#however she was much stronger than he anticipated and he got him self hurt...really bad

[huenjin]

wicked games.

pairing — hwang hyunjin x reader

genre — smut

word count — 2.732 words

request/warnings — hyunjin + face fucking + aftercare. also includes, corruption kink, daddy kink, masturbation (f), deep throating.

note — this was supposed to be a drabble, but oh well. yeah, home girl's on a mission to finish all the requests so she can open it up soon! ah~

"I want you to fuck my mouth."

Hyunjin stills. It is probably from the unpredictability of your suggestion but you decide for it. You lean forward into your boyfriend's warmth, his arms wrapping around your frame instinctively. Hyunjin knows exactly what you are talking about but being the ever gentle boyfriend he is, he kisses your forehead, nuzzling against it for a while before asking,

"You already give me the best blowjobs ever. Do you really want me to fuck your mouth? I mean, it could hurt you." He brushes the hair from your forehead, smiling softly as he holds you close.

"I want you to hurt me," you mumble and Hyunjin's eyes darkens.

He has always played it safe. Always. Because he truly and passionately loves you. So much that that's all he can think about. However, now that you brought it forth onto the table, talking about how you want him to hurt you — it's driving him insane. The very thought of him having his big dick deep down your throat, letting you get used to it. The very thought of him fucking your face; fuck, he used to jerk off to the thought of that and now you are asking him to do the very same.

The gods must be very kind to him.

"If my baby wants that, I'd happily oblige." Hyunjin kisses your nose before asking, "Since we are on this topic, is there anything else you want to try?"

"You won't think it's weird if I tell you?"

Hyunjin pulls your cheek, cooing at you, eyes wrinkling in mirth. "Absolutely not. I'm so glad you found it alright to talk to me about this. After all, your wish is my command, ma'am."

You chuckle slightly. Your index finger draws small circles into his chest as you finally tell him. "I want you to call me degrading names."

"You'd be alright with that? Is there any hard limits or anything?"

"Yeah. I'd be fine with that," you smile, eyes sparkling in anticipation. "There's none that I know of. I'd really like you to say mean stuff to me and treat me roughly during sex."

Hyunjin feels his heart lunge and he does not know whether it is a good thing or bad. He holds you closer into him, almost having your face buried into his chest as he says, "You can't say stuff like that with such innocence, oh my fuck. You're going to end me."

"Can we try now?"

Hyunjin stiffens again. This relationship with you is the most exciting thing he has done in forever. The fact that you are so unpredictable, so innocent and so easy to ruin in his hands excites him. You move away from him, looking at him again with those very eyes that he thinks makes you insatiable.

And you know you have convinced him when your boyfriend runs a hand through his hair, throwing his head back and groaning loudly. It's guttaral and almost animalistic in its nature and it's the bare minimum that excites you.

To your surprise, Hyunjin grabs your chin with his thumb and forefinger, lifting it back and angling it in an almost condescending manner. "Fine. My girl wants to act like a needy slut, huh? Get naked and kneel on the floor by the time I come back."

Hyunjin walks out from the bedroom the two of you share and you are beyond bewildered. However, you do as ordered. The submission that you can finally give to Hyunjin arouses you. Your hand grazes your covered panties accidentally as you remove your night dress. You discard your undergarments too, fingers grazing your sodden lips and you look down at the arousal that sticks to your fingers. You hop off the bed, kneeling in your birthday suit.

Waiting for Hyunjin in nothing seems almost disdainful. Like some pet waiting for its master to play with it. Deep down, you yourself couldn't understand why this excited you but it did and you had to accept it. You loved the submission you could offer before Hyunjin and the fact that it excited Hyunjin too made you only happier.

It's arousing. Your fingers move gradually down your body, caressing every single expanse of your body. It cups your breasts, squeezing it lightly at the thoughts of Hyunjin's mouth mercilessly sucking at it, scattering purple marks all over it to call you his. You pinch your nipples with your thumb and forefinger, grimacing at the pain that shoots a rush in you. Your palm rubs against your stomach, back arching at the thought of Hyunjin's hands doing the same, only for it to come rest on top of your leaking core. You rub small circles into your clit, barely there and you moan, "Fuck," as you press it a lit further. Your other hand still twists your nipple, pain closing in on your senses.

Hyunjin would do exactly that, you remember. Teasing your clit and never letting you finger yourself till he gives you the permission to. He would do that. You rub your clit, circling around it and tapping the engorged button occasionally, inconsistent moans leaving your mouth. Your hand leaves your breast only to stay horizontal over your mouth to bite as your rubbed your self quicker before letting go and slipping a finger in you.

"Fuck, Hyunjin. Baby, more. Need more." Your eyes close as you picture how Hyunjin would have his mouth on your nipple, flicking his tongue against it only for one of his fingers to slip in and tease your walls, rubbing your insides softly at first; right when he knows you're so close from all the clitoral stimulation.

But that would never be enough. Not for his cock. It's all a big tease before Hyunjin would do exactly what you are doing to prepare you for his length — slip in another two. Three fingers thrust into your wet core, squelching noise resonating when you hear the harsh tone of your boyfriend.

You were so caught up in chasing your pleasure that you do not notice your boyfriend who is standing in front of you, arms folded forever, cock hardened in his pants and just waiting for you to give him the attention. His eyebrows narrows at you and he clicks his tongue as he looks at you, eyes raking your body mercilessly before they stare at your core stuffed with three fingers.

"And here I thought I should be all nice and gifting to you. What a slut. All I asked was for you to get naked and wait for me. Were you such a needy whore that you had to start playing with yourself," Hyunjin bends forwards, teeth grazing the side of your pinna before he huskily continues, "before daddy came?"

You're about to remove the fingers when Hyunjin holds your hand. He glares at you, "No," and you look at him like a puppy kicked. Was he already disappointed in you? You were disobedient and you hated making Hyunjin upset. Was this such a case?

"I want you to fuck yourself with your fingers as I fuck your mouth. Got that? You wanted to get off so badly, right? I'll let you do that. Stuff yourself with those three fingers as deep as you can go. That's all you're getting today."

Hyunjin unbuttons his pants and pulls it down midthigh along with his boxers. His cock springs up after lightly his abdomen and you crawl forward, slightly rubbing your inner walls to the sight of your boyfriend's cock leaking precum.

"Is it alright if daddy fucks your mouth, babygirl?"

You can't think. Your mind is so blank with nothing but the clouds of lust that you wouldn't mind Hyunjin doing anything with you. The three fingers stuffed into you, rubbing your spot occasionally does not make the situation better.

If you had known this was the outcome of your little desire being brought up to your boyfriend, you would have ditched the idea of trying to avoid the thought until the urge went away and instead just begged to have his cock buried into your mouth from the get go.

You wrap your mouth around Hyunjin, your fingers thrusting and rubbing against your sodden lips till they burn with passion to have something so much thicker than your long fingers. A deep moan pulls from Hyunjin's chest as he panted, long fingers weaving through your hair before gripping it tightly and pulling, making a ponytail, a muffled moan leaving your mouth as he plowed into your wet hole.

Your knees ache, from all the kneeling and you are dripping onto the floor, leaving stains from the repeated thrusts of your fingers. You know it's a helpless chase because your fingers could never reach you to an orgasm as quick as Hyunjin could to you and yet, you're desperate. To kill two with one stone — have your orgasm and to make him reach his.

Your mouth and barely your throat, screams for mercy, but the sight of your boyfriend losing himself in your mouth is so worth it that it has you quicken your speed, your fingers rubbing the insides miserably.

Hyunjin's cock is heavy and warm on your tongue. You've known this before with all the blowjobs you've given him but none emphasises on how thick it is as much as when he fucks your mouth. Your jaw begins to ache from the constant task of fitting his fat girth into your mouth, but the feeling of him sliding against your tastebuds and battering the back of your throat makes your eyes roll into the back of your head. Hyunjin's grip on your hair is stronger to position your face and yet you release another moan, the vibrations rolling against his cock.

“F-Fuck!” He stutters out, grunting into you, balls slapping against your wet chin as he leans his head back in pleasure, hips never ceasing their ruthless rutting into your tight mouth in the middle of your bedroom. "Your mouth is made for me to fuck. Oh god, look at how you're taking me. What a slut. You must have practiced with a dildo thinking it was daddy's, huh?"

He caught you. Your fingers slip in even further, knuckles deep, as he says those words and he pulls you all the way along his cock, cock hitting the back of your throat, coating it with the thick mucosa. Hyunjin stills for a minute, letting your jaw ache miserably at the feel of having him completely in you.

"Can that stupid dildo compare to daddy's cock, cumslut?"

Tears stream down your face as his fat cock stretched your throat, your thumb rubbing your clit as you felt yourself stretch out. Your mouth and your pussy being so full that your mind is slowly spiralling into the awaiting bliss.

Hyunjin sees you speeding your ministrations on your engorged button that he pulls out of your mouth, letting you breath in air. He chuckles, "You're so desperate. What a needy slut, rubbing your slutty little clit while I destroy your mouth. Are you having fun? Is this what you wanted?"

He holds your jaw, pressing slightly in an attempt not to hurt you more as he holds your hair with the other. He angles your face up to look at him as he asks, "Words. I need answers."

"Yes, yes, yes," your voice is groggy and desperate. Hoarse from all the fucking, you beg, "I need more. Need your cock to ruin me. Please."

He places his cock back into your mouth, "Rut faster for daddy," and he thrusts in, continuing to move against your tongue, whining at how your tongue feels against his dick.

Your thumb rubs your clit faster, chasing your high as Hyunjin's hips begin to stutter soon, losing their tempo has he chased his orgasm as well. His grip on your hair tightens as he feels it tightening in him. The room is filled with nothing but the sound of his balls slapping against your chin, muffled moans coming from your stuffed mouth and rapid panting from him. Hyunjin is a whiner and they sounded nothing less of a symphony to you.

“Fuck, Y/N!” He grunts out, trying to hold out a loud moan. His hips still surges forward to reach deeper into your mouth, a little more than before. You gag slightly around him and the coil in his stomach snapped. Hyunjin comes undone in your mouth.

“Oh fuck! I'm coming. Ah," Hyunjin chokes on his moan, cock buried to the hilt in your mouth as he pumped his cum straight down your throat, legs quivering slightly from the force. He tries to not be as loud as he could normally get, worried over your sensitive self. White spurts leave his cock in turns to coat your throat and you swallow them.

You gasp around his cock, your orgasm washing through you only moments after his. Your fingers are coating in thick orgasmic release as you pull it out, slowly playing with your clit.

Hyunjin finally pulls out of your sore mouth, shuddering at the sight of a thin string of his cum and your spit linking him to your lips. You sit back onto your ass gasping heavily for air, jaws aching from all the action. Your hand came up to weakly grasp at your throat as you calm your rapidly beating heart, adrenaline shooting into your stream and oxytocin flooding you.

His brown eyes take in the sight of your swollen pink lips, cheeks tinged red and covered in tears and spit. Hyunjin, swears to God, feels his cock twitch slightly as a pang of arousal shot through his body again. But he chooses to ignore that. He has to take care of you first.

Your breath hitches in your throat when Hyunjin crouches down, squatting in front of your collapsed frame. He holds your wrist, taking sight of your fingers slick with your arousal. He puts them into his mouth, licking them clean and you moan, breath hitching.

You think you are bound to get more action for the night when he licks your fingers. However, he take them out, slightly tapping your cheek with his fingers. He holds your waists with your arms and picks you up, carrying you. Your wrap your limbs around his frame, chin nuzzling into his neck at the warmth your boyfriend gives you.

He lays you down on the bed, only to climb the same and cuddle against you. He plays with your hair as he mumbles into your ear, "I'm so, so, sorry. Did I get too rough?"

He kisses your jaws, slowly, caressing the skin with his thumb. "I love you, okay? You're not a slut. You're not a whore. I love you and you're my babygirl. All mine to love and protect."

"I know and I love you too." You voice back, hoarse however.

"Hush," he places his finger against your lips. "Don't speak. Rest your mouth." He leans forward to grab a cup from the counter and you realise that that was what he had gone to get before. "Drink this up," he places it against your mouth after allowing you to sit up slightly. Hyunjin explains, "It's supposed to help. It's a honey and thyme infusion, with a bit of lemon squeezed in."

You look at your boyfriend wide eyed, heart thumping so loudly in your chest. This is the man you definitely want to spend a lifetime with. You made your choice right. Your drink from the cup and Hyunjin places it back on the table, helping you lay back and cuddle into his chest as he kisses your hair.

"I'm sorry, ah," Hyunjin groans in regret. He kisses your forehead as you look up at him, smiling softly. "Did I hurt you too much?"

You shake your head from the left to right to signal that he didn't. "It's alright," you whisper. "I wanted exactly this." Hyunjin laughs, arms wrapping around you a little tighter almost as if he wants to be a part of you.

"I'm still sorry for hurting you like that," he pokes your nose before kissing your cheeks and resting his head against yours, only to mumble, "I love you so much," before closing his eyes and holding you to him for the rest of the night.

[long-cosmos-overhead]

Prompt: Can I get a Thranduil one where the reader landed in middle earth and went through the whole journey with the fellowship. She's really close with the group so Legolas suggests that she visits mirkwood with him and meet her father. When Thranduil meets her, he instantly takes a liking to her. She has an attitude and he just finds her adorable. It's nothing romantic more like a protective platonic relationship sort of daughter like one. Please do headcanons if you don't mind, can you make it long?

As requested it is super long 🥰

(I do not own LoTR or it’s characters/ gif not mine)

You were needless to say exhausted after travelling with the fellowship you all did so much that beforehand you would’ve said was impossible not to mention emotionally chipped at having to part ways with your friends

You became extremely close to Legolas the pair of you instantly became like two peas in a pod, you were his self proclaimed best friend and he was your self proclaimed favourite elf

Friendly affection was not at all weird for you even the company would walk by, find you both relaxing legs tangled and laughing and it would be completely normal

Legolas always left you with his bow when he had to attend to something, he put complete trust in you, he came back and found you trying to hit a tree with his bow and instead of getting angry like everyone anticipated, he taught you how to use it well into the night

Eventually Legolas let you touch his hair, he had taught you before that hair was only allowed to be touched by family, lovers or close friends that was the extent of your friendship and soon after he began braiding your hair

You and Legolas were joined at the hip by the time the quest was over, you had pondered a lot about where you would go afterwards since you had no home in Middle Earth and Legolas himself did ask where your home was

When you told him you didn’t have one he almost immediately started convincing you to come home to Mirkwood with him, he was slightly worried about what his father would say to bringing a human back with him but you were his best friend and not only would he feel endlessly awful for leaving you out to fend for yourself the rest of your life but the thought of being separated from his best friend was also a thought he could never warm up to

Turns out Thranduil loved you right from the first meeting, Legolas had introduced you and since you were burnt out, sleep deprived and sore you fell right into him and to top it off you said he smelt nice and him and Legolas had the same hair

Legolas was certain you were done for but instead Thranduil smiled a little and ordered a guard to take you to one of the guest rooms after you had gone he told Legolas to make sure you stayed in Mirkwood

Needless to say Legolas was stunned but exstatic

Something about you made Thranduil instantly protective and put him in a good mood he couldn’t place what it was but he instantly liked you secretly he found your sleep deprived self adorable and he wanted you to stay in Mirkwood

He came to visit you in the guest chambers the next day and from there you only grew closer, the pair of you ended up talking for hours before Thranduil remembered he has duties to take care of

You didn’t want him to leave after finally having such an interesting conversation so you said “If it really needed to be done someone would’ve found you right, I mean you are the King”

That was the first Thranduil had heard your sarcasm and outlook on things and he loved it, to him it was like a breath of fresh air having someone treat him as more of a friend than a King for once and he looked at you and laughed

He stayed from the time the sun rose to the time the sun set talking with you, he even chose to walk you round a few of the halls and walked you back to the guest room

Since then you spent as much time with Thranduil as you did with Legolas, Thranduil loved you as his own he saw you as his best friend and in some cases his daughter, he loved your attitude especially the way you got into a bit of light hearted trouble

You and Legolas were hanging out in the stables one day when you decided to ‘accidentally’ miss throwing the bucket of water over the horse and instead throw it on a guard that was standing nearby the guard was soaked and you got caught for laughing too much

The guard took you right to Thranduil to complain and the whole time you were standing trying not to laugh at the sight of a soaking wet guard try to explain to the King of Mirkwood that his sons best friend just threw water over him

It seemed Thranduil felt the same way as after the guard left he looked you dead in the eye and said “do it when I’m around next time” you were thrilled

Thranduil always kept his eye on you, you were far younger than Legolas and despite how strong you may be the elves were genetically a lot stronger this meant you got hurt more and sick easier

You actually did get sick once Thranduil sensed you were getting a bit lethargic and less energetic but when he heard news you were bedridden with a nasty case of the flu he resigned from all his duties as king and stayed with you only returning to run the kingdom if you had fallen asleep for the night or if Legolas took his place

You had him wrapped around your finger that whole week, Thranduil got extremely protective of you no one was allowed near you aside from him, Legolas and a few healers

He made sure your temperature was normal even if it meant having to take away layers if you claimed you were freezing, he personally made you food and it turns out he was a great cook something which you complimented him on and he insisted on letting you cuddle up to him ignoring you when you declined saying you didn’t want to get him sick elves don’t get sick often anyways

Legolas teased him for going soft around you, his council light heartedly said he was going soft for a human even you said he was going soft to which he declined every single time his excuse always “humans are fragile, I am simply watching she isn’t hurt”

Biggest lie he’d ever told, he loves you to death and he’s been seen on more than one occasion at the door of your room asking if you want to see the stars or hang out for the day

You have a little thing you like to do when Thranduil gets particularly miserable or grumpy (sadly it still happens) you leave notes or drawing or stupid jokes in the pockets of his robes so when he’s having a rough or long day he can reach into his pocket and find a stupid drawing of an elf he hates or a note telling him about the time you fell off a horse it never fails to make him smile

Like Legolas, Thranduil warms up to the idea of letting you touch his hair and vice versa you always feel so lucky to be able to touch a princes and kings hair not to mention his hair is stunning, you can braid it to your hearts content and even if your hairstyling skills are limited or advanced it’ll go right back to the silky smooth, flawless style he had it in before you beg him and Legolas to tell you their secrets instead they either laugh or jokingly braid your hair to make you feel better

Legolas and Thranduil are both protective of you but Thranduil takes the title of most protective by a long shot, Legolas knows your can hold your own but he’s got his eye on you and fights beside you he’s more of a look out for you person

Thranduil however is endlessly protective you’re more fragile than him or Legolas and he would be devastated if something were to happen to you, one of the stairs broke on the spiral leading to your room and he carried you up them until they were fixed

You went out with Thranduil, Tauriel and a few other elves to assess the spider situation in the forest it was nothing bad in fact the forests had been relatively safe for a while now so really there was nothing to fear

You had been walking around for a while now and we’re about to leave with the others until a spider hatchling jumped on you, in your shock you dropped your blade and bruised your back and shoulders during the fall

You didn’t even have time to scream or process what happened before Thranduil had killed it and you were in his arms in an instant

He looked more scared than you however bear in mind you were still in shock, Thranduil was pretty frantic searching for any bites or big injuries to be relived that you were only a little sore and bruised after realising you were okay he hugged you tight, the horror of losing his best and most trusted friend almost became a reality

Thranduil and Legolas personally took care of you, Legolas made stupid jokes and helped put away your weapons and clothing while Thranduil tended to your injuries gently leading you into his embrace when he was done

Thranduil cuddled you like a koala for a long time just making sure you were there if things went wrong he didn’t want to think where you would be meanwhile Legolas played with hair calming you down a little but the best part was you were surrounded by your favourite elves in the whole world

You were so glad you fell to Middle Earth

@x-celticpirate-x

[blacklister214]

Illusions

Having gotten absurdly obsessed with Julie and the Phantoms over the weekend, writing this seemed like the only option. 

This is a Caleb Covington POV fanfiction, and I’m writing it from the viewpoint that he isn’t quite the villain he appears to be. I have many theories about Caleb that I will be working into the story if I choose to continue it. This chapter covers the night that band plays the Orpheum, starting from around the time Julie returns home.    Weighing Options

L.A. 2020

Caleb stared into his dressing room mirror, barely noticing his own impossibly handsome reflection. They weren't coming. They really weren't coming. He glanced at the wall clock telling him it was ten minutes to midnight. Ten minutes before Luke, Reggie, and Alex would vanish into oblivion, or more accurately vanish into him.

