#But seeing it expressed in such vivid and raw manner...

[kidokear]

The new ULTRAKILL update got me wanting to see Gabriel realizing that the war machine that defeated him, the one he considered unbreakable, can be and is afraid of death. That they can feel fear in a very living and human way. See them terrifies out of their code. Feel their terror. Understand that they want to scream but can't.

They are so rattled it shakes him.

[belladonic-fire]

Mermaids: Healing and finding power within your own voice

As cliché as it sounds, mermaids came into my life and my practice in an incredibly odd time of my path as a practicioner; and by that I mean, the way they came into my space and the way I came into their radar was an unexpected surprise that leaves me with a slight sense of disbelief to this day.

On contrary to other beings I have encountered, they choose to announce themselves subconsciously, that meaning they showed themselves via very vivid dreams where I would find myself in an isolated beach, of floating in a calm ocean or of the feeling of waves crashg against my body, the feeling of sand brushing in my skin.

But the most vivid one I have ever experienced was one where one of them waved at me from the waves, beckoning me to swim with her in a very childish but cheerful manner; an invitation that I subconsciously accepted, diving in after her and waking up as my legs became a fish tail.

This summer was one dedicated to silently healing from the emotional chaos that the previous year had been, so I spent most of it in quality time with my inner circle or in silent alone contemplation appreciating my own company. However one thing that I always loved since I was a child, my favourite summer activity was spending my summer days at the beach.

With this in mind, on the contrary of other experiences I have had with other elemental beings, where everything is discussed and settled in the deepest of meditations in my makeshift ritual chamber, the mermaids had other plans for me; because this time, it was not just them beckoning me but the ocean, the water itself that was calling me, enticing me to dive deeper and take the same leap I took in that dream.

So as the weather warmed up, the more their invitation enticed me to move foward with what my intuition was telling me to be the right choice.

With this, my ritual chamber became the waves themselves in a two months long weekly healing ritual. For everytime I dove in the ocean (even in the company of friends) the lighter my energy got and by consequence, the easier it was becoming for me to express myself and my emotions more fluently, as if they were also made of water.

Because water, as many know is an element of nourishment, of deep emotions, of the feminine and where all other beings on earth came from.

Settling all we know from the stories and legends about the mermaid, even as practicioners we need to understand that their energy goes beyond seduction, beauty or attracting a partner (not that it is not capable of it, but that it is simply not just it) because true attraction, a trick they know and use quite efficiently can reach many other aspects of your life, which is in itself empowering.

With this, their main focus was empowering my voice, by encouraging me to speak my truth, to express my deepest emotions and thoughts and understand the raw power that words carry themselves, mundanely and magically; and last but certainly not least, the importance of being heard and understood.

For when you walk a path that connects you deeply to each element, you end up becoming yourself like that element, with this in mind it is possible to also become like the elemental who is teaching you these lessons, adopting their traits and habilities as their own: for mermaids it was more than just empowering my voice, it was also understanding the deep meanings of the words of others, understanding and listening to the tone of their voice and perceive the true energy behind the sound of them.

Sound is like energy you see, it can be manipulated according to the purpose it is meant to fit, and the mermaids are one of the few masters of this art, even teaching you eagerly their craft if they deem you fit.

For the voice is what makes a mermaid, it is their essence, and to step into this journey with them you must first understand the power your voice carries; even if you believe you have lost it, if it was taken from you or silenced, for it can be regained, rebuilt with time and dedication, to nourish is a concept that many beings can teach you, but if your calling is a voice to be heard and understood; mermaids are quite the first step.

Sources:

Lilith Dorsey: Water Magic (Elements of Witchcraft 1)

[phonydiaries]

Target Practice - P x Reader

Warnings: reader getting the absolute shit kicked out of them by enemies and a significant amount of blood and violence. Other than that, nothing I think? 

---

The cold hard clang of your steel blade hitting the marble column rings through the courtyard. 

Off target. 

You’re fucking off target, again.

You step back, try to redistribute the weight of the weapon in your hands. Your palms are sweaty, your grip becoming loose and clumsy. You blink hard, eyes trained on the dummy. Somehow in its blank expression you see pity. Mockery. The knowledge that for all your effort, it's not enough. 

You’re not strong enough. 

Anger rises to a rolling boil in the pit of your stomach. You slash the dummy across its felted chest. It’s a poor hit, sloppy and devoid of form. You’ve been at this for hours, hacking away fruitlessly in the courtyard. You wince and bring a hand to quell the stinging pain in your side. Under your clothes you know the skin is still raw; all rust-colored and lacerated. It was that very wound which led you to this obsessive over-exertion in the first place. 

Three nights past you had very nearly perished in the arms of Gepetto’s puppet. 

In your half-conscious delirium, you hardly remember all the details of the mission gone impossibly wrong. You and P had stalked into the night together, watching each other's backs carefully. There were the typical dust-ups, mundane scrapes and bruises and otherwise totally expected snags. None of this phased you, it was standard fare. But somewhere in the now fluid and tenuous events of that night, you got careless. You must’ve. How else would you find yourself backed into a corner, disarmed, swarmed by a legion of damnable automatons. This piece of the memory is both vivid and obscured, bits and pieces of sensation overwhelming in their clarity and others entirely lost to you. You have no idea how many times you were struck or with what manner of weaponry. 

You recall curling in on yourself on the ground, arms twisting above your head in a desperate attempt at self preservation. And then all at once there was a mad chaos surrounding you. The air crackled with electricity, brazen sparks of light, the smell of smoke, a horrible crunch of faulty machinery. Your head pulsed dully as a cold arm slipped around your torso and heaved you upright. White hot pain shot through your body and you cried out in the darkness. Your eyes wavered open long enough to catch P, looking as grim as you had ever seen him, carefully scooping you up, your legs dangling limp over his human arm. 

The journey to Hotel Krat was one which you were almost certain you would not live to see the end of. For starters, your hands and feet had gone utterly numb, probably thanks to the outpouring of blood from your abdomen, which ran thick and viscous down the front of P’s shirt as he carried you. The parts of your body that could still feel throbbed with a terrible searing pain and you longed for a spell of unconsciousness. This was in fact soon to come, after a ghastly cough which left the metallic taste of iron in your mouth and even more bloodstains on your poor companion’s clothes. As your vision faded you only mumbled to him, 

“Sorry… Oh God, I’m sorry…” 

You were bedridden for the better half of two days, floating in and out of consciousness like a specter. Flashes of things from that night, dreamlike and watery, come back to you, pilling at the edges of your mind. P bursting through the doors of Krat in a frenetic panic, your head lolling against his chest, your body shivering relentlessly from loss of blood. The marble floors of the hotel were stained a deep crimson. You recall Sophia rushing to meet you both, communicating with P in some way you couldn’t understand either due to the nonverbal nature of it or of the way your head swam every time you opened your eyes. Somehow you were brought to your room, and faintly recall the dressing of your wounds, a feeling of coolness on your forehead, some herbal concoction being held to your mouth, its contents warm and sweet. 

Though most of those days were spent in a deep and cavernous slumber, when you were lucid enough to open your eyes, to perceive the room around you, you’re certain that Pinocchio had never left your side. With each foggy fragment, there he knelt at your bed; brows knitted and hands clasped over his mouth as he leaned forward on his elbows. A thoughtful intensity had overcome him, and in this posture, he seemed almost to be praying. 

He doesn’t know what to do with me. You thought to yourself. He knows now how easily I’m broken.

In the brief moments Pinocchio could be pulled from your side, Sophia took gentle inspection and inventory of your condition. In one such instance you suddenly found yourself tearful, frustration and guilt wracking the whole of your being. Sophia attempted comfort and assured you it was not out of weakness that you had landed yourself bleak and bloodied in this bed, that it wasn’t a fair fight, that this could’ve happened to anyone. But it didn’t. It happened to you. You who were charged to accompany Pinocchio in all his ventures. You who were meant to be his trusted companion, his ally, his protector when it was required of you. He was made of magic after all, and you were only a mere human. Expendable. You’d failed him. 

Yesterday was the first time you had even managed to stand since it all happened. You walked barefoot in pyjamas through the hotel, searching for P in silence. The cold marble is a shock to the soles of your feet and you wrap your arms around yourself at the draft that ripples beneath the loose fitting silk sleepclothes. When you finally catch sight of him in the library tucked between the towering shelves, your throat goes completely dry and tight. Your eyes feel glassy. You can’t face him knowing how he last saw you, making a fool of yourself. A sorry excuse for a soldier. 

That evening it was impossible to bring yourself to dream. Thoughts ruminated, their thorned and gnarled roots delving deep into the recesses of your restless sleep. In the darkness, you change clothes and take your weapons from their holding place and head for the garden. You wanted to blow off steam at first, just clear your head. But as you night crept slowly into dawn, hues of blue and indigo shifting into a brilliant orange, here you still stood. Haggard and weary in the garden with callouses burning into your palm. Fixation on failure had poisoned you. 

You were exhausted. The wear of such exercise would’ve been present even in your normal physical condition, but the presence of deep yellowing bruises and disrupted gashes along your limbs made it all the more wretched. You would not allow your body even a moment of peace. How could you quit now? How when your mind still ran rampant and relentless?

You glare at the dummy before you with pointed bitterness. With a groan you slice wildly across its throat, and the lifeless head tumbles into the grass. Your shoulders slump forward at the weight of your sword. You stare at the head, rolling to a stop. Hair falls over your eyes in an unkempt curtain and you find it difficult to catch your breath. Some stalker I am. You think to yourself. 

You’re drawn out of the ever-tangled web of self-pity by a feeling of being watched. You throw a glance over your shoulder, and there he is. Your trusted Pino. 

You feel sick.

At the knowledge of his presence, you straighten up your posture and readjust your clothes. It’s pointless, you know, but still. You don’t want him seeing you like this. You attempt to coolly smooth your hair back and acknowledge him with a nod, not knowing what to say. The two of you stand, shifting your weights awkwardly, in a permeating silence. 

P is the first to attempt conversation, pointing in the direction of your bedroom, his face portraying confusion. 

“Ah. I’m fine now.” You lie, poking absentmindedly at the ground with your weapon. “Sophia gave me some… something or other. I’m right as rain.” 

P doesn’t look convinced, and he shouldn’t be. You were knocking on Death's door not 48 hours ago. You hadn’t forgotten he was the one to lug your delirious self for miles, pale and languid and spurting blood. It's a service for which you’re afraid he can never be repaid. He reaches for your hand, but you flinch away. His eyes flash with something deeply sad and your heart crumbles. 

You’re being cruel.

But you can’t accept his help anymore; he can’t keep offering you these undeserved kindnesses. You want to say sorry, not just for swatting him away, but for everything. For not being more careful, for causing him so much worry, for putting both your lives at risk. But you don’t. Instead you turn your back to him and kick up dirt. 

“You can just go back inside, P.” 

Your face feels hot and you wonder if you’re really going to cry with him still standing there. As salty tears pool at the corner of your eye, you feel a sharp prick in your back. You yelp and whip your head around to find P now equipped with his rapier, holding it to your back. You lift your sword reflexively in return.

“I’m not in the mood for-” You start, but are cut off as he crosses his weapon with yours. Your eyes scan from the hilt of his rapier to meet his eyes, which narrow at you. The corner of his mouth is lifted just barely in an inviting and appetitive smirk. You resist returning the look, which disappoints him. You give in just a little and draw your weapon to his chest. Now his expression is broken into a full blown boyish smile. It’s almost enough to lure you out of yourself. Almost. 

The duel begins between the two of you at a crawling pace; there’s a kind of thoughtfulness to your movements. You size one another up as if this were the first time your swords had crossed and not an uncountable thousandth. Your steps are in orbit with each other, methodical, calculated. His gaze is unrelenting and makes something in your chest twinge. 

You catch even yourself off guard by striking first, but of course he’s able to parry it easily, shaking the rhythm of your movement. He slashes back at you and your blade catches his, just barely, as it slides away with a ring. A minute inkling of pride swells in you. 

You’re surprised at how quickly things between the two of you seem to realign; it’s all in an ebb and flow, but it's good. It’s real, this energy you feel in practice with him.You’re struck suddenly with the thought that the simple act of sparring could never feel so -you can’t think of a better word for it than- spiritual with anyone but him. The bond you’ve cultivated, held and protected between yourselves is inimitable, ritualistic in a sense. A private and intimate practice between you and he. 

By the time the sun descends into the horizon, casting its shadows deep across the garden walls, the two of you have succeeded in making an absolute mess of the space and of yourselves. The dummies have become innocent casualties to the line of fire, and several rose bushes hang limply in ribbons, their crimson petals strewn about carelessly. As for you; your hair is whipping across your face, clothes rumpled. You’d both thrown off your coats a while ago, the practice making you sweat. You move wildly in tandem with the puppet, each of you equally stubborn not to crack. It was endearing, you had to admit, the competitive streak in your trusted companion. But your iron will would win out in the end. 

At the very edge of the courtyard where two walls meet, you face P, your mouth set sternly in a straight line, brow furrowed in concentration. You’ve been waiting for him to falter this whole time. Unfortunately as a puppet he seems far less prone to such follies as a mere mortal like yourself. However, he’s also less accustomed to common human tricks. With only the tiniest bit of guilt, you widen your eyes and drop your jaw, gesturing behind the boy in front of you. You watch his immovable expression twitch and his eyes follow the sharp line of your finger. 

And with that, your window is open.

With a well timed flick of your sword, you disarm your opponent, and his rapier clatters to the ground. The tip of your blade rests firmly at the center of his chest. 

P’s head spins to look back at you, his face awash with betrayal. You can’t help smiling. It was so stupid, so juvenile, so unbelievably oldest-trick-in-the-book that you honestly can’t believe it worked. But that doesn’t matter. You’ve won. 

P’s face drops and he shakes his head at your victory, but you see the glimmer of a grin beneath it all. He’s happy to see you like your old self again. 

“Oh cheer up, poor puppet boy.” You say, a lilt in your voice. You inch forward and draw your weapon up to the collar of his shirt. It wilts at the touch of your sword and his pale freckled collarbone is just barely exposed. “Better luck next time.”

Your eyes flicker back to his face and you’re surprised to find it softened into an expression even you don’t recognize. It’s watery, shifty and an utter mystery to you. His attentions seem to play tug of war between you and your weapon. You quirk an eyebrow quizzically, but he offers you no answers. You feel something akin to annoyance towards him, as if he’s being purposefully coy with you. Almost absentmindedly, your blade draws an invisible thread away from the dip of his collarbones to his throat. 

You watch, waiting for him to flinch. He doesn’t. Instead, the strait of his jaw settles against the blade of your sword. His eyes close and he looks as if he’s sinking into a warm embrace rather than cold hard steel. Despite the warmth of exertion, you feel a shiver run down your spine. A prickling curiosity rises in you. Experimentally, you tilt the blade gently against the square of his jaw. He lifts his chin in response, leaving his throat vulnerable to your will. The pieces click in  your mind. It’s a display of trust; of total devotion. He’s putting himself in your hands, and you want to grasp at him greedily. 

His beauty is intimidating, looking nothing short of an angel in the firelight of the setting sun. The orange glow bounces from your sword in a soft line that settles over his face, and the waning sunlight catches the edges of his pitch dark hair like a halo. Deep shadows of violet are cast beneath his brow, giving his eyes the appearance of two precious stones hewn into living rock. 

You feel yourself impossibly drawn to him in the heat of the moment. You attempt to maintain your coolness, and lower the blade. You do this slowly, savoring each minute movement as he lowers his head to meet your gaze. You open your mouth to speak but no words fall from your parted lips. Your hand twitches around your weapon and you toss it to the ground. It’s much too heavy to hold suddenly. 

You step forward. Pino steps back. His back is pressed flat against the marble wall now. 

Fuck. 

Your heart pounds beneath your ribcage and you wonder if he can hear it, that desperate thudthudthud. The sight of him proves too overwhelming. Your mind is no longer flooded with doubts of your strength, of his care for you, of your deep bond. Fuck it all. You need him like air. 

In one swift motion your hand is at the back of his head, your fingers instantly lost in the mess of ravens-feather curls. Your mouths crash together clumsily, though you hardly care. Your free hand scrambles to find his waist and you pull him close against your body. 

Against your lips you feel his breath. A sound somewhere between a gasp and a whine is pulled from his mouth and you feel weightless as it echoes in your mind. You break your point of connection and hold his chin firmly in your palm. Gentle handling doesn’t come easy to you. This all feels like a long time coming, you realize. Perhaps this fire was lit long before you had the words for it. Before you ever had a chance of keeping it buried in your chest. Instead now it overcomes you. 

With his face held tenderly in your hand, you admire each striking feature like a work of art. He does have a certain greek statuesque quality after all. His lids look heavy, dark lashes fluttering. The spread of freckles across his nose is illuminated by a subtle but undeniable ruddy pink. 

You can feel his eyes on you now, as if he just woke from a dream, stepping into awareness again. He flinches towards you, but stops himself, mouth slightly agape in anticipation. You wonder if he has the capacity for nervousness. The thought is sort of charming. You sweep a lock of hair out of his eyes.

“Any day now, tin man.” You tease.

And before you have time to yelp, you find yourself in the dewey grass with a dully aching head. Pinocchio’s legion arm comes into focus, pressed palm-down into the patch of earth beside your head. Your eyes travel up the arm until you’re face to face with the puppet again. You’re stunned. His human hand drags along your cheek and the ends of his dark hair brush against your face. Your face flushes and you feel stupid; he doesn’t seem to mind. He recaptures you in a kiss and you feel yourself melt into the ground. 

Soon your hand is lost in his hair again, your fingertips dragging along the back of his neck. You’re so tempted to leave an imprint on the fair skin of his neck, to temporarily marr his delicate appearance. God, what would Sophia and the others think? You opt for a less visual approach and tug at the back of his head. Pino’s shoulders tense in surprise, and as you take a moment to breathe you catch his brows creasing together, eyes fluttering shut. Did you just send a shiver down the poor puppets spine? 

Your hand retains its firm grasp at the base of his skull and you press your foreheads together. His skin is cool and smooth and feels to you like fresh air. You soak in the feeling and begin a ritualistic repositioning of limbs until you’re straddling his lap, elbows propped up on his sturdy shoulders, your palms cradling his freckle-flecked face. His arms are anchored around your waist and you have to lean down to meet him. The look he gives you is nothing short of intoxicating, all needy eyes and shallow breath.

God, you feel drunk. 

The fingers of his legion arm twitch and you feel them slip just barely beneath the hem of your shirt. You place one hand over his, about to guide it further, give him permission to be less of a gentleman, when something crackles above your head. 

As you listen closely, flecks of rain begin to spatter across your skin. You look up at the sky. The sun has set and in its place hangs a cloud-obscured moon and a flash of blue lightning across the stars. In an instant, rain pours over you, cold and heavy. P raises his arm to cover his head and offers the other to you. Scrambling to stand with the wet grass beneath your feet, you loop your arm through his. You stumble forward and feel a laugh bubble forth from your mouth. You didn’t even know it was there. Pinocchio tips his head at you, puzzled, but you’re dizzy and hot and the rain feels good and cold on your aching muscles and your head is still reeling with the taste of him on your tongue and you laugh all the way through the courtyard and the entryway until you collapse against the wall. 

Once you’re both inside, P examines your face, tipping it every which way as if ensuring you haven’t lost your mind. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” you choke between lingering bouts of snickering. You shake your head. It feels as though you’ve been thrown into a hurricane of emotional and physical extremes and are only now finding your footing again in normalcy. The relief makes you lightheaded. Pino acts as your trusted lifeline, firmly holding you in place at the waist. As you stand dripping in the corridor, you realize you haven’t really spoken since the night of the ambush. 

“I never thanked you.” You start, “For keeping me alive, I mean. If it weren’t for you finding me…” His face falls completely as you trail off, eyes becoming dark and stormy. He must hate thinking about it. The realization makes you a bit embarrassed. Your gaze darts to the ground. “I just um. I wish I could repay it.” And as you say it, with your face still in his hands, he presses a kiss to your dewey forehead. It warms you from the inside. Your hand finds his and you squeeze tight. 

“Come on.” you murmur against his ear. You pull at your soaked-through clothes and gesture down the hall.  “I’ve got to get out of these clothes.” 

And with that, you lead him away to your room.

[o-sunny-day]

OKAY SO

I have very strong feelings twords this animation. such strong feelings that i understand i have no other option than to respond through needlessly wordy paragraphs, and horrific reaction images that perfectly encapsulate emotions felt deep within my soul (that this AU, for whatever reason, tears out every single time without mercy.)

Enjoy. (if you want.)

There are 2 moments in this that stood out to me in the reactions department, so I wanna analyze them specifically, before going over some extra smaller things

THIS ONE FIRST.

the lyrics OUUUUUUUGGGHH THE LYRICS.

“To Run Away Is Easy, Its The Leaving Thats Hard.” is such a RAW LINE im obsessed with it, and Wingdings having DOUBT on his face is what gave me such an **AAAAAAA** reaction.

im pretty confident in saying that within the AU, this’d be about how disconnected he has become due to what he knows now. How RUNNING AWAY feels like the only option in surviving this nightmare-scenario he’s found himself in. Your entire reality being proven to just be code within the very machines you’ve based your entire life off of.

But then Wingdings also finds he has doubts about running away from that, due to- yknow- LEAVING HIS LOVED ONES N ALL THAT. Leaving everything behind is easy, but leaving everyONE behind is hard

But- with the doubt being the reason why I had such strong feelings towards this scene in the first place… I HAD NO IDEA WHY WHY I WAS SURPRISED. I never suspected Wingdings to be an over the top movie monster who has no concern for his actions and how they will affect people, if anything id think he’s oblivious to that kind of thing. Willingly ignorant. But for some reason, seeing him have this doubt just made me go “HEEEEEYYYYYYUH”

But I think thats mainly because, Its not something I was waiting for. it surprised me in a way, that I REALLYYYY LIKE it makes me consider a new perspective that I only felt subconsciously, AND I LOVE IT!!!

NEXT PART! THE WORST PART! THE PART THAT MAKES MY STOMACH SINK!

the WINGDINGS. AND SANS. AND ALPHYS. BEING HAPPY.

If this was any other fandom or story, id just be like “ye.” BUT I CARE ABOUT THESE CHARACTERS TOO MUCH TO JUST BLOW THIS OFF LIKE THAT

Just the pure JOY smile that Wingdings has as hes face palming, Alphys’ mannerisms…SANS. Its all just such a human moment with these characters, it feels so natual. ITS BEAUTIFUL. then Wingdings had to fuck it all up >:(

The expressions are so vivid I feel like I can tell what each character is thinking and feeling and it makes my heart break. Again, the PURE JOY SMILE. Wingdings giving genuine smiles like that makes me just

and Sans looking at him makes me think hes just so in the moment hes just so HAPPYYY. THEYRE SO HAPPY.

ONTO SOME SMALLER BUT JUST AS IMPORTANT RANTS:

The part in the song/animation where it goes “Running away is easy…..Running away is easy, its the living thats hard” work SOOO well together ITS LIKE A SYMPHONY OF ANGST

Running away is easy: Wingdings DOING THE RUNNING AWAY and turning into Gaster, (I JUST NOTICED SOMETHING IM FREAKING OUT GOD THIS IS SO BEAUTIFUL i love how when Gasters face is revealed, the eyes are smaller like WINGDINGS’, before SPLITTING OPEN AAAAAAA)

Its the living thats hard: Papyrus LIVING WITH WINGDINGS’ MISTAKES!!!

Also not to mention in that part, Papyrus’ gloved hand coming over his ungloved one like Papyrus replacing Wingdings OOOOO????

And now, the last little part I wanna talk about is a bit of a sequel to the Science Gang being happy rant. This song… has so many raw lines- idk why but “loving you was easy”/any other similar sentiment makes me FEEL FEELINGS, they very much hurt. This was made to hurt me personally. This entire AU was made to hurt me personally.

I enjoy that scene radiating a feeling of- Sans was perfectly happy. He wouldnt have had it any other way- but it was torn away from him. NOW HES HAPPY AGAIN OFC!!! But yeah- Wingdings leaving did scar. AUGH I LOVE IT!!! IT HURTS SO MUCH!!! IM HAVING THE TIME OF MY LIFE!!!!!!!!!!!

in conclusion: ☹️

ok I also wanna include this- cause I think this clip perfectly exemplifies the feelings I get when the Forgettable AU updates and why I make so many deep dives as my decent into insanity is recorded through Tumblr blog posts

(Clip from Danny Gonzalez’ Youtube video: The Ratatouille Knockoff From Your Nightmares)

[reallygroovyninja]

Can we see Clarke's POV when she opens the door and sees Lexa in nothing but a trenchcoat and lingerie

I'm obsessed with this au

When Clarke opened the door, the sight that greeted her was not one she had expected. Lexa stood there, an enigmatic figure cloaked in a trench coat, her posture both confident and slightly apprehensive. The dim hallway light cast shadows that danced across Lexa's features, enhancing the air of mystery that surrounded her. Clarke's eyes, wide with surprise, flickered with questions that hung silently between them.

For a moment, neither spoke. The tension was palpable, a charged silence that seemed to vibrate with unspoken emotions and questions. Clarke's mind raced, trying to piece together the puzzle before her. Why was Lexa here, looking like a heroine out of a classic film, standing at her doorstep with an intensity that Clarke felt in her bones?

Then, with a deep breath that seemed to signal her resolve, Lexa's hands moved to the belt of her trench coat, her eyes never leaving Clarke's. The unveiling was slow, deliberate, and as the coat fell open, Clarke's breath hitched in her throat. There, revealed in the soft hallway light, was Lexa in lingerie that left little to the imagination, a vision that struck Clarke with the force of a physical blow.

