#but if something goes wrong with the heating solution my parents found i would end up with no way to work and no way to

[coffeeworldsasaki]

I want to do other things but I'm forced to finish my second glove 😠

[marshmallow-phd]

Book of the Dead

Genre: The Mummy AU

Pairing: Junmyeon x Reader

Summary: After traveling to the fabled city of Hamunaptra, you read from the Book of the Dead and accidentally resurrect an ancient mummy with extraordinary powers and quest for revenge. The only thing to do now is try and convince your less-than-traditional guide to help you save the world. 

Part 1 I Part 2

**

“I just said a few sentences!”

“What did you do that for!”

“Well, I didn’t know that that would happen!”

You stared at the aggravating, self-absorbed, cocky Korean soldier and wondered why on earth you had decided to negotiate for this man’s life. 

Alright, you did know why. You needed him to show you to Hamunuptra - the fabled City of the Dead. 

Too many times you had stood in front of the museum curator with pages and pages of references and evidence that the place existed and just needed a small team of archeologists in order to track it down. He’d shot you down every time. And each time he took the liberty of reminding you that while your father was an exceptional explorer who had many successes under his belt, you were a woman whose life had been spent between the shelves, cataloging. Your adventures consisted of the fictional kind, devouring any novel you could when you weren’t archiving the latest crate of artifacts and texts. 

Then your cousin showed up. Your normally useless, hare-brained, erratic, drunkard cousin showed up at your apartment with a “fun new artifact” he found on his latest trip. And suddenly your luck had completely turned around. 

Or so you thought. 

Now you were standing in the middle of Hamunaptra, feet sinking into the unstable sand, with an empty sarcophagus and everyone blaming you because you did what you did best - read.

It was only a book. Albeit, a very heavy, possibly-made-of-painted-solid-gold book that was written in the dead language of ancient Egypt, but still. What harm had ever come from reading a book?

Kim Junmyeon stared at you as if you were the one who had risen from the dead. You were still stunned at how different he looked from when you had first met him in that smelly prison, minutes away from being hanged. His hair had been long and stringy, clumps of dirt clinging to the dark brown strands that brushed his shoulders. Now it was shorter, cut above his ears and gelled back in the current style that almost made him look like a gentleman. The several days’ stubble was long gone to reveal smooth skin and a sharp jawline. He was actually very handsome - when he was cleaned up. 

Stupid, you hissed at yourself. Now was not the time for this. Because right now there seemed to be a reanimated mummy running around here. And by the looks of Barney’s husk of a body lying deep within the temple underground, it was hungry. 

As it should be, given the three thousand years it spent locked up under piles of sand. 

“Really, you should have been more careful!” your cousin, Baekhyun, scolded. 

You scoffed. “You’re one to talk. You were the one who snatched the key off of Mr. Kim here at one of your seedy bars and then proceeded to lie to me and say that you found it on a dig in Thebes which in turn brought us here!”

Baekhyun opened and closed his mouth as he searched for a possible retort. 

“I think this is more your fault,” Kim Junmyeon’s own cousin and traveling partner, Oh Sehun, said. “You told us to go down a level and dig under the statue, which in turn,” he mocked your tone almost precisely, “caused the mummy to be able to get out of his sarcophagus. If we had dug somewhere else entirely, then he’d still be trapped under the statue of Anubis.”

“Despite the fact that it was two layers deep, nothing would have been able to hold a victim of the Hom-Dai.”

“Would have given poor Barney a chance,” Kim Junmyeon muttered under his breath. You shot him a glare that he hardly noticed. 

“I say that we get out of here and to the safety of the city before the mummy finds us.” Oh Sehun swallowed thickly. “Or worse. The beetles find us.” The supposedly brave soldier who had two pistols hanging under each arm was more terrified of the flesh eating bugs than he was the living mummy that was bringing about the ten plagues of Egypt. You’d already lived through the locust infestation, but that was always the most minor of the plagues. In your opinion. 

“We told you to leave,” Ardeth said in that low, monotone voice that made him seem centuries old. You had only known him for a few hours, but you already feared and respected him. Despite the fact that he had attacked your campsite the night before. “Now you have condemned the whole world to the very monster that we have spent three thousand years keeping hidden.”

Kim Junmyeon finally tore his face away from yours. “I told you. I shot him. He went down.”

“Mortal weapons are useless against this creature. None can kill him.” Stepping up, he stood toe to toe with the soldier who led you here. “A gun is nothing more than a fly to him. He will never eat. He will never sleep. And he will never stop. Not until this world is only sand.”

Though still not completely backing down, Kim Junmyeon took hold of your arm. “Come on. We’re going back to Cairo.”

**

The camel ride back to the city was long, tiring, and a bit painful, if you were honest. The inside of your thighs were sore from keeping you up right on the animal’s back for hours on end under the blazing heat. You were used to the comfortable back seat of a car, even if the roads here tended to be on the bumpier side. Kim Junmyeon stayed at your side the entire time, up until you were back in your hotel room. All your things were still in there. That was nice, even if it was to be expected. The desk clerk had sworn he would keep the room reserved for you until you made it back. And now that you had, you were on to the next fight. 

“We’re not going anywhere!” 

Kim Junmyeon pretended not to hear you as he started emptying the dresser drawers of your clothes and stuffing them in your suitcases lying open on the bed.

“Excuse me! I said we’re not going anywhere!” As soon as he stepped away again, you slammed the suitcase shut. A stray white cat that you didn’t have the heart to remove from your room took advantage of the newly available space and laid down on the surface of the luggage. Unbothered by the argument taking place in its presences, it purred as it curled into a ball and closed its eyes. 

“You keep using the word ‘we’ and I’m not sure why,” he said. “I believe you were the one who woke him up in the first place.”

“Yes, I get it!” you shouted. “Everyone can blame me because I read the damn book, but that is why we need to stop him.”

He closed the empty drawer and turned back around to face you. “And how exactly do you plan on doing that? You heard Ardeth. No mortal weapon can kill this guy.”

“That’s why we’re going to find some immortal ones.”

He pulled a pair of rounded glasses from his pocket, wiped the lenses with his shirt, and stuck them on the bridge of his nose. “There goes that ‘we’ business again.”

You huffed, trying not to focus on the newest version of the soldier now being presented in front of you. “Yes, we. Because this curse will continue to get worse until the whole world is destroyed.”

“And that’s my problem?”

“It is everybody’s problem! You live here, too!”

Kim Junmyeon stepped up until he was mere inches away. “Listen. I appreciate you saving my life and all, but when I agreed to this idiotic mission my objective was to show you the way and then bring you back here. I have done that. End of job. End of story. Contract terminated.”

You tried not to show how his last few words affected you. Though you had been a little intoxicated two nights ago, you still very much remembered how sweet he had been, how he had listened to you go on and on about your parents and how much you wanted to be a famous adventurer like your father. And how you almost kissed him. And how he was going to kiss you back. Stupidly, you had thought that there was something growing between you. Apparently, you had been wrong. 

“Is that all I am to you?” you whispered. “A contract?”

Kim Junmyeon blew out haughtily from his nose. His Adam’s Apple bobbed as he swallowed. He opened his mouth and then closed it. You waited in hopes that he would contradict you. That he would say, no that was not all you were to him. And it really seemed like he would be saying something along those lines. But other words came out instead. 

“Look. You can either come with me or you can try and stay here and save the world. So. What’s it going to be?”

You didn’t even hesitate. “I’m staying.”

“Fine.” He headed for the door. 

“Fine,” you bit back, following him. 

“Fine,” he threw at you again as he barely glanced over his shoulder.

“Fine!”

“Fine!” 

He got the last word in before slamming the door to your room shut. 

You huffed as you crossed your arms. Yet, as angry as you were, you still hoped that he would come back. That he wouldn’t let you take this on alone. But the footsteps on the other faded away and you were alone.

Looking around your room, you didn’t think there was much you could do. So, you did what you were best at. You grabbed all the books you thought could help you and got to reading. 

While sitting in the wicker chair in the corner, you skipped around the books and pages, clinging on to any small word that you thought could lead you to a possible solution. There wasn’t much to be found, unfortunately. Most works spoke of how to perform the Hom-Dai and how it should never be performed due to the curse that awaits should the victim ever be awakened. You already knew that. You needed specifics on what to do after the victim came back. 

“(Y/n)!”

Kim Junmyeon came bursting back into your room. You slammed the book in your hands closed, feeling very high and mighty indeed.

“Ah. Mr. Kim. Have you changed your mind?”

“Doesn’t matter now, he’s here!”

“What!”

He didn’t clarify as he hoisted you up out of the chair and pulled you out of the room, and into the hall. Through the windows, you watched in horror as fire fell from the heavens. The balls of flame engulfed anything it touched when it landed, whether it be plant or human life. Turning a corner, Kim Junmyeon ran into a room you knew was occupied by another one of the Americans that you had ran into on your way to Hamunaptra. You gasped. 

In the chair, now nothing more than dried, husky skin and hollow bones was… oh, dear you couldn’t remember his name. You hadn’t bothered to learn them. You and Baekhyun had simply referred to them as the “Bloody Americans”. You were feeling a bit awful about that at the moment. 

But you didn’t have much time to dwell on that. Standing in front of the fireplace was a new version of the mummy. His skin was starting to come together, though patches were still missing, allowing you to see the gray bone and lack of organs underneath. Kim Junmyeon pulled out both of his guns as the mummy stalked forward. 

“We are in deep trouble,” he murmured before opening fire. The loud pops banged on your poor eardrums. You stumbled back a few steps to try and soften their blows. It didn’t work. 

The bullets passed through the mummy as if they didn’t exist at all. Even when Oh Sehun and the other Americans came running into the room and firing off their own guns, the mummy still kept going. He shoved Kim Junmyeon back into the others as if he were nothing more than old wrappings. Then he turned on you. 

Completely unarmed, you stumbled back until you were betrayed by the bookshelf behind you. There was nowhere to run. Instead of sucking out your liver, however, he spoke. 

“You were the one who saved me from the afterlife.” His words were haunting, echoing as if he was speaking in a cavern. And the language he spoke… ancient Egyptian. You weren’t sure why you expected to speak anything else. Coming in closer, he lowered his voice. “I thank you.” 

He leaned in his head, those very human eyes lowering to your lips. You turned your head away to try and avoid the kiss, confused as to why he was trying to seduce you. 

Sharp, unpleasing notes from the piano pierced through the air. The mummy turned and gasped when he saw the white cat from your room walking across the keys. In a whirl of sand, he fled from the room. 

“Oh, thank god,” you said with a heavy breath.

“No kidding,” Kim Junmyeon groaned as he sat up. 

You ran to his side, fearful that he might have been injured. “Are you alright, Mr. Kim?”

“Yes,” he huffed. With a very odd expression, he added, “And I told you to call me Junmyeon.”

To be honest, after your fight, you didn’t think you would be allowed to anymore. A strange silence settled between you. He was trying to say something with his gaze, but you couldn’t interpret it. So, instead, you helped him to his feet. “Come on. I know who we need to talk to about all of this.”

It took a while to get back to the museum that had employed you for the past year or so. Every street was full of panicking people. Flames no longer fell from the heavens, but little fires still raged on homes and carts. The Americans had declared that they were coming along, so your group was slower in moving. Although you didn’t really want the mummy bait to be anywhere near you, Junmyeon and Sehun decided that it would be better to keep an eye on them and - hopefully - keep them out of the mummy’s grasp. 

“Dr. Bey!” You ran into the museum’s main storage room, happy when you saw the curator. But then you skidded to a stop at the sight that he wasn’t alone. 

Ardeth was talking with him in hushed tones that stopped the second you appeared. Both men turned towards you, the curator wearing a very readable expression. It was one that stunk of “I told you so”. The others were only a few steps behind. As soon they, too, saw the unexpected visitor, Junmyeon, Sehun, and the Americans pulled out their guns while Baekhyun simply squeaked in surprise. 

“Gentlemen,” Dr. Bey greeted as if this were any old meeting on a Tuesday. 

“What is he doing here?” Junmyeon demanded. Even with the black tattoos etched under Ardeth’s eyes, you could tell that he was tired, dark circles from lack of sleep bruising his skin. 

Dr. Bey raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure you want to know? Or perhaps you would prefer to just shoot us?”

“Either sounds good.” Junmyeon cocked back the hammer of one of his guns for emphasis. 

“Stop it,” you hissed. “Bullets won’t do any good here. Besides, you might damage some of the artifacts.”

Junmyeon failed to suppress a laugh over your concern. Despite the present danger, you still didn’t want to see the carriages or sacred jars damaged because someone got trigger happy. So, Junmyeon holstered his guns and the others soon followed suit. “All right. I’ll give a little faith.”

Dr. Bey motioned for the group to follow him in deeper. “We’re part of a secret society-”

“Aren’t they all?” Baekhyun muttered. Both you and Dr. Bey shot him glares that made him snap his mouth shut. 

“For over three thousand years, we have guarded the City of the Dead. Once we reach manhood, we swear an oath to do anything and everything in our power to stop the high priest Imhotep from rising from the grave.”

“And now we have failed. Thanks to you.” Ardeth gave you a particularly pointed look. 

By now, you were getting very irritated with the constant finger pointing. What was done was done. You were not going to show him any cowardice. “And that justifies the murder of innocent people?” 

“Hm. To stop this creature?” Dr. Bey pretended to think for a moment. “Yes.”

Junmyeon, untroubled by that, raised his hand from the golden seat of a dead royal that he had taken over. “I have a question. Why doesn’t he seem to like cats?”

“Cats are the guardians of the underworld. He will fear them until he reaches full regeneration.”

“Then there will be nothing that he fears.” Worry was very much apparent in the soldier’s voice.

“And you know how he gets regenerated?” one of the Americans asked rhetorically. 

The other one finished. “By tracking those of us down who opened the chest and sucking us dry like a nomad in the desert, that’s how!”

It was completely pointless to go over the things that were already known. Now was the time to try and piece the unused parts together. Two particular moments were sticking out in your head. 

“Back in Hamunaptra, the priest - Imhotep - he called me Ack-Su-Namun. And then just now at the hotel, he….” You cringed at the memory, thankful that you didn’t have to feel the decomposed skin against your own. “He tried to kiss me.”

“It’s because of Anck-Su-Namun and his love for her that he was cursed,” Dr. Bey explained, exchanging a look with Ardeth. “Even after all this time….”

“He’s still in love with her?” Sehun finished with a scoff. 

You appreciated the backstory, however - “As romantic as that is, what does that have to do with me?”

“Perhaps he will try to raise her from the dead once again?” Ardeth guessed. 

“Yes,” Dr. Bey agreed solemnly. “And it would seem that he has already chosen his human sacrifice.”

All eyes in the room turned to you. Wonderful. 

Not only were you the one who read from the book and raised him, but you would also be responsible for the return of his beloved, who was the reason he was cursed in the first place. Absolutely beautiful. 

Baekhuyn came up behind you and patted your shoulder. “That is some rotten luck, dear cousin.”

“Actually, this could work in our favor,” Dr. Bey countered. “It could give us time that we desperately need to kill the creature.”

“We’ll need every second, I think,” Sehun said. He pointed towards the ceiling. “I think he’s getting stronger.”

Through the large window high up on the wall, the sun was in clear view. You all watched in horror as the moon moved too quickly across the sky and blocked the light from reaching Earth. 

“I’m guessing this is the plague of darkness?” Baekhyun said ominously. You nodded slowly. 

“Let’s go,” Junmyeon said softly beside you, his hand coming up protectively behind your back. “We’ve got to get back to the hotel and come up with a plan.”

**

“I’m just saying, it seems very stupid to comdem someone to a curse when the result of that would be for them to come back a supernatural creature who is practically unkillable.”

“The ancient Egyptians believed in balance,” you explained to Baekhyun for the hundredth time in your life. “To curse someone so badly in both this life and the next, there has to be a consequence to balance out the scales. If not, then the whole world could still fall apart, in even worse ways!”

“All of this is kind of pointless now, isn’t it?” Sehun sighed from the small table in the antechamber to your room. His feet were up on the polished surface as he leaned back in his seat. A look of irritation was etched on his face as he stared at your cousin. “What’s done is done. Right now, we need to focus on our next step.”

“Well, I know you two,” you pointed to the Americans, “opened the chest. As well as Barney. Was there anyone else?”

“The Egyptologist that was with us,” the shaggier one answered. “Professor Chamberlain. He has a temporary residence a few blocks over.”

“What about my best friend Beni?” Junmyeon asked. You nearly snorted. You knew the two of them were anything but friends.

“No. He ran out before we took the lid off. Ended up saving his own skin.”

“Sounds like Beni,” Junmyeon said dryly. “Okay. We’re going to go get the Professor. You four,” he pointed to all the men, “come with me. You, stay here.”

Oh, no you weren’t. “Excuse me! I am just as capable as any of them are. I will not- What do you think you’re doing!”

Junmyeon marched over to you, picked you up, and carried you over his shoulder until you were in your room. Then he dropped you on the floor, closed the door, and locked it tight. “This door doesn’t open.”

You didn’t know who he said it to, who he left in charge of watching you like an infant. It didn’t matter. You pounded your fist against the solid wood door. “Baekhyun! Junmyeon! Let me out! Baekhyun, you coward! Help me out here!”

“Sorry, cousin!” Baekhyun yelled on the other side of the door. “But… he’s got a gun.”

“Smart choice,” you heard Junmyeon say. Oh, you were going to kill him. Which “him” was yet to be decided. Perhaps both would be most satisfactory. 

Well, now you were stuck here. 

Crossing your arms, you sat on the edge of the bed and contemplated your choices. Not that you had many. 

A yawn forced its way out. You were tired. Over the past few days, you had hardly been able to get any real sleep. And, well, now seemed to be a time. So, you changed into your nightgown and slipped under the covers. The mattress was soft, like a cloud. The pillows were stuffed into freshly cleaned cotton cases. It was barely a few minutes before you drifted off…

And then abruptly woke up to something moving against your mouth. It started out soft but quickly turned ashen and tough. Your eyes flew open and you screamed, the sound muffled by the kiss of Imhotep!

You tried to shove him off, but he didn’t budge. Your touch meant nothing to him as he continued the unwanted kiss. 

The door to your room burst open, finally taking his attention and allowing your scream to be heard at full volume. Imhotep’s face was half rotten away, his lips completely gone, the cheeks held together by thin strips of jerky-like skin. You scrambled out of reach, to try and get as far away as the tiny room would allow. The movement caused you to fall out of the bed and land hard on the wood floor.

Standing up, Imhotep said something in ancient Egyptian, but your jumbled, still half-asleep brain couldn’t translate it. 

“Oh, really?” Junmyeon mocked. “Here’s my answer.” He held up the poor cat who had saved you earlier, the animal hissing threateningly at the mummy. Just like last time, Imhotep fled in a tornado of sand out the window, terrified of the innocent creature. 

“Are you alright?” Junmyeon asked as he let the cat fall from his hands. The cat landed gracefully on its feet and walked over to the bed with more dignity than you’d ever seen a human radiate. 

“Yeah, I’m good,” Baekhyun answered. After a glare from Junmyeon, he cleared his throat. “Oh. You weren’t- that’s fine. Go… check on her.” Junmyeon did just that. 

Kneeling in front of you, he pushed away a few stray hairs that had fallen in your face. Warm, soft brown eyes searched for any sign of harm. The tips of his fingers brushed against your cheek, setting the skin on fire. Or perhaps that was just the blood rushing up to your face in slight embarrassment. This man made you… nervous in a way. He could be dastardly at times, but… also very sweet. 

Clearing your throat, you pushed yourself up to your feet. “I’m fine. A little disgusted, but I’m fine.”

A smirk and knowing gleam flashed on Junmyeon’s face as he rose. “I’m sure mine was better.”

He was referring to the lip-smash he desperately pulled before he was to be dragged to the hangman’s noose. Not exactly the best first impression. 

You snorted. “No. I wouldn’t say that.” His jaw went slack. Sehun and Baekhyun snickered behind him. “Did you find the professor?” you asked in order to change the subject. 

“Yeah. He stayed out in the sun for a little long by the time we found him.”

“What are you-” Oh. Oh. That was why Imhotep was so far along in his regeneration. He’d found another victim to suck dry. 

“And he has the Book of the Dead,” Sehun added. “According to Beni, that’s what he’s going to use to raise Anacsunmum.”

“Anck-Su-Namun,” you corrected. 

“Yeah, her.”

You rolled your eyes. Why did you even bother?

You started pacing the room, trying to figure out what would be the best next move. You couldn’t keep playing hide and seek with the cat for all eternity. There needed to be a way to end this. Before he read from the book and raised-

The book… 

The book! 

You whirled back to the others. “I have an idea!”

“Care to share?”

“The Black book has always been rumored among scholars to be able to bring people back from the dead. Something I had always thought was nonsense,” you added to yourself. “But since that part is true, that means other rumors must be as well. Such as the Gold Book being able to send a soul back to the afterlife.”

“A balance.” Baekhyun looked awfully proud of himself. At least something finally stuck. 

“Exactly. Now all we have to do is find out where it's hidden.”

Junmyeon frowned. “But I thought it was supposed to be hidden with Anubis?”

“Exactly,” you agreed. “It comes from a translation of an ancient text. A stone that’s at the museum here, actually. It also says where the Black book was supposed to be hidden. I think they got their translations mixed up. So, where the scholars who originally translated it said that the golden Book of Amun-Ra was in the statue of Anubis, it's actually wherever they said the black Book of the Dead was supposed to be.”

“And where is that?”

You swallowed. “I don’t remember. We’ll have to go to the museum so I can read it again.”

Letting out a heavy sigh, Junmyeon checked the barrels of his guns, reloaded the revolvers with bullets from his belt. “Then I guess we’re headed back to the museum. Hopefully we don’t run into Ugly Face before we get to the rock.”

“I’m sure we’ll be fine,” you said with the utmost confidence. 

Sehun, who did not share that sentiment, looked up towards the ceiling. “Oh joy. Another book hunt.”

[lunar-jimin]

life goes on, it gets so heavy; the wheel breaks the butterfly

Pairing: Jungkook x fem!reading

Rating: 18+

Genre: smut, angst, fluffy ending, ceo!jungkook, secretary!reader

Word Count: 10k

Warnings: cheating, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, using pulling out as a protective method (don’t do this kids), dom!jungkook, sub!reader, cumming in pants, oral (female receiving), dirty talk, daddy kink, degradation, lovey-dovey sex, impreg kink

Summary: Despite being the golden heir of a wealthy empire, Jungkook is incredibly unhappy with life he’s been handed. When you show up in his office one morning, you change his life in the way he least expected, but in the way he needed the most. 

a/n: This is an anonymous commission for my BLM fundraiser!! If you would like to request something yourself, you can find the link to my official post here! I would also like to thank the lovely @nightowls388​ for beta reading!!

| masterlist | moodboard | playlist |

The air was too hot. Uncomfortable. Sticky. Jungkook loosened the tie around his neck in a desperate attempt to free himself from the confines of his suit. He hated August. It was always too warm, too sunny. He preferred the dark winter days where the snow silenced the universal white noise. Black suits weren’t as suffocating on forty degree days.