The energy he'd been collecting from them for the past few days had had quite the effect. He wasn't sure he'd ever given such an electrified performance as the one he'd given this evening. The surges were coming rapidly now. Wherever the boys were, they were not enjoying themselves.

He closed his eyes and concentrated on the link he'd forged so long ago. It had been an invaluable source of information thus far, alerting Caleb to all manner of fascinating tidbits. Perhaps even now the boys were regretting their decision and calling out for rescue. Naturally he'd provide one...though at this point he might demand some penance on their parts. A little groveling never hurt anyone. It was a bit demeaning the way he'd bent over backwards for a trio of children. Special children, he freely acknowledged, but still children all the same.

"-now! Go join Caleb's club! Please! It's better than not existing at all! Just go! Poof out! Do something! Please! Do it for me!" He knew that voice. Julie. Caleb grimaced. His...rival. How the mighty had fallen that he, Caleb Covington, found himself in competition with a teenage girl. At least she seemed to be conceding their little tug of war.

"We're not going back there." That was Reggie. Reggie, who'd been so enchanted with his club and all its delights. He'd chosen nothingness over Caleb. That was more than a little insulting.

"No music is worth making, Julie, if we're not making it with you. No regrets." Luke, who craved applause and an audience with a fervor matched only by Caleb's, had willingly surrendered both rather than join him. An unpleasant surprise to be sure. What of Alex? Was his silence implied solidarity or had he lost the ability to speak, choked with pain? Surely one of them had been moved by his performance?

Caleb shook his head. Pathetic, that's what it was. Of course Alex was in agreement. The boys were a package deal. He'd always know that. Convince two and the third would follow. Too bad he'd failed with all three. A swell of something unpleasant which he refused to name rose within him. Caleb pushed the feeling back down. Locked it tight in a box with all the rest the emotions he'd rather not confront.

"I love you guys." Julie's saccharine words were immediately followed by a curious sensation within his chest. Almost as if a rubber band were being pulled outward with the other end anchored inside his ribcage.

"How can I feel you?" Caleb paused in the middle of rubbing his chest. Feel him? Luke? Julie felt Luke? Luke was corporeal?

"I don't know." There was awe in the boy's voice. This was too much. Caleb needed to see what was happening. He focused on the doors outside of the garage the band called home. In a moment he was there, just out of sight. A voice drifted through the door.

"Alex, Reggie, come." He risked a peak through the window. All four figures within were far too distracted to glimpse him, immersed as they were in their group hug. A hug. It had taken Caleb decades and an enormous amount of soul links to achieve that feat. How had the boys managed in a few weeks? And...were they glowing? Not just in the "I'm a healthy teenager" way. In the "slap a halo on me, I'm an angel" kind of way. Caleb stepped back from the window. What was going on here?

"I don't feel as weak anymore." How marvelous for Reggie. Caleb, on the hand, was really starting to become uncomfortable. The sensation in his chest was only getting tighter.

"Me either. Not that I was ever that weak." Caleb felt a snap and three puffs of purple air rose from his shirt. His marks. Somehow Julie had overrode his marks. Yes, he'd been planning on removing them himself, but that wasn't the point. It was supposed to be Caleb's decision. The boys were supposed to know that it had been Caleb who'd shown them mercy despite their willfulness and general ingratitude. Julie had bested him, again. Would his humiliation know no bounds?

Caleb took a deep and calming breath. Yes, the urge to unleash some of his magic on the teens was great, but his self control was greater. He would need to regroup. He forced a smile and pictured the basement of his club. He came through in front of William's cell exactly as he'd intended.

"Hello William. Enjoying your timeout?" The skater immediately leapt up and ran over to the magically enforced bars.

"Is Alex alright? Did he cross over?" Caleb rolled his eyes, refusing to be moved by William's puppy dog like devotion. Sweet as the boy may seem, he had a short memory when it came to whom he owed allegiance.

"You do know that if the latter were true, I wouldn't be able to tell you the former." He examined his cuticles waiting for William's slow mind to process his words.

"Huh?" Precisely the response he'd anticipated. At least he'd been able to predict something accurately this evening.

"My dear William, it is fortunate you are so handsome. If the boys crossed over then no one would have any way of knowing if they were 'alright.' Something perhaps you should have considered before leading them down that ill-advised path." At this he fixed the boy with his most baleful glare. The teenager winced slightly, proving Caleb hadn't completely lost his touch.

"So...did they cross over?" Caleb pursued his lip, slightly irked he failed to totally intimidate the boy into silence. He supposed it was true what people said about love making young men bold.

He contemplated ignoring the question. What right did William have to an answer, after all the withholding he'd done in the past few days? Still Caleb had always been fond of the skater, perhaps been too indulgent with him. In a way the boy's unruliness was Caleb's own fault. He'd given the boy far too long a leash.

"I'll tell you, but only because I am the soul of generosity. No, the boys did not cross over. They are well for the moment. Though goodness knows how long that will last." Perhaps he shouldn't have tossed that last bit, but he was feeling frustrated.

"If you do anything to them I'll-" Caleb apparated to close the ten feet between William and himself. The boy tripped backward in surprise and lay sprawled on the floor gazing up at him.

"You'll what, William? Run over me with your skateboard? Oh that's right, it's not in there with you is it?" The look on the boy's face turned from scared to mulish in less than three seconds.

"I'm not sorry." Caleb raised his eyebrow. William may be developing a bit of a backbone after all. What inconvenient timing.

"Why would you be? It's not as though you completely and utterly betrayed the man who took you in and gave you a home. Who taught you all manner of tricks and even let you grind down the rails of his club." William crossed his arms, but the hunch in his shoulders demonstrated the boy wasn't entirely without remorse. Perhaps there was hope for him yet.

"It wasn't like I was damaging them." Then again perhaps not. Lord spare him the antics of petulant teens.

"The point is after everything I've done for you, I deserved a little more loyalty than what you've shown me." William sprung to his feet as quickly as he'd fallen, something in Caleb's accusation striking a nerve.

"You cursed my new friends and my...Alex. And why? Because they didn't want to join your house band? Why couldn't you have just left them alone?!" Caleb felt his lips thin. He HAD already deigned to explain to William why he couldn't simply let the boys waste their talents as they saw fit.

"I already told you, they are too powerful." It may not have been the WHOLE truth, but it was part of the truth, which frankly was more than most people got from him.

"So because you're threatened by them-" Caleb cut William midstream with a snort.

"I am not threatened by them." It was simply too much to let stand. The idea that with all of Caleb's many abilities, he was intimidated by three teenagers was laughable. Yes, the boys could, if they worked at developing their talents, one day learn many of the tricks he'd mastered. However, they'd need to survive the next few decades first, and their stubbornness and recklessness all but ensured they would not. At least not without his help.

"Then why?" A more complicated question than the boy realized, touching on secrets Caleb did not care to reveal.

"You'll be in the cell for the rest of the week. After that you're confined to the club until further notice. No skateboard." A fairly lenient sentence as far as Caleb was concerned. He'd certainly been harsher to other spirits for less. William opened his mouth, either to protest or to restate his question, but Caleb quelled him with a single raised eyebrow. The boy's jaw snapped shut. That was more like it.

Caleb vanished and re-materialized his suite. He paused a moment before heading to his end table and decanting himself some brandy. Ordinarily wine was his preference, but tonight he needed something stronger.

When he finished pouring, Caleb lowered himself into his velvet armchair. He regarded the liquor in his glass a moment before taking a sip. Of all the many skills he'd acquired over the years, the ability to manifest food and drink that could be consumed by ghosts was one of his favorites.

With a sigh he turned his thoughts to more pressing matters. What to do about the children? They needed to be saved from themselves. That much was clear. First Youtube and now the Orpheum. In this day and age, with every lifer carrying a camera in their pocket, discretion was more necessary than ever.

Did it really not occur to the boys there were reasons ghosts, which had been around since the dawn of humanity, still were considered myths? Did it not dawn on them that someone kept things that way? Yes, they'd been passing themselves off as holograms, but how long until someone saw through that charade? He was frankly shocked it hadn't happened already. They were calling themselves "Julie and the Phantoms" for goodness sake!

Julie. Even thinking her name brought a sneer to his lips. How had she gotten the boys to choose her over him? He supposed Luke wasn't so surprising. The boy was besotted after all. Reggie, though, who found the scores young women and meatball subs so appealing? And Alex, whose infatuation with a certain young skater was so great? It was quite frankly unfathomable.

Still, Caleb had never been one to surrender without a fight. Short term he had but one goal: Break-up their band. Separate Julie from the Phantoms, preferably in a way that didn't implicate him. He settled in to consider his options. It was going to be a long night.

[kittinoir]

Echoes of You Ch. 11

Read on Ao3

Marinette sighed and tapped her pen against the half-filled page of diary. She was halfway through recording her day, but she kept getting distracted. Of course, Adrien had that effect - but not in the usual way.

He’d missed yet another half day of school that afternoon and, for once, he hadn’t been at fencing club when she’d gone with Nino and Alya to drop off his homework. Her friend’s hadn’t seemed to find it weird, but she’d never known Adrien to not keep to the schedule she’d somehow accidentally memorized. 

Nino had ended up taking the homework with him, saying they’d worked out a system for sneaking the missed work past his dad, and worse, his dad’s nosy assistant, Nathalie. It made sense, she guessed. Gabriel Agreste was known for his strict and solitary life-style. 

But still, she couldn’t help but worry.

Frowning, Marinette flipped her diary closed and put it back in its’ nifty lock box. She remembered making the box to thwart Chloe, but she thought she remembered making it with a friend. When she’d asked Alya about, though, she’d said no. Still, the box came in handy. She could only imagine what Chloe would do if she got her hands on it. Chloe was somehow the only person not in her circle of friends who knew about her monstrous crush on Adrien, but she’d decided it was beneath her notice. However, Marinette imagined the copious paragraphs in her diary describing that very crush would not be.

She left the diary on her desk for the dress form in the corner. It had the muslin mock up pinned to it with the sketch pinned to the wall behind it but the drawing was still woefully lacking details. Maybe choosing Chat Noir for inspiration had been a mistake. She paused in front of the sketch, tracing the now-familiar shapes with her eyes, but inspiration wouldn’t strike. She couldn’t stop thinking about…

Adrien.

“Maybe I’ll just drop by,” Marinette said out our, grabbing her purse. “Just for a second. With some pastries. Real casually. Friends can drop by, right?”

It was like missing a step, she thought briefly, as she paused by the trap door and found she felt like she was waiting for a response from an empty room. She frowned, but stopped again as she again caught sight of her purse. 

“Why…do I keep bringing this with me?” she wondered, unslinging it. “It’s empty.”

But it had felt natural, she realized, to grab it as she’d left. It did match her clothes, she guessed. Still, better to leave it at home.

“Hi, mom!” Only two customers were browsing the bakery this close to the dinner hour. Marinette was careful to circumvent them, ducking behind the counter as the bell over the shop door chimed and snagging a box on her way by.

Sabine shot her daughter a grin as she snagged a few pastries and layered them in the box. Marinette swallowed a smile as she included some passionfruit macarons and their world-famous croissants.

“Uh, excuse me?” Marinette jumped, whacking her head on the shelf and nearly dumping the pastries onto the floor. “Can I get some service here?”

Marinette straightened and squinted over the counter. “Chloe Bourgeois?”

Chloe rolled her eyes, but the move lacked the usual attitude, like her heart wasn’t really in it. “I need a dozen macarons and a dozen chocolate chip cookies.”

Marinette frowned, confused, but reached for a box. Rule Number One in the bakery was always help the customer - even if they were a pain in the butt from your class who had bullied you for literal years. 

Still, a small part of her couldn’t help but feel bad for Chloe. The girl had hurt her, yes, and she’d made terrible choices, but now she was suffering terrible consequences. If Chloe had been her normal over-bearing, bratty self, Marinette might have been able to ignore it, but she just…took it all so stoically. The cold stares. The snide comments. It was no less than Chloe had done to any of them, but…

It all came back to Adrien.

Marinette had never known him to turn his back on anyone. Not even Chloe, not even when she deserved it - until now.

Which was probably why Marinette did what she did next.

“How’re you doing?”

Chloe’s head snapped around to stare at her one-time rival. “Ex-cuse me?”

Marinette fought the urge to roll her eyes. “I asked how you’re doing. Have you been…ok?” It was stupid. She knew that even as she asked, but how else did one ask how a classmate was coping with being totally frozen out?

“I’m great, Dupain-Cheng,” Chloe snapped, snatching the box out of Marinette’s hands. “Thanks for asking.”

The other girl stormed over to the cash register and Marinette scowled, grabbing her own box of pastries. A waste of time to even ask. She ducked out the back door to avoid any more scathing comments and made for the metro that would deliver her neatly across the street from the Agreste mansion. She must have thought of a dozen things to say by the time she arrived, but as usual, as soon as those massive iron gates came into view, every single one evaporated. 

Except the usual flush of giddiness was tainted by…anxiety? No, stronger. Foreboding.

As Marinette stood across the street, taking in the manse, a flood of confusion and fear swept over her, a storm like she hadn’t experienced in weeks. Part of her wanted to sprint right back down those stairs and back home. She was back on the edge of that precipice.

‘CHAT NOIR!’ The girl’s scream echoed across the Pont Neuf. A flash of gold, a boy in black was knocked back again and again. She could do little but watch as she desperately tried to free herself. The boy stumbled again, his back against the shallow wall. She saw the monsters’ horrible grin, all those teeth, as it struck again. The boys’ baton snapped in two, and he fell.

The girl screamed again, frantic desperation lending her strength to finally free herself. She didn’t bother trying to follow him; she dove into the frigid black waters closest to her and swam. Her lungs were close to bursting when she finally found him, but her relief was short lived as green light suddenly illuminated the water, revealing a familiar face. Shock made her gasp, and as silver bubbles raced for the surface, they were both abruptly drowning.

The images, ragged and disjointed as they were, slipped through Marinette’s fingers before she could even fully recognize them.

“I…” She hooked a strand of hair behind her ear with one shaky hand. “What was…” A half-faded dream? More like a nightmare. She glanced at the house again, but whatever it was had passed; only faint, fragile anticipation remained.

Rallying her resolve, Marinette stepped forward onto the sidewalk - and promptly into someone as they made for the metro. She managed to snag the hand-rail and keep herself from pitching completely down the stairs, but the box of pastries was not so fortunate. Croissants and macarons spilled across the sidewalk and down into the metro station.

“Oh my god!” Heat spilled across Marinette’s face, but it was hardly the first time she’d run into someone - or dropped a box full of baked good. “I am so sorry. And so clumsy. Sorry.”

“You said that already,” the boy said, brushing off his ornate jacket. At least, she thought it was a boy; a Venetian mask covered his face and a hood obscured his hair. “Watch where you’re going.”

The blush only got stronger, but Marinette scowled as she stooped for her ruined box. It wasn’t like she’d run into the guy on purpose. He didn’t have to be rude about it. “I’m sorry,” she said one more time, if only because she didn’t know what else to say. “Is your jacket…”

“Fine,” the boy snapped, brushing the last bits of dirt only he could see from the material. He froze. “I know you.”

“Um…I don’t think so,” Marinette said, glancing up from her inspection. “I mean…I think I’d know if we were friends.” Besides, her friends knew how clumsy she was. They never would have given her a hard time about it.

“I didn’t say we were friends,” the boy said. He leaned in, the purple and gold lacquer on the mask glinting from the shadow of his hood in the late-afternoon sun. “You’re the one who’s in love with Adrien.”

Marinette’s eyes went wide, and she was fairly sure her blush had blown all the way up to her hairline. No one but her girls - and quite possibly Nino - knew that secret. No one.

“I don’t - I’m not - I don’t have a crunch - I mean, a crush,” Marinette spluttered, frantically re-arranging her pastry box. “Certainly not on Adrien. We’re just…we’re just very good friends.” The words were bitter even as she fibbed; she couldn’t say them without remembering the times Adrien had used that exact same phrase. The difference was he meant it.

“Mhmm.” The mask tilted. “Is that why you’re outside the Agreste mansion with a box of gourmet pastries?”

Marinette straightened with as much dignity as she could muster. “Who are you anyway?”

But the question would have to wait as a tell-tale rumble rippled across the cobble-stones. Cries rose in the air as the people in the street stumbled and clung to anything around them. Marinette elected to drop the box for a second time and cling to the railing rather than risk tumbling into the annoying stranger a second time. He, on the other hand, seemed to navigate the tremor with relative ease, cursing up a storm as he anticipated each roll of the street. 

“These attacks are getting closer and closer together,” Marinette growled as the tremors finally began to abate. “Doesn’t Hawkmoth have a hobby or a job other than terrorizing us?”

“Wish I knew,” the boy said, sounding about as pleased as she did. He glanced towards the Agreste mansion, almost as though that had been his destination as well, but ultimately ended up turning away - in the direction the tremors had come from. “See you around, Lovebug.”

“I am not his Lovebug!” Marinette stamped her foot. Deja vu swept in again, but dispersed as the rumbling started back up. “Wait!” She scrambled after the boy, not nearly as graceful as he was. “What are you doing! Are you crazy? You can’t go that way.”

“I’m crazy? You’re the one following me,” the boy said, glancing back at her over his shoulder. 

“Seriously,” Marinette said, reaching for the boys arm as she caught up. “You could get killed. At best you’ll be a distraction.”

The boy pulled his arm away, slipping out of her grasp as he rounded a corner as easily as if she were made of air. “Go away,” he snapped, an edge in his voice. “Go hide. Leave it to the heroes.”

Marinette balled up her fists, wishing she’d worn her purse after all just to keep her hands busy. “They’re just people,” she snapped, following him down an alley. “We have to help them. Staying out of their way - that’s the best we can do.”

“Not all of us.” The boy paused at the mouth of the alley, looking out into the street beyond. Marinette peered over his shoulder and cringed as she beheld the fight. 

It was already in full swing. Both Ladybug and Chat Noir were out there, but they were getting tossed around pretty badly. Any time they tried to co-ordinate an attack the akuma would engage them, preventing any progress. Ladybug looked better than the first time Marinette had seen her, but she seemed to be lashing out, more desperate than focused, more scared than confident. 

Chat Noir, for all his skill, couldn’t pick up the slack. He was trying to run defense, but Ladybug couldn’t seem to antipode either her enemy or her partner. It wasn’t going well.

The boy in the mask seemed to feel the same way. He looked back at Marinette again. She got the distinct impression he was appraising her, measuring her worth behind that inscrutable mask.

“If you could do more,” he finally said, “Would you?”

“I - ” She ducked as another tremor rocked the alley, but made herself nod. “If I could. They shouldn’t have to do this alone. I…I want to help.”

“Not afraid of joining the list of casualties you seem so convinced of?”

“I’d rather be on it and go down swinging,” Marinette said. She was surprised to find it was the truth. The boy seemed to believe her, too.

He reached inside his huge coat, rummaging around inside a satchel she hadn’t realized he’d been concealing. Marinette felt again like she was on the brink, but this time there was light at the bottom of the crevice, an answer to her question. The boy finally produced a little black box with decorative red scrollwork on top and held it out to her.

“You just carry those around with you?”

He ignored her. “Ladybug and Chat Noir need help, Lovebug -”

“Marinette,” she hissed though gritted teeth.

“They need help, Marinette,” he repeated, unphased. “Will you use the Miraculous of the mouse to aide them in saving Paris, your home?”

Marinette nodded. “I will.” For the first time, serenity surrounded her. Every step was new, but it was like she’d walked the path a million times before. She wasn’t sure where it lead, but she wasn’t afraid of what she’d find when she got there. 

“Will you return the Miraculous to me, Salem, when the fight is done?”

“I…I will,” Marinette said. Her pulse was steady, even. She was ready.

“Then I give you the Miraculous of the mouse,” Salem said, tilting the lid back. A floating mouse burst forth in flash of pink light. Marinette fell back in surprise, but managed to keep from freaking out. She’d accepted this. She would do it. And it didn’t seem interest in crawling through her clothes.