Clarke's mind went blank, a whirlwind of emotions sweeping through her. Surprise, desire, confusion, and a profound realization all collided within her in the span of a heartbeat. The visual impact of Lexa, vulnerable yet bold, daring yet uncertain, etched itself into Clarke's memory with vivid clarity. It was a declaration, a tangible expression of desire and longing that Lexa had chosen to communicate in the most direct way possible.

In that moment, Clarke understood the depth of Lexa's feelings, the courage it must have taken to stand before her, laid bare in such a manner. The gesture shattered any pretense of ambiguity, laying the foundation for truths that had remained unspoken, desires that had been cloaked in the safety of friendship.

Clarke's heart pounded in her chest, a tumultuous mix of feelings flooding her senses. She was acutely aware of Lexa's vulnerability, the way her breath seemed to catch as she awaited Clarke's response. The air between them was thick with anticipation, with the weight of decisions that hung in the balance.

As Clarke took in the sight of Lexa, her mind raced through the possibilities that lay ahead. This moment marked a crossroads, a choice that would define the nature of their relationship moving forward. The realization that Lexa was willing to risk so much, to step so far out of her comfort zone for the sake of expressing her feelings, touched Clarke in ways she hadn't anticipated.

The intensity of the moment, the raw honesty in Lexa's gesture, forced Clarke to confront her own feelings, to acknowledge the depth of her connection to Lexa. It was a turning point, a moment of profound clarity that demanded a response, not just of the mind, but of the heart.

As Clarke stood there, meeting Lexa's gaze, she realized that the question Lexa posed without words was not just about desire or physical attraction. It was an invitation to explore the uncharted territories of their relationship, to move beyond the confines of friendship into something more profound, more intimate.

The realization was overwhelming, a revelation that opened the door to a future Clarke had scarcely allowed herself to imagine. In the vulnerability of Lexa's gesture, Clarke saw the possibility of a connection that transcended the ordinary, a bond that could deepen and evolve in ways she had never dared to dream.

In the stillness of that charged moment, Clarke found herself at a loss for words. Lexa stood before her, the embodiment of vulnerability and strength, her gaze holding Clarke's in a silent plea for understanding, for acceptance. The lingerie, black and intricate, seemed not just an attire but a symbol of the barriers Lexa was willing to tear down between them.

Clarke swallowed hard, her eyes tracing the contours of Lexa's form, taking in the courage it must have taken for her to stand there, exposed in more ways than one. The realization of what Lexa was offering, of what she was asking, settled heavily in Clarke's chest. This was not a mere physical proposition; it was an invitation into the depths of Lexa's soul, a plea for intimacy that transcended the physical realm.

The weight of Lexa's gaze was almost palpable, filled with hope and an underlying thread of fear—a fear of rejection, of having misjudged the strength of their connection. Clarke stepped forward, closing the distance between them, her movements guided by a force she couldn't name. The air shifted as she reached out, her hand trembling slightly as she touched Lexa's cheek, a gesture tender and questioning.

"Lexa," Clarke whispered, her voice barely above a breath, thick with emotion. It was all she could muster, but the sincerity in her voice was unmistakable. Clarke watched as a range of emotions flickered across Lexa's face—relief, joy, and an undeniable love.

The tension that had filled the hallway began to dissipate, replaced by an electric connection that drew them closer. Clarke could feel the warmth radiating from Lexa, the beat of her heart rapid and strong. It was a moment of profound truth, a turning point that would redefine the boundaries of their relationship.

Clarke stepped back slightly, her hand still cradling Lexa's face, and smiled—a smile that spoke of acceptance, of shared vulnerability. "Don't just stand in the hallway," she murmured, the corner of her mouth quirking up in a gentle tease. It was an offer of comfort, an invitation to step inside, to explore the depths of their connection in the privacy and safety of Clarke's apartment.

As Lexa crossed the threshold, shedding her trench coat and leaving behind the barriers it represented, Clarke felt a surge of wonder. Here was Lexa, in all her complexity and beauty, trusting Clarke with her most intimate self. It was a gift beyond measure, a leap of faith that Clarke was determined to honor with her own openness, her own willingness to explore the new territory that lay before them.

The door closed softly behind them, sealing off the world outside.

[bigsoftmarshmallow]

How would the Ganondorfs (Wind Waker, Ocarina of Time, Twilight Princess, Hyrule Warriors, and Tears of the Kingdom) & Demise react to explicit fanfiction about them in a demonic polycule?

If any of the Ganondorfs (or Demise) were to come across an explicit fanfiction about themselves in a demonic polycule, their reactions would likely be as complicated—and chaotic—as they are. Their strong personalities and their unique, sometimes contentious dynamics with each other would make for an explosive reaction to such a creative (and audacious) interpretation of their bond. Here’s how each would react:

Wind Waker Ganondorf: The Philosophical Visionary

Wind Waker Ganondorf would raise an eyebrow and read a few lines, initially struck by the bizarre curiosity of it all. While he’s used to inspiring fear and grudging respect, this form of reverence leaves him a bit off-balance. After all, he sees himself as a leader with refined tastes, and now he's reading about himself in... such an uninhibited way. And not just with one Ganondorf, but all of them—and even Demise.

Reaction: He clears his throat, re-reading certain lines with a mix of morbid fascination and absolute bewilderment. Glancing around to make sure no one saw him reading it, he’d probably brush it off with some level of composure.

“It appears that some mortals have vivid imaginations,” he muses dryly. “Though they would never dare write such fantasies if they knew who we truly are…” But the thought would linger, and he’d almost certainly bring it up to the others with a wry glint in his eye, as if daring them to find it as outrageous as he does.

Ocarina of Time Ganondorf: The Cunning Strategist

Ocarina of Time Ganondorf would scoff immediately. Out of all of them, he’s perhaps the most accustomed to being feared and taken seriously, and this fanfiction would strike him as a grand insult. Reading about himself in such a way—alongside the others—he’d be both insulted and incredulous that anyone could imagine him in such a… cooperative dynamic.

Reaction: He slams the fanfiction down, offended but intrigued by the audacity. His initial impulse would be to track down whoever wrote it, but his SO might convince him to let it slide. After calming down, he’d laugh bitterly about it, sharing the material with the others just to gauge their reactions.

“If they believe I would join forces with... them in such a manner, then they know nothing of true power or ambition.” He’d shoot a glare at the others as if daring them to disagree, irritated at the very notion of a “polycule” of any kind.

Twilight Princess Ganondorf: The Brooding Sovereign

Twilight Princess Ganondorf would look at the fanfiction, arms crossed, expression dark. This version of Ganondorf is the most inclined toward solitude and respect, so finding out he’s been depicted in a compromising way alongside multiple versions of himself would both amuse and irritate him.

Reaction: He would read a few sentences, raising an eyebrow as he realizes the implications. Without saying much, he’d likely smirk and put it down, intending to move on—but he’d never quite forget about it. Later, he’d bring it up in a deadpan tone.

“It appears that mortals entertain strange fantasies… involving us,” he says, looking toward his counterparts with a knowing, almost mocking smile. If one of them gets too defensive or dismissive, he might prod them just a little. “Careful. It seems the people want more than just conquest.”

Hyrule Warriors Ganondorf: The Relentless Warlord

Hyrule Warriors Ganondorf, with his love for conquest and his raw, unapologetic approach to power, would probably be the least perturbed by the idea of anyone creating fanfiction about him—even explicit content. He would look at the fanfiction, read a few lines, and burst into deep laughter. He’s not above reveling in his own infamy, after all.

Reaction: He leans back, amused, his laughter booming as he skims through the more intense descriptions. He wouldn’t mind bringing up certain choice passages to the others just to get a reaction. He’s far too arrogant to take it as an insult and might even see it as an entertaining form of flattery.

“Mortals are imaginative creatures, I’ll give them that,” he says, grinning wickedly. “I would gladly entertain such… entertainments if it amused me.” He’d consider it beneath him, but the idea of flustering his fellow Ganondorfs might make him enjoy it.

Tears of the Kingdom Ganondorf: The Resilient Dark King

Tears of the Kingdom Ganondorf would be the most offended, but also the most calculating about it. While the others might laugh it off or get angry, he’d read between the lines, considering the underlying implications of such a story. To him, it reflects the twisted nature of those who revere him and the discomfort they feel toward him. He’d find the entire idea revolting—and he’d question who thought him capable of such an arrangement.

Reaction: He would clench his jaw, reading enough to understand the tone, and then put the fanfiction down, regarding it with open disdain. His SO might have to step in to diffuse his anger. He’d likely say something darkly sarcastic to the others about how certain people must have nothing better to do than indulge in such fiction.

“As if I would waste my energy on such trivialities. Clearly, some minds have wandered too far from reality.” He’d be the most determined to ensure that none of the other Ganondorfs took it too seriously either.

Demise: The Wrathful God of Destruction

Demise would be downright furious. Unlike the others, he has no familiarity with admiration that strays into fanatical love or devotion of this kind. He doesn’t know what “fandom” is and certainly doesn’t understand why anyone would want to write or read about such things. The very notion would infuriate him, but he’d mostly be angered by the idea of being equal to anyone, let alone a bunch of Ganondorfs.

Reaction: Upon reading the fanfiction, he’d rip the pages (or throw the device, if it’s on a screen) in half, visibly disgusted and ready to take his anger out on something. He’d scoff at the notion of a “polycule” and storm off, practically fuming.

“Disgusting! These fools think I would stoop so low—to fraternize with such filth?” He’d barely contain his anger, and his SO might have to remind him that it’s harmless fiction to get him to calm down.

In the end, the reactions would vary from mild disgust to haughty amusement. While Wind Waker Ganondorf and Hyrule Warriors Ganondorf might get a few laughs out of it, Ocarina of Time and Twilight Princess Ganondorfs would likely be irritated yet morbidly amused. Tears of the Kingdom Ganondorf would disdainfully dismiss it, and Demise would storm off in anger. None of them would ever look at a “demonic polycule” story quite the same way again!

[influencermagazineuk]

While playing at Co-op Live in Manchester, Sam Fender's performance felt as though it was a personal conversation with each one of the 23,000 people in attendance. With the show's scope so massive, Fender never let himself become humbled out of an approachable presence. As the crowd let out in unison, singing along to his anthemic "whoah-oh-ohs," he bantered back with a flip comment: "Got some singers here, haven't we?" His self-deprecation and effortless charm made the cavernous venue feel like an intimate gathering at a local pub. Fender has gone from playing tiny, intimate venues to packing stadiums. The 30-year-old from North Shields has, in five years, come from being a budding talent to a festival mainstay and a stadium performer. Last night's first of two nights at Co-op Live felt almost like a cozy preview of the bigger world he now occupies. His early career as a barman in Newcastle has no doubt left its mark on his connection with his audience, and his music very often shows the personal strife and victory of his working-class roots. Raph_PH, CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0, via Wikimedia Commons One of the main reasons for his success is how he is able to take something deeply personal and turn it into a universally relatable anthem. Tracks such as "Seventeen Going Under" speak to really hard-hitting issues - the struggles of the benefits system, say - in raw, unflinching honesty. As the lyrics go, "I see my mother/the DWP see a number," he sings in that haunting line expressing frustration with the coldness of the system. His songs are not only about his own life but resonate in so much more people as Fender puts his heart and soul into every performance so his audience could draw their own meaning from his songs. Dead Boys" opens the night with an address to male suicide. Such a heavy subject somehow finds itself as an arena opener, and it shows Fender's skill for making somber themes live in such a way that their weight resonates with the audience. With this in mind, it was now time for everyone to soak up that weight as a crowd and begin the evening ahead. Fender's voice is full of passion and vulnerability; he previewed his next album, People Watching, which will come to the public in the next year. The title track off the album is a powerful anthem of Fender's signature sound. With lines like "somebody's darling's on the street tonight," it paints this stark, vivid image of broken society observed through the eye of a late-night trip home. The track captures the same gritty realism that has always defined Fender's music, taking a sweeping, almost cinematic look at the struggles of modern life. The same goes for "Nostalgia's Lie", which refuses to romanticize the past. The singer sounds, philosophically reflective, "these streets break my heart" while dismissing the comforting illusions of nostalgia. While these tracks displayed Fender's hallmark anthemic style, the set also had its quieter moments. Songs like "Wild Long Lie" and "Arm's Length" were much more introverted, but with the kind of soundscapes that would evoke the likes of The War on Drugs or fellow Geordie, Mark Knopfler. New addition to the band, Brooke Bentham, whom Fender has known since their busking days as teenagers, adds a new dimension to the live show. Bentham's vocals and guitar work brought a feminine feel to the group, balancing out Fender's passionate, gritty delivery. With night growing on, the setlist reached back to Fender's deep catalogue of work, including hits such as "Howdon Aldi Death Queue," with its punk-attack punch and the contemplative "Spit of You." One more that stands out is the incisive, pointed political commentary of "Hypersonic Missiles," capturing what may very well be the greatest characteristic in Fender's work, the ability to mesh the personal with the sociopolitical in a manner so relevant to his fans. Throughout the performance, Fender's minimal stage banter only seemed to add to his appeal. His emotional voice proved to blend so perfectly with the reserved undercurrent of his presence and create a magnetic atmosphere where the fans were engaged. The powerful sing-alongs that punctuated the night were a testament to the connection between the artist and his fans. The whole crowd seemed united by the catharsis of music, none more than at the chorus of "Seventeen Going Under" - an anthem for day-to-day struggles. It's that song that captures both heartbreak and resilience of ordinary life - and it was clear that the performance meant as much to the audience as it did to Fender. There was more to Sam Fender's shows than just being concerts-they were an emotional experience. He delivers the songs so passionately and truthfully that his fan base grows exponentially as does the loyalty. Co-op Live was the best demonstration of why he has become one of the biggest influencers in today's music world. Whether personal or societal, Fender speaks about his issues rawly and on a level that hits the bone. The fans feel his music, which he feeds off, in their bones, and he, through them, creates a great and very symbiotic connection. The performances are approaching, and for sure, he is not nearly done with his journey - there is the O2 performance in London. His upcoming album promises more of the poignant storytelling and cathartic soundscapes that have become his trademark. With each performance, he proves that, no matter the size of the venue, the music always comes first, and it's this honesty and passion that will continue to carry him to even greater heights. Read the full article

[jacesbeloved]

amidst the waves: part II

summary: born a lowborn, your family a group of fishermen that supply the market; one day, it wasn’t a fish caught but rather, a young man.

pairing: lucerys velaryon x fem!reader

part: I, II, III

taglist: @ephemeralninon @aliceuris @desiree610

"Are we there yet?"

It's been half an hour since you two left, and Luke has been struggling ever since. Groaning each step of the way, the two of you had to make multiple stops for him to not collapse.

"We're almost there," You reply tiredly, taking the bag of fish from him to let him breathe. "You shouldn't have come with me, gods." You sigh when you see him without the hood of his coat, wiping his sweat from his forehead, the brunette curls on his head seeping out from the bandage around his head.

"I'm quite sorry, but you were the one that told me to come. I was already acquainted with Arrel and Alaine," Luke rebuts, still polite in his tone. You look away apologetically, remembering that he did almost die in the sea, and now you made him walk with you to the market. Well, to be frank, it was your parents that told you to bring him.

Luke nods at you, taking back the bag you held and carrying it before you two go back to walking. The rest of the walk was silent with just a few small chats from Luke, asking you more about your family as you asked him the same.

Turns out, Luke still didn't remember anything. Not even his family members or his full name. He only knows himself as Luke.

You decide not to push him much on remembering about himself, seeing him also grow irritated at the loss of his own memories, at the fact that he can't even answer your questions.

You eventually arrived at the familiar crowded market, various people chattering and bargaining with one another. The foul smell of the raw meat hanging from hooks invades both of your noses. There wasn't anything new for you; however, your companion seemed new to the smell. You found him quite adorable, chuckling a bit at him pinching his nose while he wandered his gaze around the market with a fascinated expression.

"You haven't been to a market?" The man stared at you blankly. You were confused for a moment before remembering that he had just said he couldn't remember anything but the moments before and after his fall. "Sorry, don't answer that."

Luke chuckles lightly at you. "It's okay, my lady. I may have been to a market, but the memory is not quite vivid."

The way he called you 'my lady' with such a polite and upright tone made you break out in a small smile, looking away from the man. "He must be a highborn," you thought.

"Y/N's fine," You correct him and he nods, your name sounding better coming from his voice and tone, but you'd rather not dwell on it. He is, after all, just a stranger that needs help.

"Follow me." You pulled him by his arm, the man struggling to follow you as he squeezed himself between people, the big bag he carried causing him to occasionally bump into them, halting for a moment to actually apologize genuinely, the folks looking at him weirdly.

"Just ignore them. They likely won't care if you bump into them unless you make them drop something," you explained after the two of you stopped for him to apologize to a random person.

"But that wouldn't be mannerly.." he said.

"You're in a market full of peasants, Luke. Manners are the last thing you'll find here." Luke nods slowly, although weary since he's not used to the environment.

Upon arriving at a familiar cart, barrels containing various different meats on the outside of the cart, flies swarming the hung pig's leg, you notice Luke tapping his feet anxiously. His hood was off, his eyes turning to you and locking with yours before you turned back to the merchant behind the cart.

"Grahar."

"Y/N! My favorite fishies!" The chubby old man gleams at the sight of you, arms welcoming as you nod at Luke to give him the bag. He looks at you before handing it to Grahar. He looks at Luke weirdly before smiling like he usually does, happily taking the bag of fish and other sea creatures.

"The usual eh? You and your family always give me best quality! I put some extra here!" You chuckle at his thick accent, telling him "thank you" as he handed you a bag of coins, though before it could reach your wrist, he beckons you closer.

Your brows raised in surprise, glancing at Luke, who glared at Grahar before you leaned forward.

"Is he partner? You know," the man whispers at you, his fingers doing something not-so appropriate while he looks at your reaction. The sudden speculation made you shriek loudly.

"Seven hells, no, Grahar! He's just a friend!" You exclaimed loudly, Luke looking at the two of you weirdly, not catching up on the context as Grahar's laugh thundered loudly.

You playfully glared at the older merchant before taking the bag of coins, Luke staring down Grahar before following you out of the market.

"Ahh... At times like this, it makes me feel like a princess in the kingdom. Having endless coins to splurge on," you sigh contentedly, Luke peeking inside of the bag at the same time as you do.

"That's... a lot!" Luke marveled at the sight of the metal shining in the bright sun. "I never knew you wanted to be a princess," he adds, pushing back his hood.

"I don't. I never said I did, dimwit." You replied, picking up one silver stag and handing it to Luke. He looked at you confusedly, eyebrows arched as he glanced at the coin, then at you.

You urged him to take it. "Go on. It's yours."

"Thank you..." He says quietly, lips stretching into a warm smile.

"You're welcome. You're now one silver stag richer than 60% of the city." You make a lighthearted remark to him, and he laughs.

His fingers carefully picked up the coin from your hand, inspecting the small piece of metal as his eyes ran over the image of King Jaehaerys and a dragon on either side of the coin.

Luke's head started to hurt. His eyes started to blur while the back of his head started to ache in painful patterns.

Your eyes widen in concern, assisting Luke when he clutches his head upon stumbling a bit. You gripped his arm while leading him into an empty alleyway. "Are you okay? What's wrong?"

His chest gradually started heaving up and down. You started to become nervous about what was happening, so you pulled his hood down, cradling the back of his head with your arm. It wasn't bleeding, which is good. The blood on the bandage has already dried.

Luke's hands started to shake as well, the coin in his hand dropping as he stayed silent. While his body jerked and you tried to calm him down, you yourself were also scared.

You took the coin from the ground and held it in between his hands, enclosing his with yours. It took him a long minute to stop convulsing, almost having your own heart attack out of nervousness.

"I'm fine- yes, I'm okay..." He stammers quietly as his body starts to calm down as well, no longer shaking. You finally get to sigh out of relief, dropping to sit on the ground.

Luke stares at his hands, "Did Y/N just... hold my hands..." His cheeks started to burn up at the thought of it, licking his chapped lips and looking elsewhere.

"What happened to you?"

"I... don't know. I think I-"

"What are you two doing there?" The two of you turn to the armored man at the end of the alleyway. You jumped to your feet, arms behind your back, and began to make an excuse, but the armored man was standing beside you. He looked at Luke.

"He hit his head." You reply with a shaky voice.

Luke looks away, pulling the hood of his coat on while the guard moves, his heavy armor clanging. You thought he would ask more questions or even inspect the both of you, but he leaves. Not a word from him.

You snapped to glare at Luke, the man playing with the coin in his hand. "Goodness, I shouldn't have brought you with me," you sigh upon standing. You dusted off your bottoms and held Luke's arm as he stood up with you, placing the small coin in his pocket.

"I think we need to head back home."

It's been more than four days since you first met Luke. Ever since that headache situation, he's never experienced it again. Or at least, as you thought. The first night, your parents already made him a small tent beside your family's hut, just enough for him to sleep in since he spends the day in the hut.

On his second day, Luke asked you to teach him how to fish. Finding it both boring and disrespectful to stay with your family and not help out. So you did. And he eventually got the hang of it, fishing with your father, sometimes with Arrel and Aliane and sometimes with you.

He no longer had a bandage around his head after the third day. He was already recovering well. Your father bought him his own clothes from a cheap merchant in the market, treating Luke as his "worker" as the man helped around the hut with fishing and bringing the family's gains to the market.

"There's one behind you, gods, Luke spear it!" You yell at him from the shore, the curly-haired man looking for fish in the waters that reached his calves.After some time, he sees it and swiftly impales it with the wooden spear he had.

Luke smiled widely at that, a sense of fulfillment coming over him as he takes the fish from the water and walks over to you.

"It was literally beside you, it took you so long to kill it," you scoff, Luke handing you the fish while you place it atop the clean wood, expertly descaling and cutting it.

"I believe I did fairly well for one that fishes at night," Luke counters, sitting on a small bench beside the bonfire with your siblings. You raised your eyebrow, glaring at him, making him laugh.

When you finished prepping the fish, you placed them in some clay plates that your parents extravagantly bought using the gold coins that the guards gave you. Your siblings and Luke mumbled their thanks as they started to eat. The four of you engage in random conversations about how the day went, with Luke asking about fishing stories every now and then.

"Clean up. Alaine, get some water for the fire. Arrel, bring the plates inside..." You started to list out while your siblings quickly scattered. You turned to Luke, the man looking at you expectantly. "What about me?"

"I don't know, help me with tidying up." You stood up, starting to arrange the littered sticks and leaves around the pit, and Luke did the same. The fire hissed as Luke poured the bucket of water Alaine bought, high-fiving your younger sister after.

Your brow furrowed, promptly feeling something wet hit your side. You slowly turned your head only to see Luke grinning at you with the leftover water from the bucket. He clearly didn't use it all to put out the fire.

He backs away cautiously when you start walking over to him after complaining, running away when he saw you running to the waters to fill a cup with water. You chased him around the shore, splashing the man with water whenever you got close. But Luke ran fast, really fast. And sadly, most of the water you threw in his direction fell to the sand.

When your cup ran out of water, it was his turn to run after you.

"Luke, Luke- No! You dimwit-" You struggled as it took no effort for Luke to reach you, pouring the water over your head as you yelled at him. Luke cackles at your reaction, your frail hands wrapped around his wrist as you try to stop him from emptying the bucket over your head. You hated it, of course, but it did make you laugh. Your complaint was a mix of yelling and laughing.

His laugh slowly dies down when he notices your hand wrapped around his again. "A shower, maybe?" Luke says, your hands withdrawing from his to arrange your hair.

You kick him in the leg, making him groan. "You are truly... a pain in my arse."

When you rolled your eyes, Luke simply chuckled again. He took off the thin coat he wore before giving it to you. "You can go inside, I'll finish up here." He says with a sly smirk, holding your shoulders and pushing you back to the front of the house.

"Do you know just how close I am to hitting you?"

"I don't. How uneducated of me," Luke retorts sarcastically, and you glare at him, standing by the door as he awaits you to go back inside. He started to pick up the small pieces of rubbish around the area, cleaning off the wooden stools and counter.

You yawned lowly, adjusting his coat around your shoulders before deciding to go back, wanting to dry your hair and help your siblings to bed.

"Good night then, Y/N!" Luke speaks as you head inside, standing by the open window to see him. You wave back, a small scoff leaving your mouth.

"Good night as well, Luke."

hearts, reactions, replies, and reblogs are very appreciated if you liked the story! <3 ^w^

[teawaffles]

There's No Business Like Show Business: Chapter 1

T/N: Takes place after the Phantom of Whitechapel arc (Chapters 25-29 of the manga).

Where there is light, there is shadow. Behind Britain’s glorious prosperity, lay a dark side.

In the capital of the British Empire, one place that embodied these disparities was situated to the east of the City: a slum called the East End. [1]

Here, the buildings were densely packed due to poor urban planning. Complicated alleyways crossed one another like the mesh of a net, serving as prime hideouts for criminals. For better or for worse, its residents were full of raw vitality, and prostitution and barbarity were rife.

In the East End district of Whitechapel, situated northeast from the Tower of London, walked a lone woman—— no, a man.

He had a slender physique, and his shining golden hair added a vivid colour to the grey city streets. With a mole under his eye, and a smile overflowing with confidence, he was a charmingly exquisite beauty.

This man — James Bond — walked forward with grace, paying no heed to the dangerous atmosphere around him.

When they had visited Whitechapel during the Jack the Ripper incident, Bond had heard that William’s birthplace was somewhere nearby. With the incident resolved, in order to understand William’s character better, Bond was now exploring the slum alone.

However, contrary to his dignified steps, a vague depression bloomed deep in his heart.

——As expected, with at least ten years having come and gone, it seemed that nothing related to Will-kun was left……

Bond had carefully searched the district. He even visited the place where a book rental shop once stood; William mentioned he’d lived there with Louis, but just as Moran said, it had already gone out of business.

