'd seen people like her get chewed up and spit out in this industry, and he liked her.

The tall guy... was pretty boring, actually. He stayed on his phone for the majority of the introduction, opting to ignore Peter entirely. It was fine - he'd probably be gone by the end of the month. Not like they’d miss him - he barely passed his menu test, from what Peter’d overheard.

Then came Mr. Short, Dark, and Brooding - Tony, apparently - Peter remembered him from a few weeks ago. He’d given Peter a poorly concealed once-over, tried to take the runner iPad from right out of his hands... if he wasn’t so attractive, Peter’d pin him for a fuckboy.

Despite how much he looked like he’d wanted to back then, when given the opportunity, he didn’t really engage with Peter. He apparently wasn’t the type to keep eye contact, go in for a hug, make small talk. 0 for 2. Disappointing. Oh well. That’s fine - Peter was perfectly content as the only guy at this location (sans Beck, of couse). Too much testosterone didn’t foster a healthy working environment, and they all knew it.

The girls, especially. They all gushed over Peter - apparently being the token gay guy in the stand somehow made him exempt from the targetted harassment. Nearly every guy they’d hired had left within 9 months - coffee was definitely a female-dominated field.

Peter was excited to see how these two fared.

•|||•

The tall guy was gone within a week. Didn’t even leave notice, just up and stopped showing up to his shifts. Not that it was the end of the world - he was still in his probationary period, so he wasn’t even making tips. No sweat off Peter’s back.

Bri did really well, in comparison. Beck was unusually strict with her - lashing out during her initial first shifts, generally being a hardass. It was unnecessary, and everyone knew it - Peter often found himself having fridge or bathroom meetings with her to help calm her down. But she kept showing up, kept trying, and after a few weeks she was doing just as well as Peter and the rest of them.

Tony was even better. Peter’d heard through the grapevine that he’d worked at a different location when he was still in school. Why he had to go through training again was lost on Peter - Beck tended to be thorough when it came to these kinds of things, but Tony was arguably more experienced than some of Peter’s coworkers...

Apparently, it’s because he wasn’t one to play nice.

•|||•

It took them quite a while to work together. Peter’d found himself getting the shit end of the schedule, working 7-1s religiously. It was by far his least favorite shift - dealing with the morning and lunch rushes were nothing, if not exhausting. But he pushed through, and finally got a say in what he worked - a very comfortable 5 - close.

Tony seemed to fill the between-shift gap - 2-8 was his jam. He liked working later, but still getting home before dark. Apparently being a newbie meant drawing the short straw sometimes -

And the short straw just so happened to be barring with the twink from a few weeks ago.

He hadn’t been... avoiding him. Tony just... didn’t like the way he worked. Peter was flighty, always moving. It irked him... he was just so much, it made Tony’s head hurt. If he wasn’t so engaging he might actually piss Tony off - but he knew the kid had nothing but good intentions, and that made it bearable.

It didn’t translate to the bar, though.

It seemed nearly impossible for them to work well together. Tony’d been assigned the milk station for the last three hours of his shift - a long stretch, but nothing he hadn’t done before. Peter was on shots almost the entire time. Poor kid.

Tony’s sympathy ran dry when they actually began working. They were almost always on top of each other - Peter crowding his space and trying to do too much. It grated on Tony’s every nerve, made it difficult to function. Peter didn’t seem to notice at all - or if he did, he didn’t care.

It came to a head when Peter went for the fridge. 

It was a pretty well-known rule that the person on shots doesn’t reach for the fridge. Not only was it too far away from their position on machine, it requires them to go behind their bar partner, which is dangerous in a shop this small. Hot liquids, ice, sugar... they can cause spills, burns, falls... 

So of course this dumbass goes for the fridge. Opens the door. Grabs a can of cold brew with his bare hands before turning back around. 

And running into Tony face first. 

This would have been fine if it were literally anything other than a cold brew. This would have been fine if Tony wasn’t holding a fresh drink! But no - the universe lined things up just right, laid out the most well-planned disaster. 

As they made contact, Peter’s hands flew up in shock, dropping the very pressurized can. It exploded as it hit the concrete, spraying nitrogen and foam-y coffee all over them. This caused Tony to let go of the drink in his hand, coating both of their lower halves in hot, sticky milk. 

It was picturesque, the mess they made. 

Tony looked up at Peter in absolute shock. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?! Why were you in the fridge?!” 

“I was just trying to help! You were busy, I figured I could-” Tony cut him off before he filled the stand with more hot air. Not in the mood for his bullshit excuses. 

“I don’t care how busy you think I am - you ask before doing something outside of your station. Do you understand me?” The look in his eye was one Peter’d never seen before - it probably should have scared him, but frankly, it just made him angrier. 

“Who do you think you are to be giving me orders?” He was huffy, he could feel his cheeks burning red. He was an angry crier, and knew he was struggling to control his face. 

“My sister’s a Mobster. I think I know what I’m doing.” Oh. That explained it - his experience, his proficiency on bar... why he was such a dick. Peter’d never met a Mobster he liked, and if this guy was related to one... shit just made sense. 

•|||•

He spent the remaining few hours of Tony’s shift hiding in the back. They were better off separated, and neither complained. Tony could handle himself up front, and Peter was productive enough. He had chores to do, dishes to finish, the closing list to start... Getting an early start benefitted everyone. 

By the time 8 rolled around, the atmosphere in the stand had relaxed. They’d both had a chance to clean up, the girls on window had helped ease the tension with casual conversation. Bri had been running, and Peter spent plenty of time in the back with her, hushed enough to avoid the ears a few feet away. 

“I don’t see why he gets to walk all over us. You’ve been here longer, and the attitude isn’t necessary.” She was sitting on the edge of the sink, goldfish making their way to her mouth between words. “You know I don’t like him. I don’t see why you keep trying to be nice.”

Peter sighed. He knew she was right. “I just... I don’t want anyone here to feel left out, or like I did at the beginning. Beck can be mean... I want all of you to feel welcome.” It wasn’t a lie, either - he’d made a point to make everyone feel at home, to make this stand a family. Until Tony showed up, he’d been doing a great job. 

“I know buttercup. Just... don’t go bending over backward for someone that won’t even look you in the eye.” With that she hopped down, ready to clock out. 

Tony shuffled past them both, excited to do the same. Maia’d taken over the bar for him, alleviating him just before the four minute window was up. He didn’t even excuse himself, just inserting himself in their personal space without concern. 

Bri shot Peter a look before she left. Talk to him! 

He opted for bravery. He deserved an apology for Tony’s harsh words earlier today, and he was going to get it. 

He checked the cameras before walking back, making sure Maia wasn’t gonna wind up swamped if this took longer than necessary. Tony was collecting his things - he had to do this fast. 

“Hey, listen.” Tony looked up, unamused. “I know we didn’t exactly have a good shift, and yeah I’m partly to blame for that... but Beck doesn’t really vibe with hostility, and the girls...” 

Tony cut him off halfway through. “What, it makes them uncomfortable? They don’t like it when a man takes charge, has a little outburst? Sheesh, y’all really are a mess.” What the fuck?

“Okay, seriously. I tried to be nice. You owe me, and the rest of us, a serious apology for today, or I’m going to Quentin about it. It’s not that hard to say you’re sorry, Tony.” Good job Parker, firm boundaries. 

“I’m sorry? Sorry for what, doing my job? Fuck that, man. I’m out of here.” He opened the door and left, skipping past an oncoming car and heading toward his own. 

Peter followed him. It was stupid, sure - but he needed to assert himself here. This was his stand, his home - and he was damned if he was going to let some... some asshole trample all over his home like this.

He caught up to Tony quickly, stopping him before he could open the driver’s door. “Why are you such an asshole? The girls are obsessed with you, you clearly have a leg up against everyone else in your group. There’s no reason for you to be acting like this, dude. You’ve been here all of what, a month?” 

Tony took a long drag from his cigarette before answering. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. Now be a good little closer, and run inside. Finish your shift.” He exhaled the smoke into Peter’s face, getting into his car and driving away without another word. 

What a douchebag. 

[marshmallowgoop]

Magic Kaito vs. Magic Kaito 1412

I’m not sure if I ever finished all twelve episodes, but I first watched at least a handful of the original Magic Kaito specials about a decade ago, and I remember really enjoying them. Superhero stories are among my favorites, and while both Magic Kaito and its sister series Detective Conan overlap with the genre in various ways—after all, Conan’s glasses were literally inspired by Clark Kent—Kaito’s flashy costume alone pushes his adventures more in that direction. So, maybe it’s no wonder that, back in the day, I kind of considered Magic Kaito my preferred series of the two.

Recently, I’ve got a reignited interest in the DCMK world (evidently). And it’s not a bad time to have a reignited interest, because English-language accessibility for this universe is much better now than it was ten years ago. Conan’s getting new movie dubs, and Kaito’s newer, expanded TV series, Magic Kaito 1412, is freely available on Crunchyroll. Obviously, I had to give it a shot.

I wasn’t impressed. Far from it. I chalked up my old fondness to nostalgia goggles. Kid the Phantom Thief is simply more enjoyable in Detective Conan than in his own thing, I figured.

But a few weeks ago, those old specials went up on Crunchyroll Germany. And it took me a while, but I finally decided to figure out the truth, once and for all. Have my tastes totally changed, or has Magic Kaito anime not always been Like That?

I was impressed. I watched all of one episode, and I enjoyed it so much more than 1412.

Which surprised me! Just examining the first episodes of both series, they’re honestly practically identical. They cover the same story beats almost exactly. Kaito’s introduction is even consistently him being disgusting to Aoko—behavior that, nauseatingly, convinced me that Mineta of the My Hero Academia series would actually be adored if he were conventionally attractive.

But as it turns out, that’s relevant to why the original Magic Kaito strikes me as far more palatable. Kaito’s actions towards Aoko are still indefensible in the old special, but he doesn’t repeat them on his teacher, and there are repercussions. Unlike in 1412, Kaito doesn’t get away with his harassment because his teacher finds him charming; in fact, Aoko even later notes that he “should be thankful [he] [wasn’t] expelled,” implying that he was indeed punished harshly for what he did. While Aoko assures Kaito’s mother that he didn’t get in trouble in 1412, in the original special, it’s clear that being cute isn’t enough to give him a free pass for disrupting class and being gross.

Further, in a more general sense, the tone of both series is of course goofy overall, but the characters in the old Magic Kaito feel much more like human beings than the cartoonish caricatures portrayed in 1412. A scene especially missing from the new show is a quiet one where Kaito and Aoko walk together after school. With the sun hanging low in the sky and a sparkling river flowing beside them, Kaito expresses his disappointment in how his magic trick didn’t exactly end as planned. “I guess I need to work on my finale,” he bemoans, but Aoko is more concerned with why he feels the need to pull these ridiculous stunts in the first place.