“Marinette!” the mouse chirped, swirling around her head. “Marinette!”

“Hi there,” Marinette said. She couldn’t help but smile; its excitement was infections. Suddenly she remembered Chat Noir’s conversation from a few nights ago: Multimouse, right? Right…this all seemed… right. A little familiar. Didn’t it? Or had she dreamt it? She wasn’t sure anymore.

“Say ‘Mullo, let’s get squeaky’ while wearing the necklace,” Salem instructed as she lifted the jewellery from the box. “She grants the power of multiplication, but we warned, you only have five minutes. Don’t mess it up.”

“She knows!” Mullo chirped, swirling to a stop. “Oh, she knows!”

For the first time, Marinette thought that maybe she might. “I’m ready,” she said with a tight nod. “Mullo, let’s get squeaky!”

[imthepunchlord]

How would PV Plagg react to Marinette being his holder and having the curse?

Marinette wold be one of those cases where Plagg finds the curse is unfortunate. She’s not a malicious person. She’s down on her luck even before the ring came to her, thought lowly of herself, was even dreading school thanks to one girl. She was miserable. And then comes along the ring, waiting for her to find it, and it makes everything so much worse. 

She’s terrified when she meets Plagg, and when he can finally reveal what this means for her, her eyes widen in horror, she panics, trying to get the ring off, pleading for him to remove it and take it off. Plagg can’t though. There’s nothing he can do. She’s just the unlucky one this time around, and if she’s lucky, this bad luck will pass for her. If she’s strong, she’ll get through this. 

For this reason, Plagg eases up slightly. Slightly. He is a god of misfortune, he can’t go against his nature. He never tells Marinette about manipulating her luck to tempt her to use it, knowing it’ll come back at her for doing so (he has a feeling she wouldn’t do it anyway, no reason to waste his breath). He does still pull pranks here and there. Her yarn looked to peaceful, and to put together. It needed to be unrolled. That button didn’t look good on that jacket. There, now it looks better on the floor. These books on the desk were blocking his view, now he can see with them on the floor. Her cat pillow wanted attention, that’s why it jumped off the bed and landed on her. 

Essentially, Plagg became the cat Marinette never anticipated having. A cat that ate cheese, a cat that would intentionally spoil all cheese related products in the bakery below to hog it all. And after she gets past the anxiety and dread, Marinette finds herself becoming that exaggerated cat owner. She’s probably one of the few that Plagg is actually fond of, and will miss once the ring leaves. 

The curse doesn’t appear as bad as she feared. Unlucky every day, she sometimes can’t tell if its the ring’s luck or her own. She trips more often, messes up more often, drops more stuff, runs into walls more often. Just, a lot of her mistakes just happen more often. They do wear down her self esteem time to time, but she always bucks up, always comes around and looks at things optimistically. It often makes Plagg impressed and skeptical. It was still hard. Especially since it was hard for her to find any source of support. Alya could be dismissive. Her parents selective in what they noticed, and sometimes just not help her at all. But she kept going forward, she could make this work. Grin and bare. There was even an odd friendship that she had with Plagg, sort of. 

The only thing that seemed really bad had to be with two certain blondes. 

She came across Chloe far more often, and thus, became even more of a target for her to torment. Though sometimes, it seems the bad luck would rub onto Chloe, and bad things would happen to her suddenly. Marinette suspects that its Plagg acting out against her, but she’s not certain. The other trouble is with her first love. Adrien. The sweetest boy she’s ever met, wanting to make to make up for the gum, giving her his umbrella to take home. The worst of her luck was with him. Every effort she made to spend time with him was fruitless. Either she messed up or something got in the way. And then Adrien… there were so many mixed signals with him. 

He always gave her so much praise, built up his admiration of her, how much he thought she was great. But he never made an effort to spend time with her like she did with him. And then came Kagami. When Adrien first made his interest with her clear, Marinette had thought it was her he was talking about, that she was about to hear a confession from him and she was so hopeful and excited and it all came crashing down when Kagami’s name came out of his lips. And then he asked her to help him with his first date… And then the bench broke under them and Marinette didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or cry. 

What Marinette could tell you was that she was devastated. She considered moving on, and Alya and the others got on her case for it, snapping at her for even thinking of doing so after all the time they’ve spent pursuing Adrien. She goes to that date to “help”, was fine to leave them alone, and then she sees Adrien keeps looking her way. And he left his date to help her up and it drew Kagami over. And now she just… she just doesn’t know what to do or feel. And when she asked Plagg, all she got was, “Love cheese. You can’t go wrong with cheese.” 

She was actually considering it. Being in love gave her so much heartache and confusion, and it hurt and wore her down. Maybe she should just move on. And Plagg, never one usually direct anyone in the right, gave her a very vague agreement. 

When Lila came, Marinette found herself truly alone. Her lies pulled people in like moths to a flame, and people Marinette thought she could count turned on her. And Adrien, he pushed down any thought and motive she had to fight against Lila, insisting to just let her be. He knew, he’d be there, he told her so. But he wasn’t. He left alone to sit in the back. And when Lila came to torment, Chloe often joining her, he never spoke up to defend her, to help her. He just watched on with his honey green eyes. And after she was left alone, he’d come by, pat her shoulder, and declare, “You’re doing great!” 

She had a feeling it was Plagg who broke Adrien’s bag strap that had scattered his things to the floor. Or maybe it was her, subconsciously. 

Often she went home to just lay in bed. Sometimes she cried, sometimes she just laid there quietly. Plagg left her alone till she came down to join him. Offer her cheese or they just sit quietly with her. One day, she told Plagg, “I… I think I’m over Adrien.” He didn’t reply to her, he just tapped his chunk cheese against her mug in a silent cheers before he inhaled it. 

When the villain arose, Marinette had been scared, terrified of facing him (especially around Origins), and it was reassuring to hear that Plagg didn’t care if she got involved. Someone would rise up to face this villain, and he was right. Someone in red appeared, a ladybug, ready to fight this butterfly. And at first, Marinette rather left that ladybug alone to fight. But as the situation started to get dangerous, Marinette found herself acting, rushing to the battle, grabbing who she could, helping however she could. She even dabbled in her bad luck, not for her own gain but for the Ladybug’s, making the akumas unlucky, easier to be caught by the hero. 

“You’re going to get yourself killed doing that,” Plagg voiced once, actually amused and impressed and a little weary. People dying of the curse was extremely rare, but it did happen. What she was doing with risky with her curse. And she wasn’t doing this to try and ease up her curse, was doing it because it felt right and help was needed. 

And when she stood by that, she got a Cheshire smile. “Then you should have something more protective on.” She freaked out when Plagg dove into the ring and magic washed over her, and she became something similar to the Ladybug. Plagg warned her the Ladybug may not be so welcoming, and he was right. She was regarded wearily when he approached, unwilling to accept her help. And that was fine. It didn’t need to be them that she could help, it can be others, it can be the people that were in danger. She kept distance, helped around the battlefield, shifted the level of luck from a distance when she saw that LB needed it. Sometimes, she’d dare come closer, share what she has observed, offer an idea she had on what to do. It became to a point that the LB even came to her for help, asked for her ideas, or if she would help them in battle. 

 The curse could wear her down, give her more bad days, and be a true test to her optimism. Especially as the little things piled up, people in her life she expect support and love from didn’t always provide it, when the boy she loved loves another and she was the one he came to for advise. It was hard. But she kept going. She wasn’t as easily put down as she was long ago in her first day of school. She was stronger, she was resilient. 

In these situations where its just unfortunate, its a test of endurance. Can you rise above a bad situation? Can you still smile and see the light in people and life? Or are you beaten down by it? 

Marinette endured. She kept going. She rose above the worst, even while it hurt and took a lot out of her, she moved forward. She was stronger than how she started out. And the ring took note of that. 

There was no goodbye. No warning. 

Marinette woke to no Plagg sleeping on her face. She didn’t think much of it, sometimes he liked to sleep in her trash bin, bury himself under all the crumbled up sheets of torn up paper. Only, he never came out when she came back to her room with tea and a cheese filled croissant. Didn’t answer when she called. It was then that she noticed that there was no ring on her finger. It was gone, she was free of the curse. Didn’t have Plagg anymore. She… 

She felt dread and fear. It must have been one last unlucky strike from the ring, she concluded. The butterfly was still at large. The Ladybug needed help, and she wasn’t going to be able to appear as the Black Cat to help them. They were on their own, Marinette was more limited in how to help, having no more power to use. 

She handled it like how she handled everything else. Accept, rise up, and move forward. Power or not, she could still help. Maybe not in battle, but she can help people. She got through a curse of misfortune, she could face anything. 

And with no ring, her luck did change. One of her tormentors was suddenly having a sour time. Marinette had wondered but, dismissed it as her change of luck. 

There was suddenly a new Black Cat running around, but instead of helping the Ladybug, they were wooing them, trying to get a kiss that Plagg had mentioned once would free Marinette, if she wanted a quick out. The LB regarded all the colder, refusing to work with the BC, or even acknowledge them. And the curse would hit this new cat hard, making them miserable on the battlefield. 

A part of Marientte wondered if she should approach, offer advise, see if she can see Plagg again and get a proper goodbye. But, she deemed it safer to leave that be. She can’t have this Butterfly know that she was the previous Black Cat, and with the bad luck that comes with them, it made it risky. Anything could happen. Just do what she could. Sometimes she noticed the Ladybug would glance her way, but they never approached. They’d just make a face when they heard the new cat calling for them, and hurry away. 

At school, her friendships weren’t mended. Chloe and Lila still tried to target her, and Marinette, she was ready to face them, unafraid. Adrien would send her warning looks from the front but she didn’t care what he thought anymore. It was a daily battle at school, fights Chloe and Lila would initiate. And they came to a stop when a new boy moved to their school, a miracle in disguise. He was cold eyed, wore dreary attire that Marinette found boring and dull. He wasn’t interested in making friends, and sat as far away from everyone as possible. When Lila tried to make him anther groupie, she was immediately shot down, this boy unwilling to humor her. 

And when the bullies turned on Marinette, ready to start the next battle of the war, things were interrupted. The boy, Felix, cut in, his savage words tearing them apart and hurting their egos. And when the akuma came later, Marinette returned the favor by helping get away. The next, he actually came to sit with her, deterring Lila and Chloe from coming near her, another improvement on her luck. 

It wasn’t all happy and sunshine yet, it wasn’t all entirely better. But it was on the way. And Marinette was going to be happier. She was certain of that. 

[wafflewarriors]

The Not-So-French Mistake

Chapter 12: It’s Hierarchy Not Hierarchangel

By the time the sun had perched over the horizon again, Sydney was far away from everyone. She caught her breath against a humble oak tree. Its branches swayed in the wind and the tall grass danced. There were splinters in the base of the tree from old age and a rough environment.

She sat in a field—a bleeding sea of vibrant yellows—and plucked the rubbery stem of a lanky dandelion, brushing the tips of her fingers against the oily, golden surface. It sprung upward, mussed up like ruffled hair, and once the weed was thoroughly traumatized, she flicked it into an open patch of grass only to repeat the process. She threaded her fingers in the grass and pulled their roots from the loose dirt, and squashed measly ants that crossed her path. A helicopter seed flew past her nose and crash landed into a tall blade of grass.

She started a sickly fire from damp wood and a clump of dry grass and sticks. It wasn't very helpful. The wood shriveled and darkened and she poked at the fire, disturbing the ashes. It wouldn't last long. In fact, it only lasted half an hour. The small hissing flames were replaced by tendrils of wispy smoke. And the sky had now darkened with rolling clouds. She knew it would rain soon.

Without much visible light to aid her, she turned to sound. There were already sharp cries of raccoons. Frogs croaked in the mud and ate at the biting gnats and mosquitos. The itchy, tall grasses were already dripping with dew. The sky was dull with rain and day had turned cold.

There were bird conversations above her, and she eavesdropped, listening closely to the twittering and tweets, the trills and songs, and the flute-like whistling. A chickadee dropped from the sky in a flurry of fluttering wings. It carefully pecked—one, two, three—and then stilled, listening with a panicked hop before flying away.

She stilled.

A shadow had crept behind her.

While Dean was an extraordinary hunter, that had to be impossible. He was on foot. How had he pinpointed her exact location? She had covered her tracks and she had left no clues. She looked to the ground in defeat. She just couldn't escape this man.

"You still have an agreement to fulfill."

That was not Dean.

She turned to face a slender, young businessman. His clothes were wrinkle-less and his hair was slicked back. Preened like a crow. His wings were solid black—not like Castiel's, who had wings like a Starling, reflecting blues and purples—but oil-black, like a demon's eyes or black mold. He was the complete opposite of Castiel, who eyes were warm and kind.

 She got a bad vibe. "I didn't agree with anything."

He sent an unnatural smile her way. His eyes were cold and he would twitch randomly, as if half-possessed. "Oh, you did. Remember the hotel? You're promise started there."

She narrowed her eyes. "That was another angel."

His tone was hollow. Devoid of anything. "He has been demoted. The contract remains with me now."

"Contract? Again, I didn't agree with anything."

"Following through with our instructions was enough for the divinity."

"Divinity? You guys abandon God or something? You give up on him? Wow. Are you really worshipping another deity?"

"She is superior."

"She?" When they didn't respond, she shook her head. "Of course. She had to be evil. ‘Cause you angels have no sense of morality whatsoever."

There was a bit of a pause before, "You still have an agreement to fulfill."

"Yeah, yeah. You keep saying that. The note? Dean has the note. I didn't even get to read it."

His smile was more intimidating than it was friendly. "The note? Ha! The note meant nothing. All the note did was lure you into our trap." He breathed heavily now, completely entranced in his own words. "There is another. He is stronger than us. Stronger than the Divinity. And he protects you. But when we lured you in, his protection broke. It's why you had visions. He was trying to warn you. He was trying to protect you." He grabbed her hair, yanking at it so that her neck was exposed. "But he failed."

This guy was like the stereotypical villain. Monologue and all.

There was another fluttering sound. And another. And... another. Soon it was all she could here. Not like that of small birds, but large wings made for angels. She was most certainly outnumbered.

She whipped around. And while her hair still remained painfully in the angel's hand, she could see what she was up against. She wished she hadn't looked.

A crowd of angels stood before them.

In fear, she reached out to the only thing that might help her now: the strange connection. The one that had hurt her multiple times. The one they said was more powerful. The one they said was making great efforts to protect her. She reached out and asked for aid.

The angel's other hand reach out for her forehead—

●●●

Castiel was on his knees. Blood stains had bloomed throughout the room. His blood? Their blood? Sam's blood? It didn't matter anymore.

Selfishly, Castiel grieved that he was alone and useless.

"Enough of that." A voice told him scoldingly. "What have the Winchester boys done to you? Your self-loathing is deafening."

The angel jolted, blue eyes burning with every negative emotion the intruder had ever seen. Cas looks at him, speechless, for a solid ten seconds. "...Gabriel?" 

And oh boy, his voice is so small.

The archangel scoffed. "Hey, what's that look? What am I, chopped—" Golden eyes scanned the dead bodies until he caught a familiar face. His mouth opened, but he couldn't find any words. He took a few heavy steps forward, looming over the corpse. 

"Aw, Sam."

Sam's eyes were closed and his body was left twisted like a ragdoll, blood pooling around his still-warm body. It was a grim sight. And as much a Gabriel picked on the Winchester boys, this was a tragedy. He glared at the body, hating the symbolism. "Nope, we can't have this." He aggressively snapped, and a light washed the room in white, blinding even Castiel.

●●●

Dean expressed his fear through anger, so when he heaved a machete at the thick weeds and brush, anyone who knew him well knew he was panicking. There was nothing but the faint thrum of crickets to tell him Sydney was not there.

She had just run—sprinted—gone like a startled animal into the forest. She was so fearless and strong— and because of it, he forgot she was fragile.

He rested his hands in his pockets and then stilled when something crinkled. Slowly, he pulled out the note from the hotel room

He hadn't looked at it in too much detail, last time. He's been thinking about too many other things. It was folded with seven different paper clips, as if the person writing it had thought 'hm, shiny' and put them all on. The inside was no better. The words were written in purple ink. That wasn't very sinister. Had a four-year-old been tasked to write this?

However, his feelings changed as he scanned the note.

'You shouldn't have meddled.'

Well, that couldn't be right. This note was from before, when the angels had a task for her. But there was no task, just a threat in its place. Unless they anticipated this. That the seizure would happen, or that they would forget about the note.

And suddenly he realized something. They knew exactly where she was, didn't she? The carvings in her ribs could hide her from angels as long as she was midden from angels. They could find her just fine they followed her team and then her.

The town had been a trap. The unsuspecting people had led the angels right to her. Somehow, the angels had known the Winchester brothers would help the town, and somehow they knew she would be a natural leader. They knew there would be search teams.

That room. The hotel room she first appeared it. It was their base, wasn't it? He should have followed his instincts. He should have burned the place to the ground.

He had no doubt she was there, right now. And he wouldn't make it. The town was miles away. It would take him another day to trek back.

He wasn't going to make it.

Bark flew as he stabbed an innocent tree with his machete.

Tags:

@queen-bubble​ , @rosaren2498

[ctl-yuejie]

My thoughts on the conflict between TangYi and ShaoFei, the tone of HIStory3:Trapped  and how conflict and reveals get presented

Disclaimer: I love this show, I think the acting is great and I am very excited that the production team challenged itself with a more complex story than past HIStory seasons, upped the production quality and overall seemed to pour all the heart and hard work into this. Never forget that I love this show even though this might come off as very critical. Me nitpicking at a piece of media however doesn’t mean that I don’t like it (I seldom waste my breath on bad-mouthing something I didn’t enjoy unless it personally offended me), it only means that I enjoyed it so much that I spent hours thinking about the plot and the characters and generally had a lot of feelings.

        - spoilers up until episode 16 -

Now that the show has only 4 episodes left to air I wanted to take some time to sort my thoughts and feelings.

Overall, I really do enjoy this show, especially the acting, the chemistry between Chris and Jake is stellar (not to leave out Andy and Kenny, I just don’t think I’ve seen enough of their story to comment too much on them yet) and the  brilliantly written romance of TangYi and ShaoFei.

In the beginning the premise sounded tropey and fun and I didn’t expect them to seriously tackle the issue of a cop falling in love with a criminal because the trailer, while being action-packed, looked too light-hearted.

The show however took a surprising twist.

Sure, much of what happens is not realistic: the crime rate in Taiwan is famously low (we had one too many shootings and violent deaths on the show to match with the statistics) and I am pretty sure ShaoFei drawing his gun at TangYi every chance he gets in the beginning and not facing any backlash doesn’t comply with police protocol at all.

However, when they introduced the whole background story of TangYi I started to take the set-up more seriously. Prior to this I thought that I just had to suspend belief in order to enjoy the cop/gangster romance aspect of the show and to be able to ignore any ethical issues that might arise with such a dynamic.  But introducing him as this young adult who’d grown up into a life of crime and no choosing of his own, who tried to cut ties with the criminal world because of a promise he gave to his foster father made me rethink the tone of the show and I started to believe that they would honestly tackle the ethical issues of the relationship between ShaoFei and TangYi.

Trying to live an honest and upright life doesn’t necessarily mean that you have to stop committing crimes on your way to achieve that goal (and I am pretty sure that HongYe setting up that business is textbook money laundering) but I liked to believe that revealing TangYi’s motivation would mean exactly that. Because this promised a challenge, suspense and a struggle worth watching.

Refraining from committing crimes and dismantling his organization while upholding his front as a stone-hearted mob boss would result in much more difficulties when interacting with gang members and trying to not get overpowered by enemies. TangYi would be too powerful otherwise. Most of the problems he has encountered on this show were connected to him trying to protect people that are dear to him, a task that is much more complicated to accomplish when you cannot resort to violence. 

Additionally, I don’t think I could root for TangYi and ShaoFei as a couple if TangYi doesn’t try his best to not hurt other people. Not only because ShaoFei is a policeman, there are enough corrupt or misguided policemen around, but because ShaoFei is introduced to us as someone with strong convictions and an even stronger sense of justice and upholding the law. And to me it didn’t seem like his character arc was set-up for him to delve into a moral grey-area or even to switch sides with TangYi. I thought that his journey would be to fall for TangYi and accept that not everyone is necessarily entirely good or evil and having to grapple with his senior being not the person he thought she was. This does fit in with the latest revelations that the police chief with whom he has a kind of father-son relationship is indeed not the good person we thought he was.