Dusk was beginning to fall, and he had no more leads to follow regarding William’s past. Dejected, Bond headed towards the main street to make his way back.

“……Oh?”

As he passed by a small, vacant plot, Bond saw something curious.

In the middle of the square were a few young children surrounding a single red-haired girl. Thinking that he’d stumbled onto an incident of bullying, Bond drew nearer to stop them. But as he did so, the girl in the middle spoke up with vigour.

“That’s right. Today’s New Year’s Eve.”

She said so while rubbing her hands together, as if she were in the scene of a play. “Ssh—,” she murmured, then mimed the action of picking something up with her fingertips, and raised that hand into the air.

Going along with the flow, the other children around her each began to make their own strange movements. “Bwoo— bwoo—,” one hummed as they waved their hands above their head, while another went “Honk— honk—” as they flapped both arms like wings.

Watching from the side, this could be seen as a mysterious game played within the unique worldview of a child, but Bond continued to stand there and watch the children’s movements with fascination.

These actions could only be from “The Little Match Girl”.

The girl in the middle of the plot was the matchstick seller, the main character. Then the other children were the visions she saw within the flames of the matches she lit. In other words, they were acting out one of Hans Christian Andersen’s famous fairy tales.

A performance—— In that instant, something from his past began to stir up within him.

James Bond had formerly been Irene Adler, a renowned actress who was also a member of the Warsaw Imperial Opera. However, he had stolen secret documents which would have shaken the country to its core. With his life threatened by the British government, it was then that William and the others had rescued him. After which, he became agent number seven of MI6, and joined the Moriarty brothers’ cause.

Now for all intents and purposes, the woman known as Irene Adler was dead. It then stood to reason that he had stopped his acting work as well. However, even as he pushed forward with his undercover missions, he never once forgot the passion he had for the stage.

The children’s play had piqued Bond’s curiosity, and he was watching on with a smile when they seemed to notice his gaze.

“……Mister, can we help you?”

The girl who acted as the matchstick seller directed her question to Bond. Hearing that, the other children stopped their movements and looked in his direction as well.

He was a little flustered by the unexpected attention, but maintained a mild expression as he apologised.

“Sorry. It seemed interesting, so I couldn’t help but watch. Was that ‘The Little Match Girl’?”

“Yeah, that’s right. But how did you know?”

“I was watching your actions.”

Then Bond pointed to each of the children in turn.

“You would be the main character, the little girl. Then you were the iron stove that appeared in her first vision. You were the delicious goose from her next vision. And you were her grandmother, from her last——“

Bond named each and every one of their roles correctly, and the children beamed.

“That’s amazing! Are you a detective?”

“Detective……”

That word brought to mind a certain man whom he was indebted to.

Bond chuckled. “No, I’m employed at a certain mansion. I was just passing through while on a quick errand.”

“Hmm—”

Without particularly doubting his answer, the girl continued.

“Hey, mister. What did you think of our act?”

Bond pondered over his response. Since they were children, one should probably just give some suitable praise and end it there. But his pride and love for acting which once allowed him to reach the rank of prima donna took over, and the words spilled out.

“It was a splendid performance. ……But I think it would be even better with a little more expression.”

“Ex—pres—sion?”

The girl made a puzzled face, and Bond knelt down to meet her eyes.

“For example, at the start, you wanted to show that you were ‘cold’, yes? You did well back there, but to show that you are cold, you wouldn’t just rub your palms together, ……”

He paused mid-sentence, then made his shoulders shake as he rubbed both palms together, blowing on them as if to warm them up. Somehow, it seemed as though even the colour of his face had changed — a realistic impression of being ‘cold’.

At his exquisite acting with the skill of a former actress, the children began to clap in unison.

“Wow mister, you were amazing!”

Bond took a small bow as he was bathed in applause.

“By learning how to do a few tricks like this, you can make your performances even more entertaining.”

“I get it — can you do any more?” asked one of the children. He nodded readily, then made his hands into the shape of small wings and imitated the sound of a goose honking. The quality of his voice could have easily be mistaken for that of a bird, and the children were once again astonished.

“That’s a goose!” They clapped their hands in glee, requesting other impersonations as well.

Bond humoured every one of them. Without realising it, he had gone from appreciating the children’s make-believe play, to joining in and becoming the centre of attention. But while he was delighted to entertain them, their surroundings were beginning to grow dark, and he was now thinking of hurrying them home.

Just then, the girl who had spoken up at first pointed outside the vacant plot.

“Ah, onee-chan!” she exclaimed, waving her arms vigorously.

Bond turned to look in that direction. There, stood a young woman with a look of disbelief on her face.

She came back to herself as soon as Bond turned around, then rushed over to the children. The girl ran over and hugged the young woman’s knees.

“Onee-chan, welcome back.”

“I’m back, Mae,” she said to the girl with a smile.

Then, she turned fearful eyes towards Bond. The young woman’s chestnut-coloured hair had been tied back; and although she seemed to have a dark atmosphere surrounding her, her features were clean-cut. She appeared not too far removed in age from him.

“Um…… and you would be?”

“Ah, my name is Bond. James Bond,” he introduced himself simply.

“Uh, Mr… Bond?”

But her reaction was slow. Her understanding of the situation definitely had yet to catch up, he thought. A handsome young man playing with children on a dimly-lit vacant plot — indeed, the scene before her was baffling.

Even so, she didn’t seem to be giving off any sense of suspicion or alarm. Just as Bond was beginning to think it strange, she hurriedly bowed her head.

“S—Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. I—I’m her sister. My name is Maya.”

“Miss Maya, I see. Pleasure to meet you…… or rather, I’m sure you must’ve been confused to find your sister playing with a stranger. To start off, I would like to sincerely apologise for that.”

Saying that, Bond also bowed his head. He then explained the series of events to Maya, who was bemused by his friendly yet gentlemanly manner.

“——And that’s how Mae and the others invited me to join them.”

“And he’s really good at doing impressions!” boasted one child. Then, along with the other children, they started imitating the voices of the people and animals that Bond had showed them. He’d initially wanted to teach them about acting, but as they went along, the lesson had somehow morphed into a demonstration of mimicry. Well, as long as they had fun, he had no qualms about that.

Maya studied his face as she asked him a question.

“U—um…… Actually, I’d been watching your performance for some time earlier, Mr Bond…… Um, perhaps, you have worked in theatre in the past?”

“Uh……”

For a moment, Bond was lost for words, but he gave a roundabout answer to avoid revealing his true identity.

“That’s not too far from the truth. Well, you could say that I have a personal opinion when it comes to acting.”

“I—I see,” she replied automatically. Her gaze wandered restlessly before she spoke up again, in a cautious tone.

“Um…… Mr Bond. A—Actually I’m, part of a small, theatrical company, with some friends.”

“Really? So you’re an actor too, Maya.”

“Yes, and it really pains me that, you were asked to do impressions so crassly, upon our first meeting, but having seen your acting skills, um, I’d like to ask a big favour from you.”

“……A favour?”

Maya paused for a beat.

“We will soon be putting on a play at a big theatre, s-s—so we would be grateful, if you could watch our rehearsal, Mr Bond,” she said, as if she’d made up her mind.

Then she quickly bowed her head.

“Watch, your rehearsal? Me?”

Bond pointed to himself, surprised at the sudden request. Looking apologetic, Maya continued.

“We’ve been practising as much as we’ve could; but we’re a small theatre company that could close down at any moment, and we’ve never performed at such a large venue before…… With your knowledge of acting, Mr Bond, if you could appraise our performance…… and, if possible, give us some advice…”

“I see,” Bond understood.

According to the Theatres Act of 1843, ‘theatres’ in Great Britain were places where plays could be put up under the purview of the Lord Chamberlain. Moreover, in order to perform certain genres of work, the script had to be submitted for review, and approval had to be obtained.

However, owing to a loophole in the legal system, plays could avoid censorship if they incorporated music. Hence, a good number of informal theatres operated in this manner. In addition, as their audience was mostly comprised of laypeople from the working classes, many of these theatres performed the type of song-and-dance spectacle popular with such a crowd.

From the way Maya talked about her company, he gathered that they had probably been performing musical numbers at unregulated venues like these as well. Hence they had no experience staging an actual play at an officially-licensed theatre, and that was why they were asking him to evaluate their performance.

Having grasped her situation, Bond asked a question that had been niggling at him.

“Just out of curiosity, your theatre company should have a director, right? Wouldn’t they be offended if I were to come in?”

“I’m taking on the direction of the play. B—By the way, I’m also the chairperson.”

Bond was rather surprised at what she said. In truth, it didn’t occur to him that such a timid and seemingly weak-willed person would be in charge of a theatrical company, even if it was a small one.

However, although Maya had tended to keep her eyes downcast throughout, they betrayed no doubt. From that, Bond knew her request was genuine.

“Um…… I suppose it is too much to ask?” she enquired, in a fearful tone.

“——Alright.”

“Wha?”

She had not expected him to agree so easily.

“I’ll take on your request. I’m partly self-taught, but if it’s alright with you, I would love to watch you and your company perform.”

Maya immediately perked up and bowed her head, speaking loudly for the first time.

“T—Thank you so much!” she cried, jumping for joy along with the other children.

Footnotes:

[1] The City refers to the City of London, which is the historic centre of modern London (Wikipedia)

T/Ns:

The sisters’ names could equally have been Maia and May respectively, but I chose Maya as I think it reads better, and Mae to differentiate the two of them more easily.

I had to use onee-chan since Maya specifically introduces herself by name later on.

[alj4890]

In the TRR book 3 we know Olivia gets stab by Anton during a fight, but what if Riley was the one to get stab while fighting with Anton? After all he was her press secretary and the betrayal ran deep with him!

A/N Here we go Nonny. I will admit that in book 2, I really liked Justin. His catchphrase was annoying, but so is Penelope’s incessant talk of Poodles, LOL. I enjoyed the twist in book 3 of him being the bad guy, but I did wonder why PB had Riley brushing off his betrayal so easily. Maxwell seemed more tore up than anyone that he was the terrorist. When you think about it, she spent months of the most difficult time in her and Liam’s relationship depending on this man to help her find a way to clear her name and find a way to have her happy ending. I think facing him would be harder than book 3 made it out to be. So...starting from the moment Olivia and Riley escape the dungeon and have let Gladys out of her prison, we will begin with them in the recreated Nevarkis weapons room.

Masterlist

@gkittylove99 @darley1101 @krsnlove @kingliam2019 @texaskitten30 @yourmajesty09 @mom2000aggie @ofpixelsandscribbles @twinkleallnight

Hesitation

Mysterious Nevarkis Stronghold...

"He will come for his wife," Anton boasted. "And when he does, he will meet his end."

Riley tried to focus but Anton's words kept replaying over and over in her head.

"Which weapon do you want?" Olivia asked as she picked through the different daggers.

When no response was given she looked up to see what was wrong.

Riley was staring blankly at the wall adorned with various battle axes, swords, and war hammers. Her fingers moved over the angry red marks where the rope she had been bound with had rubbed her wrists raw. Her lips parted to answer Olivia, yet no words came out.

Liam. Her heart ached at the thought of losing him. After everything she had done to finally have the chance to be with him...Anton was determined to destroy it all. How could she possibly save anyone? She had little to no training in defense, yet she foolishly believed she could save the man she loved along with herself and her friend.

"Riley?" Olivia snapped in a harsh manner.

It was just what she needed to snap out of the defeated mindset she was falling into.

Riley reached up and removed a sword from the wall. Giving a few practiced swings, she ordered Gladys to draw as many of Anton's minions away as she could.

"Thank you, your majesty." Gladys reached out to squeeze her hand.

Olivia blocked her from touching by sliding in front of Riley. Her emerald eyes burned with hatred as she spoke.

"She might be giving you another chance," Olivia set her blade against the backstabbing servant's cheek, "but if I see one lock of your hair anywhere near Justin or the fight, then I will kill you myself."

Gladys stumbled back and bobbed her head while promising that she wouldn't go anywhere near them. She tripped over her own feet to get as far away from Olivia and her knives as she could.

Riley snorted on a laugh. She couldn't believe that at a time like this, her mind could see any kind of humor. "You need to teach me how to do that."

Olivia smirked at her as she led the way out.

The hallways were silent as the two crept along, sticking to the shadows as much as they could. After seeing that the rooms they came to were empty, Olivia begrudgingly complimented Gladys's ability to clear the way for them.

"Wait a sec." Riley whispered.

She handed Olivia her sword and then bent over to rip a slit in her dress. Testing it out, she ripped it higher until her legs felt free to move. What she wouldn't give to be wearing any other kind of shoe over the open toed high heels she had on.

"You good?" Olivia whispered.

With a nod, Riley took her sword back and continued down the hallway.

Murmurs of differing voices were heard when they approached a corner.

Olivia raised her dagger while Riley positioned beside her with her sword hedged over her shoulder like a baseball bat.

"They must be some--" Drake stopped just a hairsbreadth from being cleaved in two.

"Riley!" Hana pushed past him and Maxwell to hug her and Olivia. "Thank goodness you're both okay!"

"Where's Liam?" Riley stood on tiptoes to see over Drake's shoulders. "Isn't he with you?"

Maxwell rubbed the back of his neck. "He insisted on meeting Justin alone."

"Liam wanted us to find you and Olivia." Drake added.

"What about Bastien and the other guards?" Olivia asked.

The three shared a look.

"They didn't come?!" Riley hissed. "Liam has no one watching his back?"

"Yet." Olivia tilted her head. "He'll have us soon enough.

****************

Riley didn't know where this burst of courage came from, but she had already vaulted over a stairwell and slashed numerous soldiers that tried to help Anton fight Liam. Her heart was racing in time to her husband's every flinch and movement. She knew she should double check on her other friends to make certain they were holding their own, but the moment she heard Liam say, where is my wife, in that deep, dangerous tone...she only knew she had to do whatever was necessary to protect him.

They had not had a chance to speak or even to touch to make certain the other was truly okay before being thrust into the battle that she prayed was truly the final altercation.

She paused off to the side after wrestling with another minion. She brushed the hair out of her flushed face that had escaped her pearl hair clip. Her mind tried to comprehend the utter chaos going on around her.

And then she saw Anton make his move.

There was no time to shout a warning to Liam who was fighting three at once. The dagger’s blade in Anton's hand gleamed in the faint moonlight filtering in the windows as he raised it to stab Cordonia's young king in the back.

Riley kicked her shoes off and rushed to get between them. The muscles in her arms burned from lifting the heavy sword high above her head. Using what energy she had left, she blocked the blade about to pierce her beloved's heart.

Anton's lips twisted in a frustrated snarl as he leveled his cold gaze upon her.

Liam turned around in time to see what Riley had done. Just as he was about to help her, Claude barreled into him, knocking him into a far wall. Drake rushed over to help Liam when two other soldiers answered Anton's second in command's call for assistance.

Anton gritted his teeth at seeing his men defeated by people who spent all their time at fancy dinners and balls. Taking a step back to reassess whether or not this was the time to claim the crown, he decided retreat for the moment was the best option.

"It's over Justin." Riley told him. "Surrender now."

His expression eased into that of his easy going alter ego. "The battle might be, but this will not end until you and Liam are dead."

He sprinted over to the stairwell.

Riley dashed after him, determined to not live the rest of her life in fear.

"Justin!" She shouted.

He turned just in time to barely miss her sword's blade plunging into his back.

Smirking, he faced her. "I see you learned more from me than how to work the press."

She blinked at how calm he was as he lifted his dagger. Memories of time spent with him flittered through her mind. His effort in supporting her, laughing late at night with her and Maxwell over some of the ridiculous events they took part in, comforting her whenever she lost hope that she could one day truly be with Liam.

He had been a friend when she desperately needed one.

Her hands trembled as they tightened on the hilt of her sword.

It wasn't Justin who faced her now. It was the man who had worked with traitors to take the crown. The man who had tried numerous times to kill her and anyone else who got in his way. It was the man who threatened her the very future she had fought so hard to obtain..

It was Anton who stood before her.

Her friend Justin was no more. His death had come swiftly the moment she discovered his photograph in Olivia's vault.

And soon Anton's would follow.

"Riley, let us end this." He cajoled when he noticed her hesitate. "You don't have it in you to kill anyone." His familiar Justin smile flittered about his lips. "I know you. You are the kind of person who deserves to live a happy life. Not one caught up in political intrigue."

He edged a step closer as his . "It shouldn't have been you that was kidnapped. If you had only given up on Liam and allowed Madeleine to have him." He shook his head in pity while his Svengali like voice washed over her. "I wish you had stayed in New York. You will be the only person I regret ever having to eliminate."

Before Riley could react, he plunged his dagger into her side.

A hot wave of pain hit her when he jerked the knife out. She staggered back in shock. Her sword fell from her numb fingers, clattering as it fell down the stairs.

She could hear a roar thrumming through her ears and realized it was Liam.

He had just witnessed his wife being stabbed.

Justin glanced over his shoulder to taunt the current king.

Unable to focus on anything going on around her except the agony she felt, Riley pressed her hand to her side and felt the warmth of her own blood seeping through her fingers. Her side felt like it was on fire as she sank slowly to the floor. She glanced down the stairs and saw Olivia struggling against a solider to reach her.

With a violent flick of her wrist, her dagger went into the man's throat that had tried to pin her to the wall.

Olivia staggered as she walked, blood trickling down from her nose and bottom lip.

"If you can breathe, you can stand." She mouthed to Riley.

"And if you can stand, you can fight." Riley mouthed back.

Unable to get to her feet easily, Riley crawled over to where Justin stood. His back was to her as he threatened Liam and her friends. He continued to torture her husband by going into vivid detail all the ways he could finish her off.

Looking for anything she could possibly wield as a weapon, she noticed the loose railing and decided to use part of the training Mara had given her. Summoning all her strength into her legs she braced herself against a banister and swept Justin's out from under him.

He teetered, trying to find some balance by grasping onto the railing. The moment he did, Riley rose to her knees and shoved against him, causing his body weight to crack the rotted wood and plummet down to the main floor.

Gasping in pain from the exertion, she fell back once more on the worn carpet and closed her eyes.

"Riley!" Liam rushed the stairs, leaving Drake and Maxwell to deal with Justin.

He fell to his knees. His voice cracked as he whispered denials that he had been too late to save her.

Her eyes fluttered open only to close again as he kissed her. She could feel the exhausted desperation in his touch.

"Where are you hurt?" He asked. "Did he stab you anywhere else?"

"No." She whimpered when he eased her hand away from her wound. "Just there."

He tried to be gentle as he ripped his coat off to press against her side.

Bastien and the rest of the King's Guards burst through the doors.

"Your majesty!" He didn't bother to mask his anger. "You shouldn't have--"

"The queen has been wounded!" Liam interrupted harshly. "She requires immediate medical attention!"

Bastien hurried up to examine her while radioing for an ambulance.

"Hold on, my love." Liam pleaded. "Please. Stay with me."

She weakly grasped his hand. "Is it over? Justin didn't--"

"He's being taken care of." Liam told her. "He won't ever have a chance to harm you again."

"You're safe." Riley gasped when EMT's began to check her. Her voice became faint as blackness ebbed around her vision "I didn't lose you, Liam."

The last thing she remembered before blacking out completely was Liam's concerned face hovering over her.

***************

The Royal Palace...

A few hours later, Riley stirred. She blinked a few times to make the room she was in come into focus. A lamp turned down low glowed on a nightstand. Familiar paintings of past kings and queens hung on the walls. The beyond soft bed she was in brought back memories of a particular ball when Liam had shown her the Royal chambers.

A smile formed at that romantic thought as she sank further under the blankets.

"Riley?"

She opened her eyes again and noticed the outline of a man sitting in a chair by the bed.

"Liam?" She turned about, wincing when she felt the tug of stitches along her right side. "What happened?"

He leaned forward and took her hand in his. Pressing a kiss to it, he went through the series of events.

Images flashed through her mind, as the memories of her fight came rushing back.

"No more Sons of the Earth?" She asked.

"The ones who survived have been captured."

Her eyes widened. "Survived? Who died?"

Liam kept her hand clasped between his. "A few that Olivia and I fought...and some that you did."

Riley tried to comprehend that she had killed people. "How...how many?"

"My love, there is no need to dwell--"

"Liam." She gripped his hand. "Did I kill Justin?"

She knew by his hesitation that she had.

"The way he fell," Liam swallowed, "he broke his neck."

Riley pulled her hand away to cover her mouth.

"I beg for your forgiveness." Liam choked out. "If I had been there sooner or had--"

She shook her head while reaching for him. Urging him to lay on the bed with her, she tried to comfort him.

"You don't owe me an apology." She said through her tears. "You came to rescue me." She tried to smile. "Just like every prince does in fairy tales."

He wiped her tears. "I don't want you burdened with what happened." His eyes searched hers. "All I have ever wanted is to give you every good thing in life, not have one overshadowed with fear and guilt."

She swallowed audibly. "I'll be fine. I just...I can't believe I had to kill someone I spent time with. I actually enjoyed his company during your engagement tour." Her nose wrinkled. "The pain in my side though keeps reminding me he deserved being pushed over the banister."

"My only regret is that I didn't get a chance to be the one to end his existence on this earth." Liam's face darkened with his anger. "He dared multiple times to take you from me. He killed my father. Made our people doubt their safety and the crown's ability to defend it. If I couldn't fight him to the death myself, then I should have been the one to sentence him to such."

She cupped his cheek. Knowing he needed to vent after all they had been put through, she listened without interruption. When she felt his tense muscles relax, her mind turned to what they should do now.

"We both need to focus on it finally being over." She pressed a kiss to his lips. "All our plans to be together, to start a family, can be from this moment on. We fought for Cordonia, our friends," her smile peeked out when he kissed her, "we fought for us and for every moment we are lucky enough to share."

"You're right." Liam turned to kiss her palm. "We have a future before us, one of our choosing."

She snuggled closer in his arms, sighing as she felt sleep luring her back into its soothing confines. Just as she began to drift off, an image of Justin came to mind. It wasn't the man she had faced tonight, it was the one who helped protect her from cameras being shoved in her face during that very first meeting. She could see him pushing reporters out of her way, while holding tight to her waist.

It seems appropriate, Riley thought, to have a scar along the very spot Justin had once touched in such a deceptive, gentle manner. Having a personality that tried to only see the good in others, she would need a daily reminder to be more cautious in the future.

Her trust would never be so easily given again.

[iamnightduchess]

As You Are - Special Chapter (R18) : Perfect Storm

Chapter summary:

The ethereal vision that greeted his eyes upon entry should be that of one of the forbidden sins in the history of humankind. She was even more breathtakingly beautiful in her purest form - scars and marks, imperfections and all.

Like the cracks on an unbreakable golden chalice.

He was the luckiest son of a gun to be the first to drink from said chalice and it made the wine tasted even sweeter. He could get drunk or get high on this woman for all eternity.

Reiner realizes he might have just unleashed an unstoppable storm when he drank from her chalice. He’d known she'd become an inescapable addiction upon first taste, the way he would be hers. He’ll get her so high, she’ll never come back down anymore. It’s a perfect extrication.

Well, you’ll never get to heaven if you’re scared of getting high.

Pure smut. A 10k special Thank You insert. Available on AO3.

A/N: This chapter is a special insert as an appreciation to my beautiful readers for their amazing support in helping me achieve my second personal writing milestone - 10k hits! It’s beyond my wildest dreams ever. Thank you so much, guys! This is also my personal belated birthday present for Mikasa on 10 February (and Reiner’s VA ;D) and an early Valentine’s gift to my beloved OTP and to you guys. Happy Valentine’s Day!

Content note: Pure smut in its truest explicit nature. No plot advancement. Just a good ol’ short chapter of ReiKasa dicking it out in the showers, discovering more of each other and a post-coital small talk on Reiner’s personal choice of drawers. Or lack of it. Who says Reiner is not taking their baby making efforts seriously? Takes place in ch.12 of As You Are.

Rhythmic muse: High by Alina Baraz.

----

Take me deep into your mind...we can get away…

As You Are

Special Chapter

Perfect Storm

Reiner closed the distance that stood between the bed and the bathroom in three long, hurried strides. He couldn’t be bothered with fixing his yukata; he let the shift hang open, letting himself hang out in the open. The sounds of the morning storm and early rolling thunder in the far horizon had been almost deafening, only several knots away from being too close to their fleet. The breeze slipping through the opened windows grazed against his nude torso in a prickling coldness. The second he stopped short in front of the steel arc of the bathroom door, he remained still.

His eyes glazed over the statuesque figure standing underneath the pouring shower, covered by only skin - porcelain, smooth, inviting. Sounds of the raging storm outside only emphasized more of this mystifying woman's beauty in its natural state, no different than a tantalizing spell cast by nature itself. The steam evaporating from the showerhead formed a curious, enticing silhouette around her body. His eyes lingered fondly at the way she closed her eyes in bliss under the long steady streams of hot water flowing down those supple skin, tinting her lusciousness raw with a delectable blush. Serene, lost in her own tranquil space.

Apart from bearing the reddening imprints that he’d left on her long slender neck from their lovemaking much earlier, between the enticing lines of her svelte curves and enticing edges, her creamy skin wore numerous dark marks and scars with their respective stories - ones that he was very aware of mostly. Long-term ODM usage would be responsible for most of them.

Others?

They were beckoning him to seek out the answers.

Just half an hour earlier, his body took hers for the first time. Reiner tasted heaven when she reeled him in to the deepest, most sacred part of her. With every pull and every push, he could feel himself unburdened everytime their hips met.

Lighter and unshackled.

Liberated and wanted.

Desired and needed.

The water flowed down her face and he found himself becoming envious of the way the warm liquid gets to lave at those long lashes, the sharp outline of her nose and her lips in a soft translucent caress.

He had all of her and he was left wanting more.