She quickly gets her answer. One of the exuberant little kids who had run by them earlier falls over and cries, and Kaito doesn’t hesitate to cheer him up with magic. And Aoko watches. She sees the way the little boy’s face lights up. She sees how he runs off again with renewed energy. And she smiles. She doesn’t say it, but the audience gets the message.

Oh. That’s why Kaito’s a magician. That’s why Aoko walks by his side.

I won’t claim to fully comprehend Kaito’s character. I haven’t read the manga, it’s been years since I’ve seen more than the first episode of these old specials, I’ve only watched about 20% of 1412, and for as much as I’ve been posting about Detective Conan lately, I’m (maybe humorously) about the farthest thing from current and would only be able to tell you about Kid’s first appearance in that show. But when Kaito returns to his empty home in the original series, and when he announces that he’s there to nobody at all, and when he welcomes himself back, all with a smile and a cheerfulness to his tone, I deeply feel his loneliness. I feel the weight of his lost father. I feel that, even if some of his tricks are inappropriate and inexcusable, he does them because he wants to make people laugh. He doesn’t want anyone to feel as sad and alone as he’s felt.

Maybe I missed it, but I didn’t get any of that from Magic Kaito 1412.

And they’re small things, they really are. But they make a world of difference. Even Jii, who really only becomes more than just a mysterious figure in the episode’s closing minutes, feels more like a tangible person in the special. He loudly gasps for breath after performing the magical, fantastical feats of his old friend, and it’s such a tiny, minuscule detail, but when watching, I feel it so strongly. I literally understand the strain of Toichi’s loss on Jii, too.

Beyond narrative decisions—and there are others that I much prefer in the old series, such as how Kaito links his failed magic trick to his father’s “poker face” philosophy, and how Kaito uses a successful variation of his earlier trick to escape the police as Kid the Phantom Thief—I also just simply prefer the original art style. Magic Kaito 1412 is slick and shiny and modern, but in being so, it strikes me as much more generic than the older-styled 2010 special. Shot compositions also feel more powerful in the first anime; just consider how differently the two series handle what is arguably the emotional height of the entire episode:

[Image descriptions: A series of four comparison images examining how the 2010 Magic Kaito series and the 2014 Magic Kaito 1412 portray the same sequence of events. In both, Kaito asks Jii, “Dad was murdered?! Was my dad... a thief? Was he Kid the Phantom Thief?” Kaito then says, “I see...” End image descriptions.]

While the dialogue is essentially unchanged, the old show’s use of close-ups expresses the tension of the scene spectacularly. You can see the terror in Kaito’s eyes. You can see how the thought of his father being a thief is so distressing that merely asking the question is painful and heartwrenching. You can see the sweat on Kaito’s face. You can see in great detail how much he struggles to grapple with this new truth.

Magic Kaito 1412 is significantly more distanced. And there’s power in that decision, too. The revelation is overwhelming. It’s hard to take. Kaito may want to get away from it, but he can’t.

However, I resonate more with how the original series handles the moment. Seeing how everything affects Kaito way up close speaks much more to me—and there are still some fantastic long shots, too:

[Image descriptions: Two screenshots from the original Magic Kaito series. Both are distanced long shots. In the first image, Kaito and Jii kneel on the ground. Kaito’s hands are on Jii’s shoulders. In the second image, Kaito stands, facing away from Jii, while Jii remains on the ground in shame. They wear identical outfits in both images, and their capes blow in the wind. End image descriptions.]

Gotta love those capes.

Overall, my feelings on Magic Kaito as a whole could probably be best described as somewhat mixed. And I’m kind of new here, and I don’t even know when it’s appropriate to use the #dcmk tag, so I of course don’t have the slightest clue about how popular or unpopular my opinion that the 2010 Magic Kaito series ranks above 2014′s Magic Kaito 1412 is. 

But skipping down memory lane and revisiting the old show was pleasantly surprising. Maybe my affection for Magic Kaito will never reach the highs it once had all those years ago, but it was almost comforting to find that my tastes haven’t changed all that much—rather, it’s Magic Kaito itself that’s changed.

[2manyfandoms2count]

I love you (not) - Chapter 6

Aaaand we're back on the main fic! I am very proud to announce that I managed to fit an AU in here without it being weird (I think). It was really fun to write! Feel free to ask me more about that universe if you feel like it :) Hope you enjoy!

@marichatmay

First | Previous | AO3 | Next

---

Chapter 6: In which we change worlds but it makes sense, I promise

“Princess!”

Marinette stirred in her sleep as she heard the call and the distinct sound of curtains opening. She felt the morning’s soft light warm her face and sighed contently.

“Princess Marinette, you need to wake up! Today’s the day!” The feminine voice called again, closer, this time.

Her eyes flew open and she sat up, feeling her heartbeat quicken with excitement.

“Oh Tikki, you won’t believe how well I slept!” She jumped out of her canopy bed, her white nightdress flowing in her wake as she rushed towards her handmaiden, who stared out of the window. “I really thought I wouldn’t sleep a wink, but really, the herbal tea you gave me worked wonders!"

“I’m glad to hear it! It worked well on Chat Noir, too, apparently. I ran into Plagg, his squire, in the kitchen earlier.”

“Good,” Marinette sighed with relief.

“Come on, now, we need to get you ready!” Tikki took her hand and led her to her dressing table. “How are you feeling about your engagement day?” She asked as she started brushing the princess’ hair.

“Very good. I’m very happy about the outcome of yesterday’s rounds - I know I’m not supposed to have favourites within the contestants but…” Marinette paused, hesitating to say anymore. It wasn’t a matter of trust (she’d known Tikki long enough that the two had become close friends, despite the rank difference); she was just unwilling to criticise the way things were too soon.

“You have every right to be, your Highness. The Joust of Valour explores your suitors’ ability to protect you, but there’s more to marriage than just that. It’s good that you feel comfortable with the two final contestants.” Her handmaiden smiled warmly, starting to braid her hair. “If I may, does your Highness have a soft spot for one contestant in particular? I could pass the message to the relevant people, maybe it would give him some extra luck for today…”

“I don’t, Tikki,” the young lady said firmly. It wasn’t a lie; she’d asked herself who she’d rather see emerge victorious of the tournament as she fell asleep the previous night, but she hadn’t reached a solid conclusion. It was better this way, really. Whatever the outcome, she wouldn’t be disappointed. “Anyway, you said Chat Noir was doing well?...”

Tikki repressed a smile, and told her what she knew.

---

Marinette proudly walked up to her place in the stands, her arm linked to her father’s.

For once, she would be the one sitting front and center of the Royal Balcony, relegating her parents, the King and Queen of the Croissant Kingdom, to the back of the stall with their guest. Neither King Tom or Queen Sabine seemed to mind, though; both were beaming as they waved to the crowd that had travelled for the event. Their cheers lifted the princess’ spirits so much that even the stern figure of King Gabriel of the Butterfly Kingdom failed to make her mood waver. Maybe this was what growing up felt like.

“Mesdames et Messieurs!” The voice of the announcer boomed over the ambient noise. “Welcome to the final round of the Joust of Valour! The joust will soon commence. Sparring for the heart of our beloved Princess Marinette, having victoriously arisen from all their duels, are Prince Adrien from the Butterfly Kingdom, and our local Knight Chat Noir!”

The crowd roared as the two men came forward, leading their horses.

Prince Adrien’s silver armour glistened in the sunlight, and so did his smile as his gaze met hers. Her heart skipped a beat. Her crush on him, which she’d developed during one of their first encounters as children, really hadn’t faded much over the years, despite what her friend, the Duchess Alya, had told her.

On the other hand, Chat Noir’s appearance was a lot starker. His whole armour was black, matte, the whole hint of colour being his forest green spear. There was something radiant about him, though, in the way his tousled blond hair danced in the breeze, in the way his green eyes sparkled with laughter and mischief as he approached the stands, that drew her to him. He’d been at her side for years, valiantly working with her when she’d been taken hostage by one of the Papillon’s sbires. They’d brilliantly defeated him, earning him his knighthood at the age of only fifteen, and a place in her personal guard. Despite her father’s warnings that Marinette shouldn’t meddle with the Papillon’s affairs, Chat Noir still managed to get her involved. They were a team.

“I hope I’ll be up to the challenge, dearest Marinette,” Adrien squeezed the hand she presented to him; she squeezed it back and smiled as she watched him head towards his noble steed.

“My Lady Princess,” Chat Noir bowed reverently before her, “please accept this rose as a token of my affection.” He pulled a pink rose out of seemingly thin air and presented it to her. The crowd gasped delightedly. Then, delicately taking her hand, he pressed a kiss to the back of it with a wink; Marinette felt herself blush.

“Thank you, Chat Noir,” she barely managed to enunciate.

He bowed again, and went to ready himself.

Marinette looked at the rose, and noticed there was a piece of paper wrapped around the stem, maintained by a thorn. She made the most of everybody’s attention on the contestants to unravel it.

My dearest Lady Princess,

I’m sorry.

Love you always, CN

“Princess Marinette will now announce the beginning of the joust!” The announcer declared, startling her as she tried to understand what Chat Noir had meant by his message. She rapidly shoved it in her pocket and stood up uneasily, hoping all the eyes trained on her wouldn’t detect her fluster.

“Best of luck, gentlemen! May the best man win!”

The two horses set off towards each other, spurred on by their riders. The contestants’ spears crashed against each other’s shield, unsettling them a little. Both knights trotted to the end of the track and prepared to set off again.

The crowd oohed and aahed during the next rounds, both men barely wavering at the other’s assaults. Marinette held her breath each time, anxiously awaiting the outcome, only to let out a relieved sigh when neither fell.

Then, as the two men were about to set off again for the thirteenth time, Marinette saw Chat Noir’s helmet turn briefly towards her, and she felt her stomach drop. She didn’t need to see his face to know what was about to happen. The rose slipped out from her fingers as she realised what the note had meant.

As the knight and the prince came up to each other at full speed, Prince Adrien’s jousting spear collided violently with Chat Noir’s chest, and the latter fell to the ground with a deafening clank .

The crowd erupted in clamour as Adrien started to tour the track at a low trot, a victorious smile on his lips. Finally reaching the royal stand, he elegantly jumped off and extended a hand towards her.

“I’m truly honoured to be your future husband, your Royal Highness.”

He kissed her hand before guiding her out of the stand and helped her up to ride his horse with him. She smiled the whole time, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

Those were looking for Chat Noir.

---

In the middle of the boisterous banquet, Marinette felt like she couldn’t breathe anymore. She had to get out of the hall, before her plastered smile broke, and she exposed her true feelings.

She excused herself, reassuring Prince Adrien that it must have been her prolonged time in the sun and her unusual mead consumption, and made her way to her quarters.

There, she rapidly grabbed a cloak from her trunk and sneaked out, head hung low until she’d exited the castle’s gates.