I have no idea how ShaoFei could deal with the idea of TangYi being capable of hurting people when it isn’t done in self-defense and if there are other, albeit more difficult, ways in which he could’ve taken action.

Especially because in the reality this show creates the problems a cop/gangster relationship entails don’t get entirely glossed over. Yu Qi reminds ShaoFei in the hospital that him and TangYi cannot be together, not because they’re both men, but because of their professions. (To be honest the only real beef I might have with this show so far was the weird “love is love” analogy that they freely applied to a gangster/cop relationship. I don’t think it was in any way intentional but reversing that thought might lead the viewer to the conclusion that you are either born into a certain profession or you can choose your sexuality...which is definitely not what the show wants us to think, I hope.) Even earlier on ShaoFei denies that he could have developed feelings for TangYi on the basis that they’re playing on opposite teams. So we have to assume that the show acknowledges the ethical problems of this romance in general but somehow conveniently forgets about this conflict when it should have an impact on the characters behavior. This is especially bizarre because the only function of those scenes then is to act as a tool to not make as forget how cold and ruthless TangYi can be. Because he is a gangster boss.

After revealing TangYi’s backstory on the mountain top I got more excited about the show because I thought I’d understood in which direction they wanted to take the main romantic plot and what kind of tone they wanted to set. The show would be slightly more serious and solemn than I anticipated but I welcomed that approach because it would make for an interesting show while not excluding any possible humour.

However, immediately in the next episode I had to start and rethink my assumptions. By now the low respect for rules on the police’s site and dilettante approach to their job started to stand out, however I was willing to not head those details that much attention because most tv series, even mainstream crime shows, mess up the actual technicalities of the jobs they’re trying to portray. ShaoFei’s fever dream on the mountain however took the disconnect with the previous episode a little bit further. The scene overall did fit in with the humour of the show but the way it was acted out and shot didn’t make it look like an organic part of the rest of the series. However, the scene just left me with a small nagging feeling and wasn’t anything that really bugged me.

My feelings for the show however got tested a bit when TangYi beat up that henchman. I was so convinced that the main conflict of the show would be TangYi trying to maintain is image as a gangster so his gang wouldn’t find out that he is trying to dissolve the organization while having to abstain from using any violence. Something that is made even more difficult by the police getting involved and the mystery from 4 years ago looming over him.

I truly believed that TangYi being left alone in that room would turn out to be a ruse to shake up Ah De (whom, as we later find out, he was already suspicious of). It also made me hope that Wang Kun Chen might have not actually died but that his death was faked in order to go after both the criminals and any corrupt policemen (I will come back to his death later on). But afterwards in a talk with Jack it gets confirmed that TangYi indeed beat up the henchman. This course of action didn’t surprise me that much but to be honest I was just disappointed with how straight-forward and unexcitingly TangYi dealt with Ah De and possibly some other close people going behind his back.

The intention of the set-up with Old Tang’s wish was only based on my assumptions so I can’t really feel that let down by it, but TangYi beating up that henchman threw me because I thought we were supposed to read more into Old Tang’s request and conclude that TangYi would have to live through a constant internal struggle.

In general, I don’t mind when unrealistic things happen in a series, however there has to be an internal set of rules that gets followed and scenes and characters have to make sense within the reality the showrunners created.

To me it is curious that TangYi doesn’t think that he has to adjust how he acts in order to disentangle himself from a life of crime in some scenes but in other scenes suddenly cannot take action in a certain way because of the same reason (mostly when it becomes urgent to eliminate direct threats). It is always up to ShaoFei to actively stop him from committing crimes and we never see an internal struggle. Sure, the task got imposed on him by Old Tang and TangYi doesn’t seem to be propelled by intrinsic motives but due to his emotional connection to Old Tang I’d have thought that he would really have to constantly struggle mentally and physically to refrain himself from using violence.

That does, in no way, mean that I wanted this show to be less dark. I think there’s still a lot of room for even more cruelty and angst even if the main character tries his best not to use violence. The whole set-up is very sad, the element of corruption could also lead to emotional distress at how hopeless ShaoFei’s investigation is, drug trafficking in particular comes with many victims, the betrayal inside the gang and every parental figure in this show either not living up to expectations or being outright abusive are also heavy subjects they could lean into even more. Heck, ShaoFei’s whole investigation and the police’s involvement raise the stakes because there is the possibility of capital punishment for drug offenses in Taiwan. We also have to deal with the fact that TangYi most definitely committed heinous acts in the past, the same might go for Jack. All in all, there are still many options left to make this show even more grim and bleak.

In the end it is up to the writers how they want to spin TangFei’s romance but to me it seemed like they were laying the ground for a different approach to the story then what actually played out. While I am not mad at this show (as I said before this is me nitpicking at a series that I highly enjoy) at this point I don’t know whether I can trust the hints I pick up because I don’t know if it was the intention of the writers to built-up a storyline or if what they did was totally arbitrary, or if they indeed simply forgot what they established in earlier scenes (this is where I had my problems with Hong Ye’s attack on ShaoFei and Ah De’s assault of TangYi. HongYe was introduced as more intelligent than that planned attack was and Ah De’s premeditated assault didn’t fit with his goals and the way he crossed the line earlier on).

This back and forth on characterizations, storylines and tone does confuse me quite a bit and is the only thing so far that made the show fall slightly short of what they could’ve accomplished with more consistent writing.

- - - - - -- - - - - - - -- - - - -- - - - - - -- - - - - -- - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Which leads me to how the show is dealing with its reveals. So far, we have the mystery from 4 years ago that still needs solving, TangYi’s real parents’ identity which got revealed in episode 16, Ah De not only being in love with TangYi but selling drugs behind his back, Jack’s identity and real motivation, who really killed Wang Kun Chen, Ah Zi being up to no good and finally the police chief being dirty.

I enjoyed/am enjoying all of these plot-twists, some were more obvious than others but again, the writing of how these things unravel or got revealed is very inconsistent.

I will start with our mystery men. The reveal I enjoyed the most was the police chief being a dirty cop. It pretty much came out of nowhere but now a lot of his actions do make much more sense, especially how he didn’t give much support to ShaoFei and how he was mocking about with his work which I initially wrote off as missing motivation instead of passive sabotage. It also gives us enough room to guess his motivations and to whatever conclusion we might come to, it fits perfectly into the story so far. He might have needed money, or averting his eyes might have led to bigger consequences than he expected, now he is scared to lose his job because his daughter is marrying, or he worked too long in the force so he decided to side with what he felt was the most harmless kind of corruption to be able to focus on the big fish. What is important is that regardless of his motivation his past behavior fits with the reveal and added excitement to the show (to behonest at the moment I kind of lost interest in what happened 4 years ago because it is both obvious and confusing at the same time). Ah Zi was an okay reveal and the general topic of corruption in the work force and presumably good characters turning out grey or bad is pretty interesting but how his identity got revealed with those taunting shots of a man in a jacket were somewhat lackluster. They only spanned over two episodes before the reveal and were pretty on the nose. I would have loved it if they’d built-up his betrayal over more episodes with secretive shots of money and drugs exchanging hands where we couldn’t be sure if we were just shown the inner workings of TangYi’s gang or outsiders trying to get their hands on some extra cash.

Again, two similar reveals came about very differently and with a different kind of depth and detail to attention as well as being tied into the show organically and not so much.

This change in style doesn’t do much good in my opinion. Jack remains much of a mystery even though we need at least some hints in order to root for him and ZhaoZi. Instead their scenes are sweet but not that telling and they never just appear in the background to tie in their romance at all times. There were missed opportunities and many scenes that they could’ve been in finished without them and we went two whole episodes without them. Hong Ye and DaoYi had the big advantage to be present in many of the main couples’ scenes so their romance felt very well written and satisfying. I wish they’d spend even more time and attention to detail on Jack and ZhaoZi because with the added mystery element to Jack’s persona I really need more to get emotionally involved.

Again, I am confused as to how deep the show wants us to analyze its characters’ actions and how tricky the story really is. Ah De selling drugs behind TangYi’s back was mentioned only in a throw-away line and we are to believe that TangYi wouldn’t act more guarded or cautious around Ah De? Are we supposed to question that Jack killed Wang Kun Chen? If so, why was TangYi supposed to get fraimed for his death when it was a set-up by possibly the police? If it was as straight-forward as it’s presented I have my problems with rooting for TangYi/ShaoFei and ZhaoZi/Jack because it would be the first kill since the start of the show and setting up TangYi and Jack as unredeemable in ZhaoZI’s and ShaoFei’s eyes (see my huge paragraph about violence above). If we are supposed to scrutinize the show on the same intricate level as the police chief’s betrayal, some of the other reveals fall flat and are just not on the same engaging level.

The same goes for the messaging: are we to believe that Ah De’s actions were despicable? Wouldn’t we have to apply the same rules to Jack kissing ZhaoZi?

Overall I wish this series was written more tight-knitted, intricate and consistent in tone and message. Because I believe that this otherwise very entertaining story could’ve only benefitted from that.

[sick-raven]

Ghosts of the Present - Chapter 5

Chapter 1 + warnings

AO3

Previous chapter

Chapter 5

“Motherfucker,” Miranda grumbled under her breath. Jonathan’s phone was dead, the message was obvious. What could have anger him this much? Miranda had her suspicion and the ridiculousness of the whole situation made her pissed. Not only was he snooping around, he also couldn’t even stay and ask a question? Fucking Jonathan, is that the genius you claim to be, you damn baby? His theatrics annoyed her before, but now he just stepped over the line with his damn stalking. He deserved thinking whatever he did!

Sitting in her living room, body burning in pain, she grinded her teeth. What the fuck, that idiot. Was she really that untrustworthy? What did she do wrong?

Nothing! This reaction is on him, she was fair!

“Motherfucker!” she shouted angrily and took her phone out again.

The other side picked up immediately.

“What do you need, Constantine?” she asked calmly, focusing at the most important thing at the moment. It wasn’t Jonathan. She can deal with him later, if she deems it worth it.

“I found the last ingredient, if you feel like going for it, love,” answered Constantine.

“It hurts like hell,” she whispered unsure whether she talks about her body or the betrayal.

“I warned you.”

“I know. Tell me.”

***

The anger grew stronger by the minute. Jonathan moved around the lab making small silly mistakes that threw him into worse and worse rage. How dares she? Takes away his dignity and now his focus too! “Fuck this,” he grumbled to the vial with wrong amount of liquid.

“You should drink some tea to calm your nerves,” Jervis giggled.

“Shut up!”

Jervis sat in the corner of the lab. Somewhere he got small chair and table and he prepared whole tea set with kettle, biscuits and tiny cups. Only thing missing was a teddy bear. Jonathan counted seconds, ready to flip the table if Jervis only looks at him funny.

He slammed his fists on the table. Focus, Jonathan! One bitch won’t destroy your work. She doesn’t matter!

Miranda…

Damn her!

Was he not good enough? Was he a bad fuck? She was just playing with him, eating his feelings like succubus, cutting his life, energy and trust. She never liked him. Who could’ve? Bitch!

Stumbling around dissatisfied with everything his mind was running. Formulas and amounts of necessary components tangled together with Miranda’s voice asking him, if he trusts her.

He had to sit down. Calm down. Focus.

That’s how Khulan found him, strict look on her face. “How is the work proceeding?”

“Well,” he snapped annoyed. “Your flying monkeys work overtime.” That made Jervis in the corner chuckle. Jonathan will stuff the kettle into his throat!

“You need to hurry up; Ra’s al Ghul wants to fasten the production.”

“Ra’s al Ghul can come here and say it to me himself.”

“Watch your tongue, doctor,” master Khulan warned him.

“Your self-important attitude doesn’t scare me,” he snapped. “It’s easy to order around, but the work has system! You brainwashed morons couldn’t know!”

“You…” Khulan reached for her dagger, Jonathan held his toxin bracelet up. The imminent disaster stopped Jervis who jumped between them.

“Everybody please, hide your weapons,” he asked in happy tone. “Excuse my good crow friend, dear scary master,” he giggled. “He is angrier than Red Queen herself since his Banshee left him.”

“Shut up, Hatter!”

“Or he left her,” Jervis continued.

Khulan straightened her back, frowning at the short man. “What did you say?”

Jonathan moaned frustrated and turned back to his work. The last thing he needed was to speak about Miranda to the…

League?

“His dear Alice is no more,” Tetch was babbling. “Even though she was hardly Alice, maybe her eyes, but dark, dark lady she is indeed. Scary, always hidden in the shadows, killing like one of your ninjas.”

“Banshee,” Khulan repeated.

Jonathan lost his breath. Small puzzle pieces fell together with loud snap. He found what he forgot and realized what just happened.

Good! Let her rot!

No, that’s…

Khulan smiled at Jervis and her smile could freeze people alive. “Tell me, Mr. Tetch, where do I find this Banshee?”

Cold has run on Jonathan’s back.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

***

Miranda was lucky, if whatever happened these last few days could have been considered luck. Sadness and anger she left behind her. There will be enough time to wallow in feelings (is this really why she looked for them so hard? Just to suffer?). Right now she had more important matters.

Gotham museum could challenge the best prisons she has ever seen. Constant destruction and robberies forced the city to invest in good security system. Miranda never was a tech-savvy, but she was Banshee. Making loud noise was her jam.

Hidden in shadows she moved around the building. Silent alarm had to be on already, she moved fast, going exactly where Constantine sent her. The work was quick. She got to glass display of old Irish artefacts.

‘Violence is always the answer’ was a motto she lived by. Miranda broke the glass with a baton. The silent alarm switched, now it was screaming. Whole building was screeching, honking like crazy. In the shards a bracelet was waiting, decorated with runes and pictures of snakes and branches.

She grabbed it and screamed. The gold burned, so did her whole body. Every part of the skin Constantine touched was boiling. She couldn’t let go, she tucked her hand in, but the gold fried onto her fingers. The bracelet melted, the gold liquid found its way on her hand, up to the wrist, and burned in her skin.

The bracelet disappeared. A scar of gold stayed around her wrist.

“Fuck!” she hissed painfully on her knees. “Next time warn me, you jerk.”

She stumbled her way back. The police ran by her without noticing her in the shadows. She slipped right by them, skin still pulsing in pain. Why did she ever agree to this? Ha, as if! Why did she ever decide this?

Home sweet home. In light she could finally look at the new scar. The burn lost its red colour. Now it looked like grey and gold tattoo, pulsing, burning. “Cool,” she mumbled. Will it work? Hand trembling, she dialled John.

“You could have told me I will get attacked by jewellery!”

“You are welcome, pet. It’s the last thing you needed.”

She bit her lip thinking. “Thanks, Constantine. I owe you one.”

“I will summon you if necessary. You remember the rules. Don’t die, Bradbury.”

Don’t die. She wanted this. She built this up for a month and half. Stealing, killing, hurting, cooperating with John fucking Constantine. Just so she didn’t die. So she knows more and knows better. So if the League ever came back…

And it did. Sooner than she anticipated.

With a sigh she took down her weapons and set them on the table. Sleep is what her body and mind needed. Long, deep sleep. In her experience, it solved many things. In the morning she will know what to do with Jonathan. How to deal with danger in the city.

Her plans got interrupted by knock on the door.

She hid a knife in her palm. Who would come here now? The knock came again, more desperate than the first one. Slowly, she opened.

Jonathan stood there, guilty look in his eyes. Miranda clenched her teeth. Brave of him to come here after that theatre. Stabbing him between the eyes sounded nice.

“What do you want? Calmed down, huh?” she snapped.

“I’m sorry, Miranda. I overreacted,” he apologized.

“Overreacted? You are a jerk, that’s what you are. Goodbye.”

He held the door so she couldn’t close it. Playing with fire, she was so close to smack his fingers in the frame.

“What do you want?”

“Let me in, I will tell you.”

Should she listen to him? Give him a chance? Why? He went out of his way because of one stupid message. He didn’t even have balls to ask!

Maybe he gathered them now?

“Fuck you,” she hissed and went back to living room. He followed, looking around curiously. His gaze stopped at pictures on her wall. He never noticed them before. “Well? Speak!”

“I’m sorry, darling, I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusion,” he said gesturing apologetically, faint smile on his face. Miranda’s anger rose. What was he playing? “I hoped to made this right.”

“Oh? How?”

“However you ask,” he held his hands to her.

Miranda frowned. Something smelled fishy. “What did I do to you? Answer.”

“Nothing, and I know that now.”

“I see. You will do anything I ask?”

“Yes.”

Miranda tucked her hair behind ear. Then she smiled. “You beg on your knees for forgiveness, Johny-boy, just like last time you fucked up. And I will consider your request.”

Jonathan didn’t hesitate to go down.

Neither did she. One swift kick to the side of his head. This wasn’t Jonathan. Send him to the land of unconscious and question that fucker later!

But this she didn’t expect.

Her leg hit his face. She expected hard surface.

Leg went through. It burrowed in the face like a mud. Miranda shouted in shock and staggered.

“What the fuck?” she screamed.

Wet bubbling came out of Jonathan’s body as it crumbled under its own weight into pool of mud. It didn’t splash on the floor but formed into humanoid shape. The mud golem grinned with yellow teeth.

“What gave me away?” the mud asked.

Miranda took a step back. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Gotham, what the fuck is that? Weapons!

She threw her dagger.

With a laugh the mud swallowed it inside its body with wet sound. No good!

Golem grabbed at her. She dodged. His arm stretched and caught her anyway. Hugged her body like a disgusting wet strait jacket. “Let go!” No strength could get her out. She tried to kick to no avail, he was too far away.

“Master Khulan wants to speak with you,” Golem said.

Miranda’s head gone light as if he forced every ounce of oxygen out of her. That name stabbed her heart. Khulan. In Gotham. And she knew about Miranda. How? HOW!

Jonathan.

“No!” her tries to wiggle loose were for nothing. “No! Kill me! Do it!” The mud surrounded her face stopping her screams leaving a taste of cemetery in her mouth. Tears formed in her eyes. No! Not to them! How the fuck could he?

She can’t die.

She doesn’t want to die!

Table! Weapons! Close enough. Now, Miranda, no time to waste!

She kicked. The leg hit one of the sound mines and activated it. Loud noise and rhythm in low frequency filled the room. She felt it resonate in her head, teeth hurt, heart couldn’t decide how to beat.

Golem screamed as his arm fell off. Whatever held the mud together broke apart and the mud slid down and splat on the floor. With every beat it got flatter and turned into liquid.

Miranda spit the mud. She grabbed the gun and the rest of the sound mines.

Window behind her broke. On the carpet fell burning bottle.

“Shit!”

Door in front of her burst in flames.

Shadows moved in the flat, out of balance from the sound.

Miranda activated the second sound mine. Every normal human this would sent to unconsciousness. And it did. League’s assassins screamed and fell silent. Miranda wobbled to the door, blood spurting out of her nose. She jumped the fire and ran out, finding her tempo. Behind her sound mines screamed and loudly cracking fire was swallowing everything she owned.

“Fuck you! Fuck!” she grinded her teeth. They knew about her. Jonathan told them about her. To Khulan of all people! What now?

While running, she called Terry.

“What is it, boss? It’s night.”

“Don’t go to the shop, Terry, understand?” she ordered, hardly catching her breath.

“What?”

“Don’t!”

“Okay, okay. What is…”

She ignored them and kept running.

Next chapter

[sparda3g]

Kimetsu no Yaiba Chapter 167 Review

How can you hate a guy who treats a dog with sheer kindness? If you didn’t gain respect for Sanemi in the last chapter, this chapter’s cover will. In all seriousness, I am amazed how he is slowly winning me over, but that’s what good writing do to you. After his display of sincerity for his little brother, it’s time to shift gear and go crazy over Kokushibou. This chapter was all action, all entertainment, and all greatness. And we’re just getting started.

I always like when this series goes into an action-heavy chapter. Hell, the very first panel with the swords clash says it all. Not only it’s entertaining, but you get a really good insight on each character’s skills and abilities. Furthermore, the progression is clear with the floor plan and interior objects alternate depending on the sequence. It hardly feels like a waste of time, such as no progress or solely made to hype someone; there’s always a grand scheme of things in the overall battle. Needless to say, the action is so damn great with heated tension and choreograph.