Reiner shrugged the night shift off his shoulders without any hesitation and stepped into the bathroom. A small marble tub, almost full to the brim, sat at the farthest corner of the room just next to an old gold-framed wall mirror which appeared to be more relic than vanity. In the dim lighting of the clouded sun peeking through the windows, the steaming water looked absolutely inviting.

A sigh escaped his lips. He could really use a good, long soak right now.

A low, guarded moan pulled his attention back to the now flushing body underneath the flowing water. He ran his tongue against his thin lips impulsively at the visual stimulation; she was as vivid, tempting, no different than a marble carved into perfection. All hard and muscled exterior, safeguarding the soft centre within. Painted with dark marks of bruises and battle scars of untold histories - a privilege he no longer had since the moment he inherited his Titan powers at the age of eleven. But she wore them naturally with effortless pride. Priceless yet they're worth more than some steel medal of honors he’d seen the men in Marley’s military fought to the death for.

Reiner closed the distance between them, stopping just in front of her with their bodies almost grazing. She opened her eyes, those anxious gunmetal irises in between the flowing water somehow confided that just like him, she’d never been this exposed; naked and vulnerable in front of another person in her whole entire life before. He saw the way she crossed her arms against her chest and the juncture of her thighs in uncertainty, conscious and suddenly feeling the need to cover herself even when he’d seen almost all of her much earlier.

He lifted her chin with a delicate touch. The pad of his thumb began to caress the outline of her lush pursed lips before tugging her lower lip gently, savoring the sensuous way her breath felt against his skin and the feral manner she bit at his fingertip.

His member twitched in reflex upon the sudden stimulation, threatening to break his own self restraint.

He grinned regardless. Apparently, he’s not the only biter in this marriage and that realization only got him being turned on more than ever before. Eager to find out just how much more wicked she could be. Just how much more of him she’d bite.

Reiner nudged her arms away from her chest gently, marveling as the perky globes bounced softly from the slight movement and finding himself staring far too long in amazement at the tempting blush on her face leading all the way down her drenched neck and to her chest. His hands began to knead the sculpted packs on her abdomen instead, touching a much larger discolored mark encircling her under chest, that resembled the shape of a large incomplete strap that was far too large to be from the ODM gear.

He couldn't help but wonder. "How did you get this?" His hands continued rubbing against the mark that stood out so painfully amongst her pale, milky complexion.

She swallowed bitterly, her expression darkened as a wave of recollection began to resurface. "The day you and Bertholdt tried to take Eren, I had been reckless. I was too focused on saving Eren from your titan's clutch that I was grabbed by a pure titan from behind. It broke my ribs immediately and I might have died that day if it wasn't for Jean's help." From the way she winced, it made him understand that the mark remained capable of inciting an unpleasant phantom pain upon reminiscence even years after it happened. She conceded to her own insecurity, reaffirming his perception. "It's ugly. I hated seeing it every time I looked at the mirror."

It was him, his ignorance and his selfishness who had indirectly caused that mark and left her with a painful reminder that she could never get rid of from her body.

His first mark on her body ever.

Reiner gritted his teeth in tremendous guilt and frustration. God, he didn’t know. It must have been extremely excruciating for her. He immediately lowered himself downwards with his knees rooted onto the cold bathroom floor, causing her to gasp and eyes to widen in surprise. Grabbing her on the curves of her waist, he looked up and sent her a grave look of regret. “I’m so sorry for all that I’ve done to you. All the pain that I’ve caused….” His apology manifested itself through a morose whisper. The warm of his breath, the tantalizing graze of his coarse facial hair and the light brushing of his lips against her taut skin sent the rippling muscles of her abdomen jumping in an enticing jolt. He could feel her hands grabbing the back of his head gingerly, fingers gripping his now wet tresses, her calm breaths getting heavier yet he didn't do anything further than burying his face against her torso even when his lips were already close to her mound. “Don’t hate the mark. Hate me. I did that to you.”

“No. I won’t.” Mikasa shook her head, dismissing the absurdity in his plea.

She thinks the mark is hideous yet not even once, ever held him accountable for it. 

It only made her even more exquisite in his eyes. He implored, “Anything on you or what you are would never not be beautiful to me.” 

They both remained still in that quiet moment, losing themselves in their own intimate sanctuary. Only the sound of running water and the steady storm outside accompanied their mutual embrace of the other's past sins, repercussions and acceptance of each other's flaws and imperfections.

----

Mikasa pushed Reiner’s rock hard body against the cold bathroom wall using her own as their lips once again tried to wrestle each other out of an imbalance between air, warmth and rapture using their tongues and teeth. Torsos and limbs brushing up against each other, his larger hands grabbed the supple exterior of her derriere, cupping and squeezing them raw with his palms - he could even write his name on the supple skin using his finger nails. He pressed inwards so that their hips grinded tantalizingly against each other in a torturous friction. His member then jerked upwards into a semi-hardening state from feeling her on him alone. He breathed her in; her signature scent was already bathing his skin and his body already stained by her warmth.

Mikasa pulled away from the kiss and gazed deep into his eyes. While he took advantage of the immediate breather to touch the tip of his nose against her own, causing the corners of her lips to curve upwards into a tiny, shy smile.

He'd only ever dreamed of being in heaven but if this feels like being in one, then he’d rather stay like this with her forever. His hands fiddled around the curves of her waist, squeezing the willowy contour passionately, loving the feel of her soft wet skin in his hands.

Her fingertips kept on trailing along the column of his neck, grabbing gently at his nape before settling on his shoulders, gripping carefully at the juncture of his limbs to soothe the strained muscle knots she’d discovered there. Her dominant hand later began trailing along his sternum, a finger drawing a straight, tantalizing line down his chest. Through every inch of skin that she touched, he could sense a tiny spark pulsing through his veins, reawakening the already satiated lust within.

A small hiss escaped through his gritted teeth the second her roughened palms caressed his chest with languid but precise circular motions. He observed the way her thumbs traced unhurried circles against the second most sensitive spots on his body and the way the muscles of his own pectorals and abs jumped in reflex from her touch.

Reiner let out a long languid whimper upon the sudden exhilaration. Mirroring her actions, a hand moved upwards from the rounded mound of her ass along her spine teasingly before curving sideways. His large palm seized one of her porcelain globes in his hold and he pressed on the dusky nub using his thumb, rubbing the hardened tip with the cautious of touch. Nibbling tenderly on her cheek, his question came out in a low, shaky drawling against her ears. “Mikasa...how do you want me to touch you...fast or slow….?”

Her answer came in the lowest, deepest whimper from her chest. “Either...Just keep going...” Eyes tightly shut, his younger bride threw her head back in an increasing rapture and a low, unguarded groan escaped her gasping lips upon the intensity of his touch. He watched in wonder, tinged with a tiny pride upon the new discovery - she’s extremely sensitive there it seems.

This exotic beauty's body is a dynamite yet at the same time, an undiscovered wonderland, primed for his lifelong conquest - one he'll never want to stop worshipping.

Through every breath and every inch.

Through every touch and through every kiss.

The tip of his nose ventured from her temple down her slender neck before halting right above the swelling of those appetizing twin mounds of her chest. Kiss her he did, at the same spot he just savored. He drew the outline of the weighty globe with his tongue, suckling hard and absolutely losing himself to the bliss of her skin’s sweetness to the way her soft cries sounded to his ears - muffled by his messy wet tresses, ensnared by her own open mouth kisses. He could feel the warmth of her breath on his scalp as her heaving became more urgent. His plastering bangs grazed her chest until they turned into a flushing mess.

His other hand had already made its own bold move by slipping in between the juncture of her thighs and running the pads of his digits across her wet slit. She immediately gritted her teeth upon the sudden invasion, probably due to the soreness from his earlier thrusting, but he’d sooner turned her hissing to another wave of moans when he caressed her lower mound with a wickedly soothing rhythm. 

Too lost he was in the beguiling pleasure that would sooner overtake all sense of inhibition that he’d missed the way her nimble hand had already wrapped itself around his member, already stretched out to its peaked state. The coolness of her palm burned the most sensitive part of his body as the skillful hand of a competent blade wielder projected her prowess through the way she handled his length -- with thorough, natural precision.

He just kept on growing stronger in her hands.

No one has ever made him feel like this before.

No one.

He could feel as if his soul was leaving the confinements of his physical form the moment he saw her dropping down to her knees, just like he did with her earlier. However this time, when she gazed at him with those tempestuous eyes and burning cheeks, he’d know he’ll never be able to resist her newly-unearthed desirous appetite.

It was quite contradictory that even when he’s the one who’s looking down at her right now, she’d always have the power to make him yield to her silent commandeering force.

Despite the flowing water washing away at their skins, he’s still stained by her; her essences seeping through his pores in unwavering waves no different than a perfect raging storm piercing through a man’s perseverance.

Oh God, she’s just naturally good at blowing him... and his mind.

----

He ran his lips against the irezumi on her back, drawing a cross with his tongue like a sacred offering, lapping up the water drizzling down her skin like the nectar of an exotic flower. Right before he filled the impure void within through one messy yet solid thrust into her, clinging to her lithe body from behind as they fell into a familiar, acquired rhythm not too long after.

He pulled her in for another searing kiss from behind. His other hand underneath one of her knees, his larger build pressed her slightly smaller frame hard against the wall through every onslaught of his hips against hers. Both of them were getting off of the high from the other.

Mikasa’s relentless moans soon turned into a long, dragged out, almost incoherent chanting of his name; urging him, needing him with every part of her being, that she’d broke the skin on his forearm when she became undone on his third deep thrust.

Reiner observed the way Mikasa tried to wash away the bleeding from the bite-shaped bruise on his arm with the water from inside the tub itself. He dismissed her attempt by pulling her body snug against his chest, staring at the mark in awe and reassuring her with nothing less than pride in his tone. “Hey, that’s my first mark from you.” He still remembered how she managed to cut off the same hand clean from his wrist on top of Wall Rose years ago.

“It’ll be a scar.” She persisted, still trying to argue with his insistence.

She gave him his first mark and without his regenerative powers, that mark will remain on his body forever until he’s buried six feet under.

He buried his nose into her drenched hair, taking in the scent from the glycerine soap he used on her earlier. “All the better because it’s from you.”

They stayed for a while inside the ceramic tub, with her head resting against his shoulder and his arms around her, listening to the sounds of rolling thunder and turbulent sea waves coming through the opened windows of the bathroom.

After a good while, it was her who suggested that they step out and step back into the awaiting demands of the day. “We should really get going before Gabi storms in for another ‘rescue’ attempt.”

Snickering, he released her reluctantly and sent an admiring stare at her retreating figure, still dripping with bath water until she disappeared behind the door to their shared chamber.

By the time he followed suit into the conjoined bedroom, she had pulled her skirt over her hips. She stared in disbelief the moment she saw him discarding the towel around his waist and had his legs through his breeches immediately.

Her inquisitive gaze did not go unnoticed. “What? I travelled light and I wasn’t expecting the detour to the Island.” Everything he had was on his body.

“All this time, you’re…” Her words trailed off suspiciously.

A thin eyebrow raised snarkily to emphasize his answer. “Yeah. I’d prefer not wearing one either way. It’s breezier and actually a much healthier habit too.”

“Whatever suits you.” Mikasa shook her head, feigning an impending state of disinterest while fending off an oncoming headache.

He gave her an improper wink. “You’ll thank me when I have given you healthy, kickass babies, Mikasa.”

She groaned in retaliation at his blatant lewdness. A trait of his that has always been apparent since they were younger still remained despite the years that had gone by in between. Despite all that, she couldn’t help her lips from curving into an amused smile.

Just a fleeting thought of envisioning a strong young boy or a girl with golden blonde hair, cheeky comebacks and a headstrong attitude was enough to make the fuzziness in her heart return right before the fleeting fantasy was interrupted by the same vision but with three more of the same identical boys and girls and a burning house of chaos behind them.

“....four be a lot?”

“Huh?” She blinked back at his question.

“I was asking, would four babies be a lot for you?”

She’d known it was an intended humor. They both knew that he couldn’t possibly have enough time for such an unattainable dream. She wasn’t oblivious to the dismal glint in his eyes.

“Perfect.” Her heart suddenly felt a lot heavier.

---

A/N : After what went down in the previous chapter, I am willing to be virtually sucker-punched by you guys because of this chapter. I am hurting my emotional well-being with this chapter, and I said to myself, why should I be suffering alone? Haha Kidding, guys. Thank you so much for your time & till the next update! Take care & stay safe. xoxo

[sombreboy]

Love Maze »16

Previous  » Next Series Masterlist ▎ 18+ ▎ pairing: Taehyung x Jungkook ▎ genre: School AU, crack humor, smut, angst, ETL, slow burn, fluff. ▎ word count: 5.3k ▎ ch.warnings: cursing, angst, fingering (Jisoo & JK, sorry not sorry.)

Co-writer: @velvetwicebang​​​ ♡♡♡

Jungkook was heating up his dinner for the night; microwaveable noodles, when he heard the phone chime in his back pocket, lazily fishing it out only for his breath to be caught in his throat at the name displayed on the screen. He wasn't sure what he expected, but as soon as he opened the text conversation his heart sank.

'I think we should break up.'

Jungkook felt like his entire world shattered right then and there, the loud beeping of the microwave completely dulled out by the thrumming of his heartbeat in his ears.

Taehyung wanted to break up? For real?

Jungkook didn’t even notice the tears streaming down his cheeks until the screen was drenched by the droplets, hands shaking as he kept reading the message over and over-- as if hoping he read it wrong.

But it was real.

Sure, they've had their fair share of obstacles-- but was it really this easy to just end things? Through a text. A fucking text!

"You fuck… motherfucker!" Jungkook growled through his tears, hurling his cellphone towards the wall with a loud crack before burying his face in his hands, allowing ugly sobs to echo in the room.

For some reason, all kook could think of was the sweet words Taehyung had said to him just a few nights prior, the constant 'I love you's'-- did it mean nothing?

Jungkook couldn't take it anymore, his thoughts and emotions too overwhelming to deal with alone; so he did the one thing he could think of. He needed somebody.

Leaving his phone on the floor, he slowly made his way over to Jisoos front door, carefully knocking as he continuously wiped his face with the sleeve of his hoodie.

~

Taehyung’s vision blurred with warm tears, feeling accountable for breaking the younger’s heart.

He saw that Jungkook had read his text, so there was no use in continuing to stare at the screen...Yet, he wished for something. Kook barely answered him on any other occasion, it was idiotic to think he’d have anything to say back to this.

“Fuck..” Tae spat under his breath, turning off his phone and carelessly dismissing it to the side.

A small part of him wondered if he’d thought it through long enough.. it was a spur of the moment decision, but better it be sooner than later (before he tallies of his ‘fuck ups’ build on).

He knew time would heal, it had to.

~

At the soft knocks on her door, Jisoo stood up from her place on the ground, wiping off the corners of Yuna’s messy mouth before going over to see whom it may be.

“Kook?” She was surprised to see the younger; he never came back the other night. Jisoo supposed she said something she shouldn’t have..

Seeing the younger in the state that he was in, she didn’t hesitate in offering the boy her utmost attention and care.

“Hey.. what’s wrong?” Jisoo gently led him in, heart hurting at the raw sight. The woman did the only thing that came to mind, tiptoeing to engulf Jungkook in her arms.

“It’s okay..”

Jungkook took a shaky breath, nuzzling his nose against Jisoo's shoulder as he instantly wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug.

"I'm sorry-- I.. I didnt know where else to go--" his words were choked by a sob, the embrace crumbling down the remainder of his attempts to stay calm.

"Fuck.." he murmured into the fabrics of her clothes, his hands curling up to hold her shirt. Kook's breathing was speeding up once more, the wound in his broken heart was still so fresh.

"I'm n-not okay, noona.. I'm hurting so bad."

Jisoo’s palm comfortably smoothed over the muscles in Jungkook’s back, resistant to the boy’s river of tears as they stained her shirt. She had no idea what was going on, but she’d do anything to guide Kook out of the deep ditch of sorrow he was stuck in.

“Tell me, Jungkookie.. I’ll listen.”

Subconsciously, her soft lips pressed against his temple, allowing them to linger on the skin until she caught herself.

“Uhm..” Jisoo slowly withdrew from their close embrace, rubbing at her arm in a shy manner.

“Come, sit down.” 

The moment Yuna’s doe eyes caught sight of Jungkook, she extended out her chubby arms, making grabby hands towards the boy. However, when the little one saw his tear-streaked face, a small pout adorned her lips.

“Tell me, what’s going on?”

Jungkook did as told, sitting down and wiping his face for what felt like the hundredth time. He couldn't even spare Yuna a glance before he clasped his hands together in his lap, staring down at his fingers.

''Uh.... Taehyung..'' His name alone tasted weird on his tongue by now, his voice shaking every time he attempted to speak.

''H-he broke up with me...'' Jungkook threw his head back to laugh mockingly at himself, tears trickling down the corners of his eyes. ''Through a fucking text!''

His hands moved up to comb through his hair, leaning back against the couch with a groan, ''Somebody recorded us kissing and he freaked out, or s-something?.. It triggered something, he ignored me for two days, and then just... texted me that he wants to b-break up!''

“Oh, Jungkook..” Jisoo scooted closer to the broken boy. “I’m sorry,” she hoarsely whispered, filling in the void of silence.

“That was pretty shitty of him. You didn’t deserve that..”

Breaking up over text? Sounded like something Taehyung would do..

The woman’s thumbs were drawn to his puffy face, brushing the stray tears away.

“Do you want something to eat..? Just— just tell me what I can do to help you. We’re here for you.”

Yuna incoherently babbled, as if she was agreeing with Jisoo in baby language.

Jungkook momentarily remembered the by now soggy noodles in his microwave, the mention of food making his stomach rumble... He nodded once, sniffling as he closed his eyes to let Jisoo wipe his tears. She was... always nothing but a sweetheart to him. And he'd been the one to always leave her alone whenever Taehyung needed him.

Being here with Jisoo wasn't so bad...

''Y-yeah...I'd like that..'' his eyes fluttered open to look at her, a small smile tugging on his lips as he heard Yuna's little coo, glancing over at the small child, ''Thank you...''

Jisoo secured Kook that there was no need to thank her.

He was a close friend of hers, caring for others was what she did best.

“Thank me by turning that frown upside down!” The woman cheekily smiled as she reached over to ruffle the younger’s hair, urging him to take this time to relax— to slowly alleviate the pain from his heartbreak. She knew it wouldn’t be easy; Jisoo wasn’t blind to the overfilling love those doe eyes held whenever they stared at Taehyung.

Of course, a verbal clarification ensured Jisoo that her mind wasn’t playing some sick trick on her.. The night Jungkook told her he’d be back— only to never return— was the night the woman heard a series of lustful moans echoing from the boy’s apartment.

More specifically, Jungkook’s raspy grunts..

Jisoo would be lying by saying she wasn’t aroused.

She naughtily touched herself to the vivid image of him naked, pleasing her instead of him.

By then, she was purple with envy.

“Okayy!” She cheerily chimed, setting a hot bowl of homemade soup in front of Jungkook, hoping the nicely seasoned aroma would help take his mind off of things.

“Say ahhh~” With an infectious giggle, Jisoo airplaned a spoonful into the younger’s mouth after blowing on it, teasing him.

A genuine, wide smile tugged at Jungkook's lips, his eyes squinting as he giggled at Jisoos shenanigans. Being babied like this was nice; he'd be lying if he said he didn't like it. Especially how, it did help to occupy his mind from the pain, even if it lingered in his chest.

Willingly, he opened his mouth and leaned in to take the spoonful of soup, humming happily at the taste.

"It's really delicious, noona~" he gave an enthusiastic thumbs up, playing along as he pointed at his lips, "More!"

So that she did, she kept feeding him one spoon after the other until the bowl was empty-- it was innocent, yet not... It was a sweet moment, and Jungkook couldn't help but indulge in the way he enjoyed this. He felt cared for, and that was exactly what he needed right now...

"Ahh, noona..." Kook leaned back into the couch once more, patting his stomach.

"your food is always tasty.." he looked over at her with a grin, "Thank you."

Jisoo skipped over to her mess of a kitchen, setting the empty bowl in the sink.

What the hell, she’ll take care of it later.. or tomorrow. Right now, the woman’s focus was on her unexpected visitor, Jungkook.

“Thank you, thank you~” She playfully bowed to further express her gratitude, cockily flipping her shoulder-length hair to the side. Too embarrassed to continue, Jisoo broke character with a snort, plopping down next to Kook on the recently installed couch. It was definitely a life-changing improvement, her ass thanked her for it.

“I’m glad you like my cooking,” she faced him, his toothy grin was enough to force one out of her own, brown eyes crinkling at the outer corners.

They slowly smoothed over Jungkook’s face, taking a mental picture of every small detail. His face was still puffy from the crying, but he’d yet to look far from handsome..

“Oh— uhm, you have a little something here.”

Her pinky finger hesitantly aimed at his lips, gently swiping at the spot of soup.

“Maybe you really are a baby, hm? Can’t even eat without making a mess..”

Jisoo’s giggle rang once more, mindlessly wiping her finger on her oversized shirt.

As if everything slowed down just a bit, Jungkook's eyes fluttered shut as he felt her finger drag along his lower lip. He couldn't help the quiet sigh that pushed through his parted lips at the innocent sensation-- not realizing his own reaction. He opened his eyes, tilting his head to the side with a grin, "I guess so..." kooks gaze landed on her face as well. Never had he truly taken in her features. Even with the slight bags under her eyes from the lack of sleep-- she was a pretty girl..

And sweet too...

"Luckily I've got you to make sure," he licked his lips one time for good measure, making sure they're truly clean from the soup, "that I don't have anything on my face."

The younger's gaze couldn't help but travel down to Jisoo's lips as well. They were smaller than Tae's... but they looked soft. He'd lie if he said he wasn't just a very small, tad bit, curious.

Jisoo’s drumming heart rate swerved off beat in response to Jungkook’s tongue poking out of his naturally tinted lips, wetting them as if they weren’t already appealing enough.

To the woman, it looked as if he was purposely dangling a carrot in front of her face, challenging her to take action..

Intrigued was an understatement.

Scooting closer to him until their sides touched, she cupped one half of his face.

The pad of her thumb caressed over the scar on his upper cheek, feeling the barely noticeable dent under her feathery touch.

“I’ll always make sure you don’t have anything on your face..”

Jisoo softly chuckled, eyes sparkling with stars, highlighting her obvious interest for the younger man.

Jungkook was.. Jungkook. In other words, the sweetest guy the single mother’s ever come across.

Offering to help her with Yuna? Jisoo’s breath hitched at the memory.

After a second of doubt, the woman slowly leaned in, pecking Kook’s wet lips.

She liked it..

Jisoo momentarily gazed into his doe eyes, a hint of a smile creeping on her lips before she stifled it with a proper kiss.

It was gentle, not rushed. Soft, yet needy. Sweet.. not sour— not at all.

The woman was never a big fan of sweets, but she could definitely get used to this..

Jungkook wasn't sure what he expected; he didn't really think it through when he taunted with his own lips. But he did, and it surprised even himself. Jisoo is a girl. Jungkook is gay. He’s never been intrigued by a woman before.

Jungkook moved his lips against hers, exploring the new sensation of this smaller, foreign territory. It was soft… His hand snaked around her head, gently letting his palm rest against the back of it as he deepened the kiss, allowing himself to taste her further.

A piece of him felt like... this wasn't fair to Taehyung-- like he was cheating. But kook knew better; he wasn't. They were broken up, and Tae wanted nothing to do with him. He desperately stomped his thoughts down, going his utmost to tunnel vision his focus on Jisoo-- to focus on anything that wasn’t Taehyung..

Jungkook was curious... so, he let both of his hands slowly smooth down to brush over her collarbones, down to her shoulders; all while never wavering from their continuous kisses. She was so small compared to him, it was cute.

The oversized shirt that baggily streamed down Jisoo’s petite body melted off her relaxed shoulders, accentuating the prominent collarbones that she felt shift underneath Jungkook’s wandering touch. A soft hum vibrated against the younger’s addictive lips, leaning in closer to deepen the kiss on her end. The smaller hand that was once balled up on her lap unclenched to perch on Jungkook’s shoulder, merely resting it there for a second.

She slowly dragged it down his broad chest, quenching her thirst for his toned muscles.

He felt exactly how she imagined, strong..

Jisoo’s hand halted at his lower abdomen, able to make out the shape of his hard earned abs.

Fuck. It was during a moment like this where she cursed herself out for not wearing a bra around the apartment. Her awoken nipples showed through her shirt, brushing against the fabric.

A low groan vibrated in Jungkook's chest, the new set of hands touching him was exciting-- knowing his body was affecting her by the way hers was almost quivering when his hands dared to move down to the hem of her shirt.

He momentarily broke the hot kiss to whisper; "Can I..?"

Kook was curious after all, he's never really... touched a woman's breasts before, and the mere thought was both thrilling.. and a little scary? It was so new.

His long fingers sneaked underneath the fabrics, softly caressing her stomach as he waited for her to give him the green light, "it's okay if it's too much.."

A faint moan practically rumbled from the back of Jisoo’s throat.

Her body worshipped any kind of attention, no matter how big or small. Before Namjoon, she hadn’t gotten laid in months— hadn’t fulfilled her ingrown lust for the performance of a man’s stronger hands. Joon was.. satisfactory, but after his inconsiderate side comment, everything from then on lost its magic.

Jungkook on the other hand..

He’d done so little yet Jisoo loved it. The younger man was careful, always listening to her— waiting for her to tell him when it was okay to go on..

Decent respect? She was wet. Literally.

“Yeah, it’s fine..!” She granted permission a little too excitedly, bottom lip tightly clasped between her teeth in anticipation. Her cautious glaze flickered over to Yuna’s nursery once in a while, paranoid that she’d just.. walk in on them. The little one couldn’t even crawl yet, it was useless to worry. God, everything was so brand new yet oddly familiar.