She started running. Her legs carried her as her mind raced, as her tear-ducts gave way to her tears.

She hadn’t thought the joust’s outcome would mean so much to her. She thought she’d be happy, whatever happened on the track. But as much as she’d dreamed of this match… It just didn’t feel right.

She tripped and fell to her knees, out of breath, and recognised her surroundings. The clearing had been where Chat and her had been taken hostage, and where Chat took her to practise fencing when he knew no one was looking.

A rustling sound startled her and she put her hands up defensively, although she didn’t feel like getting up.

“Hi, Princess,” Chat Noir emerged from the trees, carrying a bag. “I couldn’t find you in your room, but I figured you’d be here.”

“You had no right to sacrifice yourself like that,” she sobbed, her hands dropping to her knees.

“You know you’ll be much happier with Prince Adrien, Princess.” He smiled sadly. “You two are meant to be - you’d already be betrothed to him, were it not for the Kingdom’s Joust of Valour.”

“You don’t know what would make me happier,” she angrily wiped the tears from her eyes.

“You know I’d do anything for you, my Marinette.” He rushed to her side and cupped her cheek.

“Then run away with me.” She looked straight into his eyes.

“Why?” He whispered, his face inching closer to hers.

“Because Prince Adrien might have my hand…” She started, her breath hitching as she computed their proximity. “... But you have my heart.” Her eyes fluttered shut as she closed the distance between them and…

BIP-BIP-BIP-BIP

Marinette woke up with a start as her alarm clock started blaring. Her heart raced in her chest at the already fleeting memory of her dream. She caught her disappointment at not having witnessed the outcome, and covered her face with her hands. She felt like she was burning up.

She was so confused. The dream had been so out of place. So unexpected. What did it mean? She didn’t love Chat Noir! And she definitely didn’t want to run away with him. How absurd.

She only had a week to hold out for, she thought as she got dressed. It wouldn’t come soon enough.

She didn't know if her heart would survive another trick of her brain.

[loftec]

what do u think about the new episode? because i personally fucking hate it :) i hate shameless, the only thing i care about right now is fic 😔

Same, my friend. I have been thinking about what to say or not to say about this for over a week and every time I've sat down to just type something out, I haven't been able to articulate anything. But I have so much to say, so I will try.

Now, if you (reading this, right now) are one of the lucky peeps who like this season and what it's got going for Ian and Mickey, so far... then maybe skip this rant. I honestly don't want to drag you down with my criticism. It's so ok to peacefully enjoy something without having to listen to people being crabby about the thing you love. Pax vobiscum.

That said.

(Crabby rant under cut.)

But if you're like me, kinda hurt and let down for the very last time, please stay a while. I'll tell you why I'm like this, and why I'm no longer angry, just disappointed.

Here's the thing, the first episode wasn’t any fun for me, but I quite enjoyed the second! It was the kind of low-stakes close-knit family stuff I want from a Shameless episode. Literally all they have to do to keep me happy is cram a bunch of Gallaghers into a kitchen and let them talk to each other for five minutes. I'm very easy to please. I like Sandy, I like what she does for Debbie's character. I like Tami, I like that Lip seems a lot happier. I like Liam, someone please take care of the boy. I like that Carl has a goal, and that he's all grown up. I like that Ian and Mickey are married and that they're a part of this family again. It’s a nice vibe, we’re having a party for Franny and it’s not perfect, but we learned something and we’re having fun. It’s fine.

On the whole, it’s nice. But for someone whose main priority is Ian and his significant other, it’s the same old bullshit all over again.

In seasons 1-5, I'm pretty sure Ian and Mickey only had like three conversations with each other that weren't plot relevant. But it was fine, it's en ensemble cast and Fiona, Lip and Frank got most of the A plots. Ian and Mickey had a lot of serious stuff going on, so the 5 minutes they got to do something each week had to be used dealing with all the shit they had to deal with. It's fine. This is fine. It's fine. I understand how TV works. We cut in on them in the middle of a conversation about Jean-Claude Van Damme, and I understand that they've spent the whole evening together and that they've talked about other things as well. Silly, inconsequential things, things people talk about when they like each other and want to be close and get to know each other. And when we're dropped in the middle of Ian, Mickey and Svetlana playing house in 5x1, I understand that it has been a period of time since we saw them last, and that things have changed. That they have talked about some things, and not talked about some things. And I happily played along and filled in all the gaps, I did the work; I imagined them together on a good day, on a calm evening lounging on the couch, on a lazy morning sleeping in. Quiet breakfasts, lively dinners. I imagined what they would say to each other, what they would talk about and what they still couldn't talk about. I did the work because it felt like it was worth it, because I knew that the story they were focusing on (Ian's illness and Mickey coming into his own) were worth it. That they needed every second they could get to tell the story of a mentally ill teenager and his abuse survivor boyfriend learning to love and support each other, and get better and grow up on their own terms.

I, the fool, kept thinking that one day. One day it would get better and they would get a break and the show would give them a minute, just a minute here and there, to be happy. Have a conversation that we could get in on. Have one good day for us to witness, and not just imagine.

Instead they broke them up for production reasons, for behind the scenes bullshit, for no reason at all, other than the simple fact that the show runners have never once cared about Ian and Mickey as much as we have. As much as Cam and Noel have. They had no qualms about rewriting a whole season's arc to make no sense in the last minute. They had no issues with throwing a beloved character in prison and leaving him there for a season and a half (which could have been good storytelling... if not every single Gallagher to ever get locked up had some lucky thing happen to spring them out again way before they’ve done their time). They had no problem with letting Ian say and do one thing one minute and then the exact opposite the next.

I think the thing that truly made me give up on the show at that time was the tattoo. We had such precious few things to work from when trying to understand these characters and we did our very best. We took the crumbs and we built a whole castle of cake. And one of the cornerstones, one of the first fucking things we ever knew about Mickey Milkovich, was that he could spell the name "Ian Gallagher". And if they wanted to give him a bad tattoo, they still could have. Maybe he did it himself and got it wrong because of the angle. Maybe there was a miscommunication and whoever did it on him got the name wrong. But no, they had to have him sit there and claim that he didn't know how to spell his boyfriend's name. It was so petty, so mean-spirited, such a massive fuck-you to anyone who dared to care and retain the things they'd previously told us about Mickey, I just had to stop caring about canon. I drew a line for myself around the canon I could understand as emotionally consistent, and ignored anything that landed on the other side of it. Perhaps not the best way to watch a TV show, but then I also stopped watching the show. So it worked out.

Anyway, this wasn't supposed to be about the first five seasons. But I'm obviously still bitter, and I wanted to explain why I'm well past the point of chasing after crumbs. Because it’s still the same bullshit, only now they’ve exchanged important, nuanced storylines about coming out and getting better for... I don’t know. Talking about sex and arguing about money.

Here is an incomplete list of loftec’s crumbs of disappointment, so far:

Ian and Mickey have been married for 6 (?) months, and the writers will have you believe they still have not had a conversation.

Ian is still relegated to C-plots (only now he's sometimes allowed in the background of an A plot, which is fun I guess but still not near what he deserves after all these years).

Meanwhile, Lip got two separate extended scenes detailing how he tricks his girlfriend into spending less money, in the first episode. That’s so much airtime spent on one point. In the second episode, he had a casual conversation with his baby! Ian and Mickey haven't had a casual conversation about anything since fucking never! 

Ian and Mickey have talked about sex and money, so far. Nothing else. Important things, I'm sure. But let's compare this with Lip in the same episode. Lip and Tami wake up together, they get to be sweet to each other, talk about their lives and daily routine, they have a chat about coffee and someone they know who is having a hard time, then they get into the subject of their conflict du jour. Ian and Mickey get a weird allusion to how much sex they're having (so much sex you guys, just believe and it will come true!) and then they're arguing about jobs and money. For two whole episodes. Except that one time where they got derailed and accidentally talked about monogamy instead.

Monogamy. Something they haven’t talked about before. And apparently a word Mickey doesn’t understand, or know how to spell.

And it still feels so petty, because it's just. So specific. They could have chosen any of the magnificent character traits of Mickey's that they teased us with in the first five seasons, and this is the thing they pick? And then turn into a main character trait?? Mickey can't spell. Mickey doesn't understand words. Haha ha. And I'm not purposefully misunderstanding this scene, I promise. I understand what they were trying to do. I most certainly understand what Noel acted his ass off to convey. I am not here freaking out about Mickey wanting to be with other people, or Ian saying this or doing that. I'm not worried about them cheating or getting a divorce. I'm just really disappointed that this is where we are now.

That Mickey, who we all saw through and understood to be smart and loyal, quick on his feet and quippy as anything, has been reduced to this. I'm pretty sure he's had his hand down his pants in half the scenes he's been in so far. I don't know what that means, but it's like... a choice. And I don't like this choice. They could have had an insecure conversation about monogamy and money and we could have gone on this journey with them as they struggle with their inability to communicate and I would have been all for it, if it had been written with something more, anything else, something to break through the plump humor and crass approach to this marriage that Ian spent half of the last season trying to have a conversation about! But never got to, because the writers thought it would be funnier to have Mickey punch Ian in the face and run off with some guy, rather than talk to him!

Also, I know this is getting outrageously long, but the fighting. The fighting is another thing. Who here watched that scene in 3x9 where Ian tries to get Mickey to be honest with him and Mickey kicks him in the face rather than admit he's gay, and thought, hey! Guys being guys, am I right? Who here watched that scene in 5x10 when Ian punched Mickey in the face because he didn't know how to accept care from someone who loves him and wanted to feel a feeling, and thought; oh yes, this is just how they communicate! This is fine! I know I didn't. But sure, why not. It's a choice, I guess. They're just manly men, and manly men fight with their significant others. They beat the shit out of each other, no problem. This is not something we need to have a conversation about, not at all.

This is about writing. They easily could have written Ian and Mickey’s scenes differently. They could have had incidental bits of conversation, hinting at their lives outside of this conflict they’re having. They could have been in the background of someone else’s scene, just a quick gesture of something nice that would help flesh out the bits in between. They could have conversations and storylines about pretty much anything, and still bring up the question of monogamy and Mickey’s residual insecurities about Ian’s past infidelity. They could have been subtle about it, instead of writing a clown scene where Mickey acts like a clown and Ian doesn’t remember that he’s done a lot of shit in their past that they maybe need to talk about. Because they still haven’t talked about it? NOT ONCE? THEY WERE IN THE SAME CELL FOR MONTHS! AND NOT A SINGLE CONVERSATION WAS HAD. THIS IS FINE. I’M FINE.

I get it. This is supposed to be a fun show about whacky characters. It's supposed to be outrageous, the show runners and writers are choosing these things to get a reaction. I get it, and I don't like it and if you think this means that I should stop watching the show and shut up, then I agree with you.