I wasn’t expecting for Sanemi to put up well against Kokushibou, but he certainly surprised me here. After the last chapter, I have a newfound respect for the guy, so not only I’m rooting for him, but I care about him. What’s even better is his skills and style left me very impressed; somewhat fits his nature perfectly, attribute and design. Still, Kokushibou is not the one to suddenly lose momentum and get derailed like a Battle Shounen pattern. The battle deludes the fans to believe an equal match, but there’s a sign of one clearly stronger.

Each Breathing Technique leaves room for a gasping moment. It’s like one slipup and the momentum will drop hard. Moon Breathing Technique is crazy as always. Thankfully, we learn a couple of things from this battle. The Moon Breathing is rather unorthodox due to its movements. I was under impression that Kokushibou swings his sword super-fast like time travelling. Realistically, the technique can alter the slashes direction and form. All he has to do is one swing and out comes crap load of moon slashes. This is insane because usually, an attack always look the same as well as direct itself. With Moon, it’s like playing against a tough boss; it will ignore a pattern and you will have to keep up. Trust me, it’s annoying as hell. Oh, and he’s fast too.

I would guess someone would believe it is nonsense for Sanemi to withstand while Tokito did not. However, his explanation does make sense when all things are considered. Tokito was sword playing in a traditional sense; Sanemi is more rowdy. Also, judging by his design, it does scream, “long and brutal experience” in compare. If anything, if Sanemi was like a year back self, he would have lost badly. This shows how diversity can change the playfield, rather relying on who can go Super Pillar. It’s noteworthy that he’s a great observer, rather than a guy who is swings like a fool. In short, I like this guy already.

There’s so many cool moments within the battle. So many Breathing Techniques to admire as well as normal swordplay; making the battle enticing. There’s one moment where I thought Sanemi cut through Kokushibou’s sword with his Claws-Purifying Wind. I got excited, only to be denied when Kokushibou breaks free with a slash; nearly ironic. The main highlight, personally, is when Sanemi sneaks in an attack with Genya’s sword, using his right foot. That was hardcore. It’s not just badass, but using his brother’s sword is admirable. My respect has increased tenfold. It’s interesting that Kokushibou is feeling the thrills to work harder. It’s as if he’s going back to his humanity; working hard like an underdog. His character continue to intrigue me.

Like many battles in this series, it isn’t easy at all. The sequence gets crazier and crazier; up to the point, Sanemi starts to bleed due to heavy focus. The scary part is, he must keep up the momentum at all cost; otherwise it is game over. All it takes is one slip. That’s how it exploit the intensity; with stunning visual and expressive reactions. As much as I love the artwork on that double-page spread with that Moon Breathing Form, it is the moment that had me shaken. It was incredibly close call, but holy crap, that could obliterated Sanemi. Even so, he took so serious hits. I actually feel bad. I was growing worried as much as Genya, who is trying to watch his brother. Poor guy. I believe Gotouge is toying with us with the anticipation of bro team. Dammit, Gator.

Just before the chapter ends on a dreary note and raise the death flag to certainty, a surprise twist comes in and it’s a clever one. While not exactly according to the plan, it favors greatly for Sanemi despite the outcome. It turns out his blood is Marechi, a rare blood. Instead of attracting the demon, it goes against them and weakens them severely. Now, Kokushibou is weakened, giving an increased chance to Sanemi’s victory. Why didn’t he do it earlier? Because he didn’t think it would work on Upper Moon. Make sense to me, I mean why hurt yourself randomly. It does beg the question: do his scars indicate that he used his blood as a weapon? That would make a lot sense and rather sick in a good way.

I like the fact Marechi plays a role here since it was once exploited a long time ago. It’s interesting how it can be used offensively. If the theory on Sanemi’s scars is true, that would greatly complement his overall design; something this series is really good at. One fan at reddit reminded me that this explains why Nezuko avoided him back in the introductory stage. Have she consume some, she would have been a lot of trouble, if not killed. That’s why he tempted her. That is well thought-out; color me impressed.

This was an exhilarating chapter. The action is stellar so far and it’s only the beginning. You know it’s going to get better. The sequence is so good; captivating from start to finish, thanks to solid artwork and paneling. Both of them were great, especially Sanemi. Thank God, he gained my respect. The ending was worrisome, but the neat twist made the next chapter very hype. The badass train doesn’t stop here. More carnage is on its way.

[drowsy-quill]

Okay I know its Sunday but like I was in a bad mental health day yesterday and forgot to queue it up on Friday so here is your belated Saturday Snippet! This is the full second part because I had no idea where to cut it off so here’s the full thing! It’s called ‘The Crow Prince’

Total Words Written: 6,626

Words Remaining: 5,374

The Crow Prince

As days bled into weeks, and weeks bled into months and months turned to years, Gwenivere poured herself  into her studies. She read through nearly every text in the Scroll room, and devoured any information she could find about the gods of old. She was now at the cusp of girlhood and womanhood, teetering on the edge of maturity. She knew that the temple she had visited years before was most likely that of the Wild Mother, one of the oldest gods of her world, the patron of mothers and motherhood, of animals, of nature and life itself.The thought of having a deity like that watching over her, caring about her, gave Gwenivere a sense of joyful contentment. Gwenivere also waited in anticipation for that next fate-tug to pull at her core and lead her to the next temple. 

Her mother never noticed she had stopped going to school, her violent outbursts replaced by vacant indifference, of cold unfeeling and unseeing stares. Gwenivere did her best to not come home when her mother was awake. The Bookkeeper, Tanin, as they had finally told Gwenivere, became more of a parent than either of her’s ever were, tending to her with a fondness Gwenivere had never known. Gwenivere oft found herself eating her evening meals with Tanin and their husband, Alwyn, who loved talking about his research and the translation of ancient texts. He called Gwenivere his prodigy as he taught her the legends of peoples long lost, the legends of the gods. 

It was at one of these lessons, sprawled out in the ancient texts, books strewn about, that Gwenivere felt the tug once more. It was so strong, so insistent that she nearly doubled over in pain. At her silent cry the Alwyn came to her side, telling her that they could end the lessons early if she needed. She nodded furiously, nearly forgetting the bag of texts Alwyn had given her to take home. And so she rushed through the cobblestone streets to her home, flying up the stairs into her bedroom and pulled out her hidden bag of supplies, wrapping the ashen cloak from the Wild Mother securely around her. 

She was pulled northward, outside of the bounds of the city and towards the sharp and cold mountain peaks that rose in the distance. It was to be a three days journey, and she felt a new presence with her, twineing with the matronly presence of the Wild Mother. This one felt, familiar- more so than anything else. It felt like home, not of her own home, nor that of that of Tanin and Alwyn. It was the feeling of a home she once knew, one she had before any other. And one she would have long after everything had past.

This new presence wrapped around her like a warm cloak, safe and secure. She knew she should feel cautious in the wilds between the mountains and her copper city of Machina. The valley was a swampland, with the bones of ancient cypress trees standing stark against the rich earthy browns and greens. She, although unable to physically speak one, sent a quick prayer to the Wild Mother for safe passage, and another to whichever deity she was being drawn towards.  She could feel the warm embrace of the Wild Mother as she finished her prayers, and could feel her steps lightening and the ground becoming near solid under her feet. She smiled and nodded her thanks and continued on.

It wasn’t until the sun had dipped far below the mountain peaks on the first day, and Gwenivere could no longer deny the weariness in her bones. She bedded down right where the mountain began to overtake the swamp, taking care to set camp inside of a cave-like alcove in the stone. That night Gwenivere was blessed with a dreamless slumber, waking to the distant caw of crows in the warm light of dawn. 

She ate rather quickly, feeling the warmth of the Wild Mother’s blessing wrap around her once more, along with the gentle presence of the unknown deity like a hand holding hers. She broke camp, making sure to wrap her hands and slippers with spare strips of cloth she kept in her pack and began to climb. She was by all means not a natural athlete, all skinny angles and willowy limbs, but the Wild Mother and the quiet soothing hand lent her strength and a cool breeze as she continued. 

There was a path, she realized, but it seemed long since buried from years of rockslides and no one to tend to it. She made note as she rested on one of the larger stones for a midday meal to attempt to clear at least a little of the debris from it, enough for a narrow path for herself to traverse.

And she began to climb once more, this time clambering over the boulder and stone-laden path instead of attempting to scale the side once more.  She found the temple before sunset, two cyprus trees filled with fluttering and cawing crows and ravens flanked the columned opening. With a smile, she realized to whom this temple was dedicated to… The Crow Prince, she mouthed, and immediately that gentle warm presence had a name, and it was stronger. It was… familiar. It had a name, one that she spoke in her raspy, broken voice without a second thought- Illdan. She had read of the gods’ true names, how few knew them, how it was a sign of absolute trust. She did not know why she knew it, but she did. 

Gwenivere was a quiet child, even before the attack on her home left her near totally silent, so the casual slip of that single name startled her. But she felt a warm, rumbling voice in the back of her head whispering that ‘It is alright, your voice may be heard in these walls.” It wrapped around her, that presence of Illdan, of the Crow Prince, making her voice stronger and easing the fear and torment in her mind- putting her more at peace than the Wild Mother had in her temple so many years ago.

She made quick work of lighting the hearth, and soon she was scrubbing away at the centuries of muck and what one really should expect from the murder of crows that made their home there. Unlike the first time, the temple did not restore itself under the warm glow of the lit hearth. She sighed, knowing that she would have to work for several more days, and was thankful that she over packed with food for the journey. 

She managed to clear out one of the alcoves and got to work with scrubbing the central dais where the hearth sat. By the warm light of the hearth, she made her camp, feeling secure enough to fall into a deep, deep sleep. She was, however, rudely awoken in the dim dawn light by a crow cawing right in her ear. She stuck her tongue out at the crow and ate a small breakfast of dried fruit and a hearty loaf of bread, making sure to break off some for the crow. She laughed her squawking laugh as it hopped right into her lap and scarfed the piece down, and looked up at her with almost expectant eyes.

Gwenivere took one last chunk for herself and broke the rest up for her new friend, carefully picking him up from her lap and setting him on the ground. As she stood, she found a shimmering red hair ribbon fluttering to the ground. She smiled and bent to pick it up, braiding it through her long mousy hair. As she continued her cleaning, the crow decided that he would perch on her shoulder throughout her day. 

As she worked, she found herself humming- what the melody was she did not know, but it seemed to bring more life into the temple. She also found herself talking to the crow, reveling in the catharsis of being able to speak and laugh without any barrier from her inner self. 

She was there for only a few days, but those were days that she would cherish for the rest of her rich life. They were full of long-forgotten lullabies sung by her father, laughter mixing with the cawing of crows, the utter peace and protection of The Crow Prince's temple. It was like for the first time, Gwenivere had truly found herself. Not that partial self she was with Tanin and Alwen, and most certainly not that shell of a girl she is around her mother. She was Gwenivere, the girl with the voice of a crow and embers at her fingertips, the girl whose feet retread and forged ancient paths, the girl who was blessed by Fate herself. And it was good- but it could not last forever. As the temple shined in the dawning light, Gwenivere sighed to herself and packed up the little nest of sorts she had formed within the comfort of its walls. 

The crow that had been her steadfast companion had one last gift to bestow upon her- it was a head wreath composed of lavender and sage, and it invoked the same serenity and contentment as the temple itself invoked within her, along with a single feather plucked from its wing-with witch she most happily tucked behind her ear, securing it with the head wreath. She smiled and placed a kiss upon the crown of the crow's head and wrapped her cloak around herself before taking one last look, one last utterance of gratitude before turning and leaving down the same path from which she came from. Although, instead of the perilous boulder and debris laden path, it was clear and lined with lavender and sage. He was compassionate enough to do this himself, she supposed with a barely contained smile.  

The journey back home was much smoother than the journey to, it felt almost as if she was flying. She was grateful for that, at least. It gave her more room in her mind to prepare herself for whatever her mother's reaction would be. Gwenivere did not know what would hurt more, the lightning hot rage of her childhood, or the current apathy of her mother. She just hoped Tanin and Alwen were not going to be cross with her, but the joint comfort of The Wild Mother and Illdan wrapped around her, soothing her worries.

When she returned back to the city, she stopped first at the library, where Tanin greeted her with a tight hug and a kiss to the crown of her head. Alwen ruffled her hair and playfully scolded her for skipping out on a week of lessons. When they asked if she would be returning to their home for dinner she nodded with a bright smile before walking to the edge of the city where her own home sat. Her happy mood deflated, and she rubbed the crow either for comfort before stowing it in her bag, along with the head wreath. 

She took a steeling breath before turning the knob, the door creaking its welcome as she stepped inside. Her mother was sitting on her rocking chair, barely even moving. She did not acknowledge her daughter's return in any way, her hands manipulating the knitting needles of bone that her father had gifted to her without thought. Her eternally long blanket stretching across the room. Gwenivere tiptoed to her yarn basket, making sure that her mother was not running low on skeins. 

She walked to the upper floor, where her own chambers were. She lit the small fireplace to warm up her bath water and unpacked her bag. She held the head wreath close to her heart and inhaled its calming scent. She stripped off her dusty and honestly filthy travel clothes and slipped into her warm bath. She took care in methodically scrubbing her skin clean, along with cleansing her hair before re-braiding it behind her back. She stepped out and dried herself, tossing the bathwater out her window and into the garden below. 

She dressed quickly, and before she left she paused for a moment and braided the crow feather into her hair before making her way to Tanin's house. It was a cozy abode, overstuffed with scrolls and manuscripts and tomes, and it always smelled like paper and ink. Dinner was lovely, and Gwenivere found herself smiling even more so than she ever did in their presence before her journey to the temple. Her fingers running soothingly over the feather. 

After, Alwen took her to his study and gifted her a tome, telling her to read as much as she could that night so they could discuss it in the morning. It was a children's book of sorts, written in both the common language and in a language that Gwenivere did not recognize, but it sang to her very core. The story itself was not that interesting, it was a story of how the world was created- a tale she was already quite familiar with, but as she quietly attempted to sound out the second language by candlelight it felt correct in a way she had not realized. 

When she left for her lessons the next morning, tome in hand, along with the other books she had been loaned she made sure the leftover food she had brought back from Tanin's home had been eaten. And she nodded contently as she notitced the cloth with crumbs strewn over it and her mother still slumbering in her chair.

As she walked the familiar cobblestone streets to the Library, she noticed a small crow hopping along the rooftops parallel with her. She smiled at it and held her hand open for it to perch there as she walked. It obliged her and clumsily flew down to her. She scratched the top of the fledglings head and continued on- oblivious to the stares and shocked whispers of the occasional passersby. 

Machina, at its core, was a superstitious city, still rooted in old maid's tales. One of which was that of the crows, one who was marked as having the crow's favor would bring death and bad luck to anyone they came in contact with. And it was even more worrying that poor dead Vince's silent and odd daughter was the one chosen.

Gwenivere did not know this, nor did she really care. She had decided that the fletching's name would be Deirdre and had become fast friends with the bird. She left it at the entrance to the Library with the promise of returning with some food after her lessons. 

 She gave Tanin a hug as she passed their desk and made her way to the ancient texts room to meet Alwen, who was already elbows deep in tomes. She smiled at him and gladly handed over the books. They started the lesson quickly, going over the structure of that ancient language, one, Alwen said, is spoken by the gods themselves. It was a language so old that it did not have a name. He was pleased that she seemed to have a natural talent for it, unlike the other languages he had tried to teach her. He was also doubly pleased that it seemed that the inhibited speech she had in the common language did not seem to transfer over to the Language of Ancients. 

Gwenivere reveled in the taste of this new language, it felt as if she was made to speak in this tongue.  The day flew by faster than anything else, Tanin had to pry both their husband and Gwenivere from the room to eat their midday meal, but Gwenivere's body thanked them for that. She left with a stack of tomes that nearly did not fit in her arms, and, with the aide of this new language, she asked Tanin for an extra bit of bread for her new crow friend. Deirdre accompanied her home, scarfing down the bread as she perched at the top of the book stack. 

And that was the routine for the next few weeks, and as the whispers became more and more apparent, not even Gwenivere could deny their existence. Even those who had never spoken to them beforehand spoke about their concerns to Alwen and Tanin, although the couple was quick to tell them off. Gwenivere had already made up her mind a month and a quarter after her return from the Crow Prince's temple. She was to leave Machina soon, she had already packed everything up and just needed to say her goodbyes. 

It was at dinner when she told Tanin and Alwen, they understood her, and her reasons, and wished her a tearful farewell. Tanin slipped her a small pouch of gold to aide her. She left the next morning following a pull towards the east, leaving a token of the Ancient Scholar outside of the door to the Library.

Deirdre, now nearly full grown, perched on her shoulder as Gwenivere made her way towards the rising sun, and a new chapter of her journey. 

Thanks for reading and I’ll see you next week! Happy trails xo Nikki

[indieks]

Silent Treatment 🔊 Mark Tuan || Part.4 [END]

💭 Pairing : Mark Tuan x Reader

💭 Genre : Angst, Fluff, Suggestive (light), Supernatural-ish

💭 Word count : 24.8k

💭 Synopsis : Ever since his accident, he has forbidden himself from speaking ever again, as his voice hasn’t been useful the time he had needed it the most. Until he meets you, the one and only girl that could possibly help him overcome his trauma, as you make his heart and mind want to speak up again. You, who can hear his deepest thoughts through your special ability, yet still doesn’t see him as a desperate mute, but a mysterious man worthy of your care.

💭 Notice : The sentences written in bold are Mark’s thoughts, and when *written like this between stars*, it means the character can hear them.

Part 01 🔇 Part 02 🔈 Part 03 🔉 Part 04 [END] 🔊

💭 A/N : YES, IT’S OUT! It’s 7 a.m. here in France but I wasn’t going to sleep until I was finished (was it too captivating for me to stop? read and you’ll decide...)

I’m so relieved and touched to share this with you. I’m really sorry for having kept you waiting, and I’m beyond thankful for the support and asks you sent me, showing love for this fanfic.

Endings are always the hardest to be satisfied with, however I did my best and I hope you won’t be disappointed.

‘Til the end : I would never pretend that I know about psychology and how to treat patients! Everything comes out of my pure imagination! And please, if you ever feel bad for any reason, reach out, you matter! ♥

Also, any comments, good or bad, are still welcomed! I love your feedback, really! Thank you again and have a nice time reading!

Disclaimer : I can once again proudly say that the GIF is mine! (and this one definitely kills me)

                        He didn't know what was hurting his body the most right now. Was it his feet because he had been dragging them around the streets for quite a while, or his heart that definitely felt as if it had been pierced by thousands of needles, embodying your words of truth?

The darkness of the night wasn't as black as his mind which had plunged back into the deepest of sorrows, his eyes looking at nothing but the ground in order to help him lose himself into the big city and into a thoughtless state, until he'd breathe properly again without feeling any pain, without feeling anything. Why couldn't he swallow back his emotions like he used to?

Mark's cheeks were burning as his brain full of hatred was sweltering in hell, and he felt like he was drunk, his footsteps messy on the sidewalk, a sarcastic yet sad laugh sometimes escaping his mouth, before it switched to two lonely strand of tears he had denied freedom to earlier, forcing their way out without him realizing – until the salty taste of warm water met his front buds.

*What the- Did you just cry Mark? Seriously?*

He probably looked like a fool, a scary one more than one you could laugh at, but he confidently went forward and forward, down the streets and crossways, letting his body explore the drawers of emotions he hadn't opened for so long. Before you.

You were stepping all over his mind after having trampled on his weakened heart, and Mark might well shake his head from the left to the right like a possessed man, or grip his pale locks of hair so that the pain he would get from it would replace any thought linked to you, he just couldn't help it.

He was reminded of your crying face, of your eyes that had wanted to be apologetic, but most of all, he was hearing your trembling voice over and over again, confessing your sins to him, instead of the ambient rumpus caused by the motors of vehicles driving a few meters away or the laughs of some friends enjoying their Saturday night.

*Why can't I get this liar out of my head? I want it to stop!*

Bzzt bzzt. Bzzt bzzt.