Jungkook nodded once, withdrawing a bit to be able to see his hands work upwards until they found her breasts, letting his thumbs gently brush her nipples. It even made him gasp quietly, they were already hard..

''So soft...'' He breathed out, feeling a little braver as the reactions he's gotten were nothing but positive-- letting his strong hands give her chest a tentative squeeze, the soft flesh felt so nice between his fingers.

Partially, this almost seemed funny--a boy touching a pair of tits for the first time? It was experimental, but he was grateful, because he didn't feel awkward. Jisoo made him comfortable.

Jungkook's need grew, but he didn't want to be too.. much, but he wanted to feel her small frame on him. He leaned back on the couch, momentarily letting his strong arms lift her to place her straddled over his lap, the obvious strain in his pants pressing against her ass. Kook's doe eyes stared up at her.

''Noona... You're really pretty.''

Jisoo audibly gasped along with him, eyes securely clenched shut as she relished in the feel of his hands fondling her breasts, grasping onto the warm skin.

“Just like that..”

Her own hands traveled upwards from their spot on his thigh, cupping Jungkook’s bigger ones through her shirt, prompting him to squeeze harder. The woman’s sore nipples perked up even more. Jisoo was almost disappointed when he withdrew his touch from her bare skin, she desperately whined for their return.

With yet another gasp, her smaller body quickly got accustomed to their change in position, breathing picking up in response to Jungkook poking against her. Her cunt was drenched, the uncomfortable stickiness pooling in her panties.

She was extremely sensitive, and the way the younger male wittily referred to her as ‘noona’ this time around drew out a soft moan from her lips.

Jisoo blushed as she stared down at him, noticeable nails gripping onto his shoulders.

“T-thank you, Jungkookie..”

The woman pressed down on his erection a little harder, waiting for his next move.

Jungkook smiled innocently, but it quickly morphed into his lips parting in a quiet moan when she provided pressure against his hardening length. Fuck... he grew needier by the second, his hands snaking around her lower back to press her body down, forcing her to learn forward on top of him in another feverish kiss, his hips rotting and grinding upwards to relieve the aching for friction-- but only making the urge for more grow.

Jisoo kissed him back without any trouble, poising herself with each hand on his strong pecs. The woman whimpered into the kiss, the dampness in between her legs was getting hard to overlook. She pulled away from the heated make out session before swiftly dropping her forehead against Jungkook’s.

“Ow, sorry..” Jisoo laughed, rubbing at the spot on the younger’s head, dismissing her own pinch of pain. Maybe she got too excited. There was no other explanation for why they bumped heads. Learning from her silly mistake, she gently closed the gap between them. Her softened eyes studied his, chest rising up and down.

“O-oh..” Jisoo’s body stiffened, arching her back from Jungkook’s bulge continuing to prod at the sensitive spots.

“You’re doing so good, Jungkookie..”

Still maintaining a consenting gaze, the older woman searched for his hand, unable to fully wrap her smaller fingers around his wrist. She pulled at the band of her shorts and soaked panties, making room for the male in the warm, dripping chamber.

“A-ah!” Jisoo led his curious hand to her cunt, Jungkook’s /touch/ simply being enough to make her quiver in her spot.

She rubbed up against his rough hand, the slickness from her folds making it easier.

Jungkook exhaled a shaky breath at the praise, a small groan following at how wet Jisoo's cunt was, feeling the slick juices coating his fingers.

''Shit.. that's hot, noona...'' He grows bolder, keeping one hand tightly gripping her waist as the other continues to slip between her folds, gathering the wetness on his fingers to her clit. He might be inexperienced with women, but he wasn't clueless. He found the swollen nub, rubbing the pads of his fingers against it as his gaze is fixed on her expressions. She was so responsive to his touch, it was mesmerizing.

''Does it feel good... Jisoo?'' He called her by her name this time, basically thrusting his clothed cock upwards to give himself the needed friction it was aching for.

Jisoo didn’t know how infatuating the ring of her name was until it spilled from Jungkook’s lips.

Suddenly, she wished he’d refer to her by a first name basis more often..

They were close enough, weren’t they? Especially now, as the boy’s fingers intimately toyed with her rosy clit. Her hips twitched at the forgotten sensation, moaning her little heart out into the clammy palm of her hand, muffling the lewd sounds.

“Y-yes..” She pathetically squeaked out, “So good, Jungkook..”

The woman wanted a finger— something inside of her before she’d combust.

“Finger me.. can you do that?”

He closed his eyes with a nod, throwing his head back to focus on the noises she'd make-- how her heat practically sucked him in as he allowed one finger to sink into her, causing her body to jolt. He held her in place with his other hand on her hip, as if to keep her grounded through this.

''Keep talking to me, tell me if I'm doing good..'' Or bad-- Kook didn't want her to hurt.

Not to think that way, but Namjoon was right; Jisoo was a lot tighter than he'd expected, but not because of childbirth. Just.. He just didn't know the feeling of a woman's insides until now. He honestly wasn’t sure what to expect, it was just-- much softer, and wetter. He really wondered what it would feel like to fuck her... Just the thought made his lower abdomen stir.

''So soft..'' he praised, daring to sink a second finger in, this time starting to really feel her insides with the pads of his rough fingers, finding a certain spot in the fleshy walls that seemed to draw more reactions out of her. He kept teasing that part over and over, his fingers now slowly pumping lewdly in and out of her to continuously stroke it, the wet sounds striking his ears as one of the hottest sounds he's ever heard.

“O-oh fuck...” Jisoo’s walls securely closed in on his filling digits, adding a little hop to her rocking hips. “Jungkookie, you’re going to drive me insane..”

The sex-driven woman harshly fucked herself on his squirming fingers, imagining it were Jungkook’s pulsating cock drilling into her cervix, making her breathless.

With her hands grasping onto his shoulders, Jisoo budged in her spot only to bounce down on the younger man’s double digits.

Her lower body raised on its own, proceeding to repeat the action until she lost count, allowing a faint splatter sound to emit every time she leveled down to Jungkook’s hand.

The girl’s perky breasts bobbed along with every steady, patient bounce, her clit grazing against the younger’s skin.

A strand of Jisoo’s raven hair came undone from behind her ear, shielding the way the muscles in the woman’s flushed face twitched in exposure to their bodies’ commotion.

“You’re doing so good, Jungkook. S-so good..”

She was so close..

“Right there..!”

All of the sudden, loud, piercing cries rang from Yuna’s nursery, disrupting the pair’s alone time. In sync, Jisoo’s head fell forward on the younger man’s shoulder, crying out loud for different reasons.

She broke loose all over him, squirting a puddle of her sweet juices onto his hand.

Fuck.. it felt good to cum..

“A-ah.. hm..”

Jisoo was spent, hair sticking to her clammy skin as she slowly pulled Jungkook’s fingers out of her, attempting to stand up on her own but her shaky legs wouldn’t let her.

“Yuna..” She exhaustedly breathed out, eyes fluttered shut as she limply laid down next to Kook, panting as her chest heaved.

Jungkook was completely in awe, eyes blown wide in surprise at the sudden gush that had coated his hand in Jisoo's juices. Watching her cum was... amazing, for a lack of a better description.

His attention quickly shifted towards the little child crying, but first he leaned over to Jisoo, reaching out to caress her cheek with his clean hand, ''Don't worry... Rest. I got it.'' He headed towards the bathroom first to wash his hands, but not before giving his fingers a curious lick. Shit, it was... sweet? The thought of eating her out seemed much more appealing after this.

He finished washing his hands, his strained erection slowly going down on it's own as he headed towards the nursery, giving Jisoo a quick glance over his shoulder. She was spent. A sense of pride filled the younger man-- a smile tugging on his lips when he lifts up the small child on his arms only to be greeted with cooes instead of cries.

''Hey, little one. Your mommy is a little sleepy..'' he murmured, bringing the child with him to go check on her. ''Noona, you okay?''

Jisoo’s eyes fully fluttered open after several slow paced blinks, the room’s dimmed lights shining down on the thin layer of sweat glistening on her flushed cheeks.

At the hazy sight in front of her, she smiled. It was a worn out grin, the corners of her lips growing tired after a few seconds.

“I’m okay..”

The woman ran her fingers through her hair, focusing on the way Jungkook was holding her baby.

Yuna liked him, there was no doubt about it. Perhaps her mother shared that same fondness..

Jisoo felt comfortable with her child in his strong arms.

It was a sickeningly cute image that she’d later on think about until her brain turns numb.

“Watch out, she’s obsessed with your hair.”

Jisoo tiredly giggled, ignoring the sticky discharge in between her legs. Her eyes traveled upwards to linger on Jungkook’s face, able to make out the beads of sweat under the light.

It was too late, little Yuna already caught a hold of his already messy locks to play with. But she cooed happily, so Jungkook shrugged,

''I don't mind.''

He smiled, taking a deep breath to completely come down from the previous events--- he'd gotten so worked up that his lower abdomen almost hurt.

While having his hair twirled and pulled by the little child, Kook seemed unfazed as he focused on Jisoo, ''I can be with her, you should wash up...'' Scrunching his nose at the especially hard tug from Yuna, he hissed with a small chuckle, trying to pry the small little fingers off his curls, ''You should get some sleep, noona''

With legs as jiggly as jello, Jisoo stood up from the couch with a small groan. Exhaustion sunk deeper into her body, and Kook’s idea to get some sleep didn’t sound half bad.

She wobbled over to where he was standing, reaching on her tippy toes to stamp a kiss onto Yuna’s chubby cheek, momentarily distracting the little one from pulling on the younger’s hair.

The woman knew she should’ve had better control, but her gaze remained on Jungkook.

Whatever happened between the two of them, Jisoo would gladly partake in it again. In a heartbeat.

That was the peak of her otherwise nonexistent sex life! She’s definitely hit her prime with Jungkook..

Jisoo stepped out of the freshly steamed bathroom with a new pair of comfortable clothes, toweled hair wrapped up in the shape of a beehive, skin rosy in the areas she over scrubbed.

The woman looked like an absolute mess, but she’d figured Kook already saw her at her worst.

God— she made weird facial expressions when he was fingering her, didn’t she? Jisoo felt like she did..

“Thank you for watching her.” Yuna was dozing off next to Jungkook, unbothered by the small dip on the cushions.

She happily reached for her baby, setting the little girl on her lap.

“Jungkookie..” she began, feeling shyer than usual around him.

“About making a move on you— I-I know you’re going through a rough patch right now and I just.. I don’t want to make it seem like I’m taking advantage of your emotions, in any way. I mean— it was nice! Don’t get me wrong. I give you ten out of ten stars for the boob fondling and fingeri— you know what I mean. Excuse my rambling but, I guess what I want to say is.. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable in any way.. that wasn’t my intention.”

Jisoo’s neck flushed with color, sidetracking herself by smoothing her fingers over Yuna’s hair, anything to not look into Jungkook’s eyes.

Kook took a short moment to process her words, thinking them over carefully.

No, even though everything was so fresh still, never once did he think that Jisoo would take advantage of him. He knew what he did-- and he enjoyed it. Hell, he'd even do it again!

"Don't worry, I wanted to.. I mean, it was a little nerve wrecking," he shrugged with a wide grin, "it was my first time... with a woman, I mean!"

Now he was the one rambling, his cheeks reddening.

"Aaanyway...." he pressed his lips together, "Want me to keep an eye on her while you sleep? Or..."

The mother shook her head, “It’s okay, get some rest of your own. Yuna’s about to fall asleep at any second, so..”

The woman awkwardly fidgeted around in her spot, her mind urging Jisoo to ask Jungkook how it felt— with a girl, with her. How should she tackle the embarrassing situation? Maybe it’s best if she just goes out with it..

“Hey, Jungkook?” She cleared her throat, turning her body towards him.

“How.. this is embarrassing to ask, but— how did you like it? Was it..” Jisoo looked for the right words, “was it what you thought it would be? No weird reason, I’m just wondering.”

She explained herself before the younger man gave her a motive to, patiently waiting for his highly anticipated answer.

Jungkook rubbed his neck as his eyes wandered from the little child to Jisoo, suddenly the memories replayed a bit clearer in his mind as he was remembering everything. Her noises, the feel of her lips, the way her cunt squeezed and gushed on him. Even the taste...

"I really liked it.." his grin morphed into a coy smile, "yeah, hm..." he nods, now feeling a little embarrassed as he stood up, "Noona, I enjoyed it a lot, if it wasn't for little Yuna.." He tilted his head to the side with a small nose scrunch on his face, "I would want more.."

He reached out to place her loose strand of her back behind her ear.

"I'm uh-- going then. Goodnight noona."

Without thinking, he leans in to press a soft kiss on her forehead before heading towards the door, glancing over his shoulder before leaving,

"Thank you for being there, Jisoo."

And with that, he shut the door as he left to take the short few steps to his own apartment.

The very moment he stepped inside it felt like his surroundings went from warm and embracing; to empty and cold.

He went to the kitchen to throw away the now inedible soggy noodles from the microwave, grimacing at the consistency.

Another moment later he found his phone on the floor, a crack adorning the screen as he picked it up.

Sigh, why'd he have to throw things-- now he's part of the ''cracked phone screen" youth.

Jisoo was internally squealing in excitement, the warmth of Jungkook’s kiss had yet to leave her forehead.

He wanted more..?

The woman tauntingly crossed her slender legs, bottom lip held captive in between her teeth.

She was twenty-two— soon to be twenty-three! Jisoo shouldn’t be erotically fantasizing over a younger man..

But then again, Kook’s soul was in the right place. He was a hard worker, smart, compassionate...

The buff male was every woman’s wet dream come to life, and naturally some men’s as well..

Jisoo’s heart skipped a beat at the way her name rolled off his familiar tongue, sensing a shiver run up her spine.. and her pus— “No problem, Jungkookie.”

She’ll always be there for him. With open arms, and open legs.

© sombreboy 2020. Do not edit, repost or translate.

[dijayeah]

Title: Private Thoughts

Description: She was always there, from the very beginning and every step of the way even as she became one of his closest advisors, but she wasn't just his advisor, no, to him she was so much more. She was his only problem, one that was buried deep within the privacy of his thoughts. A NaruSaku oneshot, that is a gift for peaches-jpg!

Warnings: NSFW/18+:  Explicit/graphic language — reader discretion is advised! Word Count: ~ 4000 words (~15 mins of pure, shameless smut ͡ ° ͜ʖ ͡ –) AO3: read here 

FF.NET:  read here

Private Thoughts

She was always there, from the very beginning and every step of the way even as she became one of his closest advisors, but she wasn’t just his advisor, no, to him she was so much more.

She was his only problem, one that was buried deep within the privacy of his thoughts.

 X

PRIVATE THOUGHTS

Inspired by: DSF - Private Thoughts (Love Mix)

X

I'll always, always think of you

X

 Scrolls were messily splayed all over his wooden desk, piles of paperwork waiting to be approved and sent off in a few days’ time. The thought itself nearly made Naruto groan in irritation as his blue eyes skeptically inspected the contents of each document that reached his fingers.

The whole ordeal was tiresome and as Shikamaru would say troublesome to say the least.

His vision blurred, his face tired and weary as he tried his best to lessen the pile of documents on his desk, paper after paper went through his long fingers, and sometimes he found himself losing the count. Dull expression was etched into his normally cheerful and bright looking features, his brows knitted as he used one of his hands to rub the side of his face.

If someone would’ve told Naruto five or ten years ago that this is what it was like to be a Hokage he would’ve never believed it. But it was the truth and he got to experience it first-hand.

His reality nowadays was boring and repetitive, in peaceful times it seemed like his only duty as Hokage consisted of the endless paperwork that he was working on throughout the week.

Paperwork never came home with him and most of the time he stayed at the Hokage tower trying to pull an all-nighter just to finish his work before the deadlines and sometimes in hopes of forgetting her presence.

However, most of the times that wasn’t the case. Her presence was hard to ignore, making him realize he hasn’t learned anything in all those years that had passed between the two of them. It was his fault really; she was never the one to blame.

Just as she was never his to have.

He willingly gave her away to the man that broke her heart a handful t of times, and that was probably one thing Naruto would never forgive Sasuke. Naruto could forgive a lot of things, as he always tried to understand other people’s feelings and their reasoning when it came to their actions, even when it came to Sasuke himself.

But when it came to her, he couldn’t. He refused.

Sometimes he felt robbed. He felt robbed of the opportunity that he himself refused, but he knew that if he would’ve accepted that disingenuous confession back then she would’ve been the one to feel robbed.

So, he rejected her.

Sometimes he wondered if it would’ve worked out for him. Sometimes he wondered if they really could’ve been happy. Sometimes he wondered if back then, there was a at least drop of sincerity to her words.

He could’ve accepted her false confession, went along with it pretending not to see her true colors and feelings.

Maybe he could’ve been happy.

But for what Naruto knew it took two people in a relationship to feel happy, and maybe that’s why in the end he went with Hinata, because she was there to fill in that deep hole he had in his chest.

She was there when he was desperate. However, Naruto wasn’t happy and that was completely his own fault.

Sure, he had a loving family, kids that were making him proud every single day and a wife that was more than just kind and caring.

But every time he let his mind wander it always brought him back to her. At first, he thought Sakura was just a childhood crush, but it changed quickly as his feelings blossomed into something more, something stronger.

Maybe it was her ever changing attitude, her fiery temper or maybe the raw strength that gave her the power to crush mountains with her bare hands with barely any effort.

She was a thrilling woman and Sasuke was a lucky bastard, and for what Naruto could tell Sasuke did not deserve the green-eyed woman, not even one inch.

It also didn’t help that she was one of his closest advisors when it came to the political side of things. Whenever she wasn’t busy at the hospital, she would always make sure to come in, her sharp mind and dainty hands helping him here and there, pointing out his mistakes and lack of sleep.

Always so observant and oblivious at the same time.

What didn’t help even more was the way she would sit near his desk, brows furrowed, tongue brushing over her bottom lip in concentration, innocently, completely unaware of everything that went on around her, unaware of the hunger in his gaze.

It pissed him off, it really did, she was like a sour candy he couldn’t have, and even if he could, he probably couldn’t swallow it to its fullest potential.

After all beliefs like this did little to ease Naruto’s mind, as every time he closed his eyes, he had just one image, and that image consisted of flashes of hot pink and vivid green.

In his private thoughts she was his only problem, and that problem made his heart ache more than a feeling of strong sake burning his throat in a fiery path.

He swallowed the bitterness.

X

PRIVATE THOUGHTS

Inside of my private thoughts

X

Empty cups of coffee littered his desk, stains of dark liquid lingered on some of the scrolls he had lying around. His face was pressed against the desk, raw cheek against the cold, smooth surface of the table, ocean-blue eyes closed in an attempt to rest.

His break didn’t last long when he heard the door to his office open and he refused to spare his attention to whoever that came in to disturb him at this very moment. Soft steps reached his desk as they echoed throughout the half-empty space, but he refused to open his eyes. Whoever it was, couldn’t they just leave him alone for five fucking minutes?

He felt a warm hand on his shoulder, long fingers digging into his arm, nudging him softly as he opened his eyes almost unwillingly.

His eyes were unfocused, barely catching the blurry reflection of pink and green before him.

“Ah, Naruto-kun you should really consider sleeping more these days.” He heard a soft, albeit concerned voice and his vision cleared immediately. Excitement rushed into his veins as he observed the pink haired woman that stood casually, leaning against his desk.

“You always say the same thing Sakura-chan.” He said almost absent-mindedly a small smile crept onto his features.

“I’m just looking out for you.” She smiled; plump lips framed her small white teeth. Her rose hair fell around her shoulders with a small curl around the edges, cupping the sides of her face almost lovingly in an effortless manner.

“Thank you.” His smile widened unknowingly.

“Now, now don’t thank me before you…” Naruto looked at her, a curious look etched into his face. “See this!” She exclaimed whilst grinning, as she lifted a white paper bag that hung over her hand loosely.

“What’s that?” He asked, his curiosity peaked as he scratched his chin in thought.

“Naruto, you baka.” A deep sigh erupted directly from the depths of her chest. “I’m surprised you haven’t smelled it, yet.” She smiled somewhat awkwardly looking at the blond-haired Hokage.

“It’s Ichiraku’s, they had the slow-cooked pork ramen as their dish of the day.” She waved the paper bag in front of his face. “So, I bought it as a takeaway.” Sakura brought her face closer to his, a kind smile adorned her face, her big eyes crinkled slightly.

He fought a blush that was threatening to creep directly onto his features, his wild, ocean blue eyes darkened slightly as they fell onto her lips. He almost shook his head trying shake off the tempting image, his futile attempt at discarding it from his mind completely.

He wanted nothing more but to reach out for her face and press his lips against hers, roughly. He wanted to ravish the rose haired woman directly onto his office desk, consequences be damned.

But she was a respectable wife, his best friend’s wife and he was a married man with a reputation as Hokage.

So, he couldn’t, not now, not ever.

He swallowed closing his eyes for a second.

“Why are you here?” He asked instead, a hint of hostility to his tone.

“To help you, of course.” She rolled her eyes. “Hokage-sama.” She turned her back, placing the white paper bag onto his desk, her voice mocking and almost bratty.

“So, eat up before I take it away.” She scolded instead.

He sighed and nodded in return.

And so, she did the things that she came in for. She helped him like always, without any complaints, just a concentrated look on her face and bitten lips that looked savory and sweet at the same time.

He almost felt guilty thinking about her this way, but he couldn’t help himself, after all she will always be buried within the privacy of his own thoughts.

X

PRIVATE THOUGHTS

I can imagine you

X

“Lord Hokage.” The anbu guards kneeled in his office, moonlight fell over his silhouette through the large window that was part of his office space. He looked at the bright city, various lights and lanterns littered the horizon brightly, nearly blocking the starry sky.

“You don’t have to keep guard on me tonight.” He said, his gaze piercing and almost dark as he looked over his shoulder.

“I have important matters to deal with tonight and I don’t need you guarding me all night, you are relieved from your duties until five a.m sharp.” He said with a tone of finality, leaving no room to breach the topic further. He knew his own anbu wouldn’t question his decisions, after all he was the Hokage.

“Hai, Hokage-sama.” Said one of the captains from the elite force.

“Dismissed.” He said waving them off.

Once he felt their presence disappearing completely, he made the hand signs for the sound-proofing jutsu, his hand movements quick and precise.

“Finally.” He murmured in relief. “Now there’s only one problem I’m left to deal with.” He said to himself, his voice dark and heavy, a small smirk full of anticipation curled at the edge of his lips.

 X

PRIVATE THOUGHTS

Touching my private parts  With just the thought of you

X

 He went through another, painfully familiar set of hand signs and concentrated, closing his eyes for a brief moment. A kage bunshin appeared.

Perhaps it was the alcohol or maybe even the fatigue of working endless days and nights at the Hokage tower trying to meet the deadlines, but he couldn’t help himself, his eyelids fell heavy with desire, desire for the woman he wanted the most.

He replayed the familiar scene that he encountered during the day, imagining the brightness of her eyes, the deep shade of pink that was her hair. The lithe curves on her body, that were covered by an annoying piece of fabric. A piece of fabric that had the Uchiha clan symbol etched onto it and he wished he could burn it away from existence using his own eyes.

A puff of smoke dissipated behind him and he felt soft hands snaking around his waist, soft, curvy body pressed flush against his back and he nearly groaned feeling her so close to him.

“Sakura…” He rasped darkly, feeling one of her hands slide down his crotch. “Mmm?” Her sultry voice reverberated directly through the entirety of his body, causing his breath to hitch, as a small tinge of heat pulsed and coiled at the very bottom of his stomach.

“Touch me.” He commanded his voice laced with darkness that conquered the night itself. “As you say, Hokage-sama.” She used his title mockingly and that only caused further flames within his body.

He burned with need, his eyes the color of aquamarine waters.

Her hand dipped under the waistband of his pants effortlessly as if she had done this countless of times already and he growled lowly when she cupped the increasing bulge that hid beneath his pants and boxers.

“So hard already, and I’ve barely touched you, Hokage-sama.” She mocked him again, her voice even lower as it ghosted past the tips of his ears.

“Fuck I-“ He hissed with a silent curse when her hand dipped under his boxers, her long fingers wrapped around his cock and she gave him a few, painfully long strokes.

“Do you want me to do anything else?” She asked coyly and he could feel her smiling behind him, her hand never stopped, the painfully slow rhythm always kept him aware of her movements.

“I want to fuck you.” He hissed flipping them over, the lower part of her back dipped into the edge of his desk roughly.

“Then do it.” She encouraged him, a sultry look in her eternally glowing, emerald eyes. “If you can, that is.” She teased him, the tip of her tongue brushing past her bottom lip distractively.

 X

PRIVATE THOUGHTS

I can't help but touch myself  That's why I want you so bad

X

 “You are not going anywhere this time.” He growled aggressively against her neck, his short, blond hair tickling her exposed skin.

“Hmm.” She mused thoughtfully, feeling his teeth against her skin, her hand still stroking his length with an increasing speed. “Not afraid Hinata-chan is going to find out?” she smirked darkly feeling his teeth digging deeper into her skin, leaving a fresh set of marks. A small moan escaped from her bruised throat.

“No.” He rasped against her skin, his breath leaving goose-bumps all over. “However, you are going to find out what it’s like getting fucked by a Hokage.” He said with a finality as she hissed under his rough tone.

“Now shut up and let me fuck you, Haruno.” He refused to call her by her newly acquired surname, no, in fact he preferred the old one.

She gasped when he pressed her flat against the table, one of his hands grabbing her by the pink, short tresses as she looked into his blue midnight eyes, her own eyes full of surprise. Her hand lost the contact with his pulsing length and she nearly growled in irritation.