But also, I love these characters and this community, and I want to like this season. Our last season. I want to watch it and still hope that Ian and Mickey will get to have a conversation about nothing special, just because they like each other, before it's over.

And if not, there is always fic. And you know I will be making them talk to each other in NTW until there are no words left.

[paperbodiesamongthestars]

Day 18: Heatwave

When Steve woke up on the Monday of spring break, it took him a while to notice that anything was wrong. It wasn’t until he had finished two cups of coffee and turned on some random morning news show for company that he got his first indication that things had gone awry on a much larger scale than he could have anticipated. 

“It’s a completely unexpected, very localized heat wave,” the meteorologist was saying. “Temperatures are climbing toward a hundred degrees in the town of Hawkins, which is quite unusual for this time of year. Especially because the surrounding areas are still experiencing normal temperatures. Predictions were for daytime temperatures in the sixties, with some cooler, overcast days toward the end of the week, and that remains the forecast for everywhere outside of Hawkins.”

“There’s truly no good explanation for it,” the woman at the desk agreed. “Well folks, make sure you stock up on cool drinks if you’re in the Hawkins area. It looks like this week is going to be an unexpectedly hot one.” Steve stared at the television in horror. 

“Fuck,” he breathed, and then he lowered his head to the counter and banged his forehead on it a few times for good measure. “Fuuuuuuck,” he said again, with feeling. And then he called Robin. 

“You did what?” she demanded, once she was sitting at the kitchen table and he had explained it to her. Steve winced. 

“You heard me,” he said, slumping over to bury his face in his hands. “I knew something had gone wrong with the spell as soon as I finished it, but I didn’t think about this.” He sat up and waved his arms around. “I mean, how is this even possible!” Robin just stared at him. 

“Okay,” she said, “here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to talk me through exactly what you did at each stage of the spell, and we’re going to figure out where it went wrong. And then we’re going to fix it.” Steve winced again. 

“Do we absolutely have to do that?” he asked in a small voice. 

“Yes,” she said, standing up, “and don’t think I didn’t notice that you were extremely vague about the purpose of the spell in the first place.” He mumbled something into the table. “What?” she asked, leaning in and cupping her hand around her ear for good measure. “I didn’t hear that, dingus.”

Steve sat up and dropped his head back, staring at the ceiling. 

“That’s because it is super fucking embarrassing, Robin,” he said loudly. She softened slightly. 

“Hey,” she said, bumping his shoulder with her elbow, “we’re going to figure this out. And I promise not to judge you too harshly.” Steve narrowed his eyes at her. 

“Do you promise not to make fun of me for literally ever if I tell you?”

“I do not,” she replied easily, “and you’re going to tell me anyway. Now lead the way to your workroom. I need to see what you did.” Steve sighed and led the way.

“Okay,” Robin said slowly after Steve had explained it to her. “You were trying to home-brew a spell to make, in your own words, ‘Billy Hargrove hot for you.’” Steve was staring very deliberately at the floor. 

“Yes,” he said, “and you don’t have to say it with that tone.” 

“Oh dingus,” she replied, “I absolutely do. I’m going to skip right over the question of why you would even want that, given that Billy Hargrove is a complete tool, and ask you to walk me through what you actually did for the spell instead.”

“He’s not that bad,” Steve muttered under his breath. 

“He is,” Robin said. “You’re just blinded by his abs.”

“They’re nice abs.”

“That I cannot dispute. The spell, dingus.” Steve walked her through it. At the end of the demonstration, she frowned.

“You’re sure that’s exactly what you did? You didn’t change anything?” Steve shook his head. 

“You can check my notebook. I logged everything because it was a home-brewed spell. That’s exactly how I did it.” Robin pulled his notebook across the table toward her and ran a finger over the page as she mentally catalogued the steps Steve had just gone through. She sighed when she was done and then shook her head.

“It doesn’t make sense,” she said. “I have a deep philosophical disagreement with what you were trying to accomplish because you’re my friend and you can do better than that douchebag, but it should have worked.” Steve sighed, frustrated. 

“I know it should have worked. I may suck at a lot of things, but I am good at this.” Robin nodded. 

“You are,” she agreed. “Run me through it again. And focus on the parts at the end, where you could tell something was off.” Steve sighed and started over. 

Three hours later, they were no closer to identifying the problem. They had been over the spell what felt like a hundred times, and it was airtight—it absolutely should have worked. 

“Tell me again how you knew something was off,” Robin asked. 

“For the hundredth time,” Steve said, “the casting felt wrong. I released the spell, and it felt fine initially, but then it felt like it kind of…ricocheted? Like it headed off in one direction and then suddenly expanded in all directions at once?” Robin nodded along. 

“But what would cause that?” she wondered aloud. 

“Nothing that I know of,” Steve said, again. “A protective spell or barrier would cause a simple directional blowback—the spell would have rebounded, but not expanded. And it was a low-level spell, so it wouldn’t have activated the wards.”

“And we’ve been doing regular sweeps for anomalies, so it was unlikely to have been any kind of ambient magical interference.” 

“Right,” Steve agreed. “And even if it was, that could have redirected the spell, but it shouldn’t have dissipated it like that.” Robin groaned and banged her head against Steve’s heavy wooden worktable. She left it there for a long moment, and then she abruptly sat up, eyes narrowing. 

“Hypothetically speaking,” she said, “what would happen if you cast the spell on something that had two layers of protection?” Steve narrowed his eyes as well. 

“You mean something supernatural?”

“Something supernatural that was also carrying a protective spell.” Steve thought hard for a long moment, and then slowly started nodding. 

“That could do it,” he said, running over it in his head. “The spell would make it past most magical protective barriers because it wouldn’t register as harmful, but a more sophisticated barrier would react.”

“And if a supernatural creature’s magic responded at the same time…”

“It could cause a rebound effect that would build on itself,” Steve said. 

“Sending the spell off in all directions at once,” Robin finished. Steve narrowed his eyes.

“But us and El are the only magical creatures in Hawkins,” he argued. 

“Us and El and Billy Hargrove, apparently. Now grab your notebook and get your shoes on. I have some questions for the former douchebag King of Hawkins High.” Steve hesitated. “You have to know what he is to reverse the spell, right?” Steve nodded. “Ok, so. Shoes. Now.”

Billy raised an eyebrow when he opened the door to find Steve and Robin outside his apartment. It was five in the evening, and still brutally hot. 

“Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum,” he drawled in greeting. “What can I do for you?” Robin cocked her head. 

“Whatever you are, you’ve done an exceptional job hiding it,” she said, looking intently at Billy. The smile vanished off his face, and he took a step back from the door. 

“I don’t know what you’re playing at,” Billy started to say, and Robin rolled her eyes. 

“Oh, come on,” she said, and with a twist of her wrist, her fingertips lit up in rainbow colors. “Takes one to know one?” Billy stared at her hand for a long moment and then sighed and stepped aside to let them in. Billy sat in an armchair to one side of the coffee table. Robin relaxed into the couch while Steve perched nervously at the edge of it. 

“So you’re what,” Billy asked, “a witch?” 

“Got it in one,” Robin said. 

“And Harrington?” Billy asked. 

“Oh, Steve is special,” Robin said. “Pure witch bloodline on both sides, with a touch of High Fae in there somewhere.”

“That’s a fancy pedigree,” Billy said flippantly, and Steve flushed. “So why are you here, exactly?” Billy asked. It was a question Steve had been hoping to avoid. Robin turned to Steve, as though she was also waiting for him to answer that question. 

“It, uh, came to our attention that you might not be entirely human?” Steve tried not to make it a question and failed. Billy’s eyes were intent on him. 

“And how, exactly, did it come to your attention?”

“That’s not really relevant,” Steve said, and Billy smiled. 

“Then I think we’re done here,” he said, leaning back in his chair. 

“What?” Steve asked. 

“Or,” Billy said, “we can make a trade. You tell me how you discovered my secret—without leaving anything out—and I’ll answer your question.” Steve glanced over at Robin, eyes wide. She shrugged. 

“It’s a fair deal, dingus.”

“Is it, Robin?” Steve asked, a little hysterically. She wasn’t the one who was about to be spectacularly humiliated. 

“Final offer,” Billy said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Ugh, fine,” Steve said. He really did need to know what Billy was to undo the spell, and he didn’t want to know how long the heatwave would last without intervention. A long time, probably. Steve looked up at the ceiling as he spoke. “I tried to cast a spell on you, and it did not go as planned. The reaction of the spell made it clear that you were not entirely human.” Billy was nodding. 

“What was the spell supposed to do?” Steve blushed immediately and deeply. Billy grinned. 

“It was, um…” Steve trailed off. He wasn’t sure he could say it out loud. There was a very long silence.  

“It was supposed to attract your attention,” Robin finally said. Billy raised an eyebrow at her. “Your…amorous attention,” she clarified. Billy’s grin went wider. 

“Aw, baby,” he said to Steve, “you didn’t have to go to all that trouble on my account. Pretty boy like you could have just asked.” Steve groaned and buried his face in his hands. Great, now Robin and Billy were going to mock him forever. 

“So what are you, exactly?” Robin asked. 

“Wow, just jumping straight to the extremely personal questions, huh Buckley?” Billy replied, and then his eyes narrowed. “Wait, is that why the weather’s all fucked up?” Robin nodded. Billy looked at Steve, who still had his face in his hands. “Your spell did that, Harrington?” Steve finally looked up and sighed. 

“Yes,” he said, avoiding eye contact. “I clearly didn’t account for whatever you have going on magically in addition to whatever protection spells you’re carrying, so the backlash built on itself and spread out over Hawkins.” Billy gave a low whistle. 

“That’s a lot of power you’re packing, Harrington.”

“Like I said,” Robin cut in, “Steve’s special.”

“Guess so,” Billy said slowly, and there was something Steve couldn’t read in his tone. There was a pause, and then Billy spoke again. “I’m a nixie,” he said to Robin. She nodded thoughtfully.  

“Water spirit, right?” she asked. Billy nodded. 

“Which is one reason my asshole dad moved us away from the ocean. I have less power here.”

“So why haven’t you gone back?” Robin asked. “You graduated almost a year ago.”

“Nope,” Billy said, shaking his head. “I already answered your question for the day.” Robin stood up. 

“I guess that means we’re done here,” she said, looking over at Steve. “Do you have what you need to reverse the spell?” Unfortunately, he did not. 

“It would be easier if I could…touch you,” he said to Billy, looking at a spot over his left shoulder instead of at his face. “It’s the fastest way to get a feel for your magic, which will make it a lot easier to undo the spell.” Billy gave a tight nod, and Steve stepped past Robin to get closer to him. He reached out tentatively toward Billy’s arm.

“Hey,” Billy said quietly, and Steve stopped reaching. “I meant what I said. You don’t need a spell for me to be interested in you.” Steve finally met Billy’s eyes. They were wide and sincere and very, very blue. 