Oh? Finally, he actually felt something else other than pain. A familiar vibration came from the pocket of his denim jacket, right under his hand that had barely been in contact with fresh air ever since he had stepped out of the apartment blocks, confined in this restricted space so that he wouldn't use his tensed fist to smash everything around him, or maybe everyone.

Mark was disgusted by every single human being on earth right now, the sour taste of betrayal making him want to spit at anyone he came across, or ditch a less than appropriated bunch of words, his tongue burning from all the insults and hurtful words he hadn't thrown into your face so that he'd feel at least a little bit better.

Jackson [00:47 AM] : Bro, where you at? It's been almost two hours since you disappeared, we're kind of worried (I said KIND OF) so at least let us know that you're alive if you don't want to tell where you went to…?

Well, maybe not every single human being…

Mark sighed at the sight of his screen as he felt soothed momentarily by remembering the best friends he could count on, with the premises of a touched smile tingling at the corner of his dry lips. Then, before he had taken the time to think back of it, he was already typing something frenetically, biting at his lower lip as he came to anticipate the next message.

Mark [00:47 AM] : Is she still here?

Thankfully though, it seemed that Jackson had been staring at his phone anxiously with just as carefulness as Mark had been doing, because less than a minute after, a text popped up again.

Jackson [00:47 AM] : No, she left. And we won't ask any questions.

Mark [00:48 AM] : I'll start walking back. Don't know exactly where I am, but it's downtown, dw.

Why did his heart feel disappointed that you weren't here anymore? Mark looked up to the street lamps as if they would give him an answer, yet the yellow light wasn't keen on helping him feel better as he didn't absorb any calming sensation from its warm shine, and the fire within him got even more ignited at his question left unanswered.

What would have he said to you back home anyway? His brain was willing to despise you and to regret having met you ; still, somewhere in his heart, it ached. His chest was aching at every single trembling beat of his life organ, because Mark was going under a heartbreak. He had been persuaded he couldn't get more crushed into pieces than he had been ever since his accident, but your impact on him proved him wrong, and it hurt.

It hurt because you had been the glue that had fixed his fragile self, yet everything was falling apart once again, and the price of the pain felt as worse as the one he had faced back in the car. It hurt to realize that, he had cherished you that much in such a mere time, so much that he could come to a comparison between you and his mother that had been supposed to be the only woman filling a special place, but now you had dug yours, and deeply.

It hurt to hear a tiny voice inside his head wishing it wasn't true, wishing he could hear you out once more, wishing he could try to figure it out, when the right choice was supposed to be the one he had made earlier : throw a con-artist out of his life.

"Are you okay, boy?" a raspy voice coming from his left startled Mark who turned around, meeting with a little old man wearing nothing but a brown parka which was half-opened, and a pair of more than used shorts, and when he entered the circle of light, Mark saw how tired his facial muscles were and how tousled was his hair.

The blonde nodded slowly, feeling sorry for this hobo that was smiling gently at him, approaching him until he could smell the strong scent of alcohol coming from his clothes.

"You sure? You don't look like it, boy" the man overbid while hiding his dirty but damaged hands into the pockets of his way too large coat.

Mark nodded once more and would have gladly returned the question, persuaded it would have given a bit of light into the world of this man that surely was darker than his own even during this night of despair. He then opted for a basic sign language to indicate him he couldn't talk, to which the hobo shook his head too, his smile seeming brighter to Mark than all the street lamps.

"It comes and goes, boy, the pain. See, it only takes a smile to feel better! So smile, hm? Put that moody face away and smile! It will go away, and you'll get stronger. You only need to stay positive, see? And to stick by the people who truly love you! That's important, that's really important. I didn't do it, and here I am, boy. Well I don't think I'd be where I am if I had had people by my side those past years, but because I think of my mom up there who loved me and looks upon me, I'm still alive and living, hm? So give me a smile, and get straight home, and tomorrow you'll feel better, believe me. You're young, you still have a lot of tomorrows."

Mark felt his heart constrict in his chest and the remaining tears he had blocked filling back the crease of his tired eyelids, but to thank this man who had helped appeasing his aching even for a few seconds, he swallowed them back once more and he gave that smile he had been asked for.

"That's right, that's right! Good night, boy. I don't want you to end up like me, so go home now!"

Mark felt his lower lip tremble, sign of his intern struggle to fight his urge to cry, so he quickly bowed the hobo goodbye and he spun on his heels before taking his steps towards the climb waiting for him. And even if his ears were deaf because he was bathing under an endless ocean of mixed emotions, those few words of comfort still had made their way through to his heart which suddenly felt lighter than a feather, and with his eyes now looking up to the sky as he, too, thought of his mother now, but with a smile rather than a frown the mysterious man had managed to erase.

                           Tomorrow's a better day, he said. *I won't think of this liar anymore. I won't feel anything anymore. I won't, ever again.*

Park Jinyoung [00:50 AM] : Got some news. He's on his way back, don't worry. Take care, Y/N.

You had been staring at some kind of invisible void on your ceiling for the past two hours, waiting for this very text you had merely asked for before you had went out of the boys' apartment. It wasn't the shame that had made you run away right after your group of friends had come to check on you, once Mark had slammed the door with only your sobs to give a hint about what happened ; it was his voice that you were still hearing, even now that you were secured under your blankets.

You had thought it was because he had probably been roaming around the neighborhood that you were still catching his thoughts, but now that you had finally fled past the limits of your ability yourself, you were truly doubting that Mark could remain in the same perimeter, so close that you could hear his low voice in your head as if he was talking next to you.

What was happening? Was it your power's way to punish you for having used it in a wrong way for so long? Were you condemned to be a sinner by keeping on invading his privacy even from far away?

But I just couldn't stop it.

Or was it another evolution you couldn't explain? But why now, with him? Wasn't his feeling of betrayal and him pushing you away supposed to mute it forever, just like it had back with Myeoli?

It was worse than a living nightmare, as your insomnia was making you wonder if you weren't going crazy and imagining things into your head with a list of reasons to prove its point : because of your terrible guilt, because you were too damn fond of the boy, because during those last three weeks you had been obsessing over your love story he had been about to write the next page of tonight.

Every single note of his voice was making you fall for this paranoia theory as you couldn't accept that your ability would ever do that to you. However, as the pinch marks on your arms went deeper just like the night, and as you tossed and turned on the mattress with a cushion wrapped around your head in order to duct any sound, you were left with no choice except to face it as the truth : you weren't crazy, but constantly hearing him.

*I shouldn't be hurting. I shouldn't be whining like a baby. I shouldn't care. Fuck you, Y/N.* Tomorrow's a better day, tomorrow's a better day. Tomorrow I'll be fine.

You hadn't any water left in your tired body, so you only frowned and caught your breath every time his thoughts seeped into your ears, which meant every single minute of the long night you were trapped in. You wished you could fall asleep, but his beautiful voice was contrasting with his hurtful yet justified words, keeping your eyes wide open and your heartbeat at a fast pace, as instead of dragging you to sleep like any well-told story would, you took it like a horror tale putting you into a shuddering state.

                   You were woken up early in the morning by Mark's voice into your head. It had been empty from any dreams for you to escape to, probably because even when you had fallen asleep at some point, the boy had kept ranting until a late late time, when he had finally decided to take a pill so he'd succumb to his tiredness or else he would have turned mad from his internal torture, just as you had been about to do.

You were glad that your body needs to rest had taken over your mind and put you to sleep despite your head being actively solicited, yet you felt completely worn out. Your eyes were puffy and you almost screamed at your reflection in the mirror ; but thankfully, it was Sunday, so nobody would have the bad luck to come across a zombie trailing its soulless body in the streets, as you were planning to stay indoors and mourn over your love story's death.

*I feel a thousand times worse... I guess it's not for today.*

*Look at you Mark, you look like shit. How are you supposed to face your boss like that? What are you going to tell him? Sorry boss I've got heartbro- What am I even thinking*

You chuckled sadly as you had been sharing the same thoughts as him after eyeing your figure this morning, until the residues of the word "heartbroken" resounded between your head walls, making you gasp. In the middle of all the gloom clouding over your mind, a ray of happiness pierced its way as you came to realize that he sincerely cared about you so that he could use this word ; yet, it was soon replaced by a wave of guilt and regret plaguing your thoughts.

You had broken his heart. Him who was so fragile had let someone enter this secretive and unstable world of his, but that very visitor was the reason why he was even more messed up than before, with her short path having crushed everything on its way to his heart. How great of a work for a future psychiatrist!

Woodam had always told you to deal with your acts and to take responsibilities whenever you'd hurt someone because of your power or whenever you made mistakes under its influence ; but this morning, and the morning after, and the following ones during this new hellish week that turned out to be worse than the ones before, all you felt like was moping around and crying again and again instead of assuming the consequences like a grown-up would do – by dealing silently with the pain that was well-deserved, for example. So you cried on your couch, you cried under your shower, you cried while feeding yourself, and you cried yourself to sleep at night.

You couldn't get over your sadness, even less with Mark's voice proving you how bad of a time he was having ever since you had parted, as he was starting to hate every single thing about his life all over again, not forgetting to curse your name once or twice per day but without failing to betray his feelings for you at the same time, pulling you down at your worst state.

I want to see her...  I miss her. *I hate that I miss her. Why do I miss that girl? Why did I get attached to her? When did I get like that? You need to get stronger, remember*

*Are you hearing me right now, huh? I hope you don't, or else you'll know how bad I am doing because of you, and I fucking can't let you do that. No, I can't. You don't have the right to know…* That I still care about you.

You both liked each other, but you had drifted your worlds too far apart for you to reach out to him.

Everything's my fault. Everything's my fault.

                                               Nevertheless, this situation wasn't meant to last, as you knew you shouldn't keep on drowning into your own sin by letting yourself get a hold of Mark's intimate feelings. So after a few days of enduring it and trying to focus on your classes even when his voice would cover the professors' crucial teaching, your heavy steps trailed you towards the only light at the end of your repentance tunnel : Woodam.

He was the unlucky individual on whom you could transfer the weight of your power by asking for his help, and you craved for it the most right now. It had been a hard decision, to resolve yourself to cut the last bit of a connection you had with Mark that had outdone the distance he had drawn between the both of you, still you weren't in the right to be greedy and selfish. You had wronged him enough while he had been blind to it, so it was just awful to repeat the pattern behind his back, and it was your own way to respect his harsh one of ending things. By letting him go too, definitely.

You were welcomed by an empty waiting room as you came late on purpose, in hopes of being Woodam's last case so that you'd raise your chances to get out of his cabinet with a lighter heart and relieved eardrums, and for that to happen, you were conscious that it would take time. You had only made one phone call in the morning, and your godfather had probably heard the despair in your tired vocals while you had asked if you could meet without explaining your reasons, as he had outright ordered you to come by before the end of the day.

*I knew smiling wouldn't do it. I can't smile all by myself, that's ridiculous.*

*Hey, are you that desperate that you're listening to a hobo's words like it's the law now?*

*The guys would be laughing at me if they saw where I'm going. How come I slept in?* Let's get that medical certificate quickly, he's the only one who'll give it to me.

*I don't recognize myself, seriously. She messed me up so bad.*

You deeply sighed with your head falling back against the white wall behind you, and your knuckles turned the same pale color on your knees as you clutched onto them out of anxiety, your urge to get rid of his voice having a heated fight with your fear of definitely losing him without a way back.

*C'mon, turn around you twat. You hate this place so much.* You'll find a way yourself like you always did, right?

"Where are you going that it makes you so anxious…" you wondered out loud as your livid eyes were fixed on the rank of unoccupied seats facing you.

Yet, if you really would have liked an answer despite your question being rhetorical, you hadn't expected it to be so on point, as the man your heart was crying over passed the waiting room's door, acknowledging you only once he had sat down on the chair precisely opposed to yours.

Your sad eyes met, a crescent light suddenly illuminating his chocolate brown irises and making them livelier than the last time he had looked at your face with all his anger having conquered them. Your heart skipped a beat and your crossed legs started to tremble so much that they refused to take you away and leave his sight even when your mind commanded them to.

You felt scared, scared of what he'd do, what he'd say, what he'd come to think of. You had dreaded this moment as much as you had wished for it to happen, his face with its beautiful traits remaining the most precious souvenir for you to picture in your mind, even when it was painted with the tern colors of sadness, even when it hurt really bad when you did so.

Your lips parted a few times, but your vocal chords had turned sore so no sound came out. You spotted his jaw clenching, and Mark exhaled loudly through his nose before finally letting go of your intense exchange of stares to concentrate on his phone he started to type on.

You couldn't hear anything for the first time in almost a week, and tears of relief that he wasn't hating on you now that he was seeing you again were on the verge of falling down on your steaming cheeks ; however, you repelled them as you knew he'd get mad if you, the one who was actually making him suffer, dared to show sorrow when you had done this to the two of you in the first place.

"You came because you heard I was coming?" his phone speaker relayed his salty message and you rolled your eyes, not spotting how his mouth turned down in disapproval at what had seemed like your nonchalance.

"I came here as a patient too" you answered frankly, crossing your arms on your chest.

Mark chuckled and you dared to eye him again, his smile giving you the chills and constricting your already hurting throat, so you coughed your embarrassment away.

*She's got no shame I swear- You're doing unwell? You? But you were really well all this time when you were scheming this shit so what's going on now, poor girl?*

Bingo.

"I can hear you, y'know" you provoked him this time, feeling hurt in the end by what you had expected to happen, because he would never understand you were actually here for him and not for you, or more accurately, he would never let you tell him about it.

Mark almost cursed at you out loud and you saw his body jolt at your bold confession, before he leaned back in his chair with another long sigh escaping his rosy lips your eyes suddenly fell for again, gazing at them without blinking.

"And no, I wasn't okay with doing this but I just couldn't help it-" you interrupted yourself with a sigh, your pupils going back to his own that were sending a jaded stare. "Whatever, you wouldn't trust me no matter what I'll say."

You quickly had given up on justifying yourself, the guilt evidently twisting your tongue as you knew no excuses could truly make up for how betrayed he felt.

*Exactly. I don't wanna know, I don't care. And no, I don't trust you. How can someone like you can even talk about trust? Do you hear yourself?* he thought while looking at you expectantly, wishing you could hear him this time as well, being too lazy to transcribe his running thoughts.

Mark had accumulated a lot of contradictory feelings during the past few days, and now that he shared the same space and oxygen as you, his mind was telling him to address you in the coldest way he could, the resentment suddenly being dominant ; yet, his heart was crying internally as it was desperate for an explanation, anything, that could make him trust you again. That could make him forgive himself to have fallen for you. That could give him an excuse to still like you and still see something more in you even in this instant.

"I'm sorry, Mark. I really am, I…"

Three words were pending at the edge of your soggy tongue. I like you. I really like you, I've always liked you.

All of a sudden, your nose began to itch as well as your shivering eyelids, some waterworks rolling down your face but you quickly brushed them in hopes he wouldn't catch them ; however, he did. His heart tightened at the mere sight of your suffering once again, but in accordance with his intern contradiction, the blonde also felt incredibly annoyed to be affected by your well-being.

*She did me wrong! How much weaker did I get to continue feeling like this towards her? Less than a piece of shit? What the hell is wrong with me?!*

Unfortunately for him, those distressed thoughts caused you to cry wholeheartedly this time and you really got ready to leave, hands on the armrests to lift your wobbly-self up, when you remembered that distance no longer could save you from this infernal situation.

"Stop crying, would you?" his phone speaker told you and you looked up to him.

"Should I? I was hoping you'd feel satisfied at the sight and stop thinking so hard about me, stop hurting because of me, stop whatever's bothering you with me" you straightly retorted while wiping your face again, your fingertips trembling on your skin as much as your voice that stroke his heart.

*Do you think it's that easy?* he scoffed in his head and his face broke into a mere smile before he poked his cheek with his tongue annoyingly. *Yeah, I truly hope you're feeling guilty for what you've done to me, because that's the least you can do.*

But still, I'm not into sadism, so no, seeing you cry doesn't do me any good…, he tried to appease his budding rage, remembering the wise words of the unknown back on Saturday night as they were the only leitmotiv he was hanging onto so he wouldn't lose his mind.

Be stronger. It'll go away. Calm down. *She's not worthy of your attention.* Calm d-

"Do you really care about what I think or feel about this situation?" you shrugged lazily, his killing stare at you making you reply back instantly as it was absorbing your mind control as well. "Because you won't give me a chance to explain myself nor accept my apologies anyway so…"

Your frustration had spoken for itself, because you were reminded of his melancholic thoughts about you, how he missed you more than he despised you, his issues making your heart soft and vulnerable, and your arms tensed as they were craving to surround his neck and bring your lips to his.

He was so close yet so far, and this push-and-pull situation was going all the way up to attack your nerves, unravelling your desperate want to win his feelings back instead of telling you to lie low as any guilty person should.

*Are you really turning this against me right now? Are we really having this kind of conversation?* Mark got offended as he redressed himself in his chair, making you shy away in yours as you pushed your back further against the wall.

"That's right, I shouldn't have said that, you're the good one here…" you acquiesced with an absent-minded smile pulling at the corner of your lips, your eyes glued to the ground that was blurred by the few pearls of water stuck to your eyelashes. "I know you don't want to hear it, but I swear I'm sincerely sorry about what happened…"

What happened is that I like you now, so *who's to blame in the end, huh? You, or the fool?* Mark regretted as your few words had been able to ease his pain at least a little, showing him he cared about your apologies when he wished he wouldn't.

He couldn't quite decipher what you could hear from what you couldn't, so he only breathed out while shaking his head from the left to the right in defeat, before looking away from your problematic figure in front of him, towards the corridor ending in the magical door from which you both hoped you'd come out in a little less distraught state than now.

The room fell into a thick silence sometimes interrupted by your sniffling or his deep breathing breaking into a sigh, your gaze at each other never meeting as you did your best at avoiding it, still neither of you had the true will to step out. It was as if the tension was attracting your bodies to one another like magnets, keeping them at this safe yet uncomfortable distance.

*… How I wish I had never let myself get interested by her. Everything before her was simpler.* Mark was trying to convince himself as he brushed his fair hair with his ringed and elegantly long fingers, revealing the wrinkles on his forehead as his brows were knotted in confusion.

Your eyes finally found each other and you bit at your bottom lip, accepting his regrets even if they scattered your being, and another time, you wanted to disappear by vanishing from the room right here right now, so that he'd feel at peace. Well, would he really stop thinking about you?

*But was it even better? Was I, without her? I don't know anymore. Shit, you're probably hearing me again, aren't you?* he wondered with his dark eyes scanning your flustered face.

"How I wish I had other words to tell you how I never meant to do you wrong" you hinted at the answer.

*Stop apologizing Y/N, I beg you, you're not having me with this bullshit and those pleading eyes, you said it yourself* he laughed sarcastically in his head while defying you with his pupils that shined with irritation once again.

Calm down. That's it, smile.

The sorrier you felt, the more he wanted to believe in you ; but he just couldn't do this to himself, he couldn't let love do this to himself when it had deceived him so bad. Also, he couldn't find easiness in your eyes that looked at him somehow lovingly, as he only saw his fears of getting trapped into his feelings for you when he was trying to win over them.

*Don't look at me like that.*

Your cheeks got filled with blood but your stare didn't drop under his stern voice. His order resembled a pled, and Mark gulped as he was trying hard not to fall deeper for your face and its perfect details he despite him had been scared of forgetting every time he had thought of it – every single day that is to say.

"Then what can I do? What do you need me to do so you'd feel better? I-I'll just do it! That's all I want and ever wanted!" you rushed in a desperate tone, your heart screaming at you to make up for what you had done, at all costs and by all means before you wouldn't meet ever again.

But you shouldn't have asked what he wasn't able to answer, as it was the most sensitive part in Mark's inner conflict about you. That was the black hole in his universe of wonderings about your sincerity, that he couldn't fill with any fitting solution which would stop the happiness you had procured him from getting sucked up. That was the heart of the matter : did he need you in or out of his life to feel better?