He glanced out the window of the Rolls Royce, taking in the pedestrians struggling not to melt in the intense gaze of the sun. He sympathized with their struggle. Even the blast of freezing draft from the air conditioner did little to spare him from the heat. He enjoyed watching people. He was fascinated by the little idiosyncrasies that formed them into unique individuals, each essential to making the world work. Besides, everyone’s life seemed more interesting to him than his own.

There was a point in his life when he was content with the plan his parents had laid out for him before he was in diapers. He looked forward to one day taking over his father’s company, marrying a nice girl, and starting a family. It was a simple plan and one that gained the approval of the adults in his life: something he was constantly vying for as an adolescent. It was what he was raised with. When he went to college, everything changed. For the first time in his existence, he wasn’t being inundated with his parent’s doctrine and found that there was more to life than running Fortune 500 companies. His parents were less than pleased to discover that he had accompanied his business major with a minor in photography. 

But despite the longing that had bloomed in him for something more intriguing than sterile offices and mundane board meetings, he still found himself back home where his parents once again instilled in him the desire to be the golden heir. A year after his return as the prodigal son, his parents set him with the woman who was now his wife. Three years after that, his father decided that he would rather spend his days on the golfing green rather than in sky-high conference rooms, so he handed off the company to Jungkook. Ever since Jungkook had been locked inside stuffy black suits and boring ties. And he absolutely hated it. 

He squirmed in his seat, his desire to escape increasing with each second he was locked in the back of the car. God, why was it so hot? He felt like crying- a feeling that had become increasingly common during the past six months. His brain felt like a bubbling volcano waiting patiently to explode. Sometimes, Jungkook imagined what would happen when it did. He would divorce his wife, leave his job, and move to some island in the Caribbean where he would spend the rest of his days taking pictures. It was a nice dream, but it was only that, a dream. 

He shook his head, trying to contain his runaway emotions. As the car came to a halt in front of the office building, Jungkook tightened his tie and grabbed his briefcase before exiting out into the scalding heat. If inside the car was bad, outside was absolute hell. It was so hot, Jungkook swore he was on fire. He frowned, rushing into the safety of the air-conditioned skyscraper in front of him before he broke out in a sweat. 

He sighed in relief the second he made it through the rotating doors. He had never been so grateful for the large air conditioning bill in all his life. His relief was so immense that it took a full minute to realize something was wrong. Normally, the second he walked through the door, his secretary greeted him with an iced coffee and a pastry, but as he looked around, his secretary was nowhere to be found. Yet another sigh escaped his mouth as he stepped into the elevator. Why of all days did today have to be the day his secretary magically disappeared? He shook his head. 

He noticed her the minute he arrived at his office floor. She was bent over a box, all her attention focused on searching for whatever object was eluding her. It took her a moment to notice his presence, but when she did, she bolted upright before scurrying in front of the desk, hands behind her back. Jungkook looked her up and down, transfixed by the beautiful stranger.

“Can I help you?”

His voice came out harsher than he meant it to and he cringed when you tried to disguise a wince. 

“Um, yes, I’m your new secretary, Mr. Jeon.”

His brows furrowed. 

“New secretary? What happened to the old one? He was perfectly fine.”

He didn’t remember any emails about his secretary leaving, although to be fair, he hadn’t been paying attention to much these days. He might physically be at work, but more often than not, his mind had drifted to far off places. Mostly island paradises. 

“He moved away.”

“Ah,” he gave you a once over, “and what is your name, new secretary?”

You answered him. He nodded as if you had given him the right answer on a quiz.

“And I don’t suppose anyone has told you how things work around here.”

“No sir.”

His hands clenched at the name, a picture of you on your knees before him (with much less clothing) popped into his head. He shook it off, trying to stay the least bit professional. He had a wife for god’s sake. 

“I see. Well, for future reference, I expect you to meet me each day in the lobby with an iced americano and a pastry,” he paused when he realized how demanding he sounded before softly adding, “No cherries though, I hate cherries.”

You nodded, grabbing a sticky note and jotting down his instructions.

“For now, just get settled in. Do you happen to know if I have any meetings today?”

You nodded again, “You have a lunch meeting with the Samsung marketing director at one, sir.”

There it was again. That damn formality. It was really going to get the better of him. 

“You will accompany me. I expect you to take notes, but don’t contribute to the conversation. Got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

Jungkook nodded before making a beeline to his office before he got a boner. He let out a sigh of relief as he closed the door behind him. His heart pounded in his chest and despite his desperate attempts, he’s chubbed up a bit in his pants. 

He didn’t want to admit that it’s because you might be the most attractive woman he has ever seen. He didn’t want to admit that he hasn’t been this turned on in months. Instead, he passed it off on the fact that he hadn’t had sex with his wife in three months which left behind quite a bit of built-up tension. 

The hours ticked by and Jungkook attempted to bury himself with the neverending stack of paperwork. He remembered there was a time when he loved to show off his signature (there was a reason fifteen-year-old him never had a girlfriend), but now he wanted to chop off his hands so that he could never sign a contract again. He was thankful when the clock struck eleven, releasing him from his office, even if it meant being stuck talking shop for an hour while eating expensive but flavorless food. 

He stepped out to find you arranging photos on the wall beside your desk. You glanced up when you heard the door open and flashed him a blinding smile. 

“Ready, sir?”

He nodded. The title was really going to be a problem. 

The meeting was the beginning of Jungkook’s personal purgatory. Every day you would greet him with a smile and the best pastries he had ever tasted. (He was surprised when you admitted to him that you had baked them yourself. If you weren't proving to be an amazing secretary, he would suggest that you open a bakery, but he’s selfish.) You were a good listener and caught onto his routines without a struggle. But every day you would show up dressed as pure temptation. It wasn’t even that your outfits were scandalous, just simple pencil skirts and pastel blouses, but you made them look like sin incarnate. It didn’t help that every night he went home to his wife who he barely noticed existed anymore.

There had been a point when he and his wife were, er, passionate. For the first couple of years, Jungkook even managed to convince himself that he was in love with her. But a couple of months ago, weekly dinners turned into once a month before they disappeared altogether. To make the situation worse, his mother was starting to complain about her lack of children, but he didn’t know how to break it to her that he couldn’t remember the last time he had kissed his wife, much less had sex with her. There were no bitter feelings or resentment, just indifference. He had briefly considered couples therapy before deciding against it. He wasn’t sure he even wanted to attempt to salvage the crumbs of his marriage. 

You had only added fuel to the fire. Jungkook found himself just as infatuated with your mind as he was with your body. Not only did you laugh at his dumb jokes and listen to his whining, but you had witty contributions and easily found out-of-the-box solutions. He swore this quarter’s numbers would be higher just from you alone. And you flirted. He wasn’t sure at first, incredibly hesitant to respond in fear of a scandalous HR report. But when he caught your gaze on him when you thought he wasn’t looking one too many times, he realized there was a good chance that you liked him just as much as he liked you. 

Between you, his wife, and his desperate need to escape this world of offices, limos, and quid pro quo, his life was unraveling right in front of him. Still, he tried to hold onto all the pieces before they landed in a disappointed heap in his lap. He wasn’t quite ready to let it all go to shit. He definitely was not ready to meet his parents’ disapproving faces when he lost everything they had worked so hard to ensure he had. 

Two months after you began working, he found himself at an overcrowded party praying he was anywhere but there. Sadly, being a CEO meant that he wasn’t allowed to drink away his woes, lest he make a fool of himself in front of all the investors. Instead, he was forced to stay exhaustingly sober as he watched everyone around him devolve into debauchery. He found his wife pleasantly drunk near the bar talking to one of her friends whose face he recognized but couldn’t remember her name for the life of him.

“Having fun darling?”

He grinned, trying to play the role of loving husband. A role that had become increasingly difficult to mimic. 

“It’s your birthday party, I should be asking you. Have you even had a drink? Probably not,” she turned back to her friend, “He never drinks at these things, something about keeping up appearances. I think it’s dumb. It’s his own birthday for fuck’s sake.”

He rolled his eyes. There she went again, putting him down. It wasn’t the first time she had commented on his festive sobriety. She wasn’t a fan. Maybe it was because he only fucked her after he drank. Still, he conceded to her teasing, figuring one drink wouldn’t hurt. He waved down a bartender.

“A whiskey on the rocks, please,” he turned back to his wife, “satisfied?”

She grinned at him before resuming ignoring him in favor of whatever fascinating conversation her friend was providing. He sighed before grabbing his drink and making his way out to the balcony. The air inside the penthouse was stuffy and he was beginning to feel claustrophobic. He was surprised to find you already out there, nursing your own drink in your hand. It wasn't unusual for people from the office to be at his personal parties. His father had taught him a long time ago that inviting your employees into your personal life was key to inspiring loyalty. It made them feel like they knew you and that they were important to you. But seeing as you were a relatively new addition, he had never seen you outside of the office and if you were sexy in skirts and blouses, the dress you had on should be illegal. He gulped before leaning next to you on the rail.

"Parties not your thing?"

You jumped, spilling a bit of your drink onto the dark street below. 

"Um, no, parties are fine. Rich people parties are just a whole new animal."

He chuckled.

"That's fair I suppose. Even I get sick of those fuckers. They do realize that they aren’t at the office anymore right? No need to brag about how well your stock is doing"

You smiled at him before looking back out at the city skyline. Despite having grown up with views like this, Jungkook still found it breathtaking. Almost as breathtaking as he found you. He took a sip of his drink, trying to drown his thoughts in alcohol. When he looked at you again, he felt his stomach churn. You were so beautiful that he wasn't sure what to do with himself. A sigh escaped him. You broke out of your trance and turned to look at him.

"Something wrong?"

"No. Not really."

You raised your eyebrow.

"I just- I know this sounds stupid and pretentious- but I really just don't want to do this anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"This job. This lifestyle. This life. I was raised to be the perfect CEO with the perfect family, a copy of my father really, but that's not what I want. All my family has ever seen me as is the golden heir and honestly, I don’t know if I can be that anymore."

"Who do you want to be?"

"I don't know. A photographer I guess. And marry somebody I actually choose to fall in love with. And live away from the stress of trying to please every person in my life at the cost of my own happiness."

"You don't love your wife?"

"No, I do. Kinda. I just... My parents picked her out and at some point, I was smitten with her, but we're so different and she wants success and money and, well, I don't care about that as much. She’s not a bad person, she’s just obsessed with her books and her writing, and well, that doesn’t leave much room for family. I’m not much better though."

"Oh."

"And we haven't been too hot lately."

"How so?"

"Um, well, we're really distant, and, um, we haven't had sex in two months."

You snorted and he blanched. He usually never shared that kind of thing with anyone and here he was confessing his personal problems to you, his secretary. The alcohol must be affecting him more than he thought. This is why he didn't drink at parties.

"How? Has she seen you? I would be all over you if I was your wife.”

You realized what you had said a moment too late and you looked at him with wide eyes, a faint blush covering your face. He let out a nervous chuckle. 

“Would you now?”

You nodded before downing the rest of your drink. Jungkook felt something akin to butterflies begin to flutter in his stomach. He had known that he was fairly attractive, but something about hearing someone as ethereal as you admit it made his heart do flips. 

“Yeah, well, it’s really on me I guess. I haven’t really wanted to.”

“You don’t want to have sex?”

Relief washed over your face when you realized that he wasn’t going to linger on your slip up. 

“Yeah. Well no. I do want to have sex. Just not with her.”

“I see. Well, who do you want to have sex with?”

It was a small glimpse, almost imperceptible, but he saw the recognition in your face as you watched his eyes glance over you.

“Me?”

Jungkook gulped. What was he doing? What was he getting himself into? He had a life to protect. Expectations to uphold. And yet, here he was, considering risking it all for a secretary who was making him feel something for the first time in months. 

When he gathered enough courage to look at you, he found you staring at his lips. One second he’s waging a war with himself and the next your mouth is on his. Your lips are just as warm and soft as he thought they would be and for a moment he lets himself be absorbed by them. But reality rapidly floods back, and he pushes you away. You looked at him, obviously hurt by the rejection. 

“I’m sorry.”

He’s being honest. He doesn’t want to hurt you. But he was a coward who was afraid of what people thought of him. And the things people would think about him if they knew he kissed his secretary were not pretty.

“It’s fine.”

You failed to cover up the disappointment in your voice. 

“It’s not you. It’s just I have a wife, and a family with expectations and-”

He sighs.

“Look, it’s fine. Really. I’m just gonna get going, okay? I’ll see you on Monday.”

With that, you leave him to his own devices. He watches your figure go, before turning back to face the city. 

“Fuck.”

If work was hell before, it was nothing compared to what it was now. Every day, he found himself torn between wanting to take you on his desk and wanting to never see you again. Ever since the party, the memory of your lips pressed on his had haunted him like an orphaned Victorian ghost with a thirst for revenge.  It was on replay in his mind to the point he couldn’t properly sleep anymore. He felt like shit, and he was pretty sure he looked it too, but if anyone noticed they neglected to say anything. 

You, on the other hand, seemed to be doing just fine. You hadn’t so much as mentioned the party. You performed your duties with your usual pep and continued to bring him your heavenly pastries. He resented you a little bit for being able to move on so easily. Here he was hung up on a moment he had fucked up, and there you were acting like nothing had happened. He wanted to scream. 

So he pulled back. He only talked to you if it was absolutely necessary. He never looked your way. He threw himself into his job. But you were still there, just as tempting as the first day he had seen you. His mind was being forced to choose between you alongside the island paradise he dreamed of, and keeping up appearances while pleasing his elders. A week passed and he was miserable. He was exhausted and all his will power had been depleted. 

That’s why he ended up doing what he did. Or at least that’s what he told himself. Friday rolled around and Jungkook was at his wit’s end. And then there you were, fifteen feet away from him flirting with some random guy from IT. (Namjoon, maybe?) It was harmless, but it didn’t stop Jungkook’s gut from twisting about inside of him. Why didn’t you flirt with him? Why didn’t you show him any signs of affection? He reminds himself that he rejected you, but it’s no help. Jealousy overwhelms him as he squirms in his leather chair. He barely noticed his hands clamped into fists or the way his jaw had clenched to the point of pain. When Namjoon leans over to whisper into your ear, Jungkook loses the small tidbits of control he had left. 

He pushes himself out of his chair and storms out, not bothering to say anything as he grabs your arm and pulls you away from a stunned Namjoon and back to his office, slamming the door behind him. 

“Can I help you?”

Your tone is curt and your face was twitching with displeasure. Jungkook realized that once he had you, he wasn’t quite sure what he wanted to do with you. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He would certainly like to bend you over his desk and fuck you until you couldn’t walk, but he was fairly certain that wouldn’t go over well with you right now. 

“Umm…” 

He felt a blush cross his face as he realized he was still holding onto your wrist. He released it before turning to pace back and forth across the marble floor. 

“Well?”

You folded your arms across your chest, your eyes were alight with something dangerous. Something that Jungkook found incredibly sexy. Before his brain could register with what he was doing, he found himself marching over to you, grabbing you by your waist and pulling you in for a kiss. 

You stiffened against him, but before you had a chance to respond, he had pulled away from you. The guilt was almost immediate, drowning him in regret and confusion. You too looked confused, as you stood stock still, surprise plastered all over your face. Jungkook turned and walked back to his chair. 

“You can go.”

You seemed to barely register the words as you nodded before absent-mindedly wandering out of his office. Jungkook relaxed in his seat as he tried to make sense of what had happened. He knew he had feelings for you, but nothing he couldn’t handle. Nothing he couldn���t control. But he had lost control and now he wasn’t able to trust himself. And he didn’t know if he wanted to.

After that, things went back to normal. Well, as normal as they could be. He gathered the courage to interact with you again. But now instead of friendly glances and gestures, there were secret looks and subtle touches. Jungkook knew he was a wind-up toy one twist away from snapping, but he couldn’t help but indulge in your flirty gestures. 

He found himself growing bolder as the consequences he had once worried about seemed to be a world away. What started with the brush of a hand across the hip, grew to a hand on your thigh in the back of the car. Dark stares and lip bites plagued his day. At night, he would go home and lock himself in his private office where he would wrap his hand around his cock while conjuring up images of you in a variety of wanton states, all for him. 

He should’ve known that staying at work late with you would be a bad idea. Usually, you had the rest of the employees to keep you in check. With them gone, he found himself finding little reason to hold himself back.

“And so that’s why I think it’s a good idea to start engaging with younger consumers.”

You had been discussing ways to boost sales for the quarter, but he had stopped listening long ago, instead focusing on how your shirt was opened a button lower than usual.

“Mr. Jeon?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you listening?”

“What? Oh, yeah. Of course. Younger consumers. Got it.”

You raised an eyebrow. 

“What?”

“Maybe if you spent less time staring at my chest and more time focusing on these market studies, we would already have higher sales.”

“Sorry.”

“Sure you are.”

“You’re right. I’m not.”

The drop of his voice surprised even him. You looked at him with an unreadable look from your perch on the edge of his desk.

“And what is so enticing about my chest?”

Jungkook gulped. Your eyes had darkened and he felt himself start to stir in his pants. 

“It’s a part of you. And you are so sexy I can barely control myself.”

You smirked, before sauntering over to him and lowering yourself into his lap. The scent of your perfume overwhelmed him as you leaned in to whisper in his ear. 

“Then don’t.”

Somewhere inside him, a cord snapped. The control he had been trying to reign in had broken free and he was left to his own primal devices. He pulled your lips to his, finally relishing in getting to properly kiss you. You responded instantly, lips moving against his as your hands buried themselves in his hair. You tugged on the strands and Jungkook moaned into your mouth, hips bucking up into you as his hand grabbed your ass. You returned his moans and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. 

His brain was a mess of emotions and hormones. He was overwhelmingly hard in his pants and your lips felt too good against his. You rolled your hips on top of him and he let a growl, the need to take you battling with his need to preserve the few remaining shreds of his dignity. 

He didn’t have the chance to make a decision though when the office door swung open and the head of a very confused janitor popped in. 

“Uh…I thought you were gone,” he stuttered, “...I’ll just leave.”

The janitor blushed before shutting the door. Jungkook turned back to look at you to find a similar rosy hue had graced your cheeks. 

“Um...I should probably get going too.”

Your voice was meek and the embarrassment of getting caught was plastered all over your face. He can’t blame you though, he isn’t doing too well himself. The fear of getting caught had left him deflated in more ways than one. 

“Yeah, sure, that’s probably good.”

You moved off his lap, readjusting your skirt as you do so. You grab your purse and jacket before walking to the door. Just as you were about to open it, you turn back to look at him. 

“Good night, Jungkook.”

He looked up surprised. It was the first time you had called him by his first name. It sounded heavenly coming from your lips. 

“Goodnight.”

Before he left for the night, he made sure to track down the janitor and offer him a healthy sum of money to stay quiet. He took it happily and continued on his way.

The weekend passed slowly for Jungkook. You plagued his thoughts with images of your rumpled skirt and the feeling of your hands in his hair. His wife was out of town for yet another business trip. He didn’t care. It just gave him more time with the thought of you while his hand was around his cock.

When Monday finally rolled around, Jungkook found himself the happiest he’d ever been to go to work. As he walked into the lobby, the sight of you washed over him like the cold water of a lake on the hottest day of summer. Something about your smile seemed to relieve him of all the heavy stress he was carrying on his shoulders. 

He almost made it through the day without losing control of himself. Despite all the glances he gave you, or the way you brushed your hand against his while you leaned over next to him to explain a chart, he managed to keep it together. But when you bent over in front of his desk to pick up a pen he dropped, he lost all control. The next thing he knew, he was slamming you against his office door, lips attacking yours, while his hips rutted into you. 

Your initial shock wore off almost instantly and you groaned as you melted into him. You wrapped a leg around his waist, dragging him closer to your core. The kiss was messy and he was sure your lipstick was ruined. A fervent need overwhelmed him as he humped you like a desperate teenager. You pulled away to catch your breath, dark eyes looking staring back at his own. 

“Fuck, you turn me on so much, baby,” he growled into your ear, hips moving faster. 

Words seemed to fail you as you whined back at him, pleasure contorting in your face. You suddenly let go of him, before dropping down to your knees. Instead of going to undo his pants like he expected, you simply gave a long lick over his bulge. Jungkook’s legs immediately turned to jello and he had to brace himself on the door to keep himself upright. 

“Oh fuck, what are you doing baby?”

“I’m getting you off. Do you want me to make you feel good sir?”

For once he was happy to hear the name. He didn’t get a chance to respond before you grabbed him through his pants. He threw his head back with a moan. It briefly occurred to him that people might hear through the thin walls, but your hand on his hard cock soon relieved him of all thought. It didn’t take much to get him to the point of no return. Even with all the nights spent with his fist and a bottle of lube he still felt like a rubber band getting stretched to its limit. You were barely touching him, but there he was, on the precipice of cumming in his own damn pants. He barely had time to warn you before spurts of hot cum filled his boxer briefs with white. “Oh, fuck.”

You giggled as he let out soft groans, cock twitching in its confines. The high of pleasure was quickly wiped away as the sensation of sticky underwear rose to his attention. 

“You’re a bad, bad girl, baby. You made me cum in my pants. Do you know what happens to bad girls?”

“No, sir.” 

“They get punished.”

“And how are you going to punish me, sir?”

Jungkook had to stifle a groan. You were still on your knees in front of him, calling him ‘sir’. Despite having just had one of the better orgasms in his life, his dick twitched with interest. 

“Stand up.”

You quickly obey, rising to your full height, but keeping eye contact the entire time. 

“Take off your panties.”

Your eyes grew wide at his demand, but you obeyed him nonetheless. The second you grasped the pink lace in your hand, he snatched them from you, immediately bringing them up his nose. He inhaled, letting himself get lost in the musky aroma.

“Shit, baby, you smell so good. I can’t wait to eat your wet pussy. But not today. You were bad today and only good girls get their pussy eaten.”

You let out a whimper but kept your mouth shut, body frozen in place. He stuffed your panties into his pant pocket before walking over to his desk and taking a seat. 

“You may go.”

You looked like you wanted to say something, probably about your lack of undergarments, but you held your tongue and turned to leave. 

“Oh, and one last thing.”

You turned back to him.

“I’m going to need a new suit. It seems I’ve spilled some coffee on this one.”

He smirked and you nodded, before stepping out the door. 

He didn’t try to hold himself back after that. He would take you whenever the opportunity arose. It didn’t take long for him to fulfill his promise to eat you out. He would forever remember the way you whined his name while his mouth pulled not one, but two orgasms from your dripping pussy. And when he finally got to feel your mouth around his cock, he was fairly sure he had found nirvana. 

He wouldn’t fuck you though. He knew it was silly as if he would be betraying his wife any more than he already was by having sex with you, but for some reason, he felt the need to draw a line. To separate the boundary between the fantasy land he had created with you and the cold reality that he returned home to. His wife had become all but a ghost in his life, and as a result, Jungkook found you providing his only emotional support in addition to sexual release. He didn’t want to admit that somehow, in a few short months, you had grown from being just his secretary to his closest companion. 