He pressed his lips roughly against hers, imagining and prolonging the scene that happened previously in his office today. Her mouth obediently molded against his, lips soft and plump as he grasped her tongue with his own.

It almost felt like a real thing. Almost.

He moved away for a second, admiring the image right in front of his eyes, she looked at him with lust-induced eyes, short, pink hair disheveled and messy against the smooth surface of his desk, her body splayed elegantly amongst the pile of urgent documents that he had no time to deal with.

Her form illuminated by the bright lights that shone through his ceiling high windows, reaching even the highest point of the city – Hokage tower. Her lips were wet and swollen as her chest was raising up and down erratically.

“Kami, you have no business looking like this.” He whispered into the night, his tone less dark. “Do you like tempting married men?” He asked, his voice, once again filled with blackness to the brim.

She moaned explicitly in response.

X

PRIVATE THOUGHTS

My love... Yeah Can't get my mind off you  I think I might be obsessed  The very thought of you  Makes me wanna get undressed

X

Truth to be told Naruto was obsessed with the pink haired woman to the very point where he would sleep calmly near his wife at night, his dreams filled with naughty images of the former woman.

He would feel guilty at times, but his guilt quickly vanished away with the blue ocean tides when laid down onto his desk in her full glory, spread out and whimpering under his ministrations.

His hands worked quickly, discarding off the useless fabric that hung around her skin annoyingly. His hands cupped her exposed mounds, feeling the soft flesh beneath his fingertips, rosy nipples hard against his skin.

He squeezed almost roughly, and his cock jumped with anticipation at the sensation when she hissed in pleasure, teeth sinking into her bottom lip deliciously.

Her hand dipped into his golden hair, fingers digging into his scalp as she pressed him closer to her body almost desperately.

“Touch me!” she cried out pushing his face directly into her chest and almost sighed in relief when she felt a hot appendage curling around her rosy nipple. “Fuck, Sakura.” He grunted, his hot mouth twirling against the hard pebble of skin as he used his other hand to feel the curves of her body, exploring her almost carefully, even as his touch held a hint of possessiveness to it.

“I want you inside of me.” Her words dissipated into the darkness of the room as he yanked down her pants, pushing them away completely, his tongue never leaving her abused chest. “Kami, don’t say things like that so easily.” He warned her with a final growl as he discarded off the last piece of fabric on her body.

“Please...” Her breath caught into her throat as he tugged her legs closer to him, his own body now positioned in between her legs. He pulled the waistband of his pants and boxers all at once with one swift movement, revealing a hard, long and thick member that pulsed with continuous excitement.

His fingers touched her heat, playful, light touches up and down as she moaned again and again, writhing under his touches, her back arched, her head pushed back, lips forming an ‘o’ as her heels digged into his back almost painfully. He coaxed her to submit, his fingers pressing deeper against the most secret part of her places.

X

PRIVATE THOUGHTS

I wanna feel your heart and soul  Inside of me  Let's make a deal  You roll, I lick  And we can go flying into ecstasy

X

He didn’t wait for her to say anything else as he spread her legs out completely, ravishing the image in front of his eyes. The ocean blue eyes darkened significantly, a glimmer of want and lust shined through them almost transparently.

He grasped his cock with one hand, using the other one to pin her wrists at the end of the table, behind her head with an iron grip. She didn’t mind, only encouraging him with a growl of her own.

He positioned his length at her entrance and swiftly pushed in, a silent curse fell from his lips, feeling her twitch against his cock. She was wet, burning hot and tight, at least that’s how he imagined her to be.

He didn’t wait for her to adjust, afraid that he might lose his control of the clone that he so carefully crafted in the darkest depths of his mind. She was his only private pleasure, one that he wasn’t willing to give away or share.

He pushed in almost relentlessly, rapid rhythm he set for himself. There was almost a hint of desperation to his movements as his muscles spasmed against her in the moments of heat and desire.

He was already breathless as it was, but her body was igniting all sorts of flames within his body and his lungs felt like they were on fire.

He grabbed her by the buttocks, rough fingertips pressing into the plum flesh, letting him lose his hold over her dainty wrists.

She moaned and cried under him, the sounds a complete bliss to his ears as her hands pushed him closer to her. His face was buried into the crook of her abused neck, her short locks tickled the side of his marked cheek as he struggled to inhale and keep his control over the clone beneath him.

“Ah, fuck…” silent curses fell out of his mouth one after another as he rammed in continuously, her heat surging him to stay in longer, crawling and sucking him in. “Sakura…” he whispered into her ear as he bit her earlobe aggressively.

His bloodstream was filled with her, just as much as his office space was filled with her gasps and pleads to go faster. He was intoxicated by this forsaken woman that just refused to leave his mind.

His throat grew even more tight at the sensation that coiled at the tip of his length.

And he did.

The delirious sensation finally kicked in, the feeling full of ecstasy as his seed spilled into her and she gladly and greedily swallowed it with her body. His veins full of that chemical feeling one would call love.

“Fuck, don’t look at me like that.” He closed his eyes, almost refusing to see anymore of her. His lips fell over hers roughly, with passion, one last time before she dissipated completely just like most of his daydreams. He lost the control and she was his price.

His face was full of tenderness that he only dared to show in front of her, however his eyes were dull and empty, his exhaustion taking a toll on him completely.

It didn’t take too long for him to start feeling empty, because the Sakura he wanted existed only in the dark corners of his private thoughts. His mood sunk low, followed by a dull ache of longing.

He shook his head chasing the heavy thoughts away.

And maybe in a way it was bittersweet.

X

PRIVATE THOUGHTS

I wanna be with you  In spite of what my heart says  I guess I want you too bad

X

“Naruto-kun, are you alright?” He heard Hinata’s soft voice the following morning after he left his office space. His eyes tired, but his body was at ease.

“Yeah, why are you asking, Hinata-chan?” He answered her just as softly, his expression somewhere in between puzzled and exhausted.

“The anbu you sent off last night came by our house saying Hokage dismissed them, so they insisted to guard me and the kids instead.” A tinge of confusion was etched into her gentle features, she looked at him questioningly, pale, violet eyes narrowing.

“Ah, I sent them off since I had to meet up with Sasuke last night, he came back with the report.” Naruto said, scratching the back of his head almost uncomfortably, it was the best excuse he could come up with and it always worked. However, a look of uncertainty danced across his face just for a few moments, he was never a good liar.

A glint of suspicion flashed through the dark-haired woman’s eyes before she smiled at him, somewhat feeling more at ease.

“Oh, Sakura-chan must be really happy since Sasuke-kun is finally home for once!” She still held the kind smile she had on her face, looking at her husband form underneath due to their difference in height. Naruto nearly shivered at the mention of her name, the small pang of guilt he felt washing over him in a tide.

“Yeah, very.” His voice a mere whisper as the words came out from his lips. He smiled back, almost bitterly so, his mind tucking away the painful grudges, while he kept walking further down the corridor of their home.

He would always envy the raven-haired man who won her heart from the beginning, without any effort, without even trying.

Maybe that’s why Naruto had always loved Sakura, because even though his love would always remain one-sided, he could not help but fall in love with the rose haired woman over and over again.

She was one of a kind and Sasuke was a lucky bastard after all.

X

PRIVATE THOUGHTS

I'll always, always think of you

X

[illusionwrites]

—As the sun starts setting and the stars light the sky, walls fall and emotions are harder to hide.

Genre: College AU | Fluff | Angst | Smut — Warning: drinking

Word Count: 11,287

< story index >

Chapter 3: Soft Moonlight

You can’t remember the last time you had felt so uneasy yet uncomfortably serene at the same time, contradiction so strong you didn’t know whether to act out of instinct or calculated moves. It’s pretty normal to forget how to commonly talk to strangers but… was it normal for you to forget how your own brain worked. What is your personality like? What defines you in terms of morality? All of those silly yet important things raced through your mind the moment Jimin waved at you, signaling a possible interaction once you go down there. 

It’s hard to put your body back into function after dealing with symptoms of addiction. You were no longer the crazy and lively party animal you ought to be under the effects of popular drinks given by random guys. The first days felt raw, empty, without a drop of your old self. You forgot what it felt like to be so open to your heart, your thoughts, the sea of hidden ideas that defined you, that made you the unique girl you used to be before. You still struggle, you’re still embarrassed of having to think before you speak, to be yourself rather than what you wished you’d be. You had to be in element for you to blend into the environment, to relax and let yourself go. New environments meant new adaptations, and that was scarier than any man, ever.

As Jimin’s innocent glint waved towards your figure, it was time to take steps down. Were you scared? Absolutely.

Your short self looked goofy getting swooned by the sassy little dog, trying your best to evade eye contact with anybody until you were closer. The sand felt soft, rich in texture and easy to walk along, even to sit on. Just then, a minute later, you’re right in front of Namjoon and the other two. The three of them looked straight out of a magazine cover, pale pastel tank tops (Namjoon’s was wet so pretty transparent also), colorful tropical flowers in their bathing suits and bare feet to accompany it. There’s one you don’t recognize, so he’s the first you look at directly with the still heavy sleepy eyelids. Blurry Taehyung and Jungkook are still lost in the beach background.

“I was just talking to these other guys staying at the building right next to us, they booked this place for a week too,” your known friend quickly began, pointing towards the complex next to where you came from. Since Joon is the big talker, words weren’t needed from you yet. “This is Jimin and Hoseok, they’re college students like us. This is Y/N,” he recited with a dimple smile, letting you finally hear this man’s name. Jimin. It suits him, sounds ideal for someone like him: short and cute. 

His reaction to your following grin mimicked yours, a side smile as if you were meeting for the first time. He only whispered a small ‘Hey’ and you instantly swayed your sunlit orbs to the other individual. Hoseok seemed already like such a character, immediately extending his hand to you with a polite wink. You don’t even know how to act, so you simply shake it and chuckle along with him with a wider smirk. Smile so bright that the sun would be jealous, he already appeared to be so nice.

Yeontan barked and growled at the two individuals, yanking at his leash. “Oh, and this is Yeontan, belongs to the one on the paddleboard,” he added before you could even talk about him. Hoseok seemed to gush quickly over the cute little rascal, but after failed attempts at trying to get Tannie to be loved by the new friend, you all laughed and resumed to chatter about whatever they were previously discussing. 

All the while you tried not to stare so bluntly, and each time you looked down to where Tannie was, he would look over at you just as discreetly. But it was awkward, everyone was talking and you were just… there. 

Joon had resorted to talk about his degree and many Psychology classes to which you knew nothing about, leaving you with only Yeontan to observe as a distraction because the others were all ears. Your silence soon grew to make you uneasy, that’s when your feet took steps away from them, him. Forgetting normal interactions was common for you, the part where one has to try to initiate conversation didn’t always occur naturally. So, since you didn’t have anything exciting to bring, it only left you the choice of walking away from the crowdy and joyful voices.

You silently cursed at yourself walking across to where Jungkook had been recording, not really talking to him but rather enjoying how the wind blew in that certain angle through your locks of hair. Yeontan was busy battling with the waves, running after them when they retreated but escaping once they were ready to splash against the shore. 

Minutes passed as you blinked only a few times by the view of the sun touching the sea, alone in such a wonderful area with nothing to study for but your inner torments. There was only yourself, ideas, thoughts, resolutions. Sandals now gone, your feet let the soaked sand trap them to get between your toes. It called you out, to start thinking about the things you really want in life to search for new beginnings, but how come the only small thing that’s bothering you right now i—

“—Hi,” you heard right next to your shoulder, making you immediately turn your head over with a slight jump. Jimin’s voice was low, concerned by your reaction. Hands behind his back as if he was hesitant to get any closer, he had been standing there for a while now, just casually staring at your concentrated features with a soft smile. 

“Shit. Sorry, I didn’t see you there,” you muttered with a small chuckle, combing loose strands behind your ear so he could see your face better since the wind tried to push your hair onto your nose. 

His eyes turned your own quite softer with his serenity, “Heh, it’s okay. You looked pretty focused so I didn’t want to bother. It’s Y/N, right?” Jimin asked, glinting his eyes to make sure he had pronounced it right, and you nod warmly. With how you left the conversation in such a short notice, his eyes had continued to follow you over to the trail of the shore. So you were a little awkward, but he didn’t mind. In the same way that you casually looked over at him, he also glanced occasionally. 

It was instant, nothing planned or calculated, things that just happen because it’s there. Something tingled, spiked excitement inside, wanting to burst while you wanted to compress them. He wanted that opportunity, a chance to get to know you, something you wouldn’t have thought of him doing at all. “Nice to formally meet you now that”—he pointed down to the happy pup—“he’s not escaping anywhere.”

“Yeah.” His bold and wide expressions are everything, so it’s easy to laugh along with him and ease into it slowly but surely. It’s more comfortable than before, the air around you two. You shake your head after chuckling and looking down embarrassed at the silly animal, the reason you two met in the first place. “Had to leash him, he’s a bit of a pain in the butt.”

Jimin continued to laugh at the way the dog played with the waves hitting the shore, so in a swift move he crouched down while it was distracted. In that pose, the breeze hit his hair so naturally that you even saw some of his forehead showing in a nice manner. God, you need to stop noticing every single detail. 

“Such a cute pain in the butt~” he mumbled with a duck face and a cooey tone over to it, attempting for the second time to bond with the adorable pet. Even Yeontan fell prisoner to his charm after he started petting the long fluffy fur at his nape. The dog turned happy with his wagging tail at the touch, causing Jimin to stare up at you with casual and confident amusement. 

“So he likes you now…”

“They always open up after the first time,” he answered and wiped his hands after pushing himself up to meet you at face level once again, hiding them back in his pockets as he continued talking in that whispered tone, yet it was so vivid sounding. 

For a moment, you two shared the same eye contact. Don’t know if for the same reasons, but it caused you both to look away quickly to the splashing waves. The sun touched the water with a dark and orange highlight, closer to setting by the passing of the minutes under the clouds. “Your friend Namjoon is really nice, by the way,” he added while scratching his head. 

“Yes, he’s very fun. How did you guys meet though?” 

“We were going to rent out the paddleboard too so, we met at the office and decided to split the bill between the four of us in the end,” he explained and then scratched the back of his head, “I was thinking of using it today, but I think Taehyung will take a while…” 

Just as he said that, you glanced over to where Tae was still paddling on the east side of the beach. His arms were immersed in his task with determination, ankle strapped on and sunglasses right over his head. Jungkook was still walking further and further away with his calves under the water, not really taking any more pictures and simply strolling himself across the clear ocean. You thank Tae that he’s still busy with the board, it meant you could still talk to Jimin for a while more. “Yeah”—you choked on the small chuckle—“he doesn’t look like he’s coming back before the sun sets,” you shrugged lazily. 

Jimin saw it in slow motion, the little blush on your cheeks appearing just when the sun hits your face, rosy enough to think that it might be sunburn. “You know”—by his words you stared at him questionably—“Hoseok and I aren’t doing anything tonight, so you can tell your friends to—“

“Hey guys!” you both turned your head over to the side where a loud Namjoon called over. Perfect timing. “Hoseok’s calling you, dude,” he stated with his thumb pointing backwards to where their apartment is located. You won’t lie when you think that maybe Joon noticed how Jimin had separated himself from the guys to go over and talk to you, but if it’s a way to be overprotective then you’ll hit him later. 

So much for a longer conversation… Jimin’s eyes popped up and started walking again, but not before spilling a ‘Thanks’ over to your best friend and the other intervened as if he had forgotten to say something, “Oh! Um Jimin, Hoseok told me we should get together later so… around eight we’ll be over there, okay?

”With clueless eyes, Jimin angled his head over to both of you and very innocently answered, “Yeah, seems cool, see you guys later then.” At the very last words he looked at you with a soft expression, making you press your lips together and nod in goodbye. Without so much of a word exchanged between you and Namjoon, you drag Yeontan back to the house as Jimin headed in the opposite direction. Namjoon stared at both of you intently, clueless for the first time in forever. You on the other hand could only think, were you really going to their place later? 

The sky had begun to set completely, the source of light fading slowly. And yet still, the stranger whose name was now known as Jimin, lured inside your mind. 

“I saw that,” Hoseok points out when Jimin entered through the front door, attacking him out of nowhere but with the intention of simply messing around with his roommate. 

Hence his friend’s tone, Jimin resumed to chuckle and head straight for the refrigerator to pull out his half empty water bottle from the top shelf. After a big sip of the cold beverage with a small drop escaping past his jaw, he swallowed loudly and kept staring at the glowing light of the fridge. “Saw what, Hobi?” The man rolled his eyes, yet his cheeks flushed immediately.

“Ahahahaaaa… No wonder you were so fond about the tiny dog…”

Jimin was being very careful in his moves, which included what he would tell his college buddy about you. No business of his was meant to be shared as if you were some sort of trophy, he’s just getting to know you more. And who knows, some people lose interest after a while of meeting someone, even he himself saw that as a possibility considering you were so… quiet. Even if it will be sort of obvious from the particular attention he will give you, Jimin doesn’t plan to expose himself like that. He’s rather reserved in his personal business, but he had you on the radar since this morning, that’s all he knows.

Even Hoseok knew it was useless to continue to ramble on after that sarcastic remark, it meant his bestie didn’t want to speak about it and left the conversation hanging there. He resorted to grab a towel and head for the shared bathroom, whistling a catchy tune as he disappeared from Jimin’s views. Just before the bathroom door closed, his twinkly eyes smiled as his cheeks rose up with a sort of wicked grin; he didn't need Jimin to explain himself. He knows damn well that he had invited Namjoon and his friends over for that very reason: to get a story. 

“Hey, hey! Woah woah! What’re you doing?!” Hoseok exclaimed, his hand coming to life in the middle of the circle created by the other five players. It pointed over to the bundle of cards stacked together as laughter started arising but he was still in competitive confusion over the move Taehyung just made with a happy shout. “Why are you throwing a blue +2 card on the stack?! You need to draw the four cards you cheater!”

“Huh? You called it blue which means I can throw this to pass it on to Jungkook and then he draws six!” Tae bit back with wide eyes, taking the card and placing it back with a confident swift. Sassy as ever. His boxy smile couldn’t hold in how ridiculous the older man sounded to his ears.

“But that’s not even an official rule!” 

“Of course it is! We’ve always played like this, right?” Now your best friend turned over to you, who simply put your hands up in surrender, shaking your head as the others laughed at the tipsy men causing a scene. If you’re honest, these Uno people have changed the rules so many times you guys often played with many rules applied, now it has become a mess. Namjoon could only facepalm himself in embarrassment over these two grown men fighting over a silly game, but in the little time he’s known Hoseok he can confirm he shares the same unique brain cell with the younger males by his quirky and fun nature. 

Your mind wandered back to the spirited Taehyung and Jungkook’s never ending laughter over the whole scenario, making fun of the older guy for his weird refutes. “Do you live under a rock?! Are you like—foreigners or something?!” Even Jimin had to bang his fist on the floor to keep himself from bursting out in laughter, his other hand grabbing ahold of his roommate’s shoulder to stay in balance and not fall backwards. He sort of looked like had his spare of drinks also.

And he goes wild when he laughs. You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol acting up in his system, but Jimin oozes charisma. He often covered his face with anything he saw when embarrassed, either behind Hoseok’s shoulder like a child when Namjoon had to draw several cards, or he simply stumbled back to hide behind his own hands when Jungkook forgot to shout ‘uno!’. Jimin’s million apologies followed an innocent pout when given more cards in hand, not allowing you to get a glimpse of his radiant white smile. Even so, you still got to enjoy his adorable gestures and almost some sort of shy nature, if he was ever shy at all. 

It was so weird, you never figured him to look that soft and casual, wearing simply an ordinary t-shirt and shorts knowing he had so much body to expose. The entire room grows contagious over his charming crescent moons when he’s chuckling or simply smiling, you found yourself grinning involuntarily whenever you crossed eye contact with him in front of you. You had to stay low so your buddies didn’t notice the slight glances you two exchanged by accident every now and then. He wasn't even focused on winning, and neither were you, attention was already committed to something (or someone) else.

It was inevitable not to stare at him throughout the night. Ever since you arrived and saw him working his way on the small cooler, putting down drinks and concentrating on serving everyone was enough to keep you distracted from the rest. Now sitting down, with all the other boys playing a ‘friendly’ game of Uno, you had him on the other side of the circle cause Namjoon and Kookie had filled in the spot on either side of you before the game could even start. You thank them silently, you don’t know if you could take having him that close. 

‘Oh, are you cold?’ he would mouth to you every now and then, but you declined even if you felt like freezing to death. You knew he would be capable of offering you something of his. You don’t want to know how he smells either, fearing its scent would intensify the rude appearance of butterflies raging inside you. 

—What butterflies?—you’d ask. Well, if getting nervous when a very cute man paid that much attention to you was a valid reason, then there it was. You still can’t pinpoint what is it about him that attracted you since you saw him chasing Yeontan this morning, but now you had him closer than before and your head was tickling. 

And you’re stupid if you’re thinking he doesn’t notice. Surely he has been ignoring you during the game and talking more with the guys rather than you, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t visual interaction. Starting from the small nibs your teeth planted on your lip as you thought about which card was more strategic to throw, right down to your furrowed brows and timid smile when you tried to guess what color the others were missing, even the way you frowned when Namjoon made you draw two cards from the pack. All of it drove you to him somehow. 

Because Namjoon had begun to eye him quite more this evening, he took small advantages to his favor without being caught by your suspicious roommate. Hoseok is not to be excused either, he often threw surprise jokes at you which indirectly referred to Jimin himself, which only earned him more than enough glares from the smaller student. 

“Well I will google it to see if it’s true!” Hoseok added with disbelief, making everyone else in the circle roll their eyes at the surprise delay they have created. You just wanted to stop playing already, getting more hyped about the discussion than the actual card game.

“Oh, guys just forget the official ruuuules~” Taehyung whined, shooting his slurred words to the man beside him whose smirk seemed painted and permanent in mischief, talking informally to the older male. It had even provoked the forgotten Yeontan to bark at them from its cage near the entrance while you all were around the living room area, speaking defensively for his owner. “Jungkook’s only got one card!” Soon Kookie held up his second ‘uno’ hand while the rest of you still had about four to five cards each, laughing menacingly. The rest of the sane people in the small circle looked at each other, barely containing their laughter and speaking in signs as to how the fuck should they react to this. 

“Aish, why don’t we just call it quits and let Jungkook win already? We’ve been playing the same round for about half an hour, let’s take a break.” Namjoon now had the upper hand and started speaking aloud over to the two guys still conversing and Hoseok’s typing angrily on his phone. 

You nodded your head almost instantly, thanking his bright mind for deciding to let this drunk Uno game slide. In that instant, you held your giggles when you saw Jimin pout at you secretly, showing you he had around three +4 cards in his delicate hand, he also stifled his own unique laughter. 

“Fine by me. Ha!” He added while throwing away his last card that wasn’t even in the color scheme the board had possessed, but it’s a lost cause now. You giggled at Hoseok’s surprised face and unique expressions, he seemed to fit way too much into your crew’s charismatic and funny aura just the same. Meanwhile everyone had gotten up to walk over to where the beers and alcoholic beverages sat, you snuck yourself over to the fridge by the kitchen aisle in search of some water. You haven’t indulged in anything in the last months so it felt sort of weird to be surrounded by all these college guys drinking, Kookie had given you a surprised face when cups were passed around, snapping your cup into his hand discreetly. Hoseok and Jimin failed to notice you weren’t drinking anything.

Even if you had wanted to try some of those exotic mixtures Hoseok served, you know better than to start at it again. You’re a bit suffocated by the smell of scotch filling the room, the fruity drinks had added their own aroma to finish off whatever these guys were sipping, but it didn’t settle well in your nostril. You thank Hoseok for not offering you anything else, you didn’t want to go near it. It hurt your clouded mind, almost burned your throat as if you were to gag. 

There’s some hip hop tracks slowly playing in a distant background while you watch Hoseok show Taehyung some CD’s he took out from his room, how everyone bonds and you’re simply the couch potato standing so far away from the rest. If you knew that they’d be serving that many rounds of drinks between themselves, you would’ve stayed home to prevent being so left out. It’s purely coincidental that you find Jimin’s warm irises getting closer to you soon after, walking discreetly to grab some liquor from the cabinet next to you and the round of munchies on the table. 

You pushed your bare legs back and slid your arms from the island before he crouched down to grab his secret crock hidden in the back of the second drawer. You followed his maneuvers to open the cap off the crystal clear bottle and then suddenly both of you jump when you heard a loud pop! and the cap was finally opened before your eyes. 

With the kitchen light turned on, you notice his skin had red marks hinting a tan to come along and maybe he washed his hair too, it was curlier and disheveled cutely as it dried naturally. As if he could feel your baby jewels on him, he turned over with a handsome, yet apologetic, glint in his gaze. “You certainly look like you don’t want to be here,” he chuckled lightly.

His words were soft, but you immediately caught on his clingy question filled with some sort of wickedness. You did look quite bored out of your mind, but if you were going to say you came just for him you’d probably scare the guy. You’ll be honest still, even if he may be a little drunk to catch any sort of initiative from you, the proximity is somewhat nice, it didn’t feel pushy or persistent in any way with how relaxed he sounded talking to you. 

“This isn’t exactly my… environment, i-if you know what I mean,” you said while rolling your eyes around the room. 

The little comment made his eyebrows shoot up suspiciously, as if you were sort of inventing an excuse or giving him the cold shoulder. And you don’t wanna come out as bitter or completely stubborn, so you had to explain further to at least have a conversation that lasted more than simply three lines. “I don’t drink,” you elaborated, pointing over to the pricy material in his hands and then showing him the sparkly water bottle with a sarcastic smile, then he nodded in realization. 