*But you can't do ANYTHING! You put us into this situation, I have to deal with it, so deal with too! That's it, I hate you so much right now! You're here crying when you're responsible for it! I fucking hate your crying face! I can't bear to see it, you hear me? Look at what you've done to me! Look where I am because of you! I'm seeing my psychiatrist because of you! Because you're eating my brain!*

Mark was breathing loudly again, his fists clenched on his thighs while the veins on his temples and going down his long neck had popped out. He couldn't explain his sudden switch of emotions, from a faint irritation to an explosive one, and he slammed his back against his chair in frustration, but with his eyes still locked on yours. He was so confused in the midst of his mixed feelings that he felt like losing it.

Had he just imagined himself kissing you angrily, right after having shouted internally at you?

He definitely wasn't loathing you, but he was loathing himself for having been unable to stay faithful to the pain and disgust you had put him through once he had landed his eyes on you again. As your conversation had unwound, his divided heart and mind finally accorded themselves on one point : the one that deep down, he already knew he was wanting you in his life, not to reject you forever.

Why couldn't he just ignore you and move on?

You were quivering and your head had started to spin under that flood of sentences that had invaded your skull, and your eyes grew wide open, letting Mark know you had heard everything. He let out a shaky laugh just as he had back in his bedroom, his heartbeat being so up-tempo that he believed the bloody organ would explode sooner or later just like a time bomb.

How come you were able to peel it to its deepest, making him confess over and over again his feelings for you even through words that were supposed to be filled with hatred? He knew you knew, however, you knew he didn't know you were feeling exactly the same for him, if not more.

I fucking like you too and I am going crazy because of you too.

But you left your mouth shut, as you clearly couldn't claim his love nor his understanding anymore. He was right, you had to endure it, twice more than him, or surely thrice.

"Well Mark you're here too? Without any appointment? Y/N was supposed to be my last patient, but come along as well!" a familiar voice suddenly cut through the palpable tension and both of your heads snapped towards Woodam who was standing at the entrance of the waiting room, an amused smile plastered on his face.

"Wait what?"

*Is that a fucking joke*

"You're each other's problem, so let's try to solve it in one go" he shrugged with his witty eyes going back and forth between Mark and you, both having your mouth agape.

"How-"

Woodam's frank chuckle cut you through your perplexed interrogation.

"I saw it from the way you were looking at each other the second I approached. You guys didn't even notice me or the previous patient coming out! So come on, both of you!"

Mark and you shared an unsatisfied look before following behind the psychiatrist, each one of you rummaging through your thoughts as this simple declaration sounding too damn well like the truth had made your hearts turn somehow warm. How exactly had you been looking at each other?

                                               Mark took over the famous leather sofa, while you had to go behind your usual desk to take out your personal chair and place it in front of Woodam's office, the furthest possible from the blonde guy who grabbed the writing tools your godfather was handing him.

"I can't do this if he's here" you spoke up solemnly, your eyes supplying the latter desperately, but his quiet laugh indicated you that your request was done for.

"I can't do this if she's here" Mark had written as well, and that's what had made Woodam chuckle in the first place.

You rapidly turned your head towards the fake-mute, who agitated gladly the paper before your two eyes with a hypocrite smile.

"Well I'm not a couple therapist anyway, but I still think we can manage to solve at least a bit of your concerns if you hear yourselves out before being alone with me" your godfather sighed. "And I know what you're realizing right now Mark, but let me be clear : I don't care that she's my niece, she came to consult me and so did you so I'll hear you both out equally, without prejudices"

Mark slowly nodded as he once again faced the talent of perception this doctor had, never failing to hit the right spot without it being expressly exposed to him.

"I still don't want to talk if he's here. I'm embarrassed enough that you know about… Us…"

*Oh because there was an us? Sorry I didn't know, thought I was a toy or something* Mark bitched and when he spotted your look at him from the corner of your eye, he chuckled discretely.

Nothing could stop him and his sassiness anymore, as it was his only shell against your powerful influence on him, and you weren't glad to come across the Mark that had leapt you out of your usual patience the first time you had been reunited in this room.

"Could you please stop making assumptions?! Oh my God I-" you started with your hands up in objection and your eyes shut.

"Y/N, I didn't say anything." Woodam interfered with a serious look that made your hot blood from the frustration at Mark's thoughts turn incredibly cold the second you reopened your eyelids to acknowledge your godfather, and you bit the interior of your cheek. "Wait- Does he know?"

Oops, you had flared up way too hastily and with way too much carelessness once again, betraying your latest secret – or more accurately burden – in no time. You didn't recognize yourself, as you had always been prudent with your actions and words, up till Mark. Love could definitely make one go crazy… You hadn't planned to tell Woodam that you had blown up all his and your parents' hard work at protecting you, at least not like that, and the deep tone of his voice had proved you it had been the right decision.

Mark chuckled another time before writing busily, his hands shaking as he immediately knew what Woodam had been referring to.

"So you know she can hear thoughts and you invite her to your cabinet? She can violate every patient's intimacy and you're okay with that? Or maybe you're using that to make it seem like you know what's up with us? What's wrong with you people?"

You had heard every single word that he had laid on his now almost crumpled sheet as he was holding it in a tensed grasp, and your heart burst at all his wrong and hurtful interrogations. You were about to refute each one of them, but Woodam held his hand up as he knew you and your impulsions as if he was your own father. He then got closer to his desk and looked at the both of you with some kind of tenderness in his eyes, a look that made you want to cry as you felt even more unworthy of this man's kindness.

"Was she there the first day we met and even the following times, Mark?" he simply asked.

The blonde's brows furrowed and he frowned as he didn't even have to think back of the answer he knew to be a no, and he somehow felt displeased to be at a loss of words before your godfather, once more.

"I guess you know the answer, yet didn't I got close to the problem without her? Y/N is my niece, and I'm the only one, besides her parents and unfortunately you, now, to know her secret. They came to me because well, I'm not doing my job that badly I think, so they asked for my help. And I tried to help. I'm still trying to help. But never did I use her talents to do what I have to do, and never has she intended to do so. You might not see it now, and I understand you, but that thing is more of a burden for her than anything else. I'm teaching her to control it thanks to the few things I know from my studies and experience, sometimes even from the Internet, but if you think that lowly of me, you can step out right now" he explained calmly, each one of his sentences picked up with caution and cutting deep through Mark's mistrust as he now felt sorry towards him too.

Seeing that Mark wasn't moving, his eyes lowering to his feet, Woodam nodded in satisfaction before turning his head to you.

"So a crush is all it takes for you to spill it out, hm?"

You didn't know if he was teasing you or scolding you, so you lowered your head and your bust to apologize, your guilt taking over the embarrassment coming from him exposing your – even if evident – feelings for Mark right for his two ears to savor. And secretly, the concerned felt hot flames drool on his body as he had heard what he had wished to be true, even if it came from the mouth of someone else : you liking him, for real.

"I'm sorry." you only muttered, your tears threatening to come out as the memories of all his time spent advising you with consideration were passing right before your two eyes.

"I'm not mad, Y/N. I'm just… Worried. How come you have told him? I just want to understand, you've always been so careful."

You had so much to say, but how would Mark hear it or take it? You hesitated as you played nervously with your fingers between your legs, then you finally straightened yourself to face the unpleasing situation you were responsible for anyway.

Mark's heartbeat was once again going over its capacities and the boy almost whined as he felt like puking, the anticipation of your answer knotting his stomach. If he had hated the idea of sharing the same room as you in the first place, he was now the most attentive and interested spectator. Maybe Woodam's questions would put an end to his own and set him free from his attraction to you?

"I just had to tell him, because my worries went further than where they would have been if I hadn't heard some things. I couldn't help but hear him, Woodam" your voice was trembling as Mark's stare coming from your right was scorching every cell of your skin. "I couldn't stop it like we learned, and what's worse now is that I…"

You nibbled at your lower lip before brushing your face with your two hands, and you did your best to counter Mark's strong aura next to you that would have deported your body towards the exit like a coward.

*What could be worse than that* he thought on a still sarcastic tone, when in fact he was scared to death of what else you could possibly have done to him, scared to be hurt twice as he wasn't sure he could take the pill this time – had he even digested the first one?

"I can hear him all the time, Woodam, and I'm tired. I don't wanna hear him anymore, I've done enough wrong. But distance does nothing to it, and I don't understand, I want it to stop I can't go on like this"

Your head fell as well as your shoulders, and you perceived the sound of Mark standing up pretty brutally next to you, the leather chair grating against the floor.

*What do you mean you can hear me all the time?!* his panicked voice froze you into your seat.

You hated this tone. You hated to hear him lose his mind because of you and what you were made of, and that's all you had been doing for almost a week. Your need to cry was urgent so you looked up to the ceiling, not even landing your eyes on Mark who, on the contrary, couldn't stop staring at you with horror.

"Mark, sit down please" Woodam invited him along with a move of his hand.

With squinted eyelids, the boy did as told as in fact his heart didn't want him to leave this room unless it'd feel at ease, from anything to fit as a remedy, would it be you killing the rest of it.

"I think it's another evolution, Y/N, we haven't faced this one yet. But… How should I put this?" your godfather pondered while rubbing his hands against each other. "I think that, unfortunately, your own feelings are what influences it. Sometimes it helps you duct it when you care about someone, but this time it's the reverse, because you feel…"

"Fucking guilty." you sobbed, two pearls of water tracing straight corridors down your cheeks, and you blinked a few times to chase the followings away.

"I was about to say "things for Mark", actually" Woodam corrected, and your heart dropped in the pit of your stomach while your ears became hotter than the sun itself.

*So you knew what you did was bad, but you still let yourself come close to me? You really are something else, are you a sadist? When you like someone you love to do them wrong, is that it? That's your thing?*

Mark knew you could hear him as you finally turned your body to him, your eyes suddenly shining with anger, and he somehow felt intimidated under your stare. But he couldn't prevent his mixed feelings from shaking him from one side to another, one where he felt sorry for you and for treating you like this because he could definitely hear your sincerity – even if he refused to see it –, and the other where his sense of betrayal was still igniting a fire within his guts.

"Well did you ever think that I did what I did because I DO LIKE YOU and I thought I could help you thanks to this, once again because I DO LIKE YOU?! And you, why are you not really hating me if you're claiming to do so? Why are you not throwing me out of your life when you said "screw you" to me? Because if you really did, I wouldn't be hearing your thoughts right now! Not a single thing! And that would be perfect, you could live your life and I could live my own, so what's happening? I know I cheated, I KNOW, so I don't want to hear you because I don't want to do you wrong anymore, you know that? I DON'T WANT TO, I'M TIRED!" you finally confessed shamelessly, breathing having been an option more than a vital obligation, to the point your head felt like it was inflating like a balloon.

*Wait is it my fault again?! Is this a fucking joke?!* Mark pierced you with two wide-opened eyes that supported your furious gaze.

Yet his justified indignation and pain didn't bring you back to the reality and didn't shut your mouth this time, as you were really as exhausted as you claimed. This vicious circle was sucking up all your patience, and everything you had wished to pour out before him as a last goodbye was coming out of your mouth but twisted with rage, as his words were hurting you more than you thought they would.

You had thought you could take it as you had thought you deserved them, but on the other side, your knowledge of his shared feelings for you was pushing you over the edge. If he liked you as much as he seemed to, why couldn't you win his forgiveness? Weren't you worth it? Were you that devilish?

"Stop thinking about me, forget about me, hate on me, I know I deserve it! I'm not someone worth of your attention, am I?!" you shouted desperately, nothing to stop you now that you had started.

*You must be kidding me! Are you always that self-centered? Did I ever say I needed you? Did I ever wish for you to get close to me? I never asked anything from you. You decided to do whatever you wanted, because you're fucking selfish!*

"So I'm imagining things into my head when I hear your voice?" you replied instantly.

*Yes you are, you're fucking crazy. I'm not interested in you, not anymore. It was nothing to me. You're the one liking me so much you're messing up with whatever your power is. That's not my business* he pursued in his favorite aggressive tone, his fists clenching over the armrest as well as his jaw that could cut even the air.

"It IS when YOU wanted me to pay attention to you all night long at Johnny's party and you were whining about it to the point I was having a headache, it IS when YOU begged me to stay at your place and not to leave you behind and swearing there was more to it, it IS when YOU are thinking that you fucking miss me even this morning and I can hear every single bit of it!" you barked back, in a pure state of bliss as you were assisting to his perfect roleplay all over again, almost making you euphoric.

Mark's eyes widened quickly while his rib cage started to rise up and down powerfully, his loud breathing sounding like a background noise to you now that you were used to his way of containing his emotions. His cheeks and ears had turned red at you pointing out every piece of his heart he had left behind to prove himself wrong, and his lips parted but you didn't flinch under his darkening stare, your own defying any black holes up in the galaxy. Touché?

*I don't like you and I don't need you in my life, do you still hear me? I don't like you, I don't like anything about you because it's everything I hate. Is that enough? I can think of that all day long, if that's what I need to get you out of my head! That's not a problem!*

"So much time to grant a monster like me, thanks" you had the ending word and, somehow, as you weren't looking at elsewhere but him, you noticed that Mark's traits softened at your own pejorative designation.

Every single phrase you had just shared up till now spoke of the uncontrollable feelings you both couldn't admit, and if it was too hard at the moment to let them pave the way to an eventual reconciliation, each one of you was suddenly starting to think of how bad you wanted to kiss those painful events goodbye at the back of your messy heads, as your electric stares were slowly relocking your souls to each other.

Woodam knocked on his desk to interrupt this one-sided argument – at least from his point of view – and you flopped back on your chair, crying out loud for the second time in less than an hour. Mark's world was stopped, your blunt confession about your feelings for him still banging against his head walls and almost being the only thing he could remember, so that his irritation was already gone.

"Alright alright, everybody calm down" the psychiatrist spoke up quietly.

You were trembling in a devastating fury but you still managed to get up, the need to calm yourself down and away from Mark pulling at your body parts.

"You said that's because I like him?" you asked Woodam in a weak voice.

"That's what I think" the latter confirmed. "Sit down Y/N we're going to talk this out"

"No, you know what? If this is the problem, then I don't think anyone can fix this except myself. I should have thought of it sooner. So I'll fix my witch ass, I'll stop liking him or any other man who'll then be lucky enough to be spared from getting close to me, because it's just not okay to do this to someone. Look at what I've done, look. That's what I told you, I'm a witch, I'm a freaking monster. It can't be helped."

Mark didn't dare to land his eyes on you as you stormed out of the cabinet with huge footsteps, and once you closed the door, he let out a sigh before landing his elbows on his knees, the weight of this strong argument finally falling on his shoulders. He didn't feel okay nor pleased with what you had just said about yourself. He hadn't seen you like that even if terrible things had crossed his mind ever since you had dropped the bomb on him ; however he wasn't able to come after you.

What am I feeling, for God's sake? What do I want?

"Mark, let me ask you a question" his doctor suddenly shook him out of his thoughts, and the blonde merely nodded without acknowledging him, his head in his hands facing the ground.

"Did Y/N ever use her powers against you, like to hurt you?"

                                                        "It's your second pill in three hours already, could you slow down Y/N?" Jena asked you as you were gulping down the little white capsule with fresh water, your migraine not seeming to go away.

A new week had started and you were still hearing Mark's torments, and even if you could be happy about the diminution of the number of sentences per day, it appeared that your constant headache would only be satisfied by full silence. You couldn't even decipher what he was torturing himself about sometimes, his trail of thoughts messy, and you even had come to ask yourself if he hadn't been drunk two or three times since you had met at Woodam's cabinet.

But what was still standing out and shooting bullets at your void heart, was him longing for you. He was cursing himself because he kept on thinking about you and wondering what was right or wrong to feel, and you weren't relieved that he liked you back anymore. You were now hoping he'd forget about your awful person pretty soon, so that he'd lead an easier life and leave you to deal with the burden alone.

You were barely bearing yourself, continuously wishing you could switch bodies with someone who was living out of the dark depths of the untold feelings one could have ; who could love somebody without hurting them constantly, without betraying them, without terrifying them ; who could wake up in the morning and go to bed at night while wondering innocently about how his or her lover was doing, not being forced to face the fact that they had marked him or her with bruises taking a long time to heal.

"I didn't know you were subject to migraines…" Joon Hee doubted as she caressed slightly the top of your skull, with a smile as soft as her touch.

"I didn't know either, I think I'm tired because we're approaching the end of the semester" you tried to explain and your friends nodded silently, but their frowns still betrayed their worry about you.

"Your dark circles are really bad babe" Cho A confessed and all you did was let out a laugh as you couldn't agree more. "But what about I hide them with make up tonight, because we're going out!"

"We are? It's Wednesday though" you suspected, your brow arching before you laid your elbows on the campus' grass you were chilling on during a break.

"Yes, Jinyoung's hosting a party at the apartment tonight" Jena smiled and she threw her hands up before you as she saw you were about to growl. "Mark won't be there! He won't be there, don't worry, he's working until late"

You sighed and sat up properly, annoyed by the fact that your heart had hammered against your torso the second his name had slipped past her lips.

"I'm not going. Late means he'll still show up at some point and I don't want to see him, ever again." you rejected firmly, but Joon Hee grabbed your arm and shook your upper body gently.

"We didn't ask any questions because you didn't want us to, but I'm way too curious right now! Even the boys don't know anything, Mark won't talk! All we know is you're both looking like messes, so what happened in the end?!" she moaned while bending forward to catch your stare as you tried to escape this interview.

"I did him wrong and he can't forgive me and he's right, that's it" you resumed, your eyes becoming hot and you almost cursed at yourself out loud as you assumed they wanted to spill water, again.

"I know you Y/N, we all know you, and you wouldn't hurt a fly. I'm fine with ignoring what's going on between the both of you talking about it is uncomfortable for you, it's his loss! Anyway, you're coming! Forget about him for a while and have some fun tonight, with us, hm?" Jena tried to cheer you up, ending with a pout, which made your sullen face broke into a smile. "He won't be there, his friends are nice and I made them promise not to mention him, so please?"

"You said it yourself, it's almost the end of the semester, we have to enjoy before we'll have to study for the exams" Cho A added lazily as she nudged you.

You knew your body and mind would only thank you if you granted them the right to let it go after having used them to lynch and neglect yourself for almost two weeks. How come your friends were always so good at convincing you with poor arguments, even when your intuition was telling you it wouldn't be as perfect as they claimed it would be? Mark lived there so at any hour of the night, you would end up meeting him, and the worse would come out of it.

"We can go once he shows up" Joon Hee offered. "I'll drive you home! Just come a little bit, you need to cool off"

You sighed loudly so they knew that such an exhalation of air was the signal of their victory, and you were embedded into a group hug that soothed your sorrowful heart.

"I'll go the second I see him, even if it's not past midnight" you mumbled into the embrace and they laughed at your grumpy self.

"Deaaaaal" they sung altogether, freeing you from their love with mischievous smiles plastered on their lips.

                                   Two hours or so later.

           You had finally immerged yourself into the party, the dancefloor becoming yours to chase your worries away and the laughs your extra-caring group of friends were giving you helping to forget about Mark for a while. You were surprised by how empty your eardrums had been since you had entered the flat, the music deliciously flowing into them instead, as if the girls had been right about this alternative to make you feel better – in other words to duct your power.

But you should have known better, that your intuition had been the right one just like when it had whispered to you no to go to the dinner last time. Because as you were waiting for Joon Hee to pour you some drinks, your eyes abruptly halted on his silhouette at the back of the living room, and he was staring right back at you.

For how long had he been standing there? You hadn't seen him come through the front door nor crossed his path in this room that wasn't big enough for you to avoid each other forever. How come you noticed him just now?

Mark was wearing a white tank top under an oversized red checkered shirt, and a ripped pair of black jeans. His hair was styled up neatly, but his face had seemed to dug itself, and when his gaze finally dropped a few inches down but not on your own body, you realized he wasn't standing there alone.

                         "Hi, you're Mark, right?" a member of the student council had asked him, with her hair dyed in a soft foxy tone and a pretty black ensemble to embrace her perfect proportions.

You observed their interaction with caution, Mark's eyes going back and forth between your face and hers as he sipped on his something-and-soda mix Jackson had brought him earlier, and you saw him nod at her with a weak smile.

"I'm Hansun, I think we shared the same classes back when you were at the uni" the redhead smiled back as she laid her shoulder against the wall he had been glued to in the dark.