He didn’t want to admit it because he was too afraid of where it would lead. He was already teetering on the edge to give it all up, even before you had shown up in his office looking like a gift from heaven, but now, now he was fairly certain that even the tiniest breeze would push him over. And he didn’t know if you would be there to catch him if he fell. 

But that didn’t stop him from starting to dream of a future with you. The island paradise in his mind expanded to include you. Flashes of laughing children, nights under the stars, and soft kisses danced through his mind. You would have your own bakery, he would take pictures, and together you would create your own little family. One that was far removed from the hassle and the stress of his painful existence.  

Jungkook was over the moon to discover that you would be accompanying him on a work trip to Japan. For one whole week, you would be one door away. Even if it was a ruse, Jungkook would be allowed to pretend, for one whole week, that you were his and he was yours alone. On the plane ride alone, he made you cum three times in the cramped bathroom. During the day, you would both try to hold it together. Merger meetings were laced with subtle glances and hidden touches. At night, you would become a whole other animal. 

You tested his limits. Dared him to give in and finally give you what you both wanted: him inside you. Every night you would knock on his door in translucent nighties that highlighted the fact you had discarded your bra. After the second night of showing up in see-through clothes, Jungkook decided to return the favor, opening the door with his shirt unbuttoned, leaving his abs out for anyone to see. While you were both visibly affected by each other’s teasing, neither of you gave in until the last moment, each of you leaping into each other's arms and making a mess of the hotel furniture. But he still didn’t fuck you. It was his line. His final frontier. 

On the last night of the trip, Jungkook suggested that they finally test out the jacuzzi on his balcony. Bad idea. When you showed up in a tiny red bikini that did little to protect your dignity, Jungkook felt himself spiraling out of control. Instead of greeting you like he usually did, he thrust a cocktail in your hand while trying to will his dick into submission. He made it through about ten minutes in the hot tub, trying to participate in regular conversation with you. But he couldn’t, not when your tits were sitting right there. He was no longer sure if the sweat dripping down his forehead was from the warm water or the pent up tension. 

“Fuck.”

“What?”

“I can’t take this anymore,” he groaned.

“Can’t take what?”

Your eyes gleamed, daring him to admit to what they both knew he so desperately needed. 

“There is nothing more I want then to sink into your pretty pink pussy right now.” 

“So why don’t you?”

It was the first time you had questioned why he refused to have sex with you, and now that you were finally confronting him about it, he found himself at a loss for a reasonable explanation. The line that he thought he was creating by refusing to have sex with you had long ago been blurred to the point of no longer existing. And here you were, with your warm body inches from him, wanting him just as much as he wanted to you and he knew that he was done for. 

“Fuck it.”

With that, he pulled you onto his lap, attaching his lips to yours for the three millionth time. He would never tire of your kisses, the way they comforted his soul, and quenched his constant need for your touch. You eagerly responded to him, tongue licking the seam of his lips. As the two of you began to explore each other’s mouths, his hands came up to the string keeping your bikini top together and gave it a quick jerk, letting the scarlet cloth fall from your body. He pulled back and groaned at the sight of your perfect tits, the water around you swishing as he rolled his hips up into yours.

You whined out, “Fuck, baby. Just like that. God, I can’t wait for you to be inside me.”

“Yeah?” Jungkook’s voice was low with lust, “Me neither, baby. You’re gonna be such a good slut for me aren’t you.”

“Yes, sir.”

Even after months of you calling him ‘sir’ in less than professional situations, Jungkook still hadn’t gotten used to it. He felt every inch of his skin tingle with sheer pleasure every time the word fell from your shameless mouth. You whined, teeth pulling at his bottom lip as you pressed down on top of him, just as desperate as he was. He moved from your mouth to your neck, kissing down to your collarbone, where he stopped to take the time to leave a rosy mark that signified you were his and his alone. Once he was satisfied with it, he continued down your chest, taking one of your pretty pink nipples in his mouth, sucking on the hardened bud. You moaned out his name, hips stuttering against his. God, he loved your breasts. 

Your hands tangled themselves in his hair, pulling on them to the point of pain. Jungkook didn’t care though. He loved when you showed him just how good he could make you feel. It made him feral. Sure, receiving pleasure was gratifying, but there was nothing quite like watching you squirm from his ministrations.

He reluctantly pulled away from your tits to pull the ties keeping your bikini bottoms intact before discarding the garment in the same manner as your top, leaving you naked on top of him. He took a moment to pull back and admire how beautiful you looked. You sat there as he looked you over, a blush rising to your cheeks. You crossed your arms over your chest in an attempt to make yourself less vulnerable to him.

“Oh no baby, don’t hide yourself from me,” he gently pulls your arms away, “you’re too beautiful to stay covered up.”

Your blush intensified. He smiled at you, wrapping his large arms around your body and carrying you out of the hot tub. Your lips reconnected with his as he stumbled his way into the hotel room, tossing you on the king-sized bed. 

“Are you gonna be a good girl for me?”

His voice was as dark as his eyes. You nodded in response, voice escaping you. 

“That’s my baby.”

He pulled off his wet swim trunks before joining you on the bed, where your wet body had begun to soak the sheets. If he had his way, they would be much wetter by the time the night was over. He wasted no time diving into your pussy, lips attaching to your clit, drawing out your sweet moans. His fingers found your entrance, circling it a few times to collecting your slick, before slipping one in. Your back arched at the sensation and Jungkook let out a chuckled against your clit. 

Your whines grew higher and he could tell that you were getting close to finishing. After months of exploring your body, he was well acquainted with how to play your pussy like an instrument, conducting your symphony of pleasure. He slipped in a second finger, crooking them upwards in search of the spot he knew would make you scream. When you cried out he knew that he had found it and not five seconds later, you were coming all over his digits. 

“Fuck, Kook.”

“I hope you don’t think that we’re done yet,” he growled as his fingers slowed before leaving your sopping cunt, “when I’m through with you, you won’t be able to walk for days. I'll have to carry you to every meeting and explain to them that I fucked you too hard for you to function.”

You clenched around nothing at his words and he mindlessly took his cock in his hands, giving it a few quick strokes. 

“You like that don’t you? You would love for the entire world to know how much of a whore you are for my cock.”

“I would. I’m a whore for your cock, please give it to me. I’ve been a good girl.”

Without bothering to warn you, he lined himself up before sinking into you. You both groaned at  the feeling of your tight cunt stretching around his cock. After months of dreaming of what your pink walls would feel like around him, he could confirm that the sensation was much better than anything his imagination had conjured. 

He started with slow thrusts, trying to give himself time to come off the edge he had already been worked up to. Your legs came to wrap around his waist, pulling him closer to you. As soon as you had adjusted to his girth, you began to roll your hips up to meet his.

“Go faster.”

“Uh uh, if you want Daddy to go faster, you have to beg like a proper slut.”

It just slipped out. Jungkook knew he had a daddy kink, but it generally stayed repressed deep within after his wife had shamed him for it. But you didn’t seem to mind. If anything, you squeezed him even tighter.

“Please Daddy, please go faster. Fuck my tight pussy.”

He conceded to your wishes, pulling all the way out, before thrusting back in. He set a tireless pace, pounding into you so hard the bed began to shake. He leaned down, meeting your lips in a sloppy kiss. Your teeth clacked together, but Jungkook didn’t care. He just wanted to be as close to you as possible. 

He pulled away from your lips and his cock twitched at the visual of the string of saliva connecting your mouths. Without him to silence you, your moans mingling with the sound of skin slapping creating a beautiful symphony for Jungkook’s ears. 

He felt himself approach the edge, honing in on his release. Luckily for him, your pussy was tightening around him, signaling that you were close too. 

“Fuck, are you gonna cum for me, baby? Are you gonna come around Daddy’s cock like a good girl?”

“Yes Daddy, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna-”

Your voice broke off into a high pitched moan as you clenched around him. You threw your head back, hands clawing into his skin. The mix of pain and pleasure sent him over the edge with you. He quickly pulled out before covering your pussy and stomach in white strands. As soon as the waves of ecstasy rescinded, he collapsed on top of you, exhaust claiming his muscles. 

He laid there for a minute before hopping up and heading to the bathroom. When he came back out, warm towel in hand, he found you passed out on the soaked sheets. His heart skipped a beat at your blissed-out face and for a moment he wished he could feel as peaceful as you looked. After making sure you were thoroughly clean, he collapsed on the bed next to you. Sleep was quick to come to him, but not before he took you into his arms, burying his face into the crook of your neck. 

A dam had burst. The two of you went at it like rabbits, he would take you any and every way could, whenever he could. He couldn’t get enough of you. He would take you in the back of the limo, in the elevator, empty conference rooms. It was to the point he was sure the entire company knew of your amorous relations, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. All he thought about was you. Even the fear of disappointing his parents was beginning to diminish. As his feelings for you grew and blossomed, his desire to please anyone else faded into a faint buzz in the background of his mind. You had him whipped. 

He knew things were bad when his five year anniversary with his wife rolled around and he didn’t feel a thing when she told him that she wouldn’t be able to be there due to some book tour. Sure, a little part of him was upset that she didn’t care enough to even try to change the tour dates, but he knew that he didn't have a leg to stand on. In fact, he was rather grateful he wouldn’t have to plan some dinner to celebrate a love that had died long ago.  

When you heard that he was spending his anniversary alone, you had offered him some company. He felt a twinge of guilt about the idea of having sex with a woman that wasn’t his wife on their anniversary, but not enough to stop him from inviting you over. So there you were, in his foyer, with an overnight bag, a bottle of wine, and a smile that could light up the heavens. He grinned back at you, taking the bottle and leading you into the living room. 

“I’ll get us some glasses, yeah?”

“Sure. Do you mind if I change? Work clothes aren’t the most comfortable.”

“Oh, yeah, go ahead. There’s a bathroom down the hall to your left.”

When he returned to the living room with two glasses and a bottle opener, you were curled up on the couch in a tank and shorts. You were flipping through the photography book that he kept on the coffee table. You were so immersed in the pictures that you didn’t notice his presence.

“So whatcha want to do?”

You jumped, startled by the sound of his voice. 

“It’s your anniversary, you should decide.”

He placed the opener and the glasses on the table next to the bottle before taking a seat next to you. 

“I don’t know. How about we just drink and talk for a bit?” he paused, “Maybe that’s stupid.”

“Nope. Nothing about you is stupid.”

There was your damn smile again. Jungkook hated the way his heart pounded faster because of it. He smiled back at you. It only took a few sips of the merlot before Jungkook had begun to relax. He had been drunk around you plenty of times, but there was something about wine that made him want to pour his entire heart out to you. 

He watched as you laughed at your own joke, strands of hair that had fallen loose from your tight ponytail danced on your cheek. The world seemed to slow down a little, time coming to a halt, making the room for him to exist with just you and no one else. It was somewhere in that warm, fuzzy space that the words came tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them. 

“I think I love you.”

Even the air in the room stilled. You stared at him, eyes wide with shock.

“What?”

You looked like a deer in headlights. Jungkook felt like one.

“Nothing. I was just running my mouth. Don’t mind me. Go back to telling me about this dream bakery of yours.”

Much to his chagrin, you didn’t budge, eyes still fixed on his rigid body. Your surprise had evaporated and you were now looking him up and down as if you were trying to analyze his inner thoughts. You both sat frozen for what felt like ages before you moved to kneel in front of him, taking his shaky hands in yours. When you opened your mouth, your voice was soft, caressing his soul.

“I love you too.”

The world stopped in its tracks. Jungkook swore his heart stopped beating in his chest. And then your lips were on his and even though he had kissed you more times than he could count, this felt different. This felt like the collision of two planets, the implosion of a star. Fireworks weren’t enough to describe the cascade of emotions pouring through him. His hands grasped your cheeks, gently caressing the soft skin. You hummed against his mouth as he pushed you back to lie on the couch, while your legs spread to make room for him between your thighs. 

Jungkook swore he felt a tear trickle down his cheek, but he couldn’t tell if it was from you or him. He honestly didn’t care. The woman he had grown to love loved him back. He now knew that you would catch him if he fell. And so he let himself tumble over the precipice he had once been so terrified of.  He could finally admit that your embrace was home and that your arms eyes were the safety he never felt. He loved you. You loved him. The stars had aligned. 

He trailed his kisses away from your lips and to the crook of your neck where he inhaled. You smelled of the remnants of your perfume mixed with your own personal scent. He swore if he breathed it in enough, he would get high off it. Instead, he placed soft kisses on the delicate skin, before taking it in between his teeth, shamelessly marking you. The whole world would know that you belonged to him, almost as much as he belonged to you. 

You moaned as he sucked the bruised skin into his mouth before shifting lower so that his face was right between your breasts. Your flimsy tank top did nothing to stop him from tearing it in two. 

“Jesus, Kook,” you groaned as he took in the sight of your braless chest, bare before him. 

“What? I can buy you all the tank tops you want. I would buy you the whole world.”

And it was true. If that’s what it would take to make you happy, that’s what he would do. Tears glinted in your eyes at his words before Jungkook ripped a moan out of your mouth when he took a nipple in his. He sucked on it before releasing it with a pop. 

“These are the best tits in the world. I love them almost as much as I love you.”

He dove back in taking the neglected breast in his hand, rubbing the nipple. Your hips bucked up into him, desperate for more concrete pleasure than the little he was teasing you with. 

“Slow, baby, I’ll get there. Slow.”

You whined in response, head thrown back against the arm of the couch while Jungkook swirled his tongue over you. Even though he was unbelievably hard in his sweats, he found no motivation to do anything about it, his sole focus on you and your pleasure. 

He moved to kiss down your stomach. When he reached the hem of your shorts, he pulled them off, before moving to kiss over your lace panties. An obvious wet patch marked the center and Jungkook once again took the time to stop and smell you. The aroma overwhelmed him, driving him mad with carnal lust. 

“Fuck baby, your dripping, and I’ve barely touched you yet.” 

“That’s ‘cause you’re taking forever. Please baby, I need you.”

And how could he deny you when you were so sweet and all fucked out, just for him. He pulled your soaked panties to the side, groaning at your soaked, pink lips. He dove in, licking one long striped from the bottom of your cunt up to your clit. You bucked against him desperate for more. 

In response, he wrapped his arms around your thighs, holding you in place. His tongue found your clit, eliciting angelic moans from you while he drew abstract shapes on your bundle of nerves. Your thighs began to quiver in his grip and he smiled against you. The thought of you coming from just his mouth had his dick twitching in excitement. 

“Fuck, Kookie, I’m gonna cum.”

“That’s right baby, cum all over tongue.”

Seconds later, you're soaking his mouth while you writhed in pleasure. But Jungkook didn’t stop. He was too blissed out with his face in your cunt. He would stay like this forever if he could. He pulled one hand away from your thigh, to sneak around to your entrance, a finger slipping inside.

“Oh god, Kook, it’s too much.”

“You can do it, baby. I know you can.”

You looked like you were about to protest before he curled his finger up, hitting your g-spot. You cried out, more slick pouring out of you, if that was possible. He knew that there was a large wet spot staining his ten-thousand-dollar couch, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Slipping another finger in you, he began to flick with his tongue, daring you to come again. It didn’t take long.

“Oh shit, Kook, shit, shit, gonna cum, shit, shit-”

He’s never heard you scream so loud in all the months he’s had the privilege of giving you orgasms. Before he could properly register what was happening, you were squirting all over him. Your hips bucked out of your control as you painted his face with your orgasm. Jungkook swore that if he had any less self-control, he would’ve come all over in his pants. 

As you came down from your high, Jungkook scooped you up, carrying you to the bedroom. He laid you gently on the bed, giving you a few moments to recover as he stripped himself of his own clothes. You sat up, watching him closely as he slowly revealed himself to you. He was well built, he knew that, but you often told him how much you appreciated his muscles, as if the way you kissed and bit his abs weren’t enough of a clue. He would be lying if he said he hadn’t started working out more just to please you. 

But he also knew that he could never step foot in a gym again and you would still love him just as much. That was the difference between you and his wife. You loved him without condition, without the need for him to be someone he wasn’t. His wife had fallen in love with only one version of him, a version that no longer existed. 

He joined you on the bed, crawling up between your legs, giving you a soft kiss when he reached your lips. You fell back on the pillows letting him take in your face, your body, you. He bucked up against you, tip rubbing your clit and you let out simultaneous moans. 

Just when he was about to slip into you, his phone rang on the bedside table. He groaned, lifting himself up to see who dared to call him when he was about to have sex with the love of his life. A flash of guilt rushed through him when he saw his wife’s name light up the screen. Of course it was her. Despite everything, this was a woman who would keep up appearances until her dying breath. And here he was, about to have sex with another woman in their shared bed. He sighed, swiping to ignore the call, before tossing it back on the table. 

This time, he didn’t wait to enter you, thrusting in immediately. He groaned at the feeling of your soft walls encapsulating him. Ever since the first time you had had sex, he had always made sure to use a condom, but he couldn’t bring himself to care that he wasn’t using one now. Being inside you without the extra barrier felt so intrinsically right. In fact, part of him was excited about the idea of going raw and risking getting you pregnant. 

“You wanna get me pregnant?”

Your voice was soft and curious. He stilled inside of you, 

“Umm…?”

His voice trailed off as he tried to come up with a reasonable response. His brain failed him. 

“It’s okay if you do. It’s kinda hot actually.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I wouldn’t mind having your kid.”

Jungkook couldn’t help the moan that fell out of his mouth. He thrust softly in you. So many hormones were flooding his brain that he could barely focus on what was happening. 

“Well, then I guess it’s my duty to make sure you’re nice and pregnant for me by the end of the night.”

“Yeah, Kookie,” you whined, “give it to me. Want you to cum in me. Want your baby.”

The two of you met in a messy kiss as Jungkook pounded into you, balls slapping your ass. Desperation flooded him, determination to knock you up with his child overriding every other need. He’d never had the desire to get someone pregnant like this before. There was something about you that pulled at all his primal instincts. 

You were tightening again, your moans drowning out the sound of skin slapping accentuated by Jungkook’s own grunts. Jungkook himself wasn’t too far from finishing himself, having been on edge since you squirted all over him. 

“Fuck baby,” you moaned, “you fuck me so well.”

“Yeah. Are you gonna cum for me? Are you gonna cum so that I can get you pregnant?”

“Yes, fuck, I love yo-” 

Your voice faded into a scream as tears rolled down your cheeks as you came for the third time that night. The look on your face triggered Jungkook’s own orgasm. He roared as jets of white cum covered your inner walls. His hips stuttered as he chanted your name. Your legs were wrapped tightly around his waist, holding him deep within you. 

He rolled over without pulling out, keeping you tight in his arms.

“Mmm,” you hummed, “hope that did the trick.”

“Yeah? Me too,” he smiled. 

You grinned back.

“Are you not gonna pull out?”

“We gotta keep my cum in you so we make sure it does the trick.”

“Okay,” you chuckled.

“What?”

He pouted.

“You’re just cute.”

“I’m not cute.”

“Sure...”

He giggled when you rolled your eyes, pressing a peck on your lips. The two of you stayed like that for the rest of the night, wrapped in each other's arms, talking until sleep carried you off into dreamland. 

Jungkook woke the next morning before you. He took a moment to admire your face, not believing that you were really all his. He softly kissed your forehead before wiggling his way out of your embrace. 

He quietly slipped on a tee and some sweats before making his way to the kitchen where he put on a pot of coffee. While he waited, he checked his phone, expecting to find a voicemail from his wife. He was surprised to find none. He opened the phone app and his stomach dropped. There at the top of his recent calls was a twenty-minute call with her. He must have accidentally answered it. She must have heard everything. Anxiety crept up on him as he began to pace the white kitchen floor. Before he knew what he was doing, the phone was dialing. 

“Hello?”

Her voice was groggy.

“Hi.”

His voice quivered. 

“What do you want Jungkook?”

“Oh, umm, I’m sorry I guess,” his voice is quiet, “For what you heard.”

“You mean listening to you moan about how you wanted to get your secretary pregnant?”

He cringed at her dripping sarcasm. 

“Yeah. That.”

“Don’t be.”

“What?”

“Don’t be sorry. I don’t care.”

“You don’t?”

“Jungkook,” she sighed, “I think we both knew something like this was going to happen.”

“Yeah, I guess. But that doesn’t mean that it was okay for me to cheat on you.”

“That’s true.”

They both stay silent for a minute, letting it all sink in. 

“I suppose that means this is the end of the road for us then, huh?”

“Yeah, it is. But it’s okay. We weren’t meant to be. All things being said, you sound like you really love her.”

“I do, I really do.”

“And if I’m being honest, I’ve kinda had a thing for my editor for a while.”

“Seokjin?”

He was honestly surprised that he remembered his name.

“Yeah.”

They both laughed. 

“We’ll talk when you get back, yeah?”

“Yeah. Goodbye, Jungkook.”

“Goodbye.”

He hung up before leaning against the counter, throwing his head back to look at the ceiling. A breath of relief escaped as all the weight he had been carrying for so long fell from his shoulders. It was over. His dead marriage was finished and now he had the rest of his life to love you. He laughed giddily before running to wake you up and tell you the news. 

Six months later, he’s on a beach in Jamaica, trying to take a picture of you without you noticing. He’s almost successful, your nose is buried too deep in a paperback you had propped up on your pregnant stomach, but you looked up when you heard the shutter click.

“Jungkook,” you groaned, “I told you not to take pictures of me.”

“I’m sorry, baby, I can’t help it. You're too sexy carrying my baby.”

You rolled your eyes behind your shades.

“Whatever. As long as no one else sees them.”

“Of course, baby. I’m keeping you all to myself.”

You grinned before turning back to your book.

A month after his conversation with his now ex-wife, their divorce had been finalized. He’d simultaneously quit his job as CEO, unafraid of disappointing anyone else at the expense of his happiness. He had made more than enough money to support the two, soon to be three, of you for the rest of your life. Together, you had moved to Jamaica, where you were working on opening a bakery and he had begun a fairly successful photography business. And in three months, the two of you would welcome a beautiful baby girl into the world.

He sighed, overly content with his life. He glanced down to your hand to spot the sparkling diamond on your ring finger. A month ago, he had taken you out on a boat ride where he had asked you to be his wife. You had eagerly accepted. 