“Yeah?” Steve asked, and for the first time since they had entered the apartment, he smiled. He took another step toward Billy, who nodded, an answering smile on his face. Steve reached out and ran his fingertips down Billy’s forearm. Billy shivered, and his breath hitched a little. Steve closed his hand over Billy’s wrist and closed his eyes. He let go of his shielding enough to let Billy’s magic wash over him, and it was cool and refreshing against his magical senses. He opened his eyes to find Billy’s eyes on his face, his expression open and a little hopeful. He swayed a little closer. 

“I’m just going to head out,” said Robin behind him. 

“Sure,” murmured Steve, not listening at all. Robin opened the door to let herself out just as Steve’s lips touched Billy’s. “Fix the heat wave first!” she yelled over her shoulder as she closed the door behind her. 

They did not, in fact, fix the heat wave first. But they did get to it. Eventually. 

[mochiyoonfi]

Call Me Baby (JN)

Warnings:  Complete Soft, but also kinda angry, No cursing

Word Count: 2.5k 

A/N: This was meant to be a oneshot, so above 5k words. However I just felt like this was super easy to put in under 3k. The average 18-21 year old will still take about 10 minutes to read this so I think it’s fine.

-❀-

Honestly, sometimes you hated Jin.

He wasn't like your other friends. Sure, the others could be annoying but they were never straight up standoffish to you. You almost dreaded seeing him. The cold glance that he only saved for you, his other friends receiving his bright, warm smile. But of course, whenever you saw his face you forgot your frustration and your mind skipped up to cloud nine. 

It was as if it was impossible for you to be unhappy when he was around. Like he was a placebo. Which was unfortunate because he wasn't nice to you.

“Y/n! You're finally here!” 

You smiled at the deep voice, running up to tightly hug your best friend. “Taehyung! How long has it been?”

“A week!” He responded happily, no sense of irony in his voice. 

Wrapped warmly in his arms, the two of you entered the building, laughing and making fun of each other as you enjoyed the warmth of your hug. Hoseok burst out into laughter the second he saw you. A fun loving guy at heart, he understood when he was allowed to laugh and when he wasn't. And he knew now was a time when he could. He was always ready to poke fun at the way the two of you didn’t hesitate to tease each other, yet acted like the time you spent apart was unbearable. 

“Y/n! Taehyung! You only saw each other last week and yet you make it look like it's been months!” “It felt like longer.” Taehyung shot back, a grin clear in his boxy smile and scrunched eyes.

“Sheesh you could get out of the doorway.” 

You jumped, instantly recognising the normally light voice, now a pitch lower. You spun, surprised, in Taehyung’s arms to see Seokjin, his eyebrows slanted, lips in a frown. His eyes bore into you. Cold shivers ran down your arms as it felt as though he saw straight through you.

“Can you even hear? Get out of the way.” 

You rolled your eyes at him, not ready to just let him be so rude to you, even though your instinct was to step aside wordlessly. “You could at least ask nicely.”

“I shouldn’t have to.” 

When he saw the burning fire of stubbornness in your eyes, signalling you weren’t going to move, he sighed, frustrated and pushed his way past. 

You turned to Taehyung, who was blinking slowly, slightly confused. You gave him a reassuring smile and he shrugged his suspicions off, grinning and dragging you into the apartment. 

You were met with a quick hug from each of the boys, except for Jin of course, who stood a few metres away and didn’t even acknowledge you past a cold glance.

You sat down in between Jungkook and Taehyung, who hadn’t let go of your hand yet, playing with your fingers as if he were a baby. It was a cute habit of his though, so you didn’t mind. 

Jin however, unnoticed by you was glaring, alternating between glaring at Taehyung and you. 

Yoongi however, noticed almost instantly that something had changed about his only hyung in your friend group. He nudged Seokjin, who turned to him. 

Opting to make sure his friend wouldn’t be embarrassed, Yoongi spoke in a hushed whisper. “Jin why are you being so weird?” 

Jin shrugged. “I’m not?” 

“You’re glaring at Y/n. And Taehyung.” 

Jin once again shrugged this off. “Maybe my eyes got a tick. I’m not glaring.”

Yoongi sighed and rolled his eyes. He hadn’t expected the prideful Jin to actually admit to him what was wrong, so he would just have to settle for surveying his friend. 

“I hate doing school work though.” Jungkook whined. He had only started his University course a few days ago but to anyone without prior knowledge he seemed like a veteran. Always complaining. 

“Doesn’t matter, kook. You gotta do it anyway.” Taehyung stated, pulling his glasses up his nose in a mature fashion that left the rest of you giggling. 

“Taehyung you’ve only been doing University for a couple of months.” You commented. Taehyung frowned and pinched the side of your cheek. 

“Shh. Tae is tryna sound smart.” 

The boys burst into laughter, you rolled your eyes at his typical behaviour. But the normal ear pleasing sound of Jin’s laugh was missing. You turned to him and he looked away. 

Seriously? What was wrong with Jin lately? He wasn’t this bad before… sure he’s always been a little cold but he was never straight up rude before now!

“Y/n you’re no better anyway really. How old are you now?” 

You shuffled at Hoseok’s question. You had really begun to feel old lately, realising just how much younger your friends were. 

“I’m 26…” 

Jimin grinned. “You’re only just younger than Jin and Yoongi. I can't say you’ve got too much to brag about.” 

You shrugged. “I’ve got a college degree under my belt. That’s more than I can say for dear Yoongi.” 

Yoongi laughed, not taking any offence from your teasing. “I’m a musician, Y/n. What use would a degree be?” 

You didn’t respond, knowing Yoongi was correct and instead raised your glass of beer at him, smirking. The others did the same, Jin reluctantly raising his last.

“To me.” Yoongi tried. The others snorted at his attempt for the spotlight to stay solely on him.

“To free will.” You decided. You heard Seokjin snort softly and, grin slightly forced, chose to ignore him. 

-❀-

“It’s getting late.” Hoseok stated. 

You turned your phone on. The bright light instantly lit up the dim room and the others turned towards you, mumbling about shutting the light off. They saw your lock screen was a photo of you and Taehyung, fingers in a peace sign, sipping from the same boba tea cup. 

Taehyung giggled. The others didn’t question it as they already know Taehyung was your best friend. But Seokjin had joined your friend group last. He didn’t know that initially it had just been you two, then Jimin, then Yoongi and Hoseok, Namjoon and Jungkook and Finally Seokjin. Seokjin frowned. 

He was about to ask if you two were dating, but was interrupted. “Baby do you wanna go home now? It’s now 11 pm..” 

You nodded. “I’m not tired, but Yoongi looks tired.”

Yoongi snorted. “Of course. I’m always tired.” 

Hoseok was leaning his head on the table, and turned sideways to face the older male.  

“You don’t look tired when you’re playing the piano.” He slurred the last word and you could tell he was drunk. “You look really happy. At peace… like you’re in heaven.” 

Yoongi’s face flushed red and for once the quick witted man was left speechless. 

The others laughed, even Jin who still didn’t look pleased couldn't help but chuckle. 

“So I guess Yoongi will have to drop Hoseok off tonight. He can’t drive like this.” 

“He can sleep here.” Yoongi suggested. Hoseok mumbled something about how soft Yoongi’s ‘fur’ was, which you assumed meant that his hair. Yoongi nodded slowly and patted the younger's head. 

Jungkook rolled a beer back and forth on the table. “I’ll drive. I didn’t have that much. I’ll take Jimin home with me. Jin is your car here?” 

He nodded. 

Suddenly Taehyung’s phone rang and he picked it up, running from the room. 

He came back a minute late and kissed your cheek. “Cmon baby lets go. I needa do some stuff when I get home.”

“If it’s urgent I can just stay at your place.” You offered. He nodded and began leaving the room, you following behind him, saying goodbyes to each of the boys, except Jin.

You began down the stairs, Taehyung already in his car, once again on his phone. 

The second you heard the door click closed, it was thrown open again. You spun and your arm was caught in a strong grip.

Seokjin.

He was looking at you, a blank look on his face. 

“Y/n why are you like this?”

“Like what?” 

“Do you hate me? Did I do something wrong?” 

You tried to step back, but Jin’s strong grip stopped you. “Me?”

“Yes obviously you!” Jin snapped. 

“You hate me for goodness sake!” 

“No I don’t! It’s because you’re so cold!” 

You frowned, crossing your arms. “I’m not cold to you at all! You’re always ignoring me and you don’t even say hi anymore!” 

“Why does saying hi matter anymore?”

Your eyebrows shot up, confused. “The others say it… It’s not that hard Jin.”

“Why would you need me to say hi? You have Taehyung!” 

“Taehyung? Why is that even relevant!” 

“He calls you baby for god’s sake!” 

Finally, you wrenched your cold arm from Jin’s grip. His eyebrows were still slanted down in anger, eyes on fire.

“Why do you even care?!” You snapped.

“Because I love you!” 

Time slowed down, the light snow around you falling still. After a few seconds you got over the shock and your face went red. 

“L-love?” 

He finally realised what he said and covered his face with both hands. “N-no! I didn’t mean that…” 

You raised an eyebrow, the effort to look sassy slightly tainted by your red face. Still, since he was covering half his face in embarrassment, he wouldn't notice. “So you don’t love me? Pity..” 

“Wh-what? No.. I do love you.” He sighed, rage flowing out from the relief of his confession. It had been weighing on his mind for weeks, maybe months now. “But I didn’t mean to tell you like this.” 

You rushed forward, burying your head into his shirt, taking in his scent. You had always loved the way he smelt, but it felt like so long since you had been anywhere near this close to him. You sniffed into his shirt, trying to suppress the urge to cry. 

All this time you had been worrying that Jin actually hated you. That he didn’t like you at all. 

But it was the opposite. 

You frowned. “Jin?”

“Y-yeah?” His face was completely red, his arms hovering behind you awkwardly, as if he didn’t know where to put them. A gentleman at heart of course, even if sometimes he seemed too cocky for his own good.

“Why were you mean to me?” 

He looked away, flushed. “W-well, Yoongi began realising I liked you and I thought he would tell everyone… and then I thought you were dating Taehyung.”

“Dating Taehyung?” You asked, surprised by this news.”

He nodded. 

“Jin…”

He met your pure eyes, devoid of malice or unkindness.

“Taehyung's my best friend.” 

Before he could respond, you were interrupted. 

“Speaking of best friend Taehyung, he needs to be going.”

You both turned to see Taehyung standing at the bottom of the steps, car keys and phone in hand. Jin went red and slightly pushed you away from him. He looked away, fingers twiddling the others. 

“Jin hyung can you drop your girlfriend off at her house? I’m running really late for something important.” 

Jin went a deeper shade of crimson then he had been. “G-girlfriend..?”

You rolled your eyes at the stuttering man. “Yeah my boyfriend can. See you later Taehyung. I’ll text you when I’m home.”

Tae waved his goodbye, then got in his car and drove off. 