Just before he could open his mouth again, loud manly screams came across just a few feet away from you both. There lied the two taller males shouting out some incoherent slangs while one of them held up a crystal bottle, similar to Jimin’s, opened in the air. Namjoon had taken out his phone and proceeded to record with his camera as Hoseok went on to tip over the fiery drink down Jungkook’s throat who kneeled over to capture for several seconds what will be one of the worst decisions he has ever made in his life. 

“Jung-kook! Jung-kook! Jung-kook! Woooooo!” After standing up and swallowing the pit down his throat, he shook his head many times in pain from the raging burn he must be feeling but the young soul felt very accomplished giving out high-fives to the evil helpers. Taehyung kept an eye on you from afar, knowing exactly how you would feel about the recent view.

You won’t lie, you had felt as if that yellowish thing had gone down your own tongue while invoking very unpleasant memories of you being in that same position. Flashbacks were always there, toxic and persistent.

You saw flashes of red, blue and green in a corner of your memory. The thumping music reminding you of a club. You remember the burning in your eyes, the cold beads of sweat sliding down your back. Whatever form of pleasure you got from it before, you didn’t miss any of it, much less now of all times.

Jimin’s grin turned into an instant frown the moment his eyes witnessed the change in your appearance. You fidgeted slowly, unnoticed as your tongue darted to coat your dry lips. It didn't read as an act of seduction, not in the least, it looked anxious. He looks over to the crowd, curious yet clueless on what was so triggering about it. Then, it clicked. 

“Hey, you don’t look too comfortable, Y/N.” After a moment, the man wished he didn’t reek of alcohol, and approached you carefully. “Want to go outside? Get some fresh air?” you heard beside you, dismissing whatever you had been experiencing and replacing it with the sound of Jimin’s serene voice that almost cooed you over in invitation. It was softly spoken, wasn’t an order or a question, but a sweet suggestion that caught you off guard because he was still next to you. “We can sit on the balcony and talk for a bit, if you want.”

You were still looking at nothing as he spoke, for you only thought of this exact moment as an escape of it all. Your throat no longer felt tight, and your eyes dissolved the unwanted tears. Yet, your uneasiness wasn’t hard to hide. That’s when you looked over at him, throwing your dignity out the window, and practically begged him with your glossy eyes. “Okay.” In a matter of seconds, you felt a breeze hitting your face, Jimin had already guided you outside. 

The classy bottle was left behind with them, and so was your water.

“Aren't you going to get cold with those clothes on?” you asked out of nowhere when he pulled two wooden chairs together next to one another but with a firm distance, angled towards the starry night. His slight tipsiness maybe helped him forget he felt cold anyway, but even the baby hairs at his nape stood up cause of it. You sat on one of the chairs and raised your feet upwards to rest your head cutely on top of your soft bare knees. Jimin turned on a lamp behind you, clearing up a source of vision to evade any comments or suspicious thinking from the others inside. 

You don't want them to get any crazy ideas, but you both faced such a romantic scenery, it felt awkward. The smell of the sand and the salty air brought more calamity to your brain, now it had been filled with bitter anxiety from being alone with Jimin. A stranger you had met today out of casuality, who seemed to notice a spark of interest from either side, was right next to you maybe worried about your closed off attitude towards him but being very gentle nonetheless. It’s impossible not to feel nervous. 

He flopped down on the chair and shook his head quickly. “Nah, it’s okay. Don't worry,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his head letting you read his face completely by the yellow light upon his delicate round cheeks. The dork took a big inhale of the same fragrance you thought about earlier and relaxed back onto the seat, one thought circling his mind still as you heard him sigh. “Sorry about Hobi back there, I didn’t know they’d go that wild.” He somehow felt responsible for letting Hoseok get carried away with the drinks and immature actions, it was what was previously planned for all of you to enjoy. You obviously came here to see him, and thinking he disappointed you like that made his own insides churn strangely. “He isn’t going to kill your friend by overdose, if that’s what you're thinking.”

You snorted at his comment, as if Jungkook hasn't gotten drunk ever in his life. The bunny grin he usually pulls doesn’t fool you. You wonder if you hadn't gone out to see them this evening, would Jimin be part of the whole mess too? Maybe, yet it's not supposed to bother you in any way because he’s here now with you still. You could hear the mess and fit of laughter coming from inside, and what oddly began sounding like a freestyle battle between them. Oh boy. “I apologize for Namjoon too, it seemed like they got along just fine in one day.” You facepalmed when Joon began his own idiotic rapping session, too much cringe-worthy content. 

“Yeah, Hobi’s really hyperactive even if he’s older than me. Namjoon’s a bit less so it’s a healthy balance,” he emphasized, and it brought you to imagine his friendship with Hoseok as a really special one. For both of them to pack their bags and come here for a trip in the middle of the semester, it meant they were really close like you and the other three musketeers. How cute. You played with your baby toes on top of your sandals as he spoke, so you didn’t catch how he tilted his head when you didn’t say anything else after that. 

“Feeling better now?” he pressed, and you immediately raised your head upwards to his direction when you heard the question. It felt like an invite to speak freely now that you two were alone. You’re still being distant in the conversation, you needed to force yourself to keep looking at him directly just as he is right now. 

“Yeah, yeah, sorry. Thanks,” you uttered quickly in reply, feeling a bit guilty for acting so cold considering he is taking time out of his friends to be here with you. No matter how confident he pulls himself up to be, Jimin knows his crescent moon eyes can tell exactly what he’s thinking if you’d only look.  

With your oversized lilac sweater wrapped around your knees and your dark locks of hair falling aimlessly on either side of your cheeks, he obviously had to look away so you didn’t see he was checking out your exposed legs. They gleaned beautifully in the light, its cozy fragrance hit his nose since he sat next to you, shy and blushing in the moonlight. 

But before you could think about anything else to say, he interrupted his own thoughts, staring off into the horizon and the palm tree leaves getting dragged by the wind. “I’m curious though, as to why you don’t drink. You seemed pretty disgusted back there,” Jimin added cautiously and you saw how his features were not showing any signs of laughter or joking matter. It was blank, not really giving you much to think about his motive for asking such a thing. You indeed looked paler than before when everything came back down to you back there, but what could you actually tell a stranger about that? 

Nothing. 

You pressed your lips together before letting out a bitter chuckle, guiding one of your hands to brush the situation away. “It’s a nothing deep, really. Just forget about it,” you explained. 

Jimin didn’t like the answer, maybe he didn’t have the right to ask further and felt a little embarrassed he was shut off quickly. “Ah, okay, okay,” he replied before parting ways with your vision again, this time forcing himself not to laugh about something that invaded his mind when his cheeks turned a softer shade of pink. You saw it however, feeling much better that he seemed to be smiling more this evening. Compared to you, he tries to always keep a sharp grin. “That’s too bad,” he whispered to himself, “You kind of seem to need one or two.”

Silence. Did he say that out loud? You don’t know how to reply, so you had to bite back defensively with a slightly raised voice, “Why?”

Jimin’s eyes widened slightly at your tone, his full heart-shaped lips jutting out timidly before stating the obvious with the same volume you had refuted with, “So you could relax a little more and stop being so uptight, silly.” He surely laughed just after confessing so innocently, a joke he effectively got away with. He proceeded to bite his lips into his mouth to stop cackling, barely visible orbs turning glossy. 

You could feel the burn rise from your neck and settle on your ears before arriving on your cheeks, thankfully your hair would hide the noticeable redness that would appear in said sense. Your mouth gaped a bit open for the shortest moment, the lightheaded feeling now being replaced with a tense reaction in your jaw. You looked like a deer caught in the headlights.  

“I-I’m sorry for being so stubborn then,” you chimed in and ran your hand through your head, swinging back the strands that invade your face and show more of your perky cheeks unable to hide the shame. 

But Jimin’s a little clown joking with you so crudely, clapping his hands together with laughter and resuming to throw his expression away just like you memorized he usually does whenever he laughs, covering his mouth again. You’d normally throw your sandals at him for messing with you, but hearing his high pitched voice ring in your ears probed you to stay quiet until he relaxed back into his seat, composing himself. “I’m kidding, Y/N. Don’t take it too personally.” His hands made a surprise gesture, as if he wanted to grab yours to give you reassurance but the distance between you both didn’t allow it to come naturally. “Heyyy, I don’t think you’re stubborn or uptight.”

You were staring at each other again, focused on what the light could illuminate in the night which were bits of your face. “Lying isn’t cute.” Inside the noise had died down a bit, simple light chattering followed by smooth jazz beats that made him softly move his head to the rhythm cutely. Now you have more body language to remember, you’re a fan of jazz yourself. “So...what brings you here?”

“Well… Hobi actually begged me to come here with him. He always visits his hometown every year, so when we became roommates we bonded even more and now,”—he sang the last part like a commercial—“I’m here~”

“Oh, then that means you aren’t from around here then?” you asked, raising your brows with much needed curiosity and surprised how you let out words so quickly with intrigue.“Nope, I’m from Busan, actually. But were both studying overseas,” he informed with no problem, and suddenly, your heart felt like sinking. The music no longer reached your ears. 

Overseas.

In other words, very far away. Something felt like getting trapped in your throat, unable to let you speak anything else while he looked somewhere else, unaware that you took that as bad news. 

“Oh,”—you readjusted your butt in the seat and stretched out your legs—“that sounds so cool!” you forced out without sounding too underwhelmed by the new information, raising your head to rest it on your hands like a ‘flower’. 

“Thanks,” he replied shyly taken away by your cute stance, “but Hobi was right when he told me it’s beautiful out here, no other beach has ever looked that celestial and…” he trailed off, snapping his fingers in the air looking for another adjective before it hit him, “inspirational.” 

His last word hits you like a splash of cold water, noticing the level of happiness Jimin showed in gratitude for his friends. You, in return, followed where his eyes were centered at: the night sky. Its view felt just as he had explained it, different crystals just wildly bouncing off the indigo sheet behind them. Your head, your heart, dulled down their walls, leaving your shoulders without any more tension. You began to feel calm.

“What inspires you?” It left your lips without thinking twice, a slip of a tongue. You covered your mouth instantly, but the man next to you wasn’t bothered by the question.

On the contrary, Jimin seemed pleased. “I still haven’t found it yet, to be honest. I keep searching, hoping that I see it clearly one day.”

Those very words buzzed in your ears as if he were talking to himself. Jimin, for a slight moment, seemed just as lost as you are. It gave you some sort of weird comfort. “I don’t regret coming here either,” you teased the words out slowly to the man beside you, biting the inside of your lip as you kept serene focus on anywhere but him. Your heart felt like exploding, warmth spreading everywhere. “It’s nice here, thanks to you.”

And not only you felt the wave of emotions settling harshly. His heart fluttered upon hearing you speaking more fluently, the natural smile you wore triggered the baby shots of alcohol that still dwelled inside his belly and got him to grin from side to side. He didn’t have words, he just sat there. Quietly admiring a flower that bloomed slowly, revealing herself with caution. 

“Jimin?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re staring.”

The man didn’t stutter like you thought he would, instead . His eyes twinkled like the stars beside you, fluffy cheeks filling up the space to appear like crescent moons. Tipsy or not, he didn’t waste time in not teasing you. “...Am I?”

 Instead of turning the chair to actually face him more, you moved your body to a fetus position that angled in his direction as he spoke with the serene voice he possessed. You let your head rest on the upper edge of the seat, folding your hands on top of your knees just watching his perfect lips talk. He can ramble on and on when he’s tipsy like this, pausing to laugh at his own thoughts before telling you about them. You continued to take in his warm toned skin contrasting to the white shirt, eyeing him up and down as quickly as you could. 

He played with the necklaces dangling on his shirt while he admitted he and Hoseok are dancers at a Liberal Arts university, he mainly focused on contemporary dances. You found him to fit that role so perfectly, they were sensual and very measured choreographies which only served as a visual pleasure and soothing music. Jimin’s bare presence resonated that same level of aura, you can’t imagine what you could feel if you were to see him dance. Him, swinging his body so delicately and calculated must be like a movie in slow motion, owning the stage and claiming it his own. You’re not usually used to watching those sorts of performances, you always preferred the hip hop and street dances more because they were energetic. However, after listening to Jimin’s passion and descriptions of what he does, of what he’s studying, it spoke to you on a deeper level. 

You’ve always thought people don’t necessarily love the things they aspired to (like yourself), but this was clear evidence that you were wrong. He opened your eyes, more than what you allowed him to, and it was great. He was great. 

He was comfortable with your silence and sweet hums. He didn’t push you to talk anymore, things you said were beginning to come naturally from your tongue. Your favorite color, favorite foods, childhood heartthrobs, and even quotes from series you may have watched. You still couldn’t believe he had watched that weird sappy romance drama you were quoting just a week ago without a problem. You are having the time of your life, adding pretty comments to highlight his latest experiences in his foreign studies while the night worked in your favor. 

Now you know why everyone loves coming here, the sky sets itself like a paradise and the clouds are nowhere to be seen, only the countless numbers of stars bounce off your lids and even his sculpted cheeks. It’s relaxing and extraordinary to have this view, right here in this moment while others are inside missing out on it, but you preferred to look at him, only him. He was much more worthy to admire. You hope your friends never come out, this side of you is so rare for them to see. Giddy and joyful, you couldn't believe it yourself.

As he kept talking and the night kept growing cold, you couldn’t deny his continuous proximity, the clinginess in his pitch getting closer as he moved the chair until both armrests of the seat bumped into one another. There was a need for warmth, be it from the weather outside or simply two bodies that begged to caress one another. As if contact was necessary, palms getting sweaty and lips getting drier. Jimin pleaded guilty, surrendering to trail his chair slowly to your direction. It wasn’t like you were incredibly close, rather it was a view where both of you could appreciate each other’s smallest features. He mimicked your position, fitting his body onto the seat as much as he could. 

His eyes pretended to stare at yours while in reality they looked at a freckle just below your eye, he initially thought it was a dirty spot because when he went to wipe it off you bursted out in nervous laughter thinking his delicate fingers wanted to stroke your cheek. It was a close one. Meanwhile you later discovered he had a crooked tooth that overlapped the other very discreetly while looking at his pink lips, you found the imperfection to be so adorable. Even the black roots beginning to appear underneath his blonde hair, you saw everything. Cute, meaningless observations that had you on cloud nine, chuckling and fooling each other teasingly...

You don’t remember him leaving and returning with something in his hands, then you felt a sudden smell adorn your nostrils. It felt so inviting that you only registered it as a scent and not an actual blanket around your body. Jimin’s hands slowly grazed over your shoulders down to where your hands met the armrests, draping it across your body.

“Is… that… lavender?” You murmured under the blanket he had brought for you both, soft and cozily wrapped down to your bent legs. You stared up at his profile, innocent and calm.

“It’s the blanket,” he stated, grasping it over his torso. Separated by the uncomfortable armrests, two souls stared at the night adjusting itself with thin clouds. 

Is that how he smells? Does Jimin smell so calmly inviting, vivid and soft? The very idea of nuzzling everyday in that natural fragrance, a stranger and unknown, yet so… intriguing. “Smells… nice,” you muttered timidly before you exhale exaggeratedly, feeling somewhat intoxicated.

As if it was impossible to get any closer, Jimin turned his eyes away from the night. He now focused on you from his spot in the chair, mind sharper now. Laughter was less evident in his eyes, they were relaxed onto your own. 

But what did you do? You chuckled nervously and poked Jimin’s nose with something completely unexpected, “You have alcohol breath.”

His eyes almost popped out as he rose up immediately, “Really?!”

Then it was your turn to laugh out loud, giggling at his quirky nature. “Kidding, kidding,” you pushed him back into his seat, initiating contact for the first time with his bicep as you whispered. Head still in the clouds, you begin to snuggle under the softness of the blanket once again as he composed himself.

“You sure like my blanket.”

“Very much,” you whispered, now looking at his disheveled locks for more than necessary. There was no more awkwardness in you both staring at each other, not a flinch or involuntary reflexes. You’re stuck in a trance, wondering if only you could approach in a way—

“Just touch it, silly,” he accused, catching you off guard as he tsked playfully. Jimin took your hand in his, guiding it up to rest upon his hair. 

As he continued to glare at your shyness, you held back nervous laughter and carefully combed your fingers through his dirty blonde locks after letting his grip loosen. It was truly soft, just like you imagined it would. “I was only admiring.”

“Mhm, yeah right,” raced his sarcasm. With your body turned to him completely, you observe his brows settle down. He looked at peace, staring at your arm over him ever so curious, “Are you comfortable, Y/N?”

“Um, the chairs are a little hard on my neck but—“

“No,—I meant you. Are you feeling okay right now?...” he asked with genuine concern in his voice while you kept digging your fingers through his hair and he grabbed your tiny wrist in his hand. Your heart skipped a beat, letting Jimin’s aura engulf you even deeper into his eyes. 

“Yes, I’m fine,” you mumbled and involuntarily ran your index and middle finger down to his neck hairline and massaged his scalp slowly, making him shiver in your hold and stiffen his jaw. The hairs stood up in the back of his head, trembling as his nostrils flared discreetly.Completely off guard, you felt a hand reach your own. It took you in, a hand rather small but even so warm you felt like yours were freezing at contact. It caressed yours with his thumb as his index drew circles across the veins peeking out from it. His barely audible voice whispered, “Are you sure?”

This man was on the verge of hypnotizing you.

“Tell me something, are your hands bigger than mine?” you changed the subject, looking at his tiny fingers draw lines over yours. Jimin stared at you dumbfounded, faking being shocked as you giggled your way from entering forbidden grounds.

“Y/N, don’t make fun of me like that!” he whined and pinched your nose, wiggling it from side to side before you took your hand away and signaled him to align it with his. “See? Bigger.”

“Not by much,” you nagged.

“Yeah, yeah, shh. Back to my hair,” he whispers quickly in a breath, clutching that same hand you compared and guided it back to his hair with little force, the clingy order caressing your ears which were thumping too loudly from the overflowing contact… 

“Jimin?”

“Mhm?”You wondered what made you stop from telling him what you were thinking, probably going for something like ‘I want to be closer,’ but you resist when he catches your gaze. So you don’t say anything. You just lay there, admiring, listening, relaxing.

Both of you were too far off to mind the sound of the soothing jazz, Jimin had been recovering from the tequila shots he’d taken before you arrived earlier and you were getting high off his slurred angelic voice murmuring whatever came to his mind. His head is no longer spinning like he tried to hide before, it was steady. He was focused on you, only whispering now because you were closer, mentioning random constellations he pretended to see in the navy sheet to impress you after you complimented the sky. Your own heartbeat didn’t bounce off your chest anymore, it had been silenced as you kept gazing at him rather than what he pointed at. He was a constellation of his own. 

If you only knew he had memorized some of them from a recent song he had to perform shortly before coming here, he’s no astrological expert. You caught that on shortly after he stuttered and invented a few names, but didn’t mind it, instead you began talking to him about zodiacs and spelling weird things about them as if they were true. How naive of you to follow through stupid topics with him, the you from back home would hit your head for coming up with childish things like that and being so corny. But you’re lost, right now you don’t care. 

You don’t recall when your eyes had begun to blink closed, the nightly cooling temperature somehow returned the drowsiness back to you and mixed with his sweet melodical hums. You tried to keep them open, you didn’t want the moment to end. Still, he noticed you were slowly wandering to the other side now before his hand caressed the back of your head, tangling his fingers in your locks. Your mouth was slightly opened and your harsh lines of your forehead had relaxed completely, head slowly tilting over to get more cozy with the uncomfortable chair. The sight made Jimin chuckle quietly at your vulnerable self, biting back his own yawn and desire to doze off next to you. 

Like you never imagined, the sun peeking through the clouds had beamed so much you allowed it to stop raining on your mind. You aren’t as easy as others, what he did for his own gain was to let you rest your eyes sweetly, watching how tranquil you appear while sleeping. Your cheeks aren’t quite as rounded as his, but it made him want to squeeze them from the adorable scenery. He could notice your front teeth, white and permanent hiding behind lips he could only describe as inviting. 

“‘Yeoja’, wake up, your neck will bruise,” he whispered sternly after a few minutes, repeating the ‘wake up’ part until you fluttered you eyes open, coming face to face with the blurry silhouette of Jimin and feeling his hand poke your shoulder, instantly sitting straight up on the chair. Your head turned dizzy with wild colors invading your vision from the sudden abrupt movement as you wiped your eyes harshly to wake yourself up from disorientation. You scratched the back of your head, no longer feeling in space but snapped back to reality. 

Why had you ruined the moment by falling asleep? You wore a frown, but Jimin found it to be more playful than real considering he woke you up and maybe you’re grumpy when tired. You then yawned and covered your mouth respectfully, noticing that Jimin’s chair was sitting that close to yours and getting slightly embarrassed for falling asleep on him like that. The party was still going on inside, but you were ready to flop down a bed and faint from everything that happened. It drained you. 

“Mm, s’rry,” you mumbled incoherently and shot him an apologetic grin, fixing your hair and stretching out the sweater over your cold fingertips while evading it from exposing your unexercised belly. You hope you didn’t drool or snore, that’d be more than traumatizing.

“It’s okay, want me to walk you back to the apartment?” his big round eyes asked you innocently, a side smile curved very warmly over to you in hopes that you agree to let him walk you. Even if the beach is solitary, one never knows what dangers might happen… Okay, maybe he just wants to spend more time with you and won’t say it out loud. Whichever it was, you’d buy the excuse.“I’ll tell the guys you were sleepy and had to leave.”

“Mm-yeah, sure. Sorry I fell asleep, was jus’ tired,” you apologize after getting up and sliding on your sandals from the floor, walking like a penguin as they settled in place and followed Jimin who already began going down the stairway. You were to drowsy to notice you had his blanket still wrapped around your shoulders, but it didn’t take long for it to touch the floor. Jimin chuckled at the sleeping beauty that couldn’t think straight, throwing the blanket on a nearby chair as you walked out.

“I didn’t mind, really. It was rather adorable watching you sleep—Ow!” He whined as you glared at his back and hit the back of his head, thanking the heavens that you're behind him and he won't get to see how flustered he made you feel with just one word. Such bravery you had for being so playful and wicked, he held in the opportunity of pointing it out to you. Your cheeks are probably as red as tomatoes from how hot they felt, knots in your stomach struggling to break free. He’s grabbed more confidence than you expected, you wish he wasn’t so verbal about everything he thought about. You’re back to being stubborn and irritated, no man’s getting rid of that so easily.

The walk had taken much less time than what you figured it would take, strolling quietly around the harmless sand and watching the waves crash again and again along the shore. You didn’t speak at all after what happened up there, didn’t even bother to think about what the other guys were up to or if they even wondered where you two were. You’ll probably have to explain yourself tomorrow to at least one of them or you’ll get scolded like a rebel teenager, but after you make them some hangover-proof breakfast. Jimin’s just a step ahead, taking in the view as well with his hands secured inside his pockets, and you finally see a hint of his forehead exposed when he turned around once. The wind had blown most of his bangs back and even if he thought he looked weird, you were thinking the complete opposite.

And sadly, your destiny was reached and you had to say goodbye to each other for the night. It’s sad to think that only six days were left now and then you’d be completely gone from his existence, with what you both shared today it was clear that you both had something mutual. You can’t help still feel excited for the days to come and see him, it’s the first you’re this excited for anything since. Even your toes trembled in your sandals when you both stopped walking just beside the stairs, playing with your thumbs while Jimin smiled over softly and looked down at your own nervous eyes as you fought to say something, anything. 

“Still tipsy?” you joked, tilting your head so he doesn’t see how much his exposed forehead affected your concentration on his own pair of eyes, coating your bottom lip with your teeth anxiously with just a bead of sweat appearing in your back.

“Nah, not anymore.” He turned to the beach for a moment and then stepped a little closer to you without you noticing since you were sort of caught staring without capturing his proximity. “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow, right? Or are you going to stay cramped up again?” he teased, fluffing his bangs forward while you laughed at his indirect form of wanting to see you again. You had been so stubborn during the day, you clearly missed out on many things and so many opportunities. Tomorrow it might be different, tomorrow you’ll definitely wake up early to not disappoint him.

“Hehe, no. I’ll come outside, but I won’t promise anything,” you breathed and swallowed in anticipation, should you simply wave and go up the stairs or…? You have no idea what to do and it’s extra nerve racking to stand there and not talk or even breathe. You’re a bit tense, Jimin could definitely tell from your distracted eyes that pry to glance anywhere but his own. But how could you, when the first-quarter moon had begun to bright up you both just now? Your feet toyed around with the sand in its way, accidentally bumping into his own feet lazily. 

“Y/N, you can look at me, I don’t bite,” he spoke sternly and precisely, almost sounding annoyed. He pronounced your name so surely, as if it was regal. That was all it took for you to follow his voice just as quickly, centered on his immaculate jawline and round chubby chin. Then going up from his opaque lips to his little adorable button nose and finishing off at his—

There wasn’t much need for words, for his brown pupils appeared rather bigger now, lines at his lids less marked and a gaze so steady your legs turned into jello at his mercy. His darker shaded brows hiding behind his lighter hair, completely immersed in your rosy subtle lips without denying it. Your ears seemed to lose their own focus, the ocean’s splashes were silenced and even the translucent whistle of the wind couldn’t fight with how fast your heart was beating in your chest. 

Jimin’s eyes bored into yours after a soft sigh, leaning his head over, tilting it lightly along the way and calmly pressed his full set of lips to the side of your forehead. He let them sit on your temple for a short moment before pulling away, smooch almost inaudible by how light and delicate it had been. The kiss felt hot and burning on your skin, like it missed the momentary stay his wonderful lips had taken ahold of. When you hear a dead leaf breaking in the sand, you realize you had closed your eyes without realizing. You squeezed your hands together to block out the blush, circulation getting lost. Once you blinked open, the menacing stare from earlier was gone and replaced back with his dorky grin that even showed his full set of teeth. 

His heart had its own party over there, skyrocketing while he bit his bottom lip like he could taste you just from the small peck. He found you so interesting, so hidden yet vulnerable. 