Now he was blissed out in that island paradise he had dreamed about all those months ago. His stress levels were an all-time low. And, sure, maybe his parents weren’t that happy with him, (all though his mother was over the moon when he announced the impending arrival of a grandchild, finally), but whenever he woke in the morning with you by his side, he couldn’t find it in himself to care. You were his whole world, and he wouldn’t give that up for anything. 

masterlist

[tanoraqui]

okay I have to do this today because even I wouldn’t do it after the godforsaken finale airs, and it’s basically my specialty and I did spend like an hour thinking about it last night while washing dishes. Definitely partly inspired by @words-writ-in-starlight​‘s insightful post on everything Supernatural did wrong, and apologies in advance to all the characters for dragging them into anything related to Christian mythology:

Wei Wuxian’s parents die in a house fire when he’s 6(? I refuse to look anything up) months old

Jiangs are a hunter family I guess? That whole disaster of a family dynamic, except WWX dips out at some point to be idk an environmental activist bc at the time, that seems like the larger threat to the whole world. “Mom and Dad went on a hunting trip and they haven’t come back”, “bitch” “jerk”, 2 brothers in a beat-up old car, you know the drill

Jins are also an old hunting family, but more Men of Letters energy - they have a fancy bunker and do research and avoid getting their actual hands dirty. Jiang Yanli ducked out of the active hunting life a few years ago to be happily married to her peacock and settled down with a baby and she’s fine. We’re not going to bother Yanli. She’s safe and happy and doesn’t need to involved in any of this

so, WWX is the demon blood child developing exciting new abilities like telekinesis, mind control, exorcising demons by sheer force of will...etc, and Jiang Cheng is the Righteous Man. Lucifer, Michael, etc.

s1-3 probably proceeds more or less as spn canon...which I more or less remember...by the time they find their parents at the end of s1, Jiang Fengmian is...ugh, we probably shouldn’t kill him offscreen, I mean, we should probably meet him before he dies. I guess. Madam Yu lasts longer because I’m way more interested in her. But we do know that both Jiang parents are totally inclined to fling the boys into a metaphorical or literal escape boat and go hold the line for as long as possible, so...that’s spn energy...

Xue Yang is the one who’s like “fuck yeah, demon powers” and opens the gates of Hell, because I want him to have nice* things

*nice for Xue Yang

from characterization rather than memory, I’m 90% sure that Dean tried to hide his crossroads deal from Sam, but Jiang Cheng does it...better. I think it does come out, though. Right before the hellhounds do.

here’s where it starts to go farther off from spn canon. Jiang Cheng crawls his way out of the grave, gets stalked by a menacing presence that explodes windows for an episode, incidentally can’t find WWX...*Lan Wangji voice* “I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from Perdition” (a baller line then and a baller line now)...and then the next episode starts with them all awkwardly standing around, and JC is like, “ok well let’s go find my brother then”, and you think there’s going to be an mdzs-riffing JC+LWJ Roadtrip To Find WWX...and they’re immediately attacked by like a dozen demons

in fact, the first time we see WWX in s4 is here, wherein he goes toe to toe with an angel and...holds his own. that’s new and terrifying! also is leading a squad of demons??

because here’s the thing: for the last 3(?) months, there’s been war in hell

because unlike Some People Mooses, upon finding out that his brother’s soul was legally nearly-owned by a crossroads demon, heir-apparent-to-Satan!WWX went, “actually fuck that” and kicked open the door of Hell (metaphorically, not loosing any demons this time) and was like, “who do I have to beat the shit out of to get a specific crossroads contract around here”

this did not work, obv. He didn’t know until it was too late, Lilith had already snapped up the contract, etc. etc.

obviously he also tried to offer himself instead, and got rejected for some reason

Since Jiang Cheng died, however, there’s been a war for control of Hell. Leading one side, Lilith, the Original Babe, who wants to break all 666(?) seals keeping Lucifer bound and in the meantime, break the Righteous Man so Heaven won’t even have Michael’s destined host ready for the Final Battle. Leading the other side, Wei Wuxian, infamous upstart, who wants to rescue the Righteous Man and restore him to life, tear Lilith’s guts out through her nose, and also stop her from doing the Lucifer thing because Wen Qing explained that yes, that’s a Thing, and it’s Bad.

Wen Qing! I’ve decided to combine Bela and Ruby’s roles and let WQ be both the cool badass example of how demon deals can go Bad and the demon deliberately leading our heroes astray for most of s3-4. Wen Qing is a very new demon; she used to be some sort of herbalist/witch but then she sold her soul in a crossroads deal to cure her brother of some lingering illness. 10 years of happiness and then boom, hellhounds. WQ is so obviously competent, though, that they (Lilith, I guess?) immediately offers her a job, with the promise threat that gee, that’s a nice brother you’ve got there, even with his Designated Chronic Health Condition getting all relapse-y. It’d be such a shame if something were to...happen to him...

we find this out at some point in last s3 I guess? some Monster of the Week case involves WN as a witness or something, or possible next victim, and WQ shows up to be A Normal Amount Of Invested In This, while desperately trying to avoid actually interacting with her brother (who thinks she’s dead). YES, the truth comes out; YES there’s a tearful reunion

now in s4, Wen Ning is fine actually, health-wise, bc he maybe made a crossroads deal with Wei Wuxian personally, and Wen Qing may or may not have admitted that she’s supposed to be working for Lilith to get WWX ready to host Lucifer? Or potentially that comes out later, idk. Either way, she’s 100% his top lieutenant in this exciting Hell War they’re waging

[insert whatever the hell (ha) happened plot-wise in s4 of supernatural]

we obviously mix up the relationships, too, bc it’s like, *LWJ internal monologue* I’m too young to remember my brother Lucifer as he was before he Fell, but surely Wei Wuxian is his Heir and Destined Vessel in truth, for he is Charismatic and Charming and Makes Me Feel Things, with his Clearly Feigned Righteous Drive and Compassion for All God’s Creatures and - why does heat keep pooling in the lower abdomen of my vessel when I look at his lips, which I am definitely doing a Normal and Not-Weird Amount - I’m just keeping an eye out for the famed Silver Tongue, and not in any way wondering how it would feel in my own mouth -

it’s actually DEFINITELY plausible for Lucifer to still be released even if our designated Heir Apparent is using his demon powers to his full potential and no one’s lying to each other about their motives. You just need to let Lilith be more scary too, and especially bc by “no one” I mostly mean Wen Qing; the angels are still totally hiding the fact that they, too, want to jumpstart the shit out of this apocalypse.  LWJ decides at the last minute that that’s a bad idea actually, gets himself discorporated to send JC to intercept WWX because he accidentally releases Lucifer, etc. etc. Oh yeah, the boys were def fighting before this, bc JC has actually fairly reasonable concerns about the sort of things WWX is getting up to in his quest to become King of Hell...

SO

...I neither know nor care what happens in s5

it does end with both Lucifer and Michael locked in the cage probably, bc I rather liked that solution. Fuck both of ‘em, basically.

I was toying with the idea that WWX also found Madam Yu in whatever hellish torment she was suffering after making a deal so her idiot son(s) would survive, and she was leading forces for him in the war against Lilith as well. If she came back to life somehow, body and all, it’d probably be compelling if she offered her own body to Michael - bc it’s her lineage! - and we’re all led to believe that she’s, uh, being a bitch and actually wants to risk destroying the world in order to destroy all demons...but then she seizes back control and flings herself/Michael and Lucifer into the Pit, because she’s just That Hardcore?

which means we’d actually have had her around and having characterization for most of s4-5, too, which would be fun

More importantly, it ends with newly crowned King of Hell Wei Wuxian appointing Wen Qing as Queen-Regent and ditching to go on an indefinite honeymoon with his new angel boyfriend (they’re going to fuck for like three weeks straight, then roll up their sleeves and go conquer Heaven in the name of free will), and Jiang Cheng gets to live out his hitherto-unknown-to-himself life’s ambition to be the sugar baby of the Queen of Hell. It’s very Hades/Persephone, except he goes back down to the underworld at least once a month. He gets his own demon squad whom he trains up in all the hunting techniques and it’s gr9. Wen Qing is reforming the crossroads deal process to make it more fair to the humans.

the end

Addenda:

it should go without saying but Jiang Yanli is definitely a recurring character, like, at least once a season there’s a filler episode where they go to Jiang Yanli’s for dinner and have to get along as a family, and also do the much easier job of defeating some sort of terrible demon that gets loose in the bunker and turns the evening into a horror movie. She’s their main research/emotional check-in person, a la Bobby, more often appearing in later seasons when there’s, uhhh, more to emotionally check in about.

Jin Zixuan is actually a perfectly competent hunter; he’s just a priss and we don’t Like him

we like Mianmian, though. Oh, I guess the official Hunter’s Guild or w/e tries to declare WWX a public enemy on account of the whole “King of Hell” thing and she’s like “actually what if you’re morons and assholes?” and joins hte team in s4 or 5? Yeah.

idk how the 3zun disaster happens in this ‘verse but I do encourage it to be happening in slow motion as a recurring subplot for several seasons. NMJ is a hunter, LXC is obv an angel, and JGY is...I wanna say one of the more human monsters, like a vampire? Or, you know, something that could be born from JGS sleeping with someone/something he shouldn’t have

[harrysweasleys]

a lesson in chemistry // r.l

summary: hey! i was wondering if you could do one where the reader does really bad in a test and remus comforts her? thank u!!

warnings: none

word count: 2.6k

a/n: i am close to 1k and was thinking of doing an event but i know i’m gonna forget and it’s just not going to go well so i just wanna say THANK YOU to all you sweet sweet beings for following my mess of a blog! :)

——

Moonstone. Powdered porcupine quills. Powdered unicorn horn.

The three ingredients repeated themselves over and over in your head as you sat by yourself in the common room nearing two o’clock in the morning, the messy notebook spread open in front of you as your eyes tried to droop shut.

It was nearly impossible for you to focus on the fuzzy words, but you forced yourself to stay as awake as you possibly could so that tomorrow’s quiz would be a breeze. That’s why you were studying, wasn’t it?

Remus and Sirius had promised to help you out, but the two had trudged off to bed nearly an hour ago, practically already asleep. For two people who seemed so adamant on ‘all nighters’ they had gone to bed rather early, in your opinion. You quite missed their company — Remus more than Sirius — and wished you could at least have someone here to help keep your mind sharp.

But, here you were, all by your lonesome and wrapped in a scarlet and gold knitted blanket that your parents had made you, the crackling fireplace heating you up, and the words in front of you making you sleepy.

You couldn’t comprehend why no one else seemed stressed or even worked up about this quiz — exam, actually — which made studying it just that much more frustrating. You figured people would care about their marks and scores, right?

“The potion should result in a cool blue colour,” you mumbled to no one in particular, the words trying their best to etch into your brain, “A cool blue colour. Not to be mistaken with Draught of Peace which is a warm blue colour.”

You let out a quiet groan and rested your head against the back of the couch cushion. Potions class was never your strong suit, but you had found it fascinating. And, of course, hou didn’t want to seem like you were lost, so studying hours on end seemed to be the only passing solution here.

The large ticking clock on the wall told you it was five minutes past two o’clock, and the exam was at ten o’clock the next day. Only eight hours left for you to memorize every last word.

Eight hours.

As you glanced back down at the book, your eyes felt heavier than they were not a minute ago, and your head felt as if it were on a cloud. The room around you seemed to vanish down a long, long tunnel...

——

“D’you think if we poke her she’ll jump?”

“Sirius, that’s just rude.”

“C’mon, it’d be funny though. What if we poured pumpkin juice on her?”

“No, let’s just calmly wake her up.”

“You’re boring, Remus.”

Your eyes fluttered open to two overly familiar faces crouched in front of you. Remus, his hair messy and his eyes watching you cautiously, and Sirius with his signature smirk.

“Get out of my face,” you sat up, throwing the blanket off of and trying to figure out where you were. The Gryffindor common room felt very different when you were waking up in it.

The fire embers were burning low and the morning sunlight blazed through the windows, the room brighter than it had ever seemed before. The blanket was still comfortable draped over your body, warm and comforting, and the heavy textbook was still open on your lap with the page slightly crumpled as your hand rested upon it.

Suddenly, as if hit by a train once you noticed the book, you remembered, “Bloody hell, it’s the Potions quiz today.”

Remus chuckled, “Relax. It’s in, like, an hour.”

You threw the blanket off of your body and grabbed the book, shaking your head, “You don’t get it, Remus. I don’t know anything.”

“That can’t be true,” Remus furrowed his eyebrows at you.

Sirius pat you on the shoulder, sitting next to you on the couch and closing the book with a loud thump, “You’ll be fine. You just need to eat.”

So you let the two boys lead you down to the Great Hall, where the loud hustle and bustle of the early morning made it nearly impossible to focus on the jumble of words on the worn out pages in front of you. The book, although informative, was clearly written for someone who actually understood what the hell everything meant. And it was harder to understand anything when the ruckus around you made it difficult to even read said things.

It bothered you greatly that Remus — the person you considered your best friend — didn’t seem to care about the exam. Were you overreacting?

It wasn’t your fault, really. You took schoolwork very seriously and sometimes that meant overreacting. Over-studying. Over-planning. All of the above.

But, better to be safe than sorry — isn’t that the saying?

When the Great Hall crowd became dispersed, you knew that meant classes were beginning and you felt your nerves kick in at the thought. You shut the book rather loudly and followed Remus to the Potions classroom, no words being exchanged between the two of you — which you were thankful for, to be honest.

“You got this,” Remus flashed you a grin as you slowly walked into the class together, taking your usual seats in the middle. You didn’t like being too close, nor too far from the teacher. These seats were perfect.

“I don’t need false hope,” you groaned, resting your head on the table, “I need answers.”

He chuckled, “Sorry, you know me. I can’t cheat. But if this test goes wrong, I can tutor you.”

You lifted your head quickly, a bright red spot on your forehead from where it was previously pressed up against the wooden desk, “Wait, really? You’d do that?”

“Of course,” he smirked, running his hand through his hair in a stupidly attractive manner, “What are friends for?”

You flashed him a bright grin, “Oh, you’re the best, Remus.”

His cheeks turned slightly pink as he smiled back, lowering his head slightly as he flushed at the compliment. You felt your heart leap at his flustered state, unsure why the strange feeling decided to make its home in your chest.

You brushed it aside as the professor entered the class and handed out the quiz papers, making sure every student was silent and that no cheating would occur.

Within the first glance at the page, your heart sunk, all previous fluttery feelings gone. You had been so focused on remembering ingredients and potion colours that you forgot to study their purposes. The entire first page was asking about what each potion did and who they helped best. And you hadn’t even brushed on that subject during your late night study session.

Long story short, you were screwed.

You closed your eyes, thinking long and hard about each answer, writing down whatever felt right. It was always good to trust your gut instinct right?

In this case, it didn’t feel so right, but you went with it anyways.

What felt like two hours was only really thirty minutes, and the quiz was officially out of your hands. You felt ashamed handing it back — you knew your Professor would think you were a fool, a student who found excuses not to study. And that feeling was nagging you throughout the remainder of class.

“You don’t look so good,” Remus nudged your shoulder once you packed up your books, your entire body slouched and your lips curved downwards into a frown.

“I botched that so bad,” you groaned, tossing your head back and closing your book bag, throwing it over your shoulder, “I was too tired last night and didn’t study everything I wanted to.”

Empathetically, Remus wrapped his arm around your shoulder, guiding you out of the crowded class. You were too busy sulking to pay attention to the fact that Sirius, James and Peter weren’t even with you guys.

“I’ll help you,” Remus said, voice laced with confidence, “I don’t want you doubting your intelligence so I, Remus Lupin, appoint myself as your own personal tutor.”

“Can people self-appoint themselves that?” your face broke into a grin, his humorous antics thankfully distracting you from your disappointment, “You’re too much.”

“But you love me,” he ruffled your hair, removing his arm from around you and slipping his hand into his pocket.

You chuckled, shaking your head as your heart leapt in your chest, “I really do.”

——

“I failed.”

Your voice was weak and quiet as you sat down on the Gryffindor table bench during lunch the week after, your mood rather sour. You had been incredibly worked up that morning, knowing you’d be getting your test results. But now that you’d gotten them, you wanted nothing more than to go back in time where you didn’t have to deal with the reality of the failure.

Remus’ face fell and he placed his hand on your knee, “Ah, I’m sorry. If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t do so well either. I think this test was marked more strictly than they usually are.”

Though you appreciated the effort, it didn’t lift your spirits.

“I didn’t think I’d do bad enough to actually fail,” you sighed, slouching your shoulders and resting your elbows lazily on the table, “I’m mad at myself.”

“Hey,” Remus lifted his hand off of your knee and poked you in the shoulder, “Stop that. Seriously. Don’t put yourself down so much.”

“Hard not to,” you leaned forwards and rested your head on your hand, eyeing the food with a frown. Your appetite wasn’t present at the moment.

Remus snapped his fingers in front of your face, “I’m serious, Y/N. I’m here to help you, yeah? We’ll get through this. We’ll improve together. The next quiz won’t even stand a chance against us.”

You wanted to keep sulking, but his words brought a smile to your face. Remus had a way of cheering you up — him and his ways. Something about him.. you just couldn’t stay upset around him.

“Thanks,” you grinned, lifting your arm and poking him in the shoulder as he had done to you previously, “I do feel a little better.”

“Good!” he flashed you a toothy grin, his eyes brightening, “That’s always the intention.”

You stared at him for a good moment, the smile not leaving your face. His freckles seemed more visible than usual, his hair lighter and his eyelashes long against his cheeks each time he blinked. Though his hair was thin and brown, his eyelashes were thicker and darker — it was rather cute. His eyes had specks of green in them and, you had never really noticed before, they had some grey in them too.

You had to snap yourself out of the trance he left you in, unaware and unsure as to what caused it.

Had you just checked Remus out? No. Couldn’t be. He was your friend. Friend. Best friend.

You took a deep breath and began filling your plate, appetite suddenly back. You filled your stomach with chicken pot pie and potatoes, hoping that the faster you ate, the better you’d feel.

But nope.

Though your mind was off of your test, you somehow felt even worse. Remus was all you could focus on. His closeness, his kindness, his warmth, his smell.

“Ready for the afternoon?” Remus stuck his hand out to you as he stood up, shaking you from your weirdly romantic thoughts.

“What?” you blinked, “Oh — yeah, sorry.”

You shook your head and stood up, linking your hand with his as the two of you left the hall and took off towards your next class.

——

“No, no,” Remus shook his head, “You need to add this.”

You stared blankly down at the messy piece of parchment, nodding your head slowly, trying to remember which potion you guys had been talking about in the first place.

“Uh — which one again?” you asked sheepishly, your ears burning at the obvious fact that you weren’t paying attention, “Sorry.”

He let out a small laugh, placing his finger on the page in front of you, “This.”

You were glad that the library was quiet at this time of day, the cloudy weekend morning meaning most students would be choosing to start their day relaxing around in their pyjamas and drinking pumpkin juice.

You, however, while others students got to relax and spend the morning doing nothing, you had the great misfortune of being dragged out of the common room by an equally tired Remus.

“The library is empty in the morning,” he had said at your repeated groaning.

And he was right. The library was empty. The only sound you could hear was your quill scratching against your parchment and Remus’ whispered voice trying to teach you while respecting the library noise rules.

“What potion uses porcupine quills and peppermint sprigs?” he asked, resting his head on his hands and staring at you intently, his eyes focused on you and only you.

“Uh—,” you fought the urge to look down at your parchment notes, “Elixor to Induce Euphoria.”

He grinned, raising his hand to high five you, which you gladly accepted, “See! You got this!” You felt your face warm up at the contact and compliment.

“Next question,” he smirked, leaning even closer to you, “What would you say if I asked you to come to Hogsmeade for a drink?”

“I — what?”

As if the wind was knocked out of you, you couldn’t utter a single sound. Had you heard him right? There was no way.

“Do I need to repeat myself?” he chuckled.

But you still couldn’t find the words.

Yes, you had recently looked at Remus differently, but had it been a crush? It didn’t seem like it at first — but as you looked at him now, his face illuminated by the light outside and the way his hair stuck up in odd places, you realized you did like him.

You liked him. Him and his boisterous laugh, his nervous nail-biting habits, his love for poetry and snow. You loved how he’d always be there for you, ready to crack a corny joke when you were feeling down in the dumps. You loved how he’d always have a book recommendation and a long list of reasons why it would be worth the read. You loved how he always had the neatest handwriting, his notes providing you with bits of information you’d miss in class. How he’d always look forward to dessert because of how delicious he found the pumpkin pasties.

And all it took was him asking you out for you to realize you were falling for your best friend.

“I’d actually like that,” you nodded, aware that your cheeks were probably glowing but you were too giddy to care at the moment. Somehow, you felt as if this was right. There was no strangeness about him asking you — it somehow felt as if you had been waiting ages for him to do so.

“Thank Merlin,” he sighed, relaxing his entire body as his face lit up, “Next weekend?”

“Hm, can’t think of anything I’m doing,” you tapped your finger against your chin, eyebrows raised and your cheeks beginning to hurt from the bright smile you were sending his way. You couldn’t remember the last time you had been this giddy.

He leaned across the table and linked his hands in yours. You melted into the contact, using your elbow to push your parchment and quill out of the way so you could lean forwards without fear of ruining your notes or your sweater.

Safe to say, studying was now long forgotten.

—

taglist:

@grierpilots 

@hxfflxpxffs

@mikumana

@msmimimerton

@pit-and-the-pen

@diary-of-an-onliner

@theweirdsideofstuff

@thoseofgreatambition

@theweasleysredhair

@haphazardhufflepuff

(message me to be added!)

[pluviophile-bookworm]

AWAE 2x9 rewatch: thoughts and reactions

This review is dedicated to Dalila Bela, who turns 19 today. Happy birthday!

After a long wait, there she is at last - Muriel Stacy, decorating her new home with potato stamps. What a lovely way to show she is a kindred spirit. She’s basically like an older Anne. 

Marilla and Anne utter the same words upon passing Miss Stacy, who is cycling in the opposite direction at top speed - ‘My heavens!’ - except their intonations are so different. Marilla is shocked at the sight of the unconventional-looking stranger, while Anne is in awe of her, and especially the fact that she’s wearing trousers. I don’t think the women of Avonlea, be they progressive mothers or not, won’t be so fascinated with her, though.

And again, Miss Stacy acts exactly like an older Anne, going on and on about potatoes and tardiness and motorbikes before she’s even caught a breath. I can’t wait for Anne to finally meet her. And that concludes the cold open. 

I don’t care what Prissy and Josie, or their mothers, say about Miss Stacy- I’m with Anne on this one. They shouldn’t judge their new teacher before they’ve met her up close. She’ll warm her way into their hearts, I’m sure. I actually know it for a fact.

I simply cannot believe Billy brought a gun to school and is openly proclaiming he’s about to kill an animal, a living being, with it. And it’s not just any animal - it’s the fox, Anne’s fox. What has it done to him that he’s so personally violent towards it?

Again, Gilbert alone is the voice of reason (unlike season 3 Gilbert, who is the most confused individual I’ve ever seen and has the eyebrows to prove it). ‘There’s no fox here, so how about you put the gun away?’ It’s as if he speaks for me. 

Who does Billy think he is, calling his teacher ‘little lady’? He’s lucky she’s not Phillips, otherwise he wouldn’t get away with such disrespectful behaviour. 

Once again Anne uses the exact same words as someone else, but with a different intonation. Prim and proper Tillie’s ‘Oh my goodness!’ is one of disapproval (which she’s not to blame for, that’s probably just what her parents have taught her), while Anne’s is an expression of pure admiration and fascination. [Side note: Let’s put things into perspective, though - what would you think if your new teacher showed up to school with no bra on, on her first day at that? I don’t really know what to think of corsets anymore, so I’m not sure how to take this. You tell me.]