“So you’re my girlfriend, huh?” 

Without someone else there and the faded initial shock of his successful confession, Jin had gone back to his self confident self. 

Which was okay. You loved that side of him as well.

“Well.. yeah. Unless you don’t want to date me?” 

Jin smirked. “Of course I want to date you. I wouldn’t have confessed if I didn’t.” 

You giggled. “Your confession was unintentional.”

“Nothing is unintentional.” Jin said. 

You laughed. “Well I’m glad you did confess.” 

He smiled, bringing his hand under your chin, and the other to your waist, gripping you against his stiff, lean body. You caught your breath, lost in the deep, endless void of his eyes. It began to seem like you couldn’t pull away, like this was all you wanted. Your happy ending. The thing you had been dreaming of, even if you would never admit it.

“I’m glad too.”

His lips met yours in the middle, both of your urges surpassing their limits. Your hands grabbed  at his arms, keeping his hands on your face as he cupped your warm face with strength. 

Being so close to him felt like heaven. Relief washed through your mind. You had been worrying that Jin hated you, that he would never return your feelings. But you were wrong. He had liked you. The perfect guy, liked you. Your eyes fluttered open. His eyes were still closed, his lips pressing harder by the second on yours. You could see slight pores on his skin. You smiled into the kiss. Maybe not perfect. But his tiny flaws made him more realistic, made it easier for you to believe someone as beautiful as him had fallen in love with you.

Of course, you weren’t the only one whose mind was racing. Jin’s mind was racing at almost the same speed as his heart. He was ecstatic that you had responded to his kiss. No, you hadn't just responded. You had tried to kiss him at the same time too. His mind slowly faded from euphoria to worry. Did he look weird? Was he kissing right? It had been too long since he had kissed...

Jin tried not to pull away when he realised he probably still tasted like the beer he had had over an hour ago.

You pulled back first. Soft breaths fell from both of your mouths, unsure of what to say. 

“I’m sorry did I do something wrong or-”

Jin was forced to stop speaking when your lips crashed back onto his. He blinked for a few seconds before you stepped back. “Jin, that was amazing.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Y-you’re not just lying to make me feel better?”

“Jin, that was the best kiss I’ve ever had. Not just because you’re amazing at kissing but because it just felt right.” 

He grinned, hands snaking back to grip your waist again. You let him pull your body to his. “That sounds cringy sweetheart.”

You smiled. “Sweetheart? What should I call you?”

“How about ‘handsome’?” Jin tried, ego forever ready to be boosted. 

You shook your head. “As handsome as you are, I’d prefer to call you something that won't make me want to look at you.”

He nodded slowly.

“How about baby?”

His face flushed instantly. “I-I’m older than you. And I’ve heard you call Taehyung that too… I want the name to be just for me.”

“I could stop calling him baby.” When Jin didn't respond, you tried again. “Honey?”

“Reminds me of food.”

“What about babe?”

He looked down at you, your eyes widened in feigned curiosity. He realised you were pulling his leg; leading him on. “Call me baby.”

He leant down, face hovering just above yours so you could see straight into his bright eyes that seemed to control you. 

“Don't say it to anyone else.”

[johnkrrasinski]

Take You Home

full masterlist

Pairings: CEO!Sam Wilson x reader au

Word count: 3,095

Warning: mentions of alcohol, mention of sex.

Summary: you work as Samuel Wilson's personal assistant who was always arrogant and unequivocal to you and things changed after he ordered you to attend the office Christmas party.

a/n: this is my first time to write a fic so please be kind. Let me know what you think! By the way, this was inspired by this drabble so thank you for inspiring me to write my first fic ever!

Your alarm rang loudly next to your bed and you dismissed it. You groaned as your head began to throb, this reoccurring headache has been greeting you every morning since you started consuming a glass of wine every night after you took off your heels, stripped off your work clothes and sat on the worn grey couch in your living room and cry to whatever cheesy Netflix rom-com movie you found that night. 

Your fiancee, well, ex fiancee now, Adrian, broke up with you a month ago over the phone because he thought he wasn’t ready to spend the rest of his life with you. You dated for 3 years then on the night of your three years anniversary, he proposed to you at the restaurant that you went to for your first date. But 5 months later, things changed after you began working for the Wilson Enterprises Holdings Inc., as your boss’ personal assistant, Samuel Wilson. 

He said that your work had occupying every aspect of your personal life. You missed his birthday because you had to stay until late night to prepare the upcoming eco manufacturing program that was about to be announced. You also changed the way you dress, you used to be this carefree girl when it comes to how you look, but that changed since you got this lifetime opportunity to work in one of the biggest companies in America. 

You’d also come late to date nights because you had to spend extra time in the office to discuss whatever that needed to be discussed with your boss. You even stood him up once because Samuel Wilson, the CEO of his own empire that he built from nothing won’t take no for an answer, especially when  it comes to his job.

You’d often ignore his calls because you were too exhausted to talk on the phone and you just really wanted to take a warm shower and go straight to bed. He said that he couldn’t no longer be with you if you weren’t going to dedicate your life to him. He made you choose between your job or him. You chose your job. But it still hurt. It still broke your heart to pieces when that call ended.

Days went by like normal but there was a big part of your life that was missing. You felt incomplete without him. But you weren’t some dependent, broken girl. You weren’t going to let him destroy what you have worked so hard for. So you invested all your energy in your job. No matter how low you feel because of him, you had to get up again. 

A week before Christmas eve, your co-worker, Wanda, asked you what you were going to wear for the Christmas party. You told her that honestly you hadn't put much thought into it. You had been so caught up in your job and when you are not thinking of your job you were thinking of... Well, Adrian.

You were planning to skip it and just stay at home in your pyjamas and watch cheesy rom-com movies. Honestly, you didn't have much energy to socialize with the people that you are not so close to and pretend that you're in a cheery Christmas mood. Everything had been so plain since Adrian left.

Later that day, your boss called you to his office to bring him some files. As usual, you always straighten your skirt before you enter because you don't wanna look like a mess before he saw you. You handed him over the files and watched him meticulously study them. He was wearing his usual black suit that fits his broad shoulders so perfectly. You couldn't help but stare at those muscles covered in that Giorgio Armani suit. After a few seconds, you realized that you had been standing there awkwardly, then you asked him: "is there anything else I can help you with, sir?"

He looked up and looked a little taken aback as if he hadn't noticed you standing there at all.

"Yes, are you coming to the Christmas party?"

"Um, i'm not sure yet, sir."

"You are. It's part of the regulation. You need to earn your place"

You chucked in disbelief and stared at him as if he had just grown two heads. This is the God knows how many time he ordered you around by starting with a question as if he was attempting a small talk.

"How is earning my place by attending a Christmas party relevant at all?"

"Because that's how we do things around here. Everyone must show up. If you're not going to put effort into being part of this company, then you shouldn't be working here at all. There are hundreds of women lining up to get to your place right now, and if you're not willing to work hard to keep your position, then you can walk yourself out."

That felt like a slap on the face. Your face grew hot and you were ready to curse him on his face. But you stopped yourself. You took a deep breath and calmed yourself down. He was right about one thing, that there are hundreds of women lining up to get to where you are.

You were once one of those women. You put your money, time and effort into your study to get a degree. You worked your ass off to prove that you are worthy to be even be considered to be Samuel Wilson's personal assistant. You clawed your way up to show them that you are capable.

"yes, I will come to the Christmas party, sir."

"Good. Then we're done here."

"Thank you, sir."

You chose this little red dress for the Christmas party. It had been awhile since you last wore that red dress. The last time you wore it was when you celebrated Valentine's day with Adrian. He had kissed you in that dress, he had held you in that dress and he made love to you before he stripped you out of that dress. But you stopped yourself before you were going too far down the memory lane.

You had 3 hours left to get ready. You took a shower, put on some makeup, and put on the dress. You were ready to go.

Your office Christmas party wasn't so bad. It was more quite than the usual Christmas parties. There were champagne, wine, and few other drink options available at the bar. Everyone dressed so classily. No one looked like they didn't wanna be here otherwise, well, they probably wouldn't even be here. There was some Christmas music playing and there's even a DJ. It wasn't some wild party full of drunken people, it was more like a small gathering.

Wanda, your co-worker who you actually consider a friend rather than just an acquaintance, accompanied you throughout the night. She's wearing a blue sparkly dress that shows all her curves.

"Hey, you look great!"

"Thanks, honestly I just threw on the first thing I found in my closet."

"Well, you better not tell the boss that because if he knows that you don't wanna be here then you're never coming ever."

"Yeah, so I've heard. He threatened to fire me if I don't show up today."

"He did? And you're still allowed to work at Wilson Enterprises Holdings?!"

"Well, yeah, I mean... I told him that I will show up. It's not like I disobeyed him."

"That wasn't the case with his last assistant, honey. She got fired simply because she didn't pick up his phone call once because her phone died."

"What?! Simply because of one phone call?"

"Mhm, and the next day she had her stuff thrown out by the security."

"Oh my god, that poor girl. I never even met her but I kinda feel bad for her."

"You should. We all do. She was good at what she did, but there is no messing up with Sam Wilson. It's either his way or the highway."

All of the sudden, the energy around the room had shifted. From laid back to formal. You were so lost in your conversation with Wanda about your boss that you didn't even notice that he had walked into the room. He was wearing a dapper maroon suit because of course, this man doesn't wear nothing else but suits.

He gave a little speech, greeted all of his employees and told everyone to enjoy themselves. Everyone cheered and clapped after he was done.

He walked over to the bar where you and Wanda were standing and you couldn't help but feel nervous. He made eye contact with you before he stood right by your side to order a drink.

"It's good to see you clean up real nice and show up. We don't need lazy employees here."

"Well, i'm here, aren't I? If that's not the exact opposite of lazy i don't know what is."

"Don't talk back. I'm your boss. If i ask you to do something, you do it. If i ask you to be somewhere, you better be there 15 minutes early. I don't like to wait. Got it?"

"Yes, boss."

"Good girl."

He walked away and disappeared into the crowd with that smug attitude. You couldn't help but feel your chest rising and you were ready to throw the champagne glass you were holding to the back of his head. Wanda's voice brought you back to reality.

"Damn, that was intense."

"Yeah, imagine a daily dose of that."

"I know he can be a pain of the ass most of the time but, he's not so bad though, you know Nancy from accounting right?"

"Yeah, what about her?"

"She was crying in the bathroom once and he happened to be there as well. When she walked out, she told him that her mother had just been tested positive breast cancer. And you know what he did? He sent her home so she could take care of her mother and covered all of her medical bills."

"All of it? Are you serious? That doesn't sound like the Sam Wilson I know."

"It's not the Sam Wilson you know but it's the Sam Wilson that the very few people know."

"Then how did you know?"