And you suddenly felt a confident vibe run through your body, one you haven’t even thought would appear after so long that forces you to smile wildly at this individual. “Goodnight, Jimin,” you chuckled, voice breaking at the end from the overall excitement. As soon as he nodded and turned to walk away, you sprinted up the stairs with no care that you could fall and break your face, you needed to run up there as fast as you could. The slapping of your sandals resonated in Jimin’s eardrums, shaking his head at your weird quirks yet it caused him to turn his head in curiosity. You put the key in the lock and shut the door slowly once you entered the beach complex, body leaning over the door and sliding down in disbelief as you legs caved instantly.

. . . 

Reality hit you like a bombshell as if you had been drunk the entire night and were suddenly remembering everything like a live action movie. Okay, you needed to go over this, step by step—Fuck that. The kiss on the forehead. The stupid kissandomygodyoucan’tbelieveit—

You let out a shaky breath, so angry at yourself for smiling over a lovestruck crush that will only last a week in your presence but you’re too excited to even care. “Oh my god, I’m so—AAAAH!” You yelled into the palms of your hands and kicked the floor with the palms of your feet repeatedly like a child in a tantrum. You're still on the clouds, sleep gone completely as you can only remember how his lips felt on the side of your face. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t wonder how they would feel anywhere else. You thank him for not getting overboard with the affection, it would’ve caused an inner turmoil to experience so many things at once. 

You’re simply taking deep breaths before realizing this is the first time you’ve acted more like yourself. A bit reserved and scared but it’s a start, you feel like a basic college girl right now having relatable problems. And he noticed you for it, you don’t want to fill up negative things inside your mind like assuming he’d only see you cause you had been the only girl here. At this point, you’re too sappy and strangely happy to care for his reasons. 

After a whole five minutes of sitting down and staring at literally nothing but upcoming dreams about tonight, you get up and head for your room. And then there’s an interruption to your jazz music playing on your head, a vibration. Not in patterns like an ordinary phone call, just sharp and alone. One little vibration. Your ears tickle with the sudden sound, cause you didn’t feel it on the bed or anywhere on you. Your brows then furrowed, trying to spot where it comes from. You raised your chin from your sitting position of the bed, looking at the cabinet which had a faint light flickering on and off. 

Oh, that’s right, it was your cellphone you hadn’t used in forever. The buzz still lingered, shoving you into temptation.

Without a care in the world, you toss away the sheet and get up to check out what had popped up. But it was weird, you thought nobody had a cellular signal down here to begin with, so you had left it sitting there on the counter since you arrived this morning. The blinding reflection of the device hurt your vision until you can tap the brightness away, pinching your eyes almost shut to be able to comprehend the notifications you had received with a little green bubble on the left side of your lock screen. Only one bar of mobile service. Unlocking the device grants you a number you don’t have registered with any sort of name, causing you to be even more skeptical. That is, until you started reading.

  (***)-***-****: Hey there, baby girl. I know it’s been a while since we talked but I wanted to let you know I’ll be in town next week for a couple of days if you want to meet and hang out for a bit. I know I was a total jerk but I’ve been thinking about you lately and the fun we had together, remember? Anyways, I’ll send you my address since you never told me where you lived in the first place. Hop a text if you’ll come down, love. —JTW

The phone fell to the floor.

You gasped, hearing it bang against the floor with a thump and your mouth gaped open. No words came out, you could only gag. Your jaw clenched with anger, there’s a sharp pain in your chest fighting to breathe properly. A small tinge of fear on your throat begged you to let out a shaky breath, and the text hadn’t been threatening but upon reading the initials, you knew exactly who it was from. It hadn’t been the only weird messages from random guys laying around your DMs, but this one in particular, had more than the others. This held a story, just a reply away from being unraveled and taken out of a bookshelf to be read.

“You... son of a bitch,” you whispered and threw yourself down on the bed, leaving the phone on the floor not giving a fuck whether it cracked its screen or not. You’re now beginning to have a headache from applying so much pressure to your jaw with your teeth, hot tears forcing themselves to come and eat you alive just as the text had done. You hate yourself for crying, for being so stupid, but it’s there, done for. The flashbacks barged on your door with loud bangs and bitter tastes of dark wine on the roof of your mouth, tired of being so weak from a simple note written on your phone but it had been long since you received something from that man. 

Regret. You referred to that day as it was. You let the salty drops of water flow freely from your lids as you try to sleep properly with the anxiety, but it’s no use. You’re still wide awake, trying to go numb as you would do alone in your apartment anytime he tried to contact you. How could you sleep now? Knowing you were far from being normal, from feeling like yourself without a tormenting disgust of yourself.

You let out a sigh when the tears had stopped and you could relax your thoughts better. You kept looking for pictures of Jimin, of his sweet smile and sparkly eyes. Tried to remember how his hair felt on your shaky palms, cooing you into the mini-nap he let you have right there next to him as he whispered sweet nothings to your ear. He was humming a tune you don’t know of, but it was catching up on your head with its strange soothing melody. It helped you inhale without worry, the thought of him taking a leap himself when he left you that kiss. The only thing holding you back from falling into another breakdown is knowing you’ll see him tomorrow, that you’re going to have fun together. How pathetic to know that just by thinking of him, imagining his gentle personality and soul, it was enough to calm you down.  

The drapes were pinched open just the slightest, allowing some of the blues from the reflecting moon to dull you further into tranquility as you watched his made up constellations and burst a soft, bitter giggle. It took a while, but you managed to close your eyes willingly, praying that tomorrow came faster and the week would be infinite. 

—If only he wished the same way.—you thought to yourself, unable to dream of the moments you wanted to relive and settled for a dull good night sleep. Little did you know, the young man had trouble sleeping himself; either from the noise of his new friends dry heaving on the toilet from booze, or simply because he got more than what he bargained for with a nice lovely stranger. Be it from his happy stroll or the pain in his permanent smile, Jimin definitely wanted to dream of you.

And you had six more days left to do so.

[iwhumpyou]

Secrets (Part 3)

Masterlist.  Bastard.

Taglist: @whumps-the-word

Part 2.

~#~#~#~#~#~

It had been three days since the attack and every time Mercia had checked on her, the girl (she had a name) had been asleep.  Given Reina’s sometimes foolhardy inability to quit, the fact that she hadn’t already disappeared to help with the repair work led Mercia to the conclusion that the girl hadn’t woken up yet.

At least, until she saw that the water jug was half-empty.  No one else dared to enter her quarters, not even her children, so she set the jug back on the table and drifted to the bed.

Reina looked peacefully asleep.  The furrow between her eyebrows had smoothened out and the vivid red of her rune tattoos had faded to a more muted color.  The dark circles under her eyes had lessened somewhat and the visible bruises now looked more yellow than green.

“Feigning sleep would probably be more convincing if you didn’t clench your jaw,” Mercia said softly, watching as the girl’s expression tightened a fraction more.  Her breathing continued, slow and deep, as if in wounded pride, but Mercia simply waited.

Finally, brown eyes slowly blinked open, fixing on her as the blankness of her expression stole over more of her face.  Reina made no move to get up, merely tilting her head to look at her better.

“How are you feeling?”

The girl considered the question for a long moment, her eyes not moving from Mercia’s face.  “I’m fine,” she said, which was a blatant lie. The tattoos weren’t black again, which meant they were still painful and raw and her innate healing automatically directed magic along those familiar pathways.  Not to mention, if Mercia had done half of what Reina had done in seventy-two hours, she’d feel like pummeled clay after she woke up.

Mercia hummed, “If I can’t trust you to report your health honestly, I’m afraid I’ll have to be slightly more…direct.”

The girl frowned at her and Mercia busied herself by checking her stores of potions, letting the girl form her own conclusions about what Mercia meant.

“I’m tired,” Reina said, slightly softer.  Mercia made no visible reaction.  “My muscles are sore.”  Mercia waited her out.  “My tattoos hurt,” she said, her voice lower than a whisper.

“Anything else?” Mercia hummed, waiting expectantly.  The girl hadn’t mentioned the wounds yet.

There was a flash of something in the girl’s eyes and her next words were in a tone Mercia had never heard.  “Why do you care?” the girl hissed, part irritation, part spite, part wounded pride.

“You are my ward,” Mercia said, letting the tone slide.

The girl scoffed at that, her opinion clear, before meeting Mercia’s gaze with narrowed dark eyes. “You hate me,” she said.  It was a simple statement of fact.

“I don’t,” Mercia said. The girl herself – no, Mercia had nothing against her.  Reina was surprisingly well-mannered compared to the rest of her children.  What Mercia hated was the way she saw Diana’s face every time she looked at her.  The memory of her sister and her husband and the awful things they’d done to her, to their children, to the country. 

“You promised to torture me if I didn’t give you a list of Sebastian’s wounds,” the girl said, her eyes dark.  Better the vitriol come out then stay in.  “You didn’t care about my health when you told me to guide you through the mountain pass in the middle of the night.”

“I was concerned about my son’s welfare,” Mercia said, even as her cheeks burned, “You could’ve told me that you were unable to make the trip.”

Reina didn’t look like she was listening.  “You told me that my punishment for letting Seb be kidnapped was going to ensure no one ever let such a thing happen again.  Why are you waiting for me to be healed?  So it will hurt more?”

She had said that, hadn’t she.  Mercia felt another pang.  Lyra used to always say that she let her temper get the better of her.

“You look disgusted every time you see me.  You can’t stand to be in my presence.  You insult me every chance you get and now you claim to care?  I am tired of playing this game.  If you want an excuse to get rid of me, just go ahead.”  She turned her head the other side, quite definitely ending her part of the conversation.  She made no move to get out of the bed and Mercia mentally reassessed her opinion of the girl’s injuries.

“I don’t look disgusted every time I see you,” but Mercia could see how it could be mistaken for that. She sighed, warring with herself whether or not to reveal the truth, but it had been spoken once already and it was easier to say it another time.  “You look very much like Diana.  Or what she would’ve looked like.”

“Diana?” Reina was curious enough to turn back, frowning, “Who is Diana?”

Mercia suppressed the part of her that was screaming that the bastard didn’t deserve to say her name, that this girl, whose birth only compounded her pain and her depression, would never hear her story.  “Diana was my youngest child,” she said, and it took everything she had so her voice didn’t waver.  Her expression she couldn’t control, however, and some of the anger in Reina’s face leeched away.  “She died hours after she was born.”  She forced herself to take slow, deep breaths.  “My husband wasn’t there.  He was on the other side of the country, watching his lover give birth to his bastard – an event he clearly thought was more important.”

“Me,” Reina whispered softly and Mercia didn’t know whether it was a question or a realization.

“She died and I was alone,” Mercia said softly, “And then he died and there was nowhere my anger could go. And then you show up, looking like what she would’ve looked like.”  Like what Mercia and Lyra looked like when they were younger, so similar that they could’ve been twins.

Her voice was so soft she could barely hear it, an admission she hadn’t made to her own son.  “I thought you were Diana, the first time I saw you.”  She couldn’t look at the bastard’s face, she couldn’t, because whatever was there would break her.  “I buried her myself but hope is a dangerous thing.”  So, so very dangerous and Mercia had taken the despair and turned it into anger so she wouldn’t slide back into the pit she had spent so many years climbing out of.  “But you weren’t, and that disappointment was…crushing.” 

She lifted her gaze to the bastard girl, who was watching her with something like pity and a part of Mercia burned but the other recognized that she had the right.  “I don’t hate you.  But yes, I’ve said some hateful things.  You are a reminder of the most difficult night I’ve ever had, of the people I trusted betraying me.  I cannot help but remember every time I see your face.  I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have said those things to hurt you.  You are my ward and it is my job to take care of you as your parents have not. Whatever else you may think of me, I do not want you hurt.” 

The look in the girl’s eyes was hesitant, wary, but a far sight from the coldness Mercia had seen since the first time she’d called the girl bastard.  And then her eyes shuttered again and Mercia frowned at the girl’s glare.

“How did you know what she’d look like?” Reina asked hoarsely.  All of the anger was back and Mercia wasn’t sure why.

“Excuse me?”

“Diana,” Reina said, and something in her expression shifted.  “Your – your daughter,” she said, her voice softer, “You said she’d – that I looked like what she would look like if she…”  Reina swallowed.  “How do you know?”  There was sorrow in her eyes but there was suspicion as well, which was fair, but Mercia wasn’t much inclined to being fair right now.

The girl had hit the heart of the matter in seconds.  Seconds.

Mercia couldn’t think of an explanation that would suffice, but the truth was…the truth was almost too painful to say aloud.

She recognized that she was standing on a precipice.  If she was honest about treating the girl better, if she was honest about being a just ruler to all her subjects…

Well, she wasn’t going to be the girl’s mother.  (No, her mother had abandoned her, just hours old, when Mercia would’ve given anything for another babe to be placed in her hands to cancel out the memory of cold, dead flesh.)

“Diana looked very much like my sister,” Mercia said finally, because if this girl wasn’t owed the truth, then who was?

“Your sister?”

“Lady Lyra, of the mountains of Amare.  North of here.  My childhood home.  She was the eldest after me, and she rules the lands now.”  Reina was looking at her, slightly confused, as though she’d never heard of Lyra before. 

It was cold in a way that felt like paranoia but wasn’t.  Not after Mercia had looked at every piece that had presented itself over the years, looked at them and saw the awful picture they presented.  (She wished she say it was a coincidence that Lyra had stopped her visits after Reina had appeared.)

“When Diana was born, she looked very much like my sister.”  Mercia looked over Reina’s features, the way that it resembled a younger Lyra, only with tattoos spiraling along her limbs.  “You look very much like a younger Lyra.”  She reached out a hand, and aborted the movement when Reina flinched, “My husband’s dark eyes, dark hair, dark skin, the tattoos.  But the cheekbones, the curl of your lips. The way you smile, sometimes.” When the bastard smiled in her presence, which was rare.

Reina looked even more sorrowful, but the suspicion seemed to mutate in front of her.  Mercia watched as a dozen expressions chased over her face as Reina frowned.

“I don’t understand,” she said quietly, “I’m your husband’s illegitimate child.  Why would I look like your sister?”

Mercia didn’t know how to answer that, but it seemed like the expression on her face was answer enough. Reina sucked in a sharp breath, her eyes going wide.

“You said my parents died,” Reina said.

“That seems to be the general consensus,” Mercia said quietly, “It was a war, so no one looked too closely, but a birthing bed flooded with blood, a dead lord, and a missing babe – the pieces were easy enough to put together.”

“And your sister lives in the mountains,” Reina said – some sort of realization seemed to be stealing across her face, and she was getting angrier and sadder by turns.

“She does.”

“Does she ever…come here? To visit you?”  The words were a shade too nonchalant.

“She and her family visit often.”

Reina sucked in another sharp breath.  In a quiet, almost-silent whisper, that Mercia had to strain to hear and wasn’t sure if she was supposed to hear at all, Reina asked, “When is the last time she visited?”  She spoke in a tone that sounded like she wanted nothing more than to hear the answer, but at the same time, she would prefer it if she never got one.

Mercia sighed, “A month before you arrived at my gates.”

“She has a family,” Reina said, and it wasn’t a question.  It was resignation, the same that Mercia had seen in her eyes when she’d pressed the bottle to her lips.  It was a bitter feeling that Mercia knew well, that no one cared about you so why bother caring about yourself?

Mercia had had five children who had needed her.  A land that needed her, fresh from war.  What did a bastard girl have, aside from ties of obligation and duty?

“A consort and three young sons.”

~#~

Part 4.

[x0401x]

Animate Times Interview with Jin

An interview about Jin’s third album after five and a half years – in this album, there is nothing but “people cannot live alone” as the theme.

The third album of the artist Jin-san, “Mekakucity Reload”, hit the shelves on November 7th 2018. The latest album was announced about five years and six months after the release of the second album, “Mekakucity Records”, so it gathered a great amount of expectations and attention from the fans.

We have carried out an interview with Jin-san! We asked him about the feelings he has put into each composition, about what to pay mind to when listening to the songs, and about episodes that ensued during the recordings. This has turned into a interview in which Jin-san’s peculiar sense and thoughts, as well as his strong emotions towards his fans, can be felt.

Translations Index >>

Approaching Jin-san’s void of five and a half years.

――A period of five years and six months passed between the release of the second album “Mekakucity Records” and third album “Mekakucity Reload”.

Jin-san (henceforth “Jin”): To begin with, Kagerou Project were songs that I made for people fretting over friendships. When delivering my works to these people, I had this feeling that I didn’t want to create compositions while I was at a loss, you see. I didn’t want to lie to the fans.

――What exactly does your “not wanting to lie” mean?

Jin: For example, I don’t want to make songs that go, “It’s fun to be alive!” when I’m actually thinking that I don’t want to do anything. I believe talking and laughing with people in the times when I don’t feel like saying anything or seeing anyone is the same as lying.

From that point onward, I thought of displaying the righteousness that I have in mind and did my best to try writing the novels. Lately, I’m also in this flow of meeting people that I want to make music with, getting enthusiasm from them and tackling my song compositions.

――Meaning that, rather than obsessing over a new shape, you wanted to do what you hadn’t been able to?

Jin: That’s right. The models I used to make in elementary school look completely different from the ones I make now, but it’s almost like there was no change at all to what I’m doing. In the past, I got dismissed when I talked about what I wanted to do, like, “But this is that kind of thing”, and the frustration from it might have been what created this album.

What I thought while making this album was, “Serves you right; I could do it after all!” (laughs). I’m confident that I became capable of creating works that are even more powered-up than the previous ones.

――Jin-san, what was the biggest reason for your motivation to rise?

Jin: It’s gotta be my encounters with people. Meeting people that had me going, “What would happen if I made something together with them?” was a big deal.

――I think that “relationships between one person and another” is included in Kagerou Project’s themes, but this album was something born from these relationships, wasn’t it?

Jin: There’s relationships between people in it too, but this album has nothing other than “people can’t live alone” as theme. Its appearance is complex, but I think it’s essentially a simple theme. I believed that, if I were honest with myself, I’d be able to make something positive. I think it’s a good theme, if I do say so myself (laughs).

The feelings comprised in the word “reload”.

――Please tell us the concept of this album.

Jin: There’s a composition called “Shissou Word” that I uploaded prior to the sale of the album, and within the song, I sing that “it’s strange how normal things are so difficult”.

Things that I feel to be extremely hard are like breathing to certain people, and they will ask me, “Why can’t you do normal things?”. Understanding the difference in values from being asked something like this was an experience that came across as very difficult.

I also uploaded a song called “Additional Memory” too, and it sings, “I didn’t want to become friends (with you)”. When the protagonist of it must part ways with a certain person, she resents it, like, “I should have done that one thing; why didn’t I say it back then?”

Themes like these are included in all of the songs, and they’re connected to the theme “involvement with people”. There might not have been this kind of concreteness residing in them at first, though.

――Either way, you had the feeling that you wanted to make music lately, right?

Jin: It’s not like I declared, “This time, I want to make an album that will have involvement with people as the theme!” and made it just like that. It feels like, when I actually tried making it, I realized the idenity of something burning within me. When I turn around and look back, I feel that thinking of wanting to make these songs was thanks to my meetings with many people.

――Please tell us the meaning behind the title “Mekakucity Reload”.

Jin: As expected, it would be too shallow a reason if I said that... the word was simply cool (laughs). The word “reload” means “to charge one more time” and “to redo”. There were lots of things left undone in the previous album, so this time, I wanted to make something that definitely wouldn’t leave behind any lingering attachments.

The title “Mekakucity Reload” is close to a revenge of my creative viewpoint. There’s also the fact that I’d wanted to face my highly fervorous pieces once again and make this into a work in which I was fighting my past self.

I want each person to think of what meaning the word “reload” carries from the values, world-building and story of this work.

――Jin-san, to you, this album turned out as a work for kids and teens, didn’t it?

Jin: That’s right. It’s really a work packed with heat, and to me, these compositions make one think that they’re really meaningful, so I’d like people to prepare themselves when listening to them.

He wants to aim for the depiction of “something like the fourth grade of elementary school” instead of second year of middle school.

――What kind of relationship does this album have with “Kagerou Project”?

Jin: I think that the newest philosophies that I didn’t manage to portray in the other stories have been inserted into it in a raw way. My manner of depiction has also changed in comparison to before, so I think the accuracy and strength of my music has stood out as well.

I wonder if I was able to express with great fervor the hidden feelings of each Kagerou Project character through this. In particular, we have the theme of “future” this time as well, and the characters are gradually growing into adults.

――It’s been five and a half years since the last album, after all.

Jin: As a story, it was a tale about children who fought in the summer, but I’m in this trend of starting to contemplate positive themes such as “the future”, and that’s also linked to quitting being a child. As they grow up, it almost feels like they cease to be the main characters of the story.

When I uploaded the songs, I had the impression that they resonated very vividly with the fans. Seeing those reactions, I was relieved that this album turned out as the driving content of Kagerou Project.

――If the characters end up becoming adults, will they lose the “chuunibyou-ish” coolness that they’ve had until now?

Jin: I’m often told that my songs are chuunibyou-like, but I actually want to be told that they’re “like fourth grade of elementary school” (laughs). I don’t want them to be thought of as the second year of middle school, but as something younger.

My use of a chuunibyou-ish portrayal is a metaphor in a way, because when I try to picture the aspects of becoming an adult, it turns out feeling like the second year of middle school no matter what.

The sense of children becoming adults and of youth coming to an end has properly resonated with the fans. I think that the emotional of someone turning into adult gains empathy in deep portions.

――I see. I’m looking forward to how Kagerou Project will develop from now on.

Jin: I think that, as the fans also become adults, their way of reading and interpreting the lyrics gradually changes. Growing into an adult means that there’s a possibility of new people coming along, and from now on, I’m thinking of continuing Kagerou Project as a story of children too.

I believe that, through the appearances of new characters, the viewpoint of Kagerou Project will become one that I hadn’t been able to depict until now.

His song-making does not deliberately tell everything, leaving room for imagination.

――What kind of song is the lead song “Additional Memory”?

Jin: I’d wanted to write about passionate sentiments in a way that would vividly pierce through people. This is also one of the things I hadn’t been able to portray in my past works.

――The production of the piano performance and the sounds strummed by the electric guitar approaching each other in alternation was impresive.

Jin: I myself had the feeling that I managed to apply my ideas to this production smoothly. Comparing to before, rather than saying I earned a new technique, I worried with all my might about how I’d express my sound. I made Additional Memory by prodding into a vivid form of expression nore thoroughly than in the past. Even if I compare it to all my compositions of until now, this was the one that took most time to create.

Also, the one who shows up in this song is the character named Ayano, and I was able to depict in it her inner thoughts, which I hadn’t managed to describe with any of the other Kagerou Project lyrics up to this point.

――What does that mean?

Jin: Until now, if I wanted to talk about ten things, I’d say ten things. But, in this song, in order to convey ten things, I only talked of about six. However, I think that the passionate sentiments comprehended in the song are being transmitted to the fans.

I was thinking that the piercing feelings and regret, as well as the moratorium swirling throughout the environment that surrounds the protagonist, looked intense. I want to expose six things instead of talking about ten, and let people imagine the other four.

――Was it not difficult to make a song without saying everything?

Jin: It’s difficult and takes time, and I also needed a period to cool myself down for it. Amongst the albums, I have the feeling I made a song that thrusts in a great amount of regret and moratoriums. It’s also a song that pictures an aspect of the story that I hadn’t been able to write about until now, so I think it’s easy to sympathize with the emotions in it.

His desire not to betray the fans was what led the album to completion.

――There’s an original manga with a story written by you, Jin-san, in this album’s Limited Edition A, right?

Jin: It’s a story in which the character named Kokonose Haruka goes around asking his companions, “What are friends?”. The mangaka Saiyuki-sensei is in charge of the art, and I consider this person to be one of the important friends that I met in these last five years. Meeting him became one of the triggers for me to think that I wanted to make this album.

That’s why, if you ask me why the special edition comes with a manga, I’d say it’s largely because I’d wanted to create something together with him. I wonder if my and Saiyuki-sensei’s portrayal managed to turn into a work that will shake everyone’s hearts. It’s a must-read content.

――The Limited Edition B has accoustic versions of four songs played and sung by you, but what songs are these?

Jin: They’re Shissou Word, Lost Day Hour, Remind Blue and Wasurete Shimatta Natsu no Owari ni. Of course, there’s the fact that they match my own voice and synergy, but I think these four songs feel good to listen to when I sing to my accompainments.

――How was singing them yourself?

Jin: It was my first time singing to while playing, and even as I myself listened to the finished songs, I couldn’t find the right answer. If you ask me why I sang them then, it’s because I’ve met people whom I believe I can entrust my songs to. I was happy that they would ask me, “Isn’t it fine to deliver it like that?”, so I have the feeling that, as I thought, my connections with people were a big deal in this.

――The second season of the TV anime Mekakucity Actors was announced back in 2016, so how will this album work with it from now on?

Jin: Just like with the music, I have this thinking that I don’t want to do things half-assedly. I also met people that made me think, “I want to do it with this team”, so I hope the fans can wait with high expectations.

Also, from now on, I believe I’ll be able to convey new things to everyone through manga and novels for Kagerou Project. It looks like I’m coming up with stuff leisurely since I took a few years’ time, but I’m surprisingly producing them in a hurry (laughs).

I took this time in order to make it into a good work, and I think I’ll be able to release works in a quicker span next time. I’d be happy if you could look forward to them.

――Meaning that, for the fans, it was worth the wait.

Jin: I think children are fighting right now. In this album is my desire for it to be a trigger so that these kids will carry the feeling of never giving up. I’ll be happy if this work can make the people who listen to it smile.

I took a long while until I was able to release a work that I could proceed with by not lying to myself. I want you to have faith in this album and listen to it.

――Thank you very much.