What, now Matthew and Jerry, two of my favourite AWAE men, want to catch the fox too? I understand it’s stealing people’s chickens, but hey, a fox must eat too, and it’s not like it can get its food in another way.

What’s happening to Bash? Is farm life not his speed? I’m worried about him, I hope he’s alright. 

For this next scene, the introductions, I’ll insert a note from when I first watched this episode. I notice I’ve been doing that a lot lately, but well, it seems I’ve got quite a lot of first impression notes on this season written down, so why not make them public now, here where it’s appropriate? Here goes:

And, just as I was fascinated, things got dramatically bad. Anne wouldn’t stop saying quite private things about everyone who spoke, and Miss Stacy reprimanded her for spreading gossip, resulting in her being unable to come up with words to describe herself (the method used for introductions was everyone would use words starting with their initials to describe themselves. I really wanted to know what Anne would have said about herself, as nobody else seemed to struggle much with the exercise (although I myself always do when asked to do it).

Alright, now I’d like to add something to this. When Ruby describes herself as ‘romantic’ and looked for a G word for ‘Gillis’, I could swear she thought of a certain young man right to her left - heck, she even looked at him before quickly blurting out ‘girl’. Well, yeah, she is a girl. But she’s also defining herself through Gilbert too much. I hope she knows how much potential she has beyond him. Besides, he only has eyes for Anne. I wish we’d got another season so we could see how far Ruby and Moody go. I liked them, but we saw too little of them together. #renewannewithane

Ok, but... it was like Miss Stacy just finished Anne’s sentence. ‘Ruby has a crush on...’ ‘Gilbert Blythe?’ Well, yes, but that’s not what we’re talking about. See, I’m noticing details I did not deem significant enough to note down the first time around. This is what rewatches are for. 

Rachel Lynde needs Marilla’s help. That’s a first. Oh, well, it’s rumours, what else. She’s against Miss Stacy. I really don’t like her right now. 

No, seriously, what is happening to Bash?

Of course, what the mothers of Avonlea fail to see is that, female or not, trousers or nor, corset or not, Miss Stacy is much more capable of teaching the young minds of Avonlea school than her predecessor. Or at least she’s much more willing to educate them properly. Of course she’ll tutor Gilbert. And Anne will soon find her way into her good graces. I hope. Nay, I know it. 

‘Appalling, stupid, clueless...’ this is what I hoped wouldn’t happen, but it happened anyway. Now Anne is beating herself up for the scrape she got into by complete accident. Gosh, I hope someone can fix this.

From my old notes:  And again, Cole knows how to fix things, and he does so, brilliantly I would say. Also, with the way he goes out into the nature, raises his hands and shouts out “Come to me, Muse!”, I can totally see him being a pagan... and who’s to say he’s not? I mean, Anne has the makings of one too, remember the Beltane ritual in season 3?

Rachel’s only job seems to be to stick her nose in other people’s business. She has no right to go around asking about Muriel’s marital status and whether she wants to be an old maid. But as anyone who’s watched the full series knows, this will be carried over into season 3.

Seriously, Rachel right now reminds me of Anne earlier with all the gossip, and I see now why she (Anne) made such a bad impression on Miss Stacy. Unfortunately, she (Miss Stacy) cannot assign Rachel Lynde an essay.

Anne’s mind is all taken over by the fox... so much that she’s fallen asleep over her papers... and now, disaster after disaster lead to a small fire, which grows into a bigger fire. If Anne’s essay burns in it, I’ll literally cry. I know a thing or two about lost work. Why, half of this very post I had to write a second time after my computer decided to restart the page with the unsaved draft open. But hey, this is not about me. 

So I guess they’ve figuratively and literally forced Miss Stacy into a corset. That’s sad. But I see she’s not giving up on her unique identity.

Oh, great, now the found brothers are fighting. I guess it turns out Bash’s problem is he’s inexperienced in farming and he needs help, but Gilbert is pursuing his own future now and doesn’t seem to care all that much. I feel bad for Bash. But we know Gilbert will stay at least another year and Bash will figure farming out by the time he has to leave. 

Ah, I see Anne is feigning sickness so as not to go back to Miss Stacy after yesterday’s fiasco. Well, I’d do the same if I were her, but I’m not quite sure that’s the best solution to the problem at hand. Marilla’s suggestion seems much better to me. Going together so Anne has someone to vouch for her... reasonable and concerned like a true mother.

I see Bash is trying to figure out horse-riding on his own. It looks tough. But he can manage it. 

It’s a shame Jerry won’t help Anne with the trap... but well, he was promised good money, and his large family is so poor... the ends sort of justify the means here. Still, Matthew is not in the right to plan on skinning the fox for money. 

Gosh, things are heating up between Shirbert. Anne seems to be all the more determined to find and develop her vocation now that Gilbert is working on his. And he doesn’t seem to care much about her feelings right now, being so busy studying and all. But I wonder how this whole thing really makes him feel. 

Hey, there are the potato light bulbs! The first science lessons Miss Stacy teaches the class. And they never forget it. How inspiring!

Hey, I just realised something. In her ramble in the cold open, Miss Stacy mentioned that you can use potatoes for a lot of purposes... well, here’s the second one she demonstrates in this episode. Stamps and... lighting a bulb.

Marilla, who took up Miss Stacy’s offer to stay and observe, seems to be a new supporter of the young teacher. See? If people only gave her a chance and saw what she does and how she does it, she might soon be a hit in town. But no, some choose to condemn her instead, as if she’s ever done them wrong. Just like the fox. Except the fox stole some chickens. Miss Stacy is perfectly innocent. 

And... poor clumsy Moody had to ruin everything just as Rachel and the ProgressiveTM mothers came in. Too bad. But hey, it’s him who recalled this very first lesson later on when they were graduating, isn’t it? 

Hey, Bash has gone to see Mary. Things are getting serious. I guess.

Alas, the mothers are not too pleased with how the lesson turned out. Luckily, Marilla was there to see the whole thing from beginning to end and can support Miss Stacy in front of the rest of the women. And it seems Gilbert and Anne are ready to step in and defend her as well. On their second day with her. That speaks volumes. 

Oh, so he’s visiting Mary to talk about Gilbert. But he also talks about himself and his idea to go deep into farming. His story is truly an inspiring one. And also, he’s staying with Mary for supper. As I said, things are getting serious. 

Anne decided to show Miss Stacy the story clubhouse... nice. But she’s made another blunder in doing so. She’s forgotten Cole is hiding there from his parents. And now they’ll force him into farming again... as my younger self said when I saw this for the first time, ‘this episode is one of the most devastatingly dramatic ones of this series – ever. What a way to lead up to the season finale’. I think that says it all. 

Ah, yes, nobody told Gilbert that Bash wouldn’t be home for supper this evening. Too bad... now he’ll think Bash has run away on him. Meanwhile, Bash is having a good time with Mary. But there’s no way for Gilbert to know that. How unfortunate. 

One shot, one gunshot and... wait, it seems the fox has not been killed yet. But the poor clubhouse... Billy is the worst person in this series, hands down. I can’t even. I’m crying. Real tears. Right now.

See, Anne’s blunder was not telling Miss Stacy about Cole. After all, she swore her to secrecy. But it was a blunder nonetheless because Miss Stacy takes her duty as a teacher more seriously than her promise to Anne. If only she’d known the full story... Cole might have been saved. 

Miss Stacy riding with Harmon Andrews... I wonder what Rachel, aka the Avonlea yellow pages, will make of that. 

‘Sometimes you just have to use your imagination.’ This is powerful because it comes from Marilla. Also, perhaps this is the hidden sense of humour that L.M.Montgomery talked about in the book, which I’m currently rereading. 

I can’t, I just can’t. Now Cole feels betrayed by Anne, and Anne is devastated about the clubhouse.... and the women of Avonlea are against Miss Stacy, and Matthew disappointed Anne... can nobody be happy in this episode? It’s truly tragical and devastating. I should not have opted for rewatching it right before going to bed, on a school night at that. How will I sleep now?

Gosh, Cole really has had it now. I’m not saying Billy Andrews did not deserve it (he did and he does), but violence is never the answer. Still, I guess it’s justified now. Too bad it will probably lead to even more trouble for Cole. See, even he’s scared of what he’s done. He surely didn’t mean for it to go that far. And to the creators - this is no way to end an episode.

Let’s sum up: we meet Miss Stacy; intonation matters; the fox is in danger; Billy the bully has a weapon now - how bad can things get?; Bash struggles with farming; Anne accidentally makes a bad impression on a kindred spirit; appalling, stupid, clueless; ‘Come to me, Muse!’; Rachel Lynde sticks her nose into things that are not her business - what else is new; potato light bulbs; Bash visits Mary; the clubhouse is destroyed; Anne accidentally betrays Cole, leading to dramatic consequences; a disastrous ending to a devastating episode.

[bigskydreaming]

Do you ever get weirded out when people insist that Dick is a "control-freak?" I don't really have a good counterargument for that supposed statement, but that just doesn't really click for me... It kinda feels like one of those fanon things that puts a ton of unrealistic pressure on Dick to be a "perfect being" if you know what I mean....

Yes and no? Like I just mean with this, this is one of those things that I actually do think is part of his character.....its just that it gets snowballed into being this huge flaw and yet another avenue to criticize or condemn him, rather than just being used to explore WHY Dick is this way.

Like personally, I think one of the biggest similarities between Bruce and Dick despite all their differences is the fact that they both have control freak tendencies.....BUT these manifest in very different ways, and IMO stem from very different mindsets.

Because I feel like Bruce’s control freak tendencies stem from his awareness of his own resources, capabilities and knowledge, all blended in with a thread of ingrained classism that frankly, its just unrealistic to think that a born billionaire managed to avoid being influenced by at all.

I think Bruce’s control freak tendencies spiral out of his brilliant mind’s ability to map out so many scenarios in a way that lets them end in an optimal resolution for everyone involved....but ONLY IF he controls as many of the variables as possible himself, because the variables are what make or break a projection and how much it ends up being fully realized.

Bruce is a control freak because when he’s in his own head, when he’s the one in control of all the many varied elements that have to come together in just the right way at just the right times to allow everything to fall perfectly into place and thread the needle so everyone makes it out alive, nobody has to die, so long as Order is allowed access to everything it needs in order to control an outcome, it will prevail and the senseless Chaos that has so often stolen the things Bruce loves and cherishes most in ways he sees as always being preventable, could have been avoided, if only he’d been able to control more of the situation than he actually had at the time........

When Bruce retreats into his own mind to analyze things and project outcomes and try and come up with the one course of action that will accomplish all of his intended goals without anyone being hurt......because he is the master of his own universe there in his own mind, he’s in complete charge of his thoughts, his brain always having been his greatest and ultimate weapon......because there’s nothing interfering with his control of all the little minutiae that need to happen just so in order for his seemingly impossible plans to come together properly......there, Bruce can see it all play out perfectly. A perfect outcome, nobody hurt, nobody losing anything, everyone accomplishing everything they needed to accomplish in order to rate the plan an unmitigated success.

But that’s only in his own head. Where he controls everything. The real world is not so easily controlled and shaped despite his best efforts and considerable reach......and thus, in my mind, the eternal tragedy of Bruce.

Because his control freak tendencies do come from a genuine place, a good place, a desire to see all his loved ones, and everyone else just safe and happy and protected and ALIVE...

But those good intentions butt heads with the fact that so many of the variables he tries his best to control are actually y’know....expressions of other peoples’ free will that he has no right to override or manipulate for them, no matter that he does so with the best of intentions.

Its okay to play God in your own head, in your own assessment of a situation as you run through how you would LIKE for it to play out, ideally.

But that doesn’t mean its okay to play God like that and to that extent in your real life, influencing and superseding the agencies of those closest to you to arrange them all like pieces on a chessboard because you’re convinced you are right and you know best.

Because the thing is - the tragedy - is that Bruce undeniably IS brilliant. His mind probably works in ways most people couldn’t even comprehend. His ability to analyze so many disparate variables and factors in his head and calculate projected outcomes, is like....second to none.

So the thing is.....in his own head, when Bruce maps out solutions to the various crises he comes face to face with.........with him controlling all the variables in play there, he truly does find an optimal outcome most of the time, I think. That’s the tragedy. I believe he really is able to 90% of the time calculate a strategy that could safely navigate everyone of his loved ones and teammates and allies through whatever dangers they face and see them safely through to the other side....but ONLY if he controls the majority of the variables, INCLUDING the actions of all those people. In essence...only if they all do EXACTLY what he tells them to, and just takes it on faith that he is right and knows what he’s doing and listening to him now will keep everyone alive.

And unfortunately, that’s just....not something you can ask of people, let alone expect. No matter how much they trust you, the kind of faith that’s asking (usually in life or death situations and the heat of the moment)....that demands ABSOLUTE certainty that this man has found the one truly optimal solution to their crisis, no matter what anyone else says to the contrary - and most of those other voices usually belonging to geniuses in their own rights. And especially when the things Bruce is asking of them or telling them to do flies in the face of other heroes’ own well-honed instincts that have kept them alive through years and even decades of being a superhero in their own right, without Bruce constantly looking over their shoulder advising them....sometimes, that’s just not something even people who know and trust him are going to be able to do.

Because as brilliant as Bruce is, he’s still human. He’s not actually God, he’s not infallible. He CAN be wrong. He HAS been wrong, and will be again. Even if he’s only wrong one out of ten times as opposed to most peoples’ 50/50 split.....that is still a margin of error, and ANY possibility of error, even a one in ten chance that Bruce isn’t right this time, he missed something or didn’t account for something or sheer dumb chance could potentially strike at just the single most critical moment and derail his whole strategy no matter how ingenious it was.....

*Shrugs* Well, when you’re talking life or death stakes, sometimes even just that one in ten chance this might be one of the times Bruce is wrong means that other experienced heroes, even his own family like Dick, have to do what’s right in their eyes, what makes sense to THEM, and not being able to see the world the way Bruce does, see the strategy he’s concocted run through its projections seamlessly and without a hitch in his mind......they sometimes have to say I do trust you, but I also have to trust myself as I’ve gotten this far, and every instinct, all my experience as a hero myself is telling me I have to go a different way on this one.

And the tragedy of Bruce is every single time someone does that, someone makes a choice he advised against instead of adhering to what he told them to do......he can still see in his mind, the shining perfect strategy as he’d envisioned it, still running from Point A to Point B without a single hitch as long as everyone in his mind’s eye performs exactly according to the strategy he’s mapped out....and when that happens, the scenario, the projection ends exactly as it always ends from the very first time he mapped it out and ran through it in his head, checking for flaws.

In his head, no matter how disastrously things might have gone wrong in real life, the second they diverged from Bruce’s plan or someone acted in a way Bruce had specifically advised against.......in his head, where those things don’t happen, where everything goes exactly according to his plan, where he has total, perfect control......there, his projections whether imagined ahead of time or running through them in hindsight, always arrive at the same conclusion:

The optimal outcome he was aiming for. The one where everyone made it home alive and safe, where all objectives were accomplished, where the good guys won and after the movie, Bruce and his parents got ice cream and then went home and nothing unanticipated happened or went wrong, because he had it all under control, as long as everything adhered exactly to his plan.

And that’s a hell of a thing to have to live with....a crystal clear image of things ending the way you wanted them to, the way everyone wanted them to....if only everyone had LISTENED to you and done exactly as you said instead of refusing to trust you or going off script and doing their own thing.

So Bruce is a control freak, IMO, but for a reason.....and that reason is such that no matter how many times his control freak tendencies clash with his childrens’ independence, his teammates’ trust, he can’t view it as a solution, to just rid himself of those tendencies.....because they WORK. When allowed to. He’s not controlling just for the sake of being controlling, he’s just trying desperately to keep as many people as possible ALIVE by the time he returns home every morning.......and even though he’s intelligent enough and self-aware enough to see where those very same tendencies cause major problems in his interactions and relationships with even his own children....I think Bruce is constantly stuck between a rock and a hard place, unable to keep himself from weighing that against his success rate, and how often embracing his control freak tendencies instead of dismissing them has led to an optimal outcome, and kept everyone safe, that he was trying to keep safe.

So I get it, even as it causes clear problems for a character I favor more than Bruce.

Because see, like I said at the start, I do think Dick has control freak tendencies too....but the problem I have with talking about them, or seeing them talked about elsewhere in fandom, is that I truly don’t think its possible to divorce Dick’s control freak tendencies FROM how Bruce’s impacted him while growing up.

Basically....you can’t productively talk about this tendency of Dick’s, IMO, unless you’re willing to also talk about Bruce’s control freak tendencies and how and in what ways they negatively impact his children, like Dick.

Because Bruce and Dick, while similar, are not the same and are never going to be the same, because there’s no avoiding the fact that Bruce is a direct and pivotal - most pivotal, lbr - influencer on Dick’s life, and the man he grows up to become.

And Bruce, as stated....is a control freak. And he already was, before Dick ever set foot in the manor. 

But Bruce grew into his control freak tendencies as a reaction to his trauma, the shock of the unanticipated stealing everything from him, in ways that later, in hindsight, Bruce can’t help but view as being entirely preventable, if only things had gone differently that night, if people had made different choices, if someone had CONTROLLED the situation.

Bruce’s tendencies grew out of a failure to react properly, and grew INTO an extreme form of proactiveness. Bruce doesn’t wait for things to happen, if he can help it, because too often that means by the time you act, its already too late. Bruce prepares as much as humanly possible. He acts preemptively to take out threats before they can become actual threats. He forms contingencies way ahead of ever needing them, because by the time he needs them, he knows he won’t have the time needed to properly map a plan out from scratch/

But this kind of proactive approach to life as a superhero - a mindset he never truly ever leaves behind in the Cave even though he changes before going upstairs, because the line between Bruce and Batman is far too blurred, there is no real distinction in Bruce’s mind...he’s ALWAYS Batman, and thus he’s ALWAYS on guard and doing his best to be prepared.

However, the caveat to that is that means that a lot of time, a lot of his life and how he goes about living it......is according to plans he’s mapped out to preempt or stave off or avoid even POTENTIAL problems or dangers in his day to day life.

In essence....he spends a lot of his life choosing his course of action based on not just avoiding existing threats....but even potential threats, whether or not they ever end up being something he had to be concerned about.

And the thing that gets left out of criticism of Dick’s control freak tendencies IMO....is this is Dick’s father. This is the man who raised him, for MUCH longer than any other Batkid has been raised by him. This is the way Dick grew up.

And it was fine at first! When he was younger, a kid, it didn’t bother him to live his life according to Bruce’s advice and wishes and plans, because children that young, like, they’re USED to parents making a ton of their decisions, steering them towards certain choices because they’re literally too young and too lacking in life experiences to know what the best choice to make even IS.

That’s the way its SUPPOSED to work, and thus, for a long time...it DID work.

But...at a certain point, parents are supposed to pull back, take off the training wheels, stamp down their desire to overrule the choices their children make that they view as misguided or disasters waiting to happen, because its their life to live now, and they need to be allowed to do that. For better or for worse.

And the problem was.....Bruce didn’t do that. Because I honestly don’t think Bruce knows HOW to do that. Because when he thinks he knows better than someone else, I don’t think he’s just sure he’s right, I honestly think he can SEE it in his head. He’s face to face with it, can’t avoid looking at it no matter how determined someone else seems to steer themselves down a far more harmful path, when it would be sooooo easy, in Bruce’s estimation, for them to get what they want without any risk of danger, he can see it so clearly, if only they would just LET HIM STEER.....

And as Dick grew up, grew into himself and his own surety in his own instincts and priorities and choices.......that just....didn’t work for him. At all. Its practically anathema to who he is and what he cares about most, values most for his own life. Its oil to his water. He CAN’T live like that, the very idea chafes at him, probably.....the thought of just surrendering his own choices to someone else’s directive, even if it is his own father, even though he does believe that Bruce only wants what’s best for him and for him to be safe and happy.....

Because the thing is, I don’t think Dick CAN be happy living like that. He is someone who desperately needs the freedom to make his own choices even if they’re the wrong ones, sometimes even especially if they’re the wrong ones.

Because Dick is a product of his own traumas and tragedies just as Bruce is of his own.

And the thing that took Bruce’s parents from him, ruined his life, wrecked everything and put him on the path to becoming the Batman.....was something Bruce sees as avoidable, preventable, with the missing variable being the control he lacked. But the thing is, Bruce always had agency. He grew up the privileged heir of a vastly wealthy and influential family. He NEVER lacked for personal power, for the ability to make choices and have them respected.

So the problem the night his initial tragedy occurred on was not that he was lacking control or agency he normally possessed, that someone else had removed it or countered it......he was the same as always. No, the problem was that even though he had his own personal measure of control, his personal agency....that wasn’t ENOUGH to subvert his tragedy. That on its own was never going to be able to seize control of enough of the variables in the situation that he could then guide it safely to a different outcome, no matter how many times he mapped it out in his head looking back on it. He had his control and agency, but it wasn’t enough....he needed MORE. Only by having more control over the situation, his environs, his person, the influence he could wield on people around him......only that could give him ENOUGH control to influence the high volume of variables needed in any given scenario, to assume control of that situation overall, and be the one most influential in deciding what outcome ultimately resulted from it.

But Dick is another matter entirely, and his situation - for all its parallels to Bruce’s - was always INHERENTLY different.

Because Dick wasn’t born the privileged heir of a family of wealth and power....and even after being taken in by Bruce, that didn’t remove his origins even in the eyes of Gotham society, and no matter how much Bruce’s wealth and connections made Dick’s life better and easier in many ways, merely being raised by him starting at age eight or nine was never going to actually give Dick the entirety of all the privileges Bruce enjoys, and always has, his entire life.

No matter the size of his bank account, the way the general public views Bruce Wayne and the way they view Dick Grayson, the poor circus orphan Bruce took in for some unknown reason....they are entirely different things, and not remotely interchangeable.

Bruce’s problem was that even as much control and agency as he initially possessed, it wasn’t enough to give him as much influence over outcomes as he NEEDED in order to protect people and keep them safe.

Dick’s problem was that from the moment his parents were murdered, he barely ever was even ALLOWED any control over his own life or personal agency at all.

Dick’s tragedy was preventable too - he could have stopped it from happening....if only he could have gotten someone to listen to him about the strange man he saw, to believe him and check things out as a result. But Dick was never the kind of kid Bruce was, even after he came to live with Bruce, because he needed to be the kind of kid people LISTENED to and took at their word in order for so many of the events of those first few years in Gotham to play out differently than they did....and he just wasn’t that kind of kid. 

He was a brown boy from a suspect background and heritage, he was willful and spirited and proud, which led to him clashing frequently with those who tried to look down on him and walk all over him....with him then often facing consequences from adults or authority figures, because.....he wasn’t the kind of kid they listened to and took at his word, about what had actually happened, not when more privileged kids were saying otherwise.