"Because Nancy told me even though she was told to keep this a secret. Bad little Nancy, but sometimes we just can't help but share a few stories when the boss' not around, you know?"

You were having a hard time in absorbing this but you believed Wanda. Although, it made you a little curious, who is actually Sam Wilson behind that resolute boss who wears expensive suits all the time?

You are an adult baby type of drunker. You were mumbling incoherent noises and you were crying and laughing at the same time. You could barely stand in your heels and you felt like you were about to throw up every 5 minutes. Wanda, like the good friend she is, tried to hold you up and order you an Uber. Everyone else had gone home and you were both the last people at the party because you kept insisting Wanda to dance even when no one else was really dancing.

After a few drinks, you started to feel dizzy. Yep, you were drunk. You needed lots of them tonight after dealing with your stern boss and the misery of missing your ex.

Or so you thought.

Sam Wilson had walked out to walk to where his luxurious sports car was parked when he saw Wanda struggling to hold you up. She was also struggling to order an Uber because you kept doing stupid things that forced her to stop you.

Sam was amused to see how different you were compared to your usual self in the office. You were reckless and carefree. It made him chuckle.

He approached to where you and Wanda were standing and he greeted you both. "Good evening, ladies. Why aren't you both home yet?"

Wanda immediately went into professional mode and straightened her posture. "I'm just trying to get y/n an Uber sir, after that, I'll be right on my way."

"It's late and it's not safe for a girl to be riding an Uber alone especially in this state. I'm gonna take her home."

"Really? Are you sure?"

"Yes. If something were to happen to her, I'm not gonna be sued by her family so, I'll give her a ride home."

"Okay, thank you, sir. Please make sure she gets home safe."

"I've driven myself for over 20 years, Wanda. No need to worry about getting anyone home safely."

Wanda handed you over to him so he could put you in the passenger seat of his car. He put on some soft jazz music as he put on your seatbelt. You were giggling and mumbling words that he couldn't understand on the way. Then he just remembered that Wanda didn't tell him where you lived. He tried to ask you but you were too drunk to answer and you even booped his nose.

You could call Wanda and ask her where she lives... Sam thought. He hesitantly took out his phone to dial her number but, deep down he knew he didn't wanna do that. He wanted to bring you home so you could sleep in his luxurious guest room. He kept trying to make up reasons of why he didn't ask Wanda for your address to convince himself that no, he's just being a good boss. Yep. That's what it is. It's not because he has a tiny crush on you or had been thinking about you for awhile but didn't know how to talk to you. Nope. Definitely not.

You fell asleep to the soft music playing on the radio. After you arrived, Sam carried you in a bridal style to his guest bedroom. He wanted to change your clothes and gave you something much more comfortable to sleep in but it would be inappropriate. So he took off your shoes, put them on the floor and covered you with the warm blanket.

He took a shower, changed into his tank top and boxer. Turned off the lights then went to bed. He tried to close his eyes but he couldn't with you being only a few feet away from him. He fought the urge to walk over to the guest bedroom and hold you against his chest by pulling his cock out of his boxer and, wrapped his hand around it and started jerking himself up and down until he was a sweating, groaning mess. He chanted your name like a prayer as he cums. 

So much for trying to get you out of his head...

The next morning you woke up feeling groggy and woozy by how bright the sun was assaulting your vision. You don't remember much of last night. You went to your office Christmas party, talked to Wanda, had an encounter with your irritating boss and then... Blank. You were really shit faced.

You realized you were still wearing the red dress wore last night. You looked around the room and you realized you weren't in your own. You were in someone's room that was sure to have a hell lot of money. You started to feel scared. Were you kidnapped? Did someone drug you? Did someone rape you?

But you reached under your dress and you still felt your underwear there. Thank God. Then you heard Frank Sinatra playing from somewhere outside of the bedroom.

I've got you under my skin

I have got you, deep in the heart of me

You walked out and stumbled on your own shoes and you quickly grabbed it and carefully opened the door. The delicious smell of egg and bacon greeted you and you immediately went downstairs. You weren't sure what you were going to find but you were starving. The sound of the music couldn't overpower the growling that your stomach makes.

You found your way to the stark white kitchen and what you saw had you dumbfounded more than anything else. You saw Sam Wilson in his purple Nike shirt. You were stunned by the image of Sam Wilson wearing something else other than suit. He was making himself breakfast before he noticed you.

"Good morning. You want some breakfast?" He casually asked. He looked at you then went back to cooking.

That left you even more bewildered. Is he really acting like this is normal? Like you were supposed to be his girlfriend who lives here and just woke up from a deep slumber?

You put the puzzle together and you realized... This was his home. Your arrogant, stern boss, Samuel Wilson. You couldn't help but went straight to the question that had been lingering loudly in your head; "why am I here?"

He turned off the stove and put the egg & bacon into a plate. "You were drunk last night then I wanted to give you a ride home. But I didn't know where you live so, I took you to mine."

You were so drunk last night that you felt like you were probably still drunk because none of this makes any sense.

Then your stomach began to grumbled for the second time as if it was complaining for you to fill it with food now.

You had a lot of questions but right now, all you wanted to do was eat. Then you can talk more later.

You walked to where the dining table was and said "yes, please, i'll take that breakfast offer."

Sam smirked and pulled out a chair for you to sit in. And now he's pulling chairs for you? What the hell happened during your drunken state?!

He took out a fork and a knife for you but he accidentally dropped the fork when he was trying to give it to you. He bent over and you got an exclusive front seat view of his ass and how thick it was. "Not bad, Mr. Wilson."

You had said that louder than you planned.

"What was that?"

"Nothing. I said nice kitchen, Mr Wilson."

"Drop the formalities. Call me Sam, we are not in the office right now."

He handed you over the fork and the knife after he cleaned them up.

There were worse ways to spend your hangover than having breakfast with Sam Wilson after all...

[gofancyninjaworld]

Meta: What rough beast slouches to be born?

Right, webcomic chapter 125 has raised quite a few questions about cyborgs and I purposely left it aside. Until now.  I’m sorry for the length, but I’m only allowed one ‘readmore’. :(

What we knew

Many moons ago for us, 9 or so weeks ago for them, Genos showed up at Saitama’s doorstep like a refugee from another world, telling a tale of destroyed towns, rampaging cyborgs, and desperate revenge quests.   It’s seemed rather far-fetched, particularly as not much has happened on that front.   Over the course of the story, we’ve had little bits of independent corroboration about the veracity of his story.  The town that he was born in was definitely erased from the map.  Yes, a cyborg is wanted in connection with the incident. 

But where is that guy? Does it have anything to do with the powered suit-flogging cyborgs seen early on the series? Does it have anything to do with the ‘glimpse behind the scenes’ chapter the manga offered us with Drive Knight (but no context as to how that glimpse fitted into the wider story)?  Come to that, where are all the cyborgs?

To start with, there are a lot of cyborgs of various sorts in OPM.  Quite a few moons ago, I wrote a bit about them, drawing a distinction between those who used parts to replace lost function and those who looked at it as a change of identity: “Is the Organization a Claw Analogue?”

 Chapter 125 has been surprisingly good about confirming some of what I surmised about cyborgs, but it’s brought some very good additional information!  On we go!

There are cyborgs; and then there are Cyborgs

Our ambassador through the world of cyborgs is new Neo Hero recruit Koko (Solitude), who modified his body for the world of cyborg fighting, only he was a little too successful and no one would bet on him.  We see him scanning various people and passing commentary on them.

The first to give him serious pause is Webigaza, who lost six months of life to getting her body modifications done -- no wonder she’s pissed off that her rival has self-destructed in the interim.

Koko is shaken by her having 71% of her body modified.

obsessive determination is terrifying to look at

Percentage body modification of the sort Koko is used to seeing, 30% maximum, you can do right here right here and now.  It’s equivalent to losing a leg and most of the other. Here and now, we can also do brain implants to control tremors or fits or some neurological conditions,  replace part of the heart, spine fusions, quite a few bits and pieces.  The sort of modifications Koko is used to seeing are very functional ones that make sense for someone looking to get an edge in fighting for money.  They’re also along the lines of what we’ve seen with One-Shotter or Death Gatling.

If you lose and replace all four limbs, that's 50% of your body modified. While quadruple amputees unfortunately exist IRL,  I don’t know if anyone has had the kind of money, physical fitness and pure grit to do that.  Nevertheless it’s not technically impossible. 60% sounds about right before you're now looking at breaking into the more vital parts of your body.  The point at which the risk involved just can't be justified in terms of restoring function or health. I’m emphasising that because I’m going to come back to this point.   He’s shaken because modifications that extensive aren’t about simply gaining an edge; they’re being willing to exchange serious bodily harm for serious power.  It says a lot about who Webigaza is.

Within the Hero Association, I think we do know a hero round about that 60% mark.  Jet Nice Guy comes to mind.  He sports an armored exterior, powerful artificial limbs (which will need internal reinforcement to not just rip up his body), but his innards are all human. After the way he started to bleed out after Nyan slashed him, I realised that the reason it looked like intestines when the Deep Sea King ripped him open is because they were... >.<  Sorry, dude. 

the worst of both worlds -- too modified to have an easy life, still too weak to deal with the real monsters that exist

Scary enough, but then the security staff come in to stop the kerfuffle that Koko and his buddy, Mars Leo, were causing.  Koko scanned them and was stunned into horror:

as disciplined and ruthless a pair of killers as you could never hope to lay eyes on.  Definitely not frothing at the mouth, these two!

These two have modified themselves so extensively they’re almost inhuman. 94, 95% body modification is equivalent to having only 3.5 - 4.2 kg of live mass left assuming an original live mass of 70 kg.  And, if the similar naming convention didn’t tip you off to it, it’s around the sort of hyper-extensive modification we see Genos having. [See under the readmore for a first-principles estimation I did a long time ago.]  Maybe Drive Knight too if he’s a cyborg.   What kind of power have they exchanged their human bodies for?  What kind of people are willing to do that to themselves? Koko is very sure that he does NOT want to know.

When he tells you who he is, believe him

That’s dating advice often given to ladies overlooking obvious red flags  but it goes with great force in OPM. ONE has characters tell us who they are early on, even if it doesn’t mean anything to us for a long time. 

And he’s had Genos be a particularly straightforward and truthful character.  He doesn’t always interpret things correctly, but he says it exactly as he sees it.  Looking at the way the high percentage cyborgs we’ve met thus far either be very inhuman looking or completely disguised as regular human beings,  he’s chosen an appearance that puts both his humanity and mechanical nature on display.

Something that the chapter has brought up that I've kept saying to people on the Discord and on Reddit: there is no medically justifiable reason for Genos to have a body as modified as he does.   Which Genos TELLS US for fuck’s sake.  His giant wall of text is a synopsis, no more and no less.