And that pattern has only repeated throughout Dick’s life....not just because of Bruce’s control freak tendencies, but because of classism, because of the prejudices that led CPS to unilaterally declare the environment he’d happily grown up in until then was no fit place for a child, and even freaking JUVIE was a place more ‘fitting’ for him. Dick never got any say about having to stay in Gotham, the city where his parents died, with him stuck and grounded in the one place that held the most painful memories of his life thus far, when previously he’d been a citizen of the world and used to traveling all over, never chained down to one spot, let alone a spot where he’d already lost so much.

And like I said, its only gone on in that same pattern ever since. He’s been brainwashed and had his mind messed with more than practically any other hero, and with some of these instances lasting months and even up to a year at a time. He’s been canonically raped twice and sexually violated and harassed in numerous other ways countless times.

His choice to honor his parents’ memory via his choices of costume and names are never respected or deemed good enough to justify said costumes’ or names existence.....the things he always intends as a memorial, a tribute to the parents he loved and misses always get weaponized against him and made objects of scorn and mockery instead, a reason for people around him to look down on him instead of trying to understand him and why he made the choices he did.

He didn’t get a say in keeping the name his mother gave him, when Bruce fired him and he was forced to come up with an entirely new mantle. He didn’t get a say when Bruce passed that mantle on without even asking him, as though the second Robin had become associated with Batman, that association took priority over all others, even the association with his parents that led him to choose that for his superhero name in the first place.

Despite living with Bruce the longest, Dick has had the least social influence and standing and legal benefits from being Bruce’s son, given that he was Bruce’s ward the entire time he lived with Bruce, his wardship dissolved at eighteen and he had no ties to Bruce whatsoever for at least another couple of years after, at which point he and Bruce finally reconciled, and it was still a couple more years after that when he was finally adopted, the way most of his siblings were adopted while still living at home and getting vastly more security and assurance from being legally bound to Bruce as his children by his choice, a choice that Dick was never offered, not until long after he was used to living on his own, and by necessity had already been forced to come to terms with not being Bruce’s child by adoption - Dick’s adoption has always in reality been more honorary than beneficial in a way he actually needed or could have benefited from, if it’d happened earlier or had been in place when first having issues with Bruce.

Etc, etc, etc.

So like I said way back at the start of this, the problem I have with talk of Dick’s control freak tendencies is NOT that he doesn’t have them - he does, very much so.

Its that you simply can not talk about them without talking about Bruce’s and acknowledging how Bruce’s affect Dick’s, IMO.....because while Bruce’s control freak tendencies are born of a desire to be as proactive as possible.....Dick’s are entirely REACTIVE in nature.

Dick’s a control freak not because he wants to control more than is healthy or acceptable without impinging on others’ agency and choices.......but rather, because he just wants to have the same kind of control and personal agency everyone BUT him seems to be granted in life.

They stem from the fact that so often in his life, even the most basic and personal levels of agency have routinely been stripped from him and denied to him. Bounced around like a pinball at the whims of others, who very rarely consider his opinion about his own life worth even listening to. They’re a reaction to the many times and many ways in which his privacy has been violated by Bruce and his boundaries crossed as though they’re nonexistent - which they are, if Bruce refuses to acknowledge them as existing and respect and abide by them. 

They’re born of his attempt to seize control of ANYTHING he can in order to ground himself, to be able to hang on the NEXT time the ground is ripped out from under him and his whole world is upended just like it was when his parents were killed and when Bruce fired him the first time, and the second time, and when the Titans disbanded, and when Jason died and Bruce hit him and when the woman he slept with was not the woman he was in love with but a virtual stranger who tricked him and started a chain reaction of events and fights and blame and resentment on both sides that ultimately ended in Dick and Jory breaking up. Or when Terra turned out to be a traitor or when he found out he’d been under the Church of Blood’s mental control for a whole year without even knowing it and he now had no idea which of the choices and actions he’d made the past year had been HIS and which had been the Church pulling his strings. Or when Joey turned out to have betrayed the team and then turned out to be possessed and then ended up dead. Or when Donna died or when Jason came back except he tried to kill Tim and instead of coming home devoted himself to becoming a literal crime lord. Or when Tarantula raped him and he was violated in that way for the second time, and Babs dumped him while he was blamed yet again for things that literally weren’t his fault and he was the victim of. Or when Blockbuster burned down the circus that had been his home for the first eight years of his life, just because it was his and he’d been happy there, or when the apartment building he’d gradually over time built into an actual community he was a part of rather than just a building he lived in was destroyed and everyone in it was killed. Or when his entire city was destroyed in part to spite him, specifically, 

Or in the New 52, when he found out that he wasn’t actually the only surviving member of his family....he had a great-grandfather except lol oh wait, whoops, Great Grandpappy is an undead zombie assassin with seriously whack family values and reveals that he’d been selected before birth and was intended to be groomed as a future undead zombie assassin as his ‘destiny’ because his homicidal Pappy he only just met had apparently decided his genes swimming around in Dick’s DNA meant his call to force Dick into a life that would actually span several lifetimes, in servitude and mindless obedience to people who opposed everything he’d ever stood for and fought against every single day of his life as a hero.

And forget about the lack of control Dick had in anything to do with Forever Evil and Spyral, or anything to do with Ric because its not Dick in the driver’s seat there, and lol ON TOP OF THAT it turned out RIC wasn’t even actually in the driver’s seat either, it was the Court of Owls all along, yet again pulling his strings like they thought he was Pinocchio and had a stamp on the bottom of his foot that said Property of William Cobb and His Cult of Crazy Bird-Equivalent-of-Furries.

So yeah. Bottom line is yes, Dick IS a control freak in a lot of ways at a lot of times, but like I often say about his instances of anger.....these are not flaws, these are humanizing aspects of his character that if looked at from his POV rather than just used as a reason to condemn him, they’re completely understandable even if they’re not always the ‘best’ of all possible choices or reactions he could have.

Dick’s a control freak because he kinda pretty much HAD to be. Seizing control of any scrap of well, control, within reach, any chance he could get, was initially just a survival mechanism built around what he considered necessary for HIS survival.....because to Dick, being alive means nothing if he’s not also allowed the ‘courtesy’ of being in control of his own mind, his own body, his own life and choices and path.

I believe for him, it started as a REACTION to Bruce’s own control freak tendencies, as well as the other factors in Dick’s life that habitually stripped him of his agency and choices. Controlling whatever he could in his immediate vicinity or sphere of influence was I think, initially just to act as a counterweight, balancing out the many times his personal innate agency was disregarded or taken away. If he couldn’t control his own life, be allowed his own choices, he’d just have to gain enough control of a situation through other means that it gave him a kind of leverage he could then use to take back what was taken from him.

And I think that’s absolutely understandable and relatable.

Obviously, there have been instances where Dick’s control freak tendencies have negatively impacted others the way Bruce’s have at times negatively impacted him. When he’s run over other peoples’ ability to make their own choices because he lost sight of what he was doing and why. Sometimes these are logical narrative choices and actual mistakes and errors he usually eventually acknowledges and tries his best to make amends for.......and of course, he’s just as vulnerable to being written by shitty writers who don’t know shit about things like agency and thus have him run all over other peoples’ agencies in ways that I don’t think are true to his characterization even with his control freak tendencies front and center. *Shrugs* Its all subjective.

But yeah. That’s my long dissertation on the control freak tendencies of both Bruce and Dick and why and how I consider them intrinsically linked. You can’t talk about the one without the other, because the one in large part only originated BECAUSE of the other. If Dick’s vigilante persona was named and themed Control Freak, Bruce’s status as KING Control Freak would be his origin story there.

Here endeth the word vomit. Byyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyye.

[hxseok-honee]

i found | part 18

a/n: YAH YEET LETS COP THIS CRUST PLS LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK <3 

previous | next

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When Y/n steps into the transfiguration classroom later that night and finds it empty, she worries that perhaps Yoongi’s chosen to stay in his room tonight, that maybe he’s decided he doesn’t want to see her anymore. Setting her stuff down on the table closest to her, she paces the room slightly, chewing on the ends of her fingernails and wearing away the skin there as her anxiety grows.

What if he doesn’t want to be near me right now? He wouldn’t take it out on me, would he? I wouldn’t blame him I guess… What if he’s more hurt than I thought? Should I call someone? Surely someone would have found him already if he fainted or something, right? Maybe I should go check the Hospital W-

“Why do you look so nervous?” Head whipping around as her body reacts to the sudden presence in the room, her eyes find his instantly. Yoongi’s wearing a fresh set of clothes, and it’s obvious he tried to clean himself up a bit in the time that they’d been apart, but he almost looks worse now than he did before. The bruises on his neck and around his left eye have already darkened drastically, and his arm is still wrapped almost protectively around the front of his torso, hovering over his ribs. He’s leaning against the door frame in what appears to be a casual manner, but it’s clear that he’s using it to support his weight. He watches her scan over his form quickly, and he can tell by the way her eyes lower to the floor that she’s uncomfortable. Frowning deeply, he steps further into the room, hoping to distract her.

“What’s all this?” Pointing at the box that sits on the table as he approaches it, he peers into it and finds a bunch of different medical supplies. Poking through it with a hum, he hears her come closer to him as she speaks.

“Uh, it’s my first-aid kit. I mean, it’s not really a kit, I guess- just all of the medicine and disinfectant stuff I own. I figured I should just bring everything with me, just in case-” He glances over his shoulder to look at her while she rambles, still unable to figure out where the sudden awkwardness is coming from. Turning to look at her properly, he waits until she’s done to start speaking.

“Why are you acting so weird? It’s more awkward than when we first met.” She raises her eyes to look into his, expecting to see some lingering resentment there from the events of the day, but all she sees is the same guy she was with last night, blinking curiously down at her through concerned eyes and a furrowed brow.

“Uh… I don’t know, I’m just worried that you’re upset with me or something…” He scoffs at her words, rolling his eyes lightly as he leans back and perches himself on the table, situating himself comfortably next to the box.

“Come on Y/n, you know better than that. I’m not the type to hold grudges, especially against someone who’s done nothing wrong.” She looks like she’s about to argue with him, so he leans forward, groaning lightly at the pressure on his ribs, and slips two fingers into one of the belt loops on her jeans. Tugging gently, he brings her close to him, adjusting his seating so she can stand in the space between his legs. He can’t tell if her sudden silence is a good or bad thing, so he gestures awkwardly to the box.

“Do your thing, Doc.” She smiles slightly at his words, deciding not to say anything about the proximity and running her eyes over his form one more time before speaking, averting her gaze and reaching into the box as she does so.

“Take off your shirt.” She can hear him chuckling quietly as he reaches for the hem of his black t-shirt, so she chooses to keep her eyes on the various bottles and band-aids as she wishes for the heat in her face to go away soon. But he takes too long to do as she says, and suddenly he’s making a strangled noise and squeezing his legs together, pressing the sides of his knees into her thighs to alert her. Glancing quickly at him, she can’t help the laugh that explodes violently out of her.

He’s got his shirt halfway off, but there must be an injury around his shoulders because he’s struggling to lift the shirt over his head. Clearly he’s having some trouble because he’s in pain, but all she can see is a half-dressed Yoongi wiggling around as he tries to get out of his own trap. Reaching out to him, her laughter is barely masked as she takes hold of his shirt and pulls it the rest of the way off. By the time she finally manages to drag the article of clothing off of him, he’s complaining loudly and leaning into her for support.

Tossing his shirt on the table beside them, she runs her hands along the skin of his back and through the soft hair at the base of his neck as he presses his face into the crook of her neck, breathing heavily.

“You doing okay there?” He nods slightly, keeping his weight on her and his chest pressed flush against hers as his hands sit gently on the curve of her hips. It’s only when he’s been there for a few more moments that he realizes the position they’re in. Pulling away quickly and clearing his throat softly as he peers into the box again, he doesn’t see the way her expression falls, the way her soft smile disappears. He’s too busy trying to mask his own embarrassment.

“This is a lot of muggle stuff… why not just use magic to clean me up?” He hears her chuckle sweetly at his words, so he glances up at her. She’s reaching into the box, speaking as she pulls out a bottle of what he hopes won’t sting when she applies it.

“Well, I grew up taking care of my siblings when they got hurt, and since my parents are both muggles, this is how I do things best-” She rambles on as he watches her, wonder shining in his eyes as he realizes just how much she hasn’t told him about herself yet, and he can’t help the way he cuts her off.

“You never told me your parents are muggles-” He means it as an innocent comment, an acknowledgment that he’s been listening- but when he sees her tense in hesitation, he finds himself cursing his own lineage. “I’m not saying anything bad about it, Y/n. It was just a comment… My family’s not like other Slytherin families, I promise.” The breath she was holding leaves her and he can see she’s visibly relaxing before him. Placing his hands on her hips again, he brings her closer as she goes back to pouring different solutions onto cotton balls and dabbing them onto his arms and shoulders. They stay this way for so long that neither of them even notices when his eyes close slightly and his head comes forward to rest softly against her shoulders, his fingers slipping under the hem of her shirt slightly as his thumbs rub small circles across her skin.

She cleans him up like this, bandaging various wounds on his arms before nudging him back so she can see him properly. He stares sweetly at her as she examines him with a critical eye, only wincing when she pokes at the spot on his ribs that’s been bothering him all day. She hums disapprovingly but doesn’t poke at it again.

“It doesn’t seem like anything’s broken, probably just bruised. I’ll make you a pain potion later and bring it to you tomorrow in class-”

“You’re going to make me a potion?” She groans at his amused comment, tempted to pinch his face just to shut him up.

“Okay, listen, I know I’m terrible at potions, but I actually happen to know how to make pain potions! The boys are always getting themselves into trouble, so I end up making like 20 of these potions a year, at least.” He doesn’t even realize how brightly he’s smiling as he watches her complain, but he sees the way her expression falls just as she finishes speaking, and suddenly his frown matches hers. Catching her eye, he pulls her in just slightly.

“Hey… what’s wrong?” She sighs and looks away, reaching into the box to pull out some disinfectant cream. She uncaps it and squeezes some onto her finger before taking his face in one hand to steady herself as she runs her finger over his bottom lip, covering the split there as gently as she can.

“I just don’t know what to do… I’m so unbelievably mad at them right now. They all just stood there and let Jungkook hurt you. I never thought I’d see a day when I would feel like I had no idea who they were. And Jungkook! He’s rambled on and on before about how much he hates the way you ‘think you can rule this place with violence’ or some stupid bullshit like that- but that’s exactly what he did to you! He just lost his mind and… attacked you. I understand that they’re upset that I’ve been keeping secrets, and I can see why they were surprised when they found out that we’re friends, but that just wasn’t the way to handle this. I just don’t know if I can forgive them for this…” Yoongi watches her as she rants to him, deciding not to mention the fact that she’s just been standing there rubbing the cream onto his lip over and over again as she gets lost in her thoughts. Waiting until it seems that she’s done speaking, he brings his hand up to her wrist and pulls her hand away from his lip gently, wiping a clean cotton ball over her finger softly to get rid of the leftover disinfectant.

“Y/n, I understand that you’re mad at them, but you know them better than anyone else in the world. Those are your best friends, you know they must have had their reasons for being this upset. Even I knew how unhappy they were going to be when they found out about us, why do you think I was so hesitant last night when you told me everything would be fine?” Grasping her hands in his own, he looks steadily into her eyes. “Don’t stay mad at them for too long, Y/n. They’re true friends. Even friends make mistakes, and, if I’m being honest, in the grand scheme of things, this isn’t as fucked up as it could have been.” He would be lying if he said he wasn’t surprised by how deeply she frowned at him in that moment.

“How could you say that when you know how much you mean to me?” His eyebrows lift dramatically at her words, and he almost laughs when he sees how quickly she becomes embarrassed. He watches how she starts to stutter, pulling her hands out of his grasp and replacing all the bottles back into the box quickly, and he’s hit with the sudden urge to pull her into his arms and keep her there forever. He hates how hard the urge hits him, so he fights it as best he can.

“What’s this? I mean a lot to you? Mom, I think I love her- okay okay, I’m sorry!” She’s taken hold of his right ear, possibly the only part of him that isn’t injured, and is tugging on it harshly. When he finally manages to squirm his way out of her deadly pinch, he’s laughing gently. He reaches out and takes a loose strand of her hair between his fingers, running it back until it’s tucked securely behind her ear. Keeping his hand on the side of her face and forcing her to look at him, he whispers softly to her.

“Don’t be mad at them, Y/n. I’m not. I know they’re just overprotective, and that they don’t know me like you do. So don’t be mad- they’re all you’ve got.” She’s running a finger over his collarbone, and he knows she has no idea how she’s affecting him, especially with the way she talks to him.

“They’re not all I have, Yoongi. I have you now. So they need to learn to accept that… because I’m not letting you go.” He hears her, hears the way she talks about him like she needs him the way he’s come to need her, and he knows his heart is hers. He’s so busy focusing on the truth of his feelings, so busy looking at her and realizing that he’s never felt this way before, that he almost misses the fact that she’s still talking to him.

“-frustrating? Isn’t it annoying how often people try to fight you? You said yourself that it’s exhausting… wouldn’t it be better if everyone else knew just how good you are? It’s unfair that no one knows except me, it’s like you can never catch a break…” He smiles at her slightly, still a bit unsteady from his own thoughts. He shakes his head, still smiling as he looks at her.

“No, I like it better this way. No one else needs to know who I am… all that matters is that you know.” He doesn’t think of the implications of his words, doesn’t realize that he’s affecting her just as much as she’s affecting him. He doesn’t see how red her face becomes, he’s already averted his gaze and found a sudden interest in the moon, clearly visible through one of the windows on his right.

He doesn’t know how long he’s staring out the window, or if she’s reacted to his words in any way. All he knows is that it’s suddenly very quiet and he starting to feel awkward, so he keeps his eyes trained on the window because he’s scared to look back at her. He doesn’t realize that she’s been staring at him this whole time, almost entranced by the way he looks to her in that moment. So she honestly can’t be blamed for the way her body moves of its own accord, leaning into him quickly. But she has no idea just how aware of her he is, so she’s unprepared for the way he turns to face her just as she starts to move, and suddenly lips that were supposed to find his cheek are now on his own lips, registering just how soft and warm his mouth is.

Pulling back with a loud gasp, she’s stuttering again, trying to come up with any explanation she can for what just happened- but he’s not listening. There’s a small bit of the disinfectant cream smudged across her bottom lip, and all he can think about is how it ended up there. His gaze stays locked on her lips, so focused that he’s actually able to pick out her words even without hearing them properly.

“Okay, see you later!” He blinks once, twice, and by the time he realizes what’s happened she’s already run out of the room. Glancing down at the spot next to him as he brings his hand up to press lightly against his lips, he finds himself staring at all of her medical supplies. Lifting his eyes to the open door again, he calls weakly out to the empty room.

“You left your box…”

[faceless-stay]

*Insert clever artsy title here*

I did a thing soooooooo...yeah. warnings for swearing, yelling, mentions of family problems and implied anxiety.

Also, shout out to a friend who basically co-wrote this they helped so much. Love you! And sorry I couldn't get the cut thing to work.

you never really had problems with the kids at school. sure, you weren't the most social person out there, and maybe you thought this whole clique thing was weird, but you weren't the type to make enemies.

except for one

lee minho

he was just so...ugh

he was loud, obnoxious and cocky, which wouldn't be nearly as bad iF HE WASN’T SO DAMN GOOD AT EVERYTHING.

while you worked your ass off for your grades, his practically fell into his lap.

all the teachers love him, his grades are higher than your self-esteem, and you were pretty sure the air around him smelled entitled, not to mention he had girls falling at his feet. he was a catch and he knew it.

which is why you took every chance you could to take him down a peg.

it was a constant battle between you two. who could turn in tests the fastest, raise their hand the most, taking any and every chance to show each other up. everyone knew you guys were rivals.

you just hadn't expected it to change so fast.

it all started with a couple of his stupid friends.

you didn't know how the hell they stood him for that long everyday.

all in all they weren't so bad. pretty weird, you had to admit, but you didn't hold anything against them.

that being said, it was still a shock when two of his lowerclassmen buddies Felix and Seungmin ambushed you at your locker. you’d be lying if you weren't at least a little bit suspicious.

“what do you want?” you asked a little too sharply.

Felix flushed, stammering over his words. “Woah, wait, i-uh, we were just, ah,” Seungmin gave him a look.

“we need a favor,” seungmin spoke for felix

you replied, “why don't you ask minho? you are friends with minho, right?”

“well, yeah, but he won't do it.”do what?

“we have this friend, jeongin-”

“he's a freshman,” felix interjected.

ugh, freshman.

“anyway, he's having some trouble adjusting and his grades are falling behind and-”

“he needs a tutor?” you filled in, quirking an eyebrow. felix nodded.

“what do i get out of this?”

seungmin smiled imploringly. “the satisfaction of a job well done? the joy of helping out someone in need?” mmhmmmm

“i'll do it,” you said, surprising yourself, “but you all owe me. big time.”

the sophomores grinned. “lunch tomorrow okay for you?”

flash forward to tomorrow @ lunch

and you're walking around looking for a kid fitting the description of “a smol boy with brown hair and braces” like that helped anything.

just as you're about to give up you see felix flagging you down from the opposite side of the room and you head over.

their table was overflowing and you had no idea how you were supposed to fit between all these people. you counted nine, recognizing seungmin, felix, some kid from your grade named changbin and, unfortunately,

minho.

“really guys?” he scoffed. “this was your solution?”

you scoffed right back at him, turning to a yet again flustered Felix. “You didn't say he would be here,” you growled

“awwwww, what's that matter y/n? you weren't looking forward to seeing me?” minho pouted

“oh shut up,” you shot back

“ooh, a master of wit”

“Look,” seungmin stepped in. “Y/n, I'm sorry you have to deal with him but he kinda comes with the territory and minho, if you would have helped jeongin, we wouldn't be in this situation to begin with, so you don't get to say shit.” Seungmin turned back to you. “I know minho's an ass, but can you please put this aside for a couple of days? There are more important things going here,” you nodded, looking around.

“So, which one of you is jeongin?” you asked, trying to ignore the current air of awkwardness. A shy-looking boy raised his hand from the far end of the table, across from two guys you assumed were seniors

You made your way around the table and sat at the head.

Welp, I better make the best of this.

So that's how your days went.

And as time went on, you got to know the boys little by little.

You learned that jeongin was good with the humanities, but math was his greatest weakness.

You learned that Felix was obsessed with this alumni girl group called Twice and nothing got in between him and his precious

You learned that two sophomores, hyunjin and jisung hated each other's guts during middle school, but one day put aside their differences for the good of the group.

You even learned to tolerate minho, if just for one period of the day.

In no way did your rivalry stop, and occasionally you two had to be broken up when things got too heated. but even then, you often found your competition fall from the forefront of your mind before you went to your next class.

Slowly but surely, jeongin's grades began to improve, and though you were less often needed you found yourself still in that same seat, with those same people everyday.

And slowly but surely you got more comfortable, throwing yourself into the banter just as loudly as the others. You could laugh and joke and tease with the best of them, even if your back and forth with minho got in the way. Everything fell into a fairly comfortable routine.

Yet as school got easier, the rest of your life began to fall apart. it all started with the fighting.

your parents used to fight quietly, late at night as not to wake the little ones. but recently it got worse, and you found yourself caring for your siblings more that your stay-at-home-mom ever had.

you put them to bed and tried to keep them happy, distracted, anything that could help them keep their minds off of the mess your family life had become.

to say you were tired would be an understatement.

the weight of caring for your brother and sister, keeping up with schoolwork, taking care of yourself and processing everything going on took a toll. you were juggling and you simply didn't have enough hands.

so school fell out of focus. you didn't rush for the extra credit, studying was nowhere on your plate, and as much as you tried to keep up with minho, you just couldn't. you kept telling yourself you would pick back up, but all you did was fall further down. you managed to coast for a while, but it really hit you when you got your AP Chemistry test back with the lowest grade you'd ever gotten. tears welled in your eyes as you look at the bright red numbers but you refused to show anyone. you thought nobody had noticed.

if you had looked up, you would have seen minho staring at you, concern etched on his face.

So everyday you pretended to be fine. and everyday it became clearer that you weren't.

One day you were helping jeongin with algebra, graphing polynomials and shit. Both of you were on edge and you found yourself gritting your teeth at even the smallest annoyances.

“This doesn't make any sense!” Jeongin shouted. The whole table startled, looking at him as he ran his hands through his hair. You took a deep breath.

“What's confusing you, jeongin?” You asked as patiently as you could muster.

“This-this whole thing! It makes sense in my head, but when I try to put it on paper it all goes to shit!”

“Language!” responded the boy sitting across from him, a senior named Chan. You tried not to roll your eyes.

Much to your chagrin, minho made his way over to your end of the table, leaning over jeongin's shoulder to look at the problem.

“Oh, this? This is easy. Wait til you hit algebra 2. That's when shit gets hard.”

“fuck off, minho,” you muttered

“What was that y/n?” Minho said teasingly.

“I said fuck off,” you repeated, ignoring Chan's look of disapproval.

“I'm just saying,” he deflected, raising his hands. “It's really not that hard,”

You turned to minho, eyes flaming. “I’m sorry we're not all perfect like you, minho. I'm sorry that some of us actually have to put in effort to get the grades we want. I'm sorry that we don't have everything fall right into our laps like you. Everything's so damn easy for you, you act like you've never had to work in your life! Not all of us are privileged like you!” You spoke in a crescendo, voice breaking at the end of the very last sentence. You clenched your jaw, grabbed your things and walked away.

it was safe to say the table was stunned. they knew you had a temper but they had never seen you lose it like that. chan looked at minho. “well?”

“what do you mean?” minho replied, shocked. “i don't know what just happened?! someone else go after her!”

seungmin called from the other end of the table. “you started it, man. now you gotta fix it!”

“dammit,” minho muttered. well, he thought as he slung his bookbag over his shoulder, might as well get this over with.

minho found you fuming at your locker, very aggressively preparing for your next class. your body screamed with tension and as he got closer he saw...tears? You were so focused on biting back your sobs you didn't notice he was heading towards you until it was too late.

shitshitshitshitshitshitshitwhatdoidowhatdoidowhatdoido minho panicked. “umm, are you okay?” he asked hesitantly. you refused to make eye contact.

“i'm fine,” you choked out, brushing away the tears that kept spilling.

“You don't look fine,” he responded

“I'm FINE,” you repeated more forcefully. You weren't fooling anyone.

Minho sighed. “Look y/n. You're a lot of things, but you're not a good liar. You're obviously not fine. Is something wrong? Is there anything I can do to help?”

“no, because there's nothing wrong,”

“that's bullshit and you know it. You haven't been acting like yourself for ages. Hell, you started falling asleep in class! What's-”

You slammed your locker shut, cutting minho off. “why are you even talking, minho? We both know you don't give a shit.”

“Damn it y/n, I'm trying to help! You look like absolute shit, the boys probably all think you're crazy, and I'm still trying to figure out why the hell you're so mad at me! I haven't even done anything!”

You laughed bitterly. “You know what, you're right. You didn't do anything. You've never had to do anything in your life. Forgive me for entertaining the thought that you could possibly have a single flaw,”

“You're not making any sense! I don't know what you're talking about!” Minho yelled, distress evident in his voice.

“Oh, are you confused minho? Let me spell it out for you.” You spat, taking a step towards him. “you're not perfect. You're not special. Hell, no one even likes you! Not your friends, not our class and especially not me! You're a cocky, obnoxious asshole who sticks his nose where it doesn't belong, and if I could kill you, I would. Your life is so easy and you don't deserve any of it.”

“At least I'm not a stuck-up bitch!” Minho shouted. “At least I have friends, instead of pushing everyone away because I have to be the best! At least I'm not constantly begging for attention because my parents don't love me!”

You froze. how did he know? he couldn't have. It was a shot in the dark, but it hit you right in the heart. Tears welled up in your eyes yet again. “Go to hell,” you whispered as the bell rang. Barely breathing you pushed past him and rushed to class, ignoring the fact that it was one you both shared. Steeling yourself, you swallowed your emotions and walked into class, no tears to be found.

Minho didn't know what was happening. It felt like his legs were glued to the floor. He kept gasping for air and he swore no matter how much he inhaled he still felt out of breath. He pulse pounded in his head, and the last ten minutes felt like a blur. What's happening to me?

Nothing was the same after the fight. Any progress you two had made was undone tenfold that day. Class was more cutthroat than ever, and neither of you were willing to back down. Before, there was almost an air of playfulness in your competition. Now it was deadly serious, malicious even.

If everything had been fine, you could have handled it. But it wasn't. And you didn't. At least not well. You pushed yourself, running on two hours of sleep and a prayer most of the time. Meals? Never heard of her. Your life was a whirlwind, and not in a good way.

If you had the energy you would have realized that minho wasn't doing so hot himself. You would have realized that he barely spoke when you were in the room. You would have realized that when he had to speak in class his hands would shake just a little too fast, that when he sat at lunch his laugh was a little too loud. You would have realized that minho was never really as perfect as you saw him to be.

But you never did.

You still sat with the boys at lunch, no matter how awkward it became. You still helped jeongin when he needed it, though nobody had the heart to tell you that more and more often you got them wrong. They all knew something was wrong, but no one knew what it was. They tried to ask minho, but to no avail. He insisted that he didn't know, and his stone cold tone put the matter to rest.

People were starting to get fed up. Everyone knew that something went down, but your drama was quite frankly starting to get annoying. Changbin felt especially frustrated. He was constantly trapped between you too, whether it was during class as the only other junior in your group, or at lunch. He had tried getting minho to spill, which clearly hadn't worked, so he went with his next best option. You.

Changbin hunted you down during one of your few shared classes and sat down next to you, all business. “You need to figure out what the hell's going on here.” He said firmly.

“Hmmm?” You replied distantly, barely paying attention. Changbin grabbed your arm and you swung around to jerk it away, making eye contact in the process.

“Y/n,” changbin growled, “if you don't get yourself together and fix this mess with minho I swear to God I will make you regret it for the rest of your life. I am sick and tired of your dramatic bullshit.”

You scoffed. “I don't want to talk to him, and even if I did, I promise he wouldn't listen to me. In case you weren't aware, we aren't exactly friends.”

“Fine.” Changbin said, folding his arms. “Tell me what happened and I'll go talk to him myself.”

“There's nothing to tell,” you retorted.

“I call bullshit. Everyone knows something went down that day. You can practically smell the tension whenever you're in the same room.”

“If you want to know so bad, ask minho yourself.”

“He won't talk about it. We've asked him a million times by now.”

You raised an eyebrow. “We?”

“Like I said, everyone knows. I don't know what you said but minho barely acts like himself anymore. Clearly something you said hit a sore spot. I don't know if this is one of those weird straight people courting rituals-”

“It definitely isn't that,” you butted in.

“I don't care. Figure. It. Out. No one is gonna do this for you.” with that changbin stood and moved to his usual seat right as minho walked in. The two of you made blood-curdling eye contact. If looks could kill you'd both be shooting at high noon.

But even as hatred boiled within you, you felt a tinge of guilt. Is he really that beat up? And is it my fault?

the only thing keeping you alive was coffee. Were you over-caffeinated? Probably. Was human communication your forte when you were actually sane, much less now? Nope. So you're not exactly sure why you're sitting next to minho's locker at 7:30 in the morning. But, he's walking up now, so there's no going back now.

It was safe to say minho wasn't happy to see you.

“The hell are you doing here?” He said coldly as he unlocked is locker.

“Uh, your friend pretty much threatened my life,” you replied, not knowing what to say.

Minho snorted. “Changbin's being overdramatic.”

“He said you were pretty torn up,”

Minho gritted his teeth, struggling with his lock. “Like I said, overdramatic.”

“Look man,” you sighed. “I don't like this anymore than you do. But we've kinda gotta figure this out.”

“There's nothing to figure. I think you were pretty transparent.”

You folded your arms. “Mmhmm. Because I was the only one who said shit. I'm pretty sure I recall some harsh words from you too,”

“Awwwww,” minho turned to you. “Did I hurt your feelings? I must not have noticed over all of your bullshit.”

“Are we really doing this now? It's been like two minutes and this day already sucks ass.”

Taking in a shaky breath minho said, “I don't know. Do you want to?”

You shook your head. “No. I got too much shit on my plate as is.”

Minho nodded. “Truce?”

“Truce.”

“So what's going on?” minho slid down and sat next to you. “Stuff at home?” He asked quietly.

You chuckled. “What makes you think I'll tell you this time?”

“because i'm asking nicely?”

you quirked an eyebrow.

“and because i’ll never let it go and i'd tell this entire school i made you cry if you don't.”

“why am i not surprised?” you sighed. “you're never gonna get over this?”

“nope.”

“and you swear you won't tell anyone?”

“cross my heart and hope to die.”

I'm talking to an actual fourth grader, you thought as you took a deep breath.

“it's my parents.”

“what about them?”

you tried to swallow the lump forming in your throat. “they're fighting. all the time. and now i have to pick up the slack and get my siblings to bed and get them up for school and do their damn jobs for them because they're so busy screaming at each other and half the time the fridge is empty because no one's going shopping and-” your voice cracked as you tried to hold back tears.

oh shit, minho thought. is she gonna cry? please don't cry. what are you supposed to do when someone's about to cry?! “that...that really sucks,” he said quietly.

you sniffled. “yeah. it does.”

“is that why…”

“i'm such a mess all the time? yeah. you try juggling two small children, schoolwork and very angry parents.”

“why don't you ask for help?”

“ask who?” you said sarcastically. “this may come as a surprise, but i don't have many friends.”

“i'll do it.” minho blurted, totally on a whim.

you looked at him, shocked. “i’m sorry, what?”

“i’ll help you. I'm good with kids, I swear.” Minho half-joked. Should I not have said that? Is that too weird? Is that something you're allowed to say?

“Why would you want to help me?” You said, suspicious.

Minho shrugged. “Why not? I don't have anything better to do. Plus if we don't look like friends by the end of the week, changbin promised some...very threatening weekend plans.”

You smiled despite yourself. “Well i wouldn't want you to be in danger.”

“Are you sure? I'm pretty sure you wanted to kill me not that long ago.”

“Shut up.” You rose, slinging your bookbag over your shoulder. “what are we gonna tell them?”

“About...this?” Minho gestured to the both of you. “i don't know. It'd be easier not to say anything at all.”

“Then let's not,” you shrugged.

“They're absolutely going to hate that,” minho pointed out.

“That's just an added bonus.” You winked. Minho chuckled in return. You were about to go to your own locker when you spun around suddenly. “Wait. How did you know it was changbin who threatened me?”

Minho laughed, and you were pretty sure the world shone brighter. “Who else was it gonna be? Felix?”

[amateurwriterforfun]

Of Grandfathers and Reminiscence

This is my first ever fic. It will probably be a two-shot.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Credits to Masashi Kishimoto

Beta read by Ombree

Where Sarada and Madara, along with Obito, discuss the issue of Sarada's parentage, particularly about her mother; Madara complains, and Obito bears the brunt of it.

Implied Sasusaku, and hint of Madatsu.

Note: I am using the premise that the revived dead characters in this story doesn’t remember the time they spent in the Pure Land, and made up the relation between the Second Mizukage and the Hozuki brothers since I have no idea if they were related in canon.

Takes place after Gaiden. Semi-au. Canon divergence.

It had been a week since the anomalous portal to the afterlife opened and sucked in a very particular group of people back to the world of the living, four of the dead Hokage and two of the most known Uchiha — Madara and Obito. Madara’s presence is the one to cause hackles to rise within one of the Neo-Sannin.

Sakura knows Madara to be a changed man prior to his death during the war, but she is still not comfortable with him around and does not want to take any chances now that she has a daughter to take care of by herself. Sasuke has yet to return from the mission and it's up to her to protect their daughter until he finally comes back. This new development, she has no doubt, will make his return happen sooner.

Naruto, for his part, is accepting of all the individuals. The years have not changed him much. He is still very optimistic and trusting. He is the one that arranges where they are to stay until they have found a solution to the problem. A thorough investigation of the portal leaves everyone scratching their heads on what it could be, why it had appeared, and why of all people only the four dead Hokage and the two Uchiha have been brought back.

The two Uchiha are automatically selected to stay with their kin, while the Hokage stay in a single apartment. Sakura does not mind Obito and while she accepts Madara’s presence she is still wary of him. She is certain that Obito will help if Madara goes out of his way to cause havoc. Still, seeing as the man is indifferent to everything, she is willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Now here they are a week later. The two Uchiha spend their time lounging in the living room while Sarada and Sakura are out for the day. Madara and Obito are watching the television and getting updated with the latest events and whatever shows that grab their attention.

It is during Madara’s hundredth rant about how trashy the show’s plot and characters are when Sarada comes home from training. Obito, who had retreated earlier to the kitchen to serve himself some snacks and avoid hearing the older Uchiha’s complaints, silently thanks the heavens for a new distraction. Madara himself turns off the television, already bored out of his wits and looking for a new entertainment.

“I’m home!” Sarada calls out to the new house occupants.

“Welcome back!” Obito replies cheerfully returning from the kitchen carrying a jar of cookies,  and sitting besides Madara on the circular couch.

“Hn.” Madara nods to his descendant.

Sarada sits to Obito’s left, exhausted and too tired to go to her room. Obito passes her some of the cookies, which she gratefully accepts. He sets the jar on the glass table before asking Sarada about her day.

“How was your training today?”

Sarada shrugs. “It was okay, I guess. It’s still the same old routine with Boruto being an idiot and Mitsuki smiling in the background.”

Obito chuckles at this. “So he really is his father’s son. Naruto was also quite the troublemaker back in those days. I’ve heard he defaced the monument as a child.”

Sarada perks up at this. “Really? Can you tell me more?”

“I can’t tell you more. You have to ask your mother about his antics when he was a child. She was his former teammate.”

“Eh, but why? Weren’t you present in the village back then?”

“No.”

“Why?”

Both the Uchiha exchange glances, and Obito uncomfortably replies, “Well, I really can’t tell you that.”

It is an arranged rule of the household to not tell Sarada about anything that may lead to the discovery of the truth behind the massacre. Sakura had made sure that the new occupants knew not to spill anything. It is, she says, something to be discussed only after she is old enough to handle the truth. Neither men disagree with her. That is why they try their best to control what they say around Sarada.

Before anything else is said, Madara butts in, “Why are you wearing glasses? It is uncommon for an Uchiha to wear them.”

“Tch. Have you forgotten the Uchiha to be prone to blindness?” Obito sneers.

Frowning, Madara replies, “I know that, brat. I also know that it only happens after overusing the Mangekyo Sharingan. Surely you haven’t forgotten that fact?”

Obito scowls, “Of course I haven’t. However, it is still possible that there were Uchiha who suffered with the same ailment back in the day.”

With an eyebrow raised, Madara notes, “In my day, there were no Uchiha who wear glasses.”

“Yeah, because in your day there were no glasses, only blind Uchiha — you included,” Obito bits back icily.

This comment spurs a heated argument between the two men. Sarada smiles, watching their antics, opting to watch from the sidelines in silence.

A few exchange words later, Madara turns to Sarada. “Hm. In any case, I do hope this will not hinder the development of our clan’s famed dojutsu.”

At that, Sarada answers. “......uh, well, I already obtained the Sharingan.”

The two older Uchiha focus their attention on her, intrigued.

“How did that happen?” Obito asks.

“Well.....”

Sarada tells them all about her experiences: her father’s absence, her mother’s secrecy and the discovery of the controversial photo that had her questioning everything about her mother’s true identity.

She shows them the photo in question with both men scrutinizing it like a hawk.

“Let me make sure I understand this, but are you saying that a woman wearing an identical glasses to yours, and who was next to your father.... was the cause of why you questioned who your true mother is?”

Obito shifts on the couch, clutching the photo in his right hand.

Madara on the other hand, is frozen in disbelief.

“Uh, yeah,” Sarada answers sheepishly.

A tense silence permeates the room. Sarada glances at the two men and finds them giving her mix reactions.

Obito is offering her a pandering smile with a smidgen of pity and amusement in his eyes.

Madara still remains frozen with his mouth hanging open. She strains her eyes to look at him more carefully, and notices him having mini seizures. The shock must be so great to elicit that reaction from him, she muses. Then again, he could also just be an overly dramatic an individual. She never thought the legendary Uchiha clan head would be such a drama king.

(If only she knew....)

In the end, Madara unfreezes and breaks the silence. “Please tell me I did not hear that correctly.”

Obito groans and face-palms with the hand holding the picture. “No, we really did hear that correctly.”

“Are you telling me you doubted your mother’s identity all because a pair of glasses, worn by a woman standing next to your father, look identical to yours?! Of all the — !”

“Whoa! Stop right there! We get it okay?! That was crazy, and I’m sure Sarada knows that now! Cut her some slack! She was upset at that time! She wasn’t thinking straight!”

“Hmph! The next generation of the Uchiha is hopeless!”

“Like you were hopeless?”

“Do you think you’re in any position to talk?”

“As they say, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

“I’ll have you know, I’m much better than — ”

While the men bicker about the sheer wrongness of that situation and all about being an Uchiha and whatnot, Sarada is so embarrassed she wants to either flee or for the ground to swallow her up. Now that she thought about it, her reasoning really had been stupid. At that time, she had been so distraught she didn’t stop to think if her idea is logical. All that mattered to her then was the woman’s glasses.

‘Stupid glasses!’    

No wonder her mother called her silly. Hearing her reason for doubting her parentage must have been ridiculous to both her parents. The thought embarrasses her even more.

While she is busy contemplating about her mistake, both men finishes their banter. With a huff, they now turn back their attention to her.

“Listen,” Obito starts, “We, your parents — particularly your father — and I, can’t blame you for your mistake — except for our grouchy ancestor — because we’ve been there too. It may not be the same, but your loneliness must have been grave enough for you to take such a measure just to find out more about yourself. Don’t worry about doing stupid things under such circumstances. Our clan is not exactly known for making logical conclusions while experiencing such events.”

Patting her head with his left hand, he continues, “If it makes you feel better, I witnessed first hand the depths of your parents’ bond during the war. Your father was trapped in another dimension, and your mother and I rescued him with all our might. We were able to find him but had run out of chakra before he could escape that dimension. Just when we thought that all of our efforts were all for naught, your father’s rinnegan teleported him to us. He switched places with your mother’s vest which she discarded earlier due to an acid outbreak from one of the dimensions we opened. It was at that point that I witnessed how strong their feelings were for each other.”

Obito smiles with a hint of longing in his eyes. “Your father caught your mother after she collapsed from the exhaustion and held her to him. I swear I had never seen such an intense connection exchanged with just a single eye contact. It gave me the impression that they were engaged in a conversation without words; that they understood each other so much there were no words needed. The way they looked at each other made me feel like I intruded a rather private moment meant to be shared only by them.”

It made me feel jealous, you know? I had always longed for a connection like that, but alas, some things were just not meant to be,” Obito sighs sadly, removing his hand, and slouching on the couch.

The other two occupants in the room can see the pain Obito doesn’t say. Sarada feels sad for him. She knows there is a story behind it, but she doesn’t pry. It is simply not the time for such inquiries.

Madara, on the other hand, feels guilty. He knows exactly who Obito refers to and his role in it. He is basically the reason why the younger male is in pain. With guilt-ridden eyes, he reaches out and places his hand on the other male’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry.”

Obito is surprised. He doesn’t take the older man to be capable of such a gesture at all, knowing him to be too arrogant for such an act. Yet here he is, handing him an apology that he knows is long overdue.

He states rather skeptically, brow lifting, “I didn’t take you to be the type to apologize.”

The other man removes his hand, crosses it, and dismissively replies, “Don’t get used to it.”

Sarada witnesses the exchange between the older Uchiha but doesn’t understand the significance behind it. She guesses it is one of those things she is not, yet, meant to know.

She is a bit irritated that everyone still hides things from her. Yet, her heart also flutters by knowing that her parents’ love is so obvious even from an outsider’s standpoint.

“Enough about me. Let’s focus on this ridiculous debacle first. It has been resolved, yes?" Madara levels his stare on his granddaughter.

Sarada nods.

“Tell us the rest of the story. Full details. Now.”

So Sarada continues to recount the rest of the events. She tells them on how she tries to confront her father about the truth and gets no answer; on how someone attacks them — who is later defeated by her mom with a single punch (this she boasts proudly) — and sucks her mother in a portal and kidnaps her; and the trip to a certain snake Sannin, Orochimaru. It is there that she gets the chance to speak with one of the people pictured in the photo and have a DNA test by comparing her sample to that of the umbilical cord found in the mystery woman’s desk thought to belong to the woman.

The result of the test states perfect match, much to her devastation. Lord Seventh consoles her and prevents her from abandoning everything. Bonds, he says, are not just about blood. It is about forming connections that transcends it. He makes her realize that the bond she shares with her “mother” is the real thing, even if she believes that she isn’t her daughter at that moment. That strengthens her resolve to save her. She later demonstrates the same chakra control that her mother has, defeating many clones by punching the ground, to her astonishment.

After defeating the enemies, her mother once again clarifies to her that she really is her bonafide daughter, a claim she no longer doubts after her show of strength. She remembers how it was said that there are only two people capable of using chakra to enhance their strength, her mother being one of them. According to Aunt Shizune, it requires perfect chakra control to pull off. She also states that the control needed is something that can’t be obtained through simple training, it has to be inherited.

With that thought, she turns to her father to ask him if he ever feels connected to her mother. His affirmation of “because we have you, Sarada” is enough a confirmation that she really is not someone else’s daughter, and that her parents love each other with her as the proof of it.

That is the time all doubts are laid to rest.

With the story concluded, Madara begins to ask his questions. “You said someone tested your sample, is that person a medic-nin? Was he qualified to perform such a test?”

The question catches Sarada off guard. “I don’t know. I didn’t ask.”

"What did he look like?” Obito questions.

“He has pale hair and sharp teeth.”

Obito instantly recognizes the person. He recalls Sasuke’s team to have a member fitting that description. If he is not mistaken, Sarada is referring to a certain Hozuki who was the younger brother of the former leader of the legendary Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist, Mangetsu Hozuki.