When he says that “...I asked Professor Kuseno to perform a procedure to modify my body. Then I was reborn as a cyborg for justice...”  (Viz)  “...I begged Dr Stench (sic) to transform me into a cyborg and I was reborn as a cyborg who fights for justice...” (Boon scanslations, who copied verbatim whoever did the webcomic version). It’s nothing to do with health.  Feel free to have whatever headcanons you like, but please don’t confuse them with the story.

But it doesn’t end there.  I look at Destro and Erimin and realise that there’s another perfectly truthful statement that’s been staring us in the face.

Genos knows. Why would he ask a mechanical engineer who uses a wearable battle suit and pilots armed drones to modify his body, let alone modify it to such an insane degree?  Because he knows that Dr Kuseno knows how to build cyborgs like the one who destroyed his town.

We don’t know if Destro and Erimin have any responsibility for the destroyed town, but someone of their ilk does.   Which brings us to a third nakedly truthful statement. When Genos talks of not believing that he could be defeated by anything other than the rampaging cyborg, he’s not anticipating winning because he’s suicidal.  It’s because he’s aware that if he’s throwing rock, so too is his enemy: mutual annihilation is the best he can hope for.

At least until he met Saitama. And started to hope for not mutual destruction, but victory (check the difference in chapter 108 of the webcomic).

a world away from the attitude of mutually-assured destruction he started with.

Stepping away from the text a bit, it casts a different light on why he’s been so desperate to learn from Saitama. Learning Saitama's secret is his balance-breaker. He wants something other than rock, that is guaranteed to smash whatever rock his enemy might throw.    But that’s not all there is.   As Garou said, once he discovered Blue Fire’s flamethrower, once you know how a freakish weapon works, you know it.  Any edge a new weapon might give Genos is liable to be studied and replicated  (see how quickly Dr Kuseno was able to reverse engineer and adapt the principles of G-4′s curving energy beams).   But Saitama’s strength is unphysical: no matter how closely you inspect his body, you can never relate the physicality of Saitama’s body to the power he can generate.  That unphysicality, that’s what Genos wants too.   It also puts in context why he’s been so fascinated by psychic power and wants to learn it if at all possible.

neat trick, I’ll take two!  Genos dodging G4′s beams in chapter 38, and putting the principle of them to good use in chapter 120

And finally, since in his world, knowledge is literally power, it gives yet another layered reason Genos is so determined to keep anyone else from becoming Saitama’s disciple.  If they learn his secret too, then the advantage he seeks will be lost.  (that it doesn’t work quite that way for Saitama is a fact for us to enjoy and for him to find out).

Nothing is as scary as a human being

Nothing is as scary as a human being is one of the things that Reigen says to Tome on occasion. It’s in full force in OPM.  Monsters may be strong, but they all live in the now.  Only a human being could have put together the Monster Association.   When it comes to cyborgs, their abilities may be inhuman but their thoughts, imaginations, morals and appetites are all 100% human.   It’s a terrifying combination.

There’s something I missed when I likened The Organization to a Claw Analogue. In Mob Psycho 100, the protagonists are children and they're fighting an organisation made up of over-grown children -- adults who have refused to grow up. In One-Punch Man, the protagonists are adults and the bad humans in the story are very much adults too.   With calculated cruelty and depravity to match. When The Organization bares its claws for real, this is going to get so brutal.

If Genos has not been standing still, then neither has his enemy.  From the manga, even if we hold Drive Knight blameless and independent of all this mess, his besting Nyan told us that cyborgs can indeed come crazy-strong and highlighted how much more work Genos had yet to do. It also highlighted how very clever and calculating cyborgs can be -- well, they’re human, duh!  If I was worried for his prospects then,  in the webcomic, Genos is nowhere near as psychologically, physically or emotionally ready as his manga version is.   And the guys who look to be his enemies aren’t going to be cutting him any slack.   They’re very real.  They’re not mad.  And they’re closer than he ever imagined.

Fighting monsters is barely adequate preparation for whatever it is that’s to come.

Whenever Genos gets dragged into whatever it is those cyborgs are up to  -- or runs into it, since he claims he’s still hunting the rampaging cyborg -- ‘rough’ doesn’t begin to describe it.

Extra Stuff

Edited from an answer I gave on Reddit to the question of how much of Genos was still organic about 2 years ago.  It’s unexpectedly relevant!

Short answer: by mass, under 10% , assuming he would have weighed  approximately 70 kg. By function, quite a bit.

 The long answer.

I’m going to write this starting from what is most readily observable and readily inferred to the least. In appreciation of this being a work of fiction that treats physical laws lightly, I too am taking a more-or-less approach and will keep technical terms to a minimum. I'm also not a medic and I don't play one on TV -- assume generous hand-wavium. Items in {curly brackets} are incidental notes you can skip.

Level 0: Canonically observable.  The least controversial observation is that Genos does have an organic brain. Genos does not live in a lab, but is able to live largely independently, including being able to eat whatever he likes with no ill-effect. Not just that, but he lives an active and hard-fighting life that appears to do him no permanent harm (I will return to this in a few paragraphs).  What can we take from this?

Edit: There is also ONE’s initial settings for Genos, which I quote here from the Hero Data Book

ONE: There's no need to visit Dr. Kuseno's place every time when his wrist break down, because he got his own spare parts at hand. Dr Kuseno's Lab is there In case for a big reparation job, a drastic upgrade or an examination.

It’s tempting to think that because we see that he definitely has a brain that’s all there is – the brain in a jar phenomenon, so to speak. Something a lot of people miss is that the spinal cord proper isn’t optional either -- it’s a core part of the central nervous system.  Spinal cords are a lot shorter than most people think they are, averaging 12 inches long for women and 15 inches for men.  The rest are nerve processes that can be cut and will regrow (within limits). We’re also happy to allow for nerves and their endings -- there must be an interface for the prosthetics so they're under the fine voluntary control that we see. However, that’s not all that there can be. The Cartesian mind-body duality is completely wrong when it comes to physiology. Our brains are intimately bound with our bodies and our bodies with our brains. So what does one need?

Level 1: Perfusion. This is the most obvious one. Without a blood supply providing oxygen, glucose and removing waste products from our brains, we have 4-5 seconds of consciousness available, 2-3 minutes in which we can escape brain damage and 8-10 minutes in which not to die. So, number one is a reliable blood supply.  Absolutely necessary therefore are a means of generating the various blood cells, perfusing and distributing them and disposing of damaged cells (red blood cells have a lifespan of 1-2 months). While not as acutely important, a self-sustaining blood supply is also the basis of a functioning immune system.  It's a bit of an oops moment when your super-killer cyborg catches a cold and dies.

Accordingly, bone marrow is essential as a source of hematopoietic (blood-forming) stem cells. A suitably reduced blood vessel and lymphatic vessel system is also needed to run the blood where it needs to go. {An awesome feature of living beings is that new blood vessels will be recruited to where they need to go and redundant branches pruned back, a process known as vascular remodelling}. A reduced liver and possibly spleen will be needed to appropriately destroy worn out blood cells. At least one functional kidney, in the role of producing the hormone erythropoietin, without which red blood cells will not be formed. Not essential: a heart and lungs, which he definitely doesn't have. How much blood is needed?  I’ll come to that answer once we’ve tallied how much body is needed.

Additionally, since part of perfusion is getting rid of metabolic waste, a liver and kidney will be absolutely indispensable.  

Level 2: Homoeostasis. A living organism has a very narrow range in which its internal environment, such as oxygen saturation, temperature, pH (acidity or alkalinity) amongst other things can vary without harm.

There are around 40 or so hormones, the signalling molecules that keep us going as functional concerns, regulating such things as blood pressure, salt/water balance, available energy, sleep cycle, body temperature, mood, immune system... the list goes on. Each has a stupid number of secondary functions and interacts with others in a ludicrous number of ways (note highly scientific language). Their levels vary and change on the order of seconds to hours. It's a good job that the main organiser of homoeostasis, the hypothalamus, is part of the brain. {Incidentally, this is why a brain-dead cadaver cannot be kept ‘alive’ on life support indefinitely – everything falls out of sync and eventually to pieces.} To do this artificially is to have your cyborg never leave the lab: if you're not constantly monitoring and adjusting levels, then they will die. Fortunately, as mentioned, a living, functional brain has the control network needed to keep everything working without the extensive and expensive effort. Just add air, water and food (in that priority).

At this point, we've already met most of the organs needed to maintain homoeostasis in their capacity of maintaining a blood supply. We need to add some bone, not just to serve as a niche (living environment) for the bone marrow and its stem cells mentioned previously but as a source and sink for minerals, the adrenal glands and the thyroid gland. Finally, one must not forget pancreatic islets -- or it'll be for nothing as he goes into a diabetic coma.

Level 3: Energy.   Speaking of food, a brain needs essential fatty acids for turnover and lots and lots of glucose for energy. It’s entirely possible to supply nutrients as total parenteral nutrion (TPN for short).  People whose digestive systems have completely failed get individually formulated TPN solutions, which requires that they spend several hours a day feeding it into their blood supply. Not something we see Genos do.  And yes, you heard it here: not everyone poops, but everyone sure as hell pees.  While a brain only weighs about 1.5 kg, it uses up about 500 calories a day as glucose, so 700 ish calories a day should suffice for all the needs of his live mass. This bears no relationship to the amount of food we see Genos put away on occasion. Why hasn’t he wrecked his liver in a matter of weeks? The answer would appear to lie in the artificial digestive system Dr. Kuseno has given him which turns food into biofuel. It must be patched into a feedback loop which allows it to only supply what’s physiologically necessary at any given time. Lucky for some!

Level 4: So how much body does that add up to exactly?  Nothing says you have to keep the necessary organs and blood vessel network the same size. With only a 1.5 kg brain to support, many can be shrunk a good 50% if not more. A total living mass of 7 kg would be quite feasible. We know from organ-on-a-chip experiments (and from unfortunate people who have lost part of their organs) that provided the essential architecture of the tissue is respected, they will work fine. Nothing says you have to keep them in the same place as the original organs were -- you can encapsulate it all in a can and shorten the nerves serving the organs to a more rational, manageable length. It's nice and compact and can be protected as heavily as the brain is.

Now we’re in a position to answer how much blood Genos has. There are about 70 ml of blood per kilogram of body weight, so at ~ 7 kg, we’re talking about 500 ml of blood. For comparison, the typical 70 kg person has 5 litres of blood. Why does this matter?  Because it allows us to answer a question many may be curious about: how often does Genos get hurt?

The answer is: Almost Never. With so little body, and with most of that body consisting of aptly named vital organs, even small injuries can turn catastrophic in no time.  Genos will bleed out with around 150 ml of blood loss, which is less than half of what is donated in a typical blood donation.  Horrible and dramatic as the smashes he gets into are, it’s more akin to a Formula 1 race car tumbling end over end and catching fire, only for the driver to walk out unscathed.  His cyborg parts are replaceable and can be sacrificed to protect what’s irreplaceable if need be.