“Ah, you’re talking about Suigetsu Hozuki, and he is definitely not a medic.”

He looks back at the photo and points out said man to his ancestor.

“A Hozuki huh. I remember the second Mizukage to be a Hozuki. Are they perhaps closely related?” Madara shots this question to Obito.

“Yes. A direct ancestor I believe.”

“I see.”

He turns to Sarada, “That was your second mistake; the first was the glasses as proof. It still disgusts me recalling that, by the way. You let someone who didn’t know what they were doing to help you do the test. That is why he read the results wrong. You said it is a perfect match, yes? Well then, let me educate you. A parent-child DNA will normally result in a fifty-fifty match: one half from the mother, and the other half from the father’s genes. A perfect match indicates that your DNA was tested against itself. This means that the sample used did not come from that glasses woman but came from you.

Here’s a lesson: never trust idiots who are out of their field to guide you in life-changing events. The results are disastrous, as you proved in your situation.”

Obito quietly laughs at that one. The irony behind that statement doesn’t pass him unnoticed.

Judging by Madara’s glare on him, he can tell the older man knows what he’s thinking, not that he cares.

After his silent laughter ceases, Obito quips in, “That is true. You would have had better luck asking Orochimaru himself. Why didn’t you?”

“Both Papa and Lord Seventh occupied his attention asking about our attacker whom he called as Shin Uchiha - one of his experiments if I remember correctly — and I thought asking one of the people in the photo would be more ideal.”

“Shin Uchiha?” Madara drawls.

Sarada nods. “Yes. He possessed the Sharingan; literally covering his upper body with it. I don’t know much about it though. When he used it, he opened a that could teleport him, and could easily exchange places with one of his mini clones.”

“Ah, it’s almost just like my Kamui then.”

“Kamui?” Sarada looks up questioningly at Obito.

“Yes. That is the ability of my Mangekyo Sharingan. It is unique with every Uchiha. Your father himself has the ability to manipulate Amaterasu, a flame that doesn’t die until it consumes its target.”

Sarada stares at his eyes in fascination.

Obito smiles and continues, “Let’s talk about that later. Let me just say that I agree with Madara here. That was not a very good move on your part — part of it anyway. You should’ve secured a more qualified individual for it. But I understand why you chose him. As one of the people found in the photo, you naturally assumed he had answers.

Your third mistake was to use a random sample found in someone’s desk. I take it that you were not certain who it belonged to and just assumed it was from the glasses woman, who, by the way is named Karin Uzumaki, and just used it, correct?”

Sarada nods and takes note of the woman’s name casually mentioned. Madara raises an eyebrow. “Another Uzumaki? It’s astounding how the Uchiha, Senju and Uzumaki are closely intertwined even until this day.”

Obito turns to him and chuckles, “Yeah, well it certainly proves Naruto’s statement to be true, at least a bit. I believe the blood connections between the three clans also played a part in it. Their fates have made them close to each other because of that, even if those connections had been tainted by conflicts throughout the centuries. Thankfully, the later generations reformed that into a better one free of hatred. Then again, the Uzumaki and Senju clans have been in good relations since your time — probably longer, being from the same progenitor.

In Sasuke’s case, he was a teammate of both Naruto and Karin at different times. He formed a bond with them that lasted in the present. His wife, Sakura, was the apprentice of Tsunade Senju. In other words, a Senju was responsible for training the new Uchiha matriarch. It’s astonishing how fate works.”

Shrugging, he locks eyes with Sarada again. “There is a reason why it is taught that one should not just jump to conclusions without proper knowledge. One must have adequate evidences and strong foundations to base any claims they have to justify how they reached their conclusions. It is even more important in the scientific and medical field. A simple mistake can be disastrous in an research or experiment, or even kill a patient, and in your case, nearly turns you away from your family.”

Madara adds his two cents in. “Yes. Apart from that, you and that brainless Hozuki just broke one of the basic etiquette and manners. You touched someone else’s property without their knowledge and consent. That is rude and intrusive. I certainly hope that this incident helped you learn another lesson: only touch someone’s property with their consent and supervision. Had you done that, things may have ended differently and that woman — Karin was it? — would have been the one to tell you the truth. Speaking of the woman, where was she when that happened?”

Sarada slumps on the couch and sighs. “She was away then. Suigetsu-san told me she was in one of Orochimaru-san’s other bases, so she wasn’t there when that happened.”

“No wonder it got out of hand.” Madara shakes his head. He still can’t wrap his head around one of his kin using glasses — glasses of all things! — to start their emotional journey to obtain the sharingan. With an exasperated sigh, he says. “I expected little from the new generation. I did not think it was possible to be disappointed with such a low standard in place. I shouldn’t have been surprised. It’s such a shame,” he pinches the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache forming.

Sarada cringes and her mood once again plummets. Madara, sensing her growing more upset, stands up to approach her. He is not one for comfort, but his grandchild’s distress pulls at his heart similar in a way to how Izuna once elicited the need to be comforted during the rare times he found him in tears.

A hand lands on her head, patting her. She jolts back and sees Madara kneeling in front of her, a soft look in his eyes. She didn’t even see him move!

“A shame indeed, but one that would not be traded for the world. You are a precious child, not only as a new hope for the future of the clan but also for all the people who love you. I can see that your mother loves you very much. I have no doubt your father is the same.”

He cups her face with the hand that was once on her head, turning it left to right, scrutinizing every part of it; his eyes hard once again.

“Hm. You really should have checked your bases first before you went on that silly endeavor — as beneficial as that turned out to be — starting with your physical appearance. Has no one ever told you who you bore resemblance to?”

“Lord Seventh did. He told me I resemble my father in looks and my mother in personality.” Sarada gazes back uncomfortably with the sharpness of his scrutiny on her.

“He is not wrong, but he is also not entirely correct. You inherited your father’s eye and hair color, but everything else is that of your mother’s. In fact, this forehead,” he pokes her none too gently on said area, “should have been your first indicator of your mother’s genes. Sasuke did not have a billboard brow for a forehead, and neither does that glasses woman. Why you had bypass this trait in favor of the glasses baffles me.”

He is about to add more when he notices Sarada’s dazed look, complete with a blush. Frowning, he pokes her forehead again.

“What is with that look child? Have you suddenly gone ill realizing the depths of your stupidity?”

No reply.

“Oi!” he barks when Sarada shows no sign of getting out of her daydreaming.

This snaps Sarada out of her reverie. Giggling, she replies to her now concerned ancestor. “It’s nothing. It’s just the forehead poke is papa’s way of expressing his affection to mama and I. She even once called it better than a kiss when I asked her many years ago.”

Madara is taken aback by her answer and is about to reply when Obito reminds them of his presence by laughing out loud.

“Better than a kiss?” he grins rather mischievously, wagging his eyebrows, “I thought it would be something more naughty, and involves the bedroom.”

Madara’s eye twitches.

Feeling playful, Sarada smirks evilly. Madara, seeing the smirk, is suddenly feeling a sense of apprehension and foreboding that he will not like what is to come.......

“Yeah, I actually told mama she’s dirty when she first said that. She was so embarrassed her face was all red! She denied it rather vehemently too!”

......and he’s right.

“What?!?” Madara’s screams of disbelief is followed by Obito’s bouts of laughter and Sarada’s giggles. His irritation of the situation reaches new heights. Knowing that his descendant activates her dojutsu because of a misunderstanding over glasses is one thing.

But this?

Unacceptable.

By scrutinizing her words, he can see one fact that stands out: her mother doesn’t seem to be surprised by her knowledge of sex, just that the statement is met with embarrassed denial.

Therefore, the one to corrupt Sarada at a young age is none other than her mother.

Madara grits his teeth, damn that woman!

He is about to go on a tirade about bad mothers and the corruption of children when Obito adds more fuel to the fire.

“Your mom’s been teaching you about the birds and the bees that young? Unbelievable!”

“Inappropriate!” Madara snaps, standing up and with his hands on his hips, glares at Obito’s curled up body on the couch. "She should not have taught such things for young children! Where is her sense of propriety? And what of teaching the new generation the concept of proper decorum and chastity?”

Obito waves those concerns off, “We kill and do dirty jobs even as young as four years old. I don’t see what’s the issue with knowing adult things that can be useful in the long run and reproduction nor do I understand why it got your panties on a bunch, you senile old man.”

“Of course you would not understand, stupid brat. Had Sarada been someone else, I would not protest to whatever her mother teaches her. But she is an Uchiha and therefore should be a perfect role model of what a proper young lady should be! She has no place knowing such vulgar things until she’s way older! Young ladies in my day certainly held no knowledge about the activities between men and women until marriage. I expected the same in this generation but once again, my expectations have been ruined!”

“Well that’s the problem right there — we are not in your day, people are not expected to follow your expectations, and most of all, you no longer have the authority to dictate what is best for this family since your defection more than a century ago.”

Obito internally winces. That is a low blow, he knows. Madara’s face shows traces of hurt in it for a second and disappears in the next but that is enough to show that Obito’s words have affected the other man. He refuses to feel guilty, however. It is best that the elder Uchiha finally gets it into his head that such concerns no longer warrant his attention, in his opinion.

“Think about it — had we remained dead, would you have the power to dictate the affairs of the family? No, you wouldn’t . Besides, Sakura knows what she’s doing. She probably thought it best to tell Sarada the truth about where babies come from. I’ve read from one of her magazines that it’s more ideal to teach children about sex when they ask that dreaded question. Something about it preventing risky behavior later on as teens,” Obito continues, stretching his body on the couch.

Seeing Madara’s skeptically look, he asserts, “In any case, it definitely help remove the awkwardness regarding that topic, don’t you think?”

“Hmph! It would have been better if she had given a much different explanation. Surely the typical story of the birds and the bees would have been enough.”

“Well she didn’t, and Sarada learned about sex far earlier than kids her age. There’s nothing you can do about it.”

“I will have a word with Sakura about this. This is unacceptable! I will not see the future Uchiha being exposed to vulgar and obscene concepts so young.”

Obito sits up, shaking his head. Staring at the other man straight in the eyes, he asks, “What will you do? Intimidate her? Don’t bother. She’s one of the only four people who faced Kaguya and lived to tell the tale. Right now, you are nowhere near as powerful as you were when you obtained the same powers as the Sage of the Six Paths. Your current strength is just as you were prior to obtaining Hashirama’s cells and therefore not as threatening a figure in comparison to Kaguya and even your Sage of the Six Paths form. Moreover, she already surpassed her mentor Tsunade during the war and she was seventeen at the time. Imagine how strong she is now. She is also quite confident of her strength. Your intimidation tactic will only be rendered useless if you do confront her about this matter.”

A thought suddenly surfaces and a grin crosses his face from the new idea forming on his head.

“Although I would love to see you two duck it out. I wonder who’ll win. Who knows, maybe she’ll give you one of the worst thrashing ever.”

“Tch, you wish. No one can compare to the fights I had against Hashirama. No woman can change that no matter how strong she is.” A sneer crosses Madara’s face at the thought of a mere woman giving him a challenge.

The image of Hashirama’s granddaughter crosses his mind. The fierceness she has shown against him, her strength that surpasses the Raikage, and the healing jutsu that allows her to fight on the front line despite being a medic. Prior to that point, he didn’t believe anyone to be capable of healing themselves. Hashirama being the only exception, as he always was . But a slip of a woman proves him wrong.

She may not have the same strength as that of her grandfather’s, but what she does have is impressive on its own. He, at the very least, can recognize strength when he sees it and her display of power during the war deserves his recognition. He is also intrigued by the seal on her forehead that allows her to regenerate. Even though it is not of the same caliber as Hashirama’s, the fact that she can regenerate at all is remarkable.

The only reason she lost against him aside from the obvious gap in power was thanks to her bisection in his hands, after all.

‘Hn,’ a contemplative gleam apparent in his eyes ‘perhaps there is a bit of truth in Obito’s words.’

“Well, this is one story I hope will never reach the ears of the Senju although the chances of that happening is slim with Naruto himself probably telling them.” The man in question breaks his train of thoughts.

He groans. Now that is something he certainly does not want Hashirama to know, even worse Tobirama. He can only imagine that blasted man’s reaction if he were to know about this.

When the world is against you, you have to persevere. Yeah, the beta changes may not be as accurate as the one on ff but I try. I made the changes manually, unlike the one posted on ff so there may be alterations here that is not the same in there.

Here is the ff link

Edit: I appreciate any readers on this. It doesn’t matter what you do so long as you’re comfortable with my fic. It’s enough for me.

[mammahealth]

Teething And Your Baby: Symptoms And Remedies

Teething. That word alone can literally make any mum cry. 

It is not an easy time to go through with your baby. But it is inevitable and all we can do is to make it as pleasant as possible. It is also a big relationship test filled with sleepless nights, household chaos and baby tantrums. But also a huge relief when it is all through and over. That’s a lot of emotions to endure as a mom, right? Exactly that and one long roller coaster.  Teething is a hot topic among parents of infants up to 2 to 3 years (sometimes older).

The teething period is usually a very painful stage of the life of a baby. Thankfully, the key symptoms will help you to spot the start of teething. You will have enough time to prepare for it and help your baby with one of the simple natural remedies.

With your baby coming, it is a good idea to start thinking what you need, and what you already have so you are fully prepared when your little one needs you most.

Beware: When your baby first starts making a fuss or looks slightly pink around the cheeks, everyone will assume that teething is the problem.  You will receive friendly advice on various methods to tackle the issue. Unsurprisingly, this barrage of information is not always a great help.  Not every whinge or cry is the hint of teething. Likewise, not every remedy is automatically suitable.

THE PROCESS OF TEETHING

The teething itself starts with the tooth emerging through the gums. The process ends with the tooth “cutting through” the gums. This referred to as “eruption”.  The whole process takes a couple of months and sometimes up to a year for the teeth to appear. The tooth doesn’t miraculously show up one day as I thought it would. Some of you might now be thinking “that’s a given if you read up on it”, but not every mom does! I was one of them and with my first child, I had no idea whatsoever what to expect!

The teething eruption generally happens in the following order. It is just a general timeline sourced from American Dental Association that is in no way set in stone as every child is different.

Teething diagram with typical ages

WHEN DO BABIES START TEETHING

The usual age for a baby to get her or his first tooth is six months. The age of 4 months is early and on the other end of the scale, there are children who got first tooth at 15 months!  If your baby is on the later side do not take it as an indication that there is a problem with the overall development of the child.

Around 3 months of age, parents tend to mistake a baby’s drooling and chewing on a fist as the first sign of teething. These are just typical actions for babies at this age.  Not necessarily signs that the first tooth is coming in.

Is it normal that my baby doesn’t have teeth yet?

Please consult with your child’s doctor in case your baby’s first tooth hasn’t come in by the 12 months mark. Certain tests are to be performed to rule out medical problems. X-rays will be done to make sure teeth are in place underneath the baby’s gums. Generally, first dental check-up should happen by first birthday – Regardless of when your baby’s teething process starts.

My daughter was one of the late teethers.  She started the teething process around 6 months of age. Finally, her first tooth cut through just three weeks shy of her first birthday.  I was so ecstatic because she had her 1st tooth showing in her 1st birthday photos!

When she was 18 months she has had already 8 teeth so far with her first set of molars cutting through. The whole teething process is not easy- especially the molars are tough.  My nights were spent waking up every two hours to nurse her like a newborn. Also, she was always to throw random tantrums.

Before I had her, I honestly thought that this whole teething business was just a very convenient way for parents to excuse their children’s behavior.  Oh boy, how wrong I was…

Around 6 months, my daughter would suddenly start wailing for seemingly no reason. It took a lot of effort, but I was always able to calm her.

When she was around 9 months old, she began to have colossal outbursts of screaming and crying.  She was so short-tempered and unhappy.   It was then I realized that teething is not just an excuse. It was just so REAL!

She turned into a teething monster! She was a drooling machine. She was constantly trying to get an anything around to chew on – especially my fingers!  I discovered that cold things were a huge relief for her. I tried numerous teething treats and what worked best was: frozen fruit popsicles and silicone teethers.

BE PREPARED: TEETHING SYMPTOMS

The process of a child’s teeth growing through is a perfectly normal part of your baby’s development.

The usual symptoms of teething (although in the beginning, it may be misleading) associated with teething include:

Drooling – This is one of the first signs and usually starts around 3-6 months. You will see lots of drool coming out of the baby’s mouth.

Biting – Baby puts fingers and fists in the mouth. She tries to bite and chew on anything in sight.

Gum rubbing – Baby is rubbing her gums with hand or various items. It eases her discomfort.

Lack of sleep – baby is waking up crying or just moving around in the sleep in as a result of discomfort. The normal sleep routine is disrupted thanks to teething including the difficulty of getting to sleep. Baby is inevitably cranky because of the pain and lack of sleep.

Facial Rash – The excess drool irritates the sensitive skin around the mouth.

Food Aversions – Depending on whether the baby has started solids or not, you might notice they don’t have much of an appetite or don’t want to eat things they previously liked. Also, most nursing babies would prefer to nurse which is comforting or prefer to eat food items that help soothe their gums.

Other baby teething symptoms might include food aversion, fever, diarrhea (often with accompanying diaper rash) or ear pain.

REMEDIES THAT WILL HELP YOU SOOTHE YOUR TEETHING BABY

Here’s my top list of teething solutions that have always saved our day. I recommend having several of these things ready on hand because you never know when teething pain (and subsequent bad mood or tantrum) will strike.   I’ve tested them all on both my babies. The results were pretty much similar with each child.

There are exceptions to the rule, however.  If your mama instinct is telling you that something isn’t right – go see your doctor!

Here are a number of tried-and-tested solutions and remedies. See which ones work for you and your baby:

GIVE YOUR BABY SOMETHING COLD TO CHEW ON

Give baby cold or frozen slices of banana, mango, cucumber, watermelon, and so on to munch on.  When our babies were getting their very first teeth, we gave them mesh baby feeders with cold or frozen fruit in them.  There are so many different kinds on the market these days – next time I might get one with a cap.

Mesh food feeders

But what do you put into the teething mesh feeder? Banana is especially beneficial, as it also helps to reduce diarrhea, which is a typical side effect when the baby is teething.

There are tons of other options, however. You can try a few of them until you find what works out best for your baby. Great foods for putting in a teething feeder include:

pureed melon

raw apple or pear

frozen blueberries or strawberries

frozen peaches or nectarines

pieces raw carrot (fresh or frozen)

crushed ice or frozen breast milk

Frozen popsicle.  The choice is wide:  breast milk, water or herbal tea placed in a little popsicle and left in the freezer until solid.

You can also make fruit popsicles.  Freeze your baby’s favourite fruit puree alone or mix it with yogurt.

The ancient trick – using a cold item and pressure to relieve baby’s hurting gums is still a brilliant cure. You can use many safe objects that can be frozen. When the baby chews on them and the cold helps to numb the affected area. The pressure is relaxing for irritated gums.

Teething popsicles

For example, try the washcloth trick. Dip a piece of clean fabric in water or chamomile tea and put it in the freezer for a couple of hours. Chamomile tea has the added bonus of helping to soothe and relax baby.

Have baby wear an amber teething necklace.  The real amber is considered a natural painkiller.  It is a great alternative to over-the-counter medicines. How it works?  When worn on the skin, baby’s body heat triggers the Baltic amber to release an oil containing succinic acid.  Many parents swear by its anti-inflammatory qualities. Yes, the scientific evidence is lacking for now … but there are just too many encouraging stories to ignore the helpfulness of Baltic amber.

Genuine Baltic Amber is known to contain succinic acid. Succinic acid is essentially a natural analgesic (painkiller).  This means that the genuine Baltic beads act as a natural alternative to relieve teething pain in babies thanks to its anti-inflammatory properties.

Tip: Be sure to remove the necklace from the neck before your baby goes to sleep. You can double wrap it around a wrist or ankle instead.  Also, do your research before you buy – to be sure that you get a real one. There are many fakes on the market. Buy from a reputable shop and always read the reviews.

WOODEN AND SILICONE TEETHERS

Something to chew on is usually all your baby really needs to get through the pain of teething. I don’t know what it is about the wooden objects, but my second baby is drawn to them. He loved his wooden building blocks. Later we actually found some great wooden teethers and chew rings. One of the all-time favourites was proven this wooden kangaroo teether. It is made of unfinished wood. When shopping for one, please make sure that it meets the health standards. You certainly don’t want any harmful chemicals around your baby.

Wooden kangaroo teether

There are lots of options for silicone teething toys that are also safe and non-toxic. These teethers are a great way to stop the finger chewing and excessive drooling. It seems the silicone is the perfect material – it is soft but durable at the same time. We started trying different teething options, hoping to avoid a finger sucking habit and to provide much needed teething relief.

We tried the famous Sophie the Giraffe, but for one reason or another, my babies’ interest in it fizzled out rather quickly.   Lucky there are so many teething toys out there, it wasn’t hard to find a few good replacements that are still being drooled on – even after 6 months of use.  These are our favorites:

Silicone teething unicorns

I wish I had these two with my first baby. The silicone teething mitten and the bandana bib.

Silicone teething mitten

The bandanna bib with a silicone tip.

  TEETHING NECKLACE FOR MOM

This is another great option. These necklaces are made of silicone and are great for baby to use while sitting in mom’s lap or in a baby carrier. They also act as something to fiddle with for baby while she nurses, which is quite the relief when you have a fiddle-happy baby!

Teething necklace for Mom

HERBAL REMEDIES FOR TEETHING

Herbal remedies are here since hundreds of years ago. They help to ease baby’s teething pain and heaps of other illnesses. Here are some of them:

Chamomile – The most popular remedy for teething ailments. It relaxes the gums and soothes irritability.

Rosehip – Full of antioxidants and vitamin C. Rosehip tea is also   the immune-system booster.  In addition, rosehip contains anti-inflammatory properties.

Catnip – Calm moody babies and help them rest.

Clove – Clove is a natural anaesthetic.  It works great to relieve pain (similar effects as benzocaine).

Any of these herbs can be made into a tea, which can be used to dampen wash clothes before freezing. You can also give the tea to baby as a beverage, or rub it directly on the gums. To make a tea, boil water and steep 1 tsp of herbs in 10 oz, of water for 6–7 minutes.

You can also make an herbal infusion that can be rubbed directly onto the gums. In a small saucepan, place your herbs and cover with olive oil. Simmer on low for 4–6 hours. Strain and store in the refrigerator. Dab some oil onto baby’s gums as needed.

TEETHING GEL

I’m also wary of using teething gels because they contain things like Vaseline, alcohol, and Benzocaine. In general, not exactly the things I like to put in my baby’s mouth.  But if all else fails, I like having this joker up my sleeve.

BONUS: BABIES LOVE A CLEAN FINGER TO CHEW ON. This is probably the oldest method to ease the discomfort of your baby.  Give your thumb to your baby if you have no other mean to soothe her. The pressure of the gums on your finger helps relieve the pain of the tooth through the gum. It is also a great way to bond with your baby.

The post Teething And Your Baby: Symptoms And Remedies appeared first on Mamma Health.

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