Mark had never went to work ; he had just been hiding in his room with his own bottles of soju to empty, until he had felt tipsy enough to socialize, a few moments after you had arrived. Inevitably, his pupils had found your back merely hidden by your long blouse, his mouth turning dry at the sight, and he had pushed himself at the corner of the room where no spotlight was targeting him and where you wouldn't catch him in this mess of bodies, just to look freely at you.

She's beautiful.

She's so beautiful.

And I missed her.

Not a single insult, not a single hurtful thought had slipped from his mind as he had stared at you in some kind of awe, his heart a little bit appeased by the alcohol he had ingurgitated on his own. It had been three days since he had started to drink in secret in the evenings, chosing to interrupt his brain functions by soaking them, as his sober mind was definitely unable to suppress the image of you.

Alcohol indeed made him feel stronger, because it blurred your face and freed him from any pain, and thanks to the good and dreamless nights of sleep it ensured, he had been able to put up with work and with the boys without being suspected – at least he thought so, because his friends were more than aware of his situation. He knew what he did was the most pitiful thing he had inflicted upon himself in his life, still he found that easy way pretty convenient, at least for now.

He hadn't been able to answer Woodam's tricky question. No, you had never hurt him with your knowledge of his inner demons ; but still, he was scared to trust you right now, so what should he do? He had no fucking clue. So cowardly, he had chosen the path of masquerade and oblivion the liquor traced before him, because thinking about a solution had become too much to ask.

Mark nodded once again as he vaguely remembered that cute Hansun, his eyes scanning her lips that were appealing, with their pretty grape tint.

"Ooooh so you're really as quiet as they said?" she wondered, a sly smile moving her mouth and Mark licked his own at the sight.

Right before him was standing another way to stop thinking about you ; why wouldn't he jump at the occasion? Seeing how amused – and seemingly fired up – the girl was by his disablement, Mark repeated the up-and-down motion of his head, slowly, his eyes finally finding hers even in the dim light. More than her flushed cheeks he had seen the second she had been close enough to him, her eyelids that fell heavily were giving her look something glassy, sign that she was more than tipsy.

"I kinda like mysterious boys you know, I'm tooootally fine with doing all the talking… At least if they know how to use their body" she winked before laughing nervously and Mark laughed quietly with her, amazed by her straightforward invitation to take him under his own blankets. "Just joking!"

This time, there was no buddy to push him into the arms of a female distraction ; it was his own doing, his own choice, and Mark momentarily felt happy about it as he finally was turned on by a total stranger after a while, with his long eyelashes covering the lust that was circling his pupils as he devoured his bait with them.

Little did he know that this lust was only a mirage masking his strong desire to forget about you, betraying the fact that he kept on… Thinking about you, no matter what.

                         "That's it, I'm going" you said in a strained voice, without the need to bore into his burning gaze to get what was bound to happen between the both of them.

You had finally found the answer as to why you hadn't been able to catch a single murmur of his voice : he was starting to move on. It had seemed absurd even for yourself at first, as a few minutes before entering the apartment, you had been struck by his deep voice. However, now that you had had a few drinks and you had spotted him with another woman and a smile on his lips, you couldn't help but think of the worst case.

Jackson, who had been standing near you, caught your reddening stare at his best friend and he immediately made his way behind you as you started to slalom through the sweating bodies, the jealousy and the panic urging you to storm out the room.

"Y/N no no no wait a minute don't go!" Jackson exclaimed over the music and Mark's head snapped up at the faint sound of your name, his eyes searching for you above the crowd but failing to find you as you already were reaching the main door, not even responding to the girls' interpellations.

"I'm going! Don't touch me Jackson, please!" you suddenly vent out as you pushed his hand that had landed on your shoulder away.

"What's going on Y/N?" Jena asked as your group of friends joined the Chinese boy before you, followed by Jinyoung and Jaebum.

"I told you I'll go the second he'll show up, he's here, so I'm out" you tried to explain the calmer you could and with a cynic smile, but your heart was pounding loudly as the image of him and her was still flashing into your head, making you closer to losing it.

You were jealous, dead jealous, like it wasn't permitted to be and you had no right to be, so you better be gone, and quickly.

"No, don't go... I invited you because I wanted you to be there with us, Y/N, so stay. You know, he asked me earlier if you were coming and I told him the truth, and he still went out of his room... He's not willing to avoid you tonight apparently, but you just can ignore him and stay" Jinyoung said in a calm tone, and you got knocked out by his confession.

"I thought we promised him that we wouldn't say this to her…" Jackson mumbled as he scratched the back of his neck, feeling guilty to betray his best friend.

"Of course he doesn't want to avoid me, he's happy to show me he's going to have a nice fuck tonight!" you let your frustration out, before a bell rang into your mind. "Wait, what did you just say? What do you mean he went out of his room?"

Suddenly, the boys looked at each other and they frowned as they realized they had just betrayed the little trap they seemed to have plotted against the both of you.

"I knew it. I knew you would do this, all of you! Don't lie to me Jinyoung-ah! You invited me because you knew he wouldn't be at work! You wanted us to meet no matter what!" you shouted with clenched fists, not even caring about the curious eyeing of the people roaming around your small reunion.

"Y/N we-"

"Did you know about this? Did any of you know? And don't you dare to lie to me as well" you growled at your group of friends and interrupted Jackson's explanation, the unpleasant sensation of betrayal infiltrating your body that started to shiver.

"No we didn't, I swear!" Jena immediately answered in their defense, then harshly kicking the tibia of her boyfriend that hissed in pain while jumping on one foot.

You hurriedly read the shock and confusion on the girls' faces and chose to believe them, but you still had to go, by hook or by crook.

"We're sorry Y/N, but we truly believe this is the right thing to do! He's a complete mess ever since the dinner, and the girls told us you were too! You're not okay being apart! Please stay and try to sort things out with him?" Jackson tried again as he ceased your shoulders and brought you face to face with him.

You were burning with rage so you dismissed him pretty violently, definitely triggered by his explanation that was the clumsiest he could have chosen. They were asking you to do exactly what you had tried to do at the cabinet a few days ago, when it had resulted in a complete disaster. And here they were claiming they were doing the best thing for him and you? What did they even know?

"And why should I be the one to do that?! You've seen him, he's all good having a chat with a girl! Why didn't you wonder if I'm the reason why he's doing worse? Did it ever cross your mind that it might hurt him even more to see me? Why do you meddle with something you don't even know about!"

Every one of them was avoiding your accusing stare wandering from a face to another, before the girls stepped closer to you with an apologetic expression. Your trembling chin was telling you that you were about to cry while your heart was asking you to run away the fastest you could, yet your feet were stuck to the ground now that you were aware of his physical presence between the same four walls as yours, instead of just his voice knocking against the ones of your head.

"If you go now, he'll know that's because of what he's doing and he'll think he's won everything when in fact he's just losing, Y/N. He's playing stubborn right now but we all know you're the one he likes" Jinyoung spoke up diligently but the look he earned from you felt like a barrel of guns was aiming at him.

"He already knows, and he always wins. I'm not in the right to stay, okay? He's better off without me" you concluded as you finally turned away from them, only to bump into a strong torso, and you heard a familiar laugh coming from above you.

"Heyyyyy guys! Y/N, where do you think you're going like that? I've barely arrived!" Johnny exclaimed as he landed his huge hand on your arm.

"I-"

"No no, noooo excuses, just come with me and let's have a talk!"

                              Before anyone could add anything, Johnny was pulling you and taking you straight towards the bar where he asked someone to pour himself a great mixture, refusing to let go of you.

"What's happening, sweetie?" the tall boy asked you, but you were not in the mood to laugh or talk, and that's what he was the best at.

"Johnny I'm sorry but I'm leaving, we'll see each other tomorrow we can eat together I don't know but I really need to go now" you ranted as you put your hand above his grasp, but your friend didn't budge.

"Wanna make him jealous too?" he suddenly offered before tasting the cocktail his friend had concocted, a sigh of contentment then leaving his lips and tinting the air with a sweet scent, and you looked at him with doe-like eyes. "He's the one you kissed last time, isn't he? I saw the two of you, and now he's back there with a girl. I guess that's why you're so pressed to go" he nodded to himself as his squinted eyes had landed on Mark, and your jaw fell at his sense of… Observation.

"I can't even deny" you admitted in a breath, making Johnny chuckle as he led you a few steps away from the bar.

"I've got eyes Y/N, that's all" he shrugged with a smile, his hand going down to squeeze your wrist gently before freeing it, and you gazed at him suspiciously.

"Seems like you're spying on me but well" you mumbled while crossing your arms, this discussion slowly switching your mood to an excited and curious one more than a raging one.

"Maybe I am… So, wanna make him jealous or not?" the brown-haired boy reiterated and you nudged him, almost causing an accident for his cup that would have kissed the ground hadn't it been for his large hands that caught it quickly.

"We're not 12 anymore Johnny, that's what people do in middle school" you scoffed, a smile finally gaining your lips even when your eyes were going back and forth between the man in front of you and the one at the back whose strong aura should have warned you of his presence way sooner.

"And? I'm pretty sure that's what he's trying to do, and I'm pretty sure you've missed my lips too" he said as he wriggled his eyebrows with a smirk you wanted to wipe off his face.

"Ya! We barely shared a peck and it was a long time ago!" you protested in a whine.

You both let out a laugh as Johnny had reminded you of when you had been in the same class back in middle school, you having a crush on him and him asking you out only to date you for three days, just like he had done with every single girl in the playground – even his noonas. You had been great buddies that were more than classmates even after he had dumped you, then you had went to different high schools, before getting reunited in this huge university. You had had a great time catching up during year one, and turned out to be pretty good friends now – he had been the one introducing you to Cho A, actually.

"I remember you were head over heels for me, what happened?" he continued his teasing, his facial expression turning to an innocent one.

"All the girls were!"

"That's right… Anyway I wouldn't mind "pecking" you again, just wondering if you can kiss better after growing up so well" he specified suddenly with his eyes lowering on your lips, and your heart skipped a beat as he was smiling without a veil of humor or mockery falling before his traits this time.

*Her oblivious-self will take it as a joke, as always, perfect…* you unfortunately heard his regret, being the first thought other than Mark's that was welcomed by your ears after so long, and you almost gasped.

Johnny liked you?

"Thanks for the offer, but no, I won't belittle myself to that like him, and I won't grant your flirty ass, I'm too pure" you laughed your confusion out and his chanting chuckle accompanied yours, even soothing you.

"Alright alright! Then just stay, and drink with me? With us?" Johnny proposed once more, leveling his glass up before your smiling lips and agitating it to lure you with the fruity smell suggesting its sweet taste.

With a heavy heart, you snapped your head towards where Mark had been standing like a tree, only for your eyes to meet with an empty and dark corner. Were they gone to do the undoable?

Your panicked wondering wasn't left in suspension though, as someone opened the fridge's door in the opened-kitchen at the other side of the living room, its light attracting your stare that fell on the blonde's checkered back as he was digging between the full shelves, only to seize two soju bottles in each one of his hands. Then, in a lazy pace, he traced his way towards his bedroom without even glancing at you.

And if the suspicious number of drinks he had picked up and his more than suspicious destination had been about to make you bawl your eyes out and run to him to bruise his thin body with unstopping punches until you'd be left out of energy, the muting of the music in your ears helped you cool off, as it left the place to that sound.

That very sound you had missed, the sound that had kept you hoping for him to come back as its frequencies had spoken of how much he liked you too until tonight : his deep and somber voice finally manifested itself.

*Me? Thinking of you? You wish. Never again. I'm peeeeeerfectly fine right now, look at me. I don't give a fuck about you. Zero fucks given. Zeroooo!*

The second he had left the company of his distraction, Mark had fallen back into the contemplation of his unaccepted feelings for you. You were glad that this alternate explanation finally showed up to you, the one that maybe he hadn't been thinking of you just because he had been able to focus on something else than his pain for a while. And what warmed up even more your heart that had frozen ever since you had been struck by his voice again, was your sight of the girl now dancing with her group of friends on the dancefloor instead of walking in Mark's steps towards his bedroom.

"So? What do you say?" Johnny spoke up before emptying his cup, and you finally ripped off your stare from the corridor where your loving eyes had followed Mark's skinny silhouette before it had blended in the dark, to acknowledge your friend.

The first and last time you had been at a party with Mark around, had turned out to be one of your best memories but still tainted with your tears. Was it reasonable of you to tempt the devil by recreating the situation again? But was it reasonable of you to go against your heart that was expecting something to happen tonight despite your oath of leaving Mark's sight?

*Nope, I don't give a fuck. I don't Y/N. Or maybe I should? Can you hear me? Should you hear how much of a mess I am tonight? Should I think of your shitty doing? Will you still have a nice time with that friend of yours tonight?*

"Tsssk, you've got no shame to be jealous…" you mumbled lowly, rolling your eyes at his childish behavior due to his drunkenness that you knew too damn well.

Still, a smile crept up at the corner of your lips as you forgot about your guilt and your first motive that had brought you close to the exit, replaced by a deep satisfaction that Mark was showing interest in you and the boys you got close to.

"Hm?" Johnny asked with his brows up on his forehead.

*Should I give you a headache, hm? I'm having a headache because of you, let's share! It's not fair, right? You said that you'd take all the responsibility! You said you were sorry! So why am I the one like that? Why did you seem fine, huh?*

Mark was apparently planning to nag at you for a few moments more and had you went back home, you wouldn't have had the chance to minimize it by spending time with your friends and blur it with alcohol, as you would have faced another round of panic attacks and survivals against craziness.

"Fine, I'll stay a bit more" you then shrugged, and you were surprised by Johnny's strong arm that headlocked you immediately before he dragged you back to the bar.

"Yeeeeah! I'm such a good negotiator… Listen, if you wanna go, just tell me anytime and I guarantee that I'll be your taxi, that's your reward" he then smiled into your ear as you had straightened up against his side, and you only nodded thankfully, your cheeks getting hot at his closeness as you now knew about his attraction to you.

                                                            "YES! I WON!" you exclaimed joyfully as you were sitting on Jinyoung's bedroom's floor with the very owner of this counter-party's location, the girls, and some members of the student council.

You had been playing whatever alcohol games you could do with cards sprawled on the wood flooring, and you were amazed at how well you had escaped most of the penalties because you were the only one remaining at the border between tipsy and drunk, all the other players already having fallen to the other side.

Mark's whining had not lasted long, your efficient choice of entertainment and him being too intoxicated for you to follow his string of mumblings having helped you to push it aside as a background noise into your head. All you knew by now was that he wasn't sleeping, as you still caught some curses or growls every few minutes, but they only meandered through one ear and slipped out from the other, at least until-

*Y/NNNNNNNN* he suddenly moaned loudly into your head as you were reaching the final round of your fourth game, and your body jolted in surprise.

You snapped your head towards the bedroom's door with your eyes and senses all alert for him again, waiting impatiently for his next signal.

*I'm about to do something stupid…*

After an hour of having played the indifferent ones and him grumbling nonsense from his cavern, the distress in his voice hit you like a train and you finally came to wonder if it had been a good idea to leave him with bitter alcohol to gulp down again and again on his own. He sounded like back at Johnny's party when he had needed you the most, and the souvenir sparkled with chills on your skin.

*I wanna stop this…*

*Why am I doing this?*

"Y/N, it's your turn" Johnny, who was sitting next to you and had been pretty tactile since game one without you being careful of it, gently shook your knee close to his so that you'd turn back to the game.

But you just couldn't, as like a boomerang slamming you right back in the face, your guilt towards Mark had surrounded your heart and mind that were paused while you fixed the slightly opened door separating your group from the heart of the party, as if the next sentence would come to you through it.

What was he talking about? Was he feeling bad because he had too much to drink? Should you go and check on him? Or was it the time for you to leave so that he won't feel uneasy knowing you were around anymore?

*Y/NNNNN…* his supplying voice shot right at your heart like a brisk arrow, and you quaked.

*If you can hear me, come and stop me please*

*Only you can stop me*

*I can't stop myself…*

Finally, you got reminded of something that pulled you up to your feet and dragged them to the living room, but in which you halted abruptly, your brain having a hard time to make a decision through the storm of panic you were swirling in.

*No don't come don't come don't come…*

*I can't see you, don't come…*

*That's because of you…*

His suicide attempt. All these aligning of words were pointing at this fatal issue, but the guilt that had become your second skin for two weeks was holding your guts back from pushing his bedroom's door, as you somehow – irrationally – feared that you could be the trigger to his desperate act if his eyes ever came to meet your silhouette.

*It's not worth it, why should I care*

*Let's finish this already*

"No!" you broke into hot and salty tears.

Your melted brain finally ignored all the scenarios it had been dressing into your head as your fright made you run all of a sudden, but your pace was still feeling way too slow as you wanted to reach him faster than the light. The apartment felt ten times bigger and you pushed past people without apologizing, your tears and your anxiety choking you as you were mumbling his name desperately, his voice having ceased to call for you.

You had been about to engage yourself into the corridor, but a strong grip turned you around and you faced a sweaty Jaebum that looked you over with averted eyes.

"Y/N don't go in he's-"

"Let go of me!" you screamed at him as you struggled to free yourself from his grasp.

"No I swear you shouldn't go Y/N listen to me-"

But you slapped his hand and instantly disappeared in the dark hallway, where the music suddenly turned lower and deafened. Your shuddering breath and your sobs became the only thing you could hear, yet you wanted to hear him. You approached his door on shivery legs, and an urge to puke burned at the back of your throat as you dreaded what you were going to find into this somber bedroom.

"Please please please no please…" you were praying as you gained some courage in spite of your drunken brain that amplified your state of panic and wronged your perception of the situation, making you far from rational.

"Y/N-" Jaebum had followed you, but it was too late for him to stop you as you were pressing the door knob and pushing the panel open, however you wished you had turned blind at the sight of the scene you were welcomed with, instead of letting your eyes adapt to the darkness taking over the room.

On the bed in which you both had shared an intimate and peculiar moment, Mark was in nothing but his tight black boxers that testified of his desire for the red-haired girl in her lingerie right under him, whose hands were stroking his torso, whose legs were at each side of his waist and whose lips were connected passionately to his. The sound of her moans and their sloppy kisses came stronger into your eardrums than any other noise you had heard during the night, and your waterworks stopped from sliding against your cheeks immediately, dried by the shock that electrocuted your brain.

"You gotta be kidding me!" you couldn't stop yourself from spitting at his naked back, and the blonde jumped on his knees in surprise before turning back to see who had interrupted them.

His world started spinning the second he deciphered your silhouette in the doorway, the residues of the spotlights' rays from the living room seeping through his bedroom and revealing how his facial expression decomposed itself, from a disapproving frown to a devastated look.

"Who's she?!" the girl suddenly whined as she grabbed the blankets to cover herself, but your eyes were stuck on him and him only.

Yet, her nosy voice managed to pierce through your bubble, and the only answer that could be given, was that you were no one. Yes, you were heartbroken, this carnal picture having torn your insides apart and cut your tongue, but you were not his girlfriend ; you were someone who owed him a big debt you couldn't repay except by letting him go, so you didn't have a say in this. You turned swiftly on your heels, taking a deep breath doing so, and you started to walk away.

*Y/N wait wait wait wait* you heard him call in despair again, without noticing how he poorly fell from the bed by trying to come after you, the ground seeming to shake and his legs giving up on him as they succumbed to his stress.

"Who the hell is she?! Hey! Where are you going?! What are you doing?! Mark!"

Yet Mark couldn't hear anything but his thumping heart that helped him pass his pair of jeans on his skinny legs and his white tank top over his chilly chest, and once he managed to get out of his bedroom, he spotted you at the end of the corridor, your pace having been slow as you were completely knocked out by what you had just witnessed.

*Y/N please* he pleaded with a shaky voice as he stumbled on his feet while running after you, and you didn't understand why you could still hear him.

Hadn't he traced a perfect line between the both of you by doing this? Wasn't it enough?

You recognized his touch the moment his long fingers enclosed around your forearm, and he walked around your standing figure to block your way. He hadn't zipped up his jeans, his hair was disheveled and his top completely wrinkled, but it was nothing compared to the chaos having broken in his head and trading over his facial features.

"Don't touch me." you warned him, your eyes sending him a jaded stare as you felt like your soul had been sucked up into the abyss of horror.

For the third time of the night, somebody was trying to hold you back and depriving you from your freedom, and you couldn't take it anymore. You needed to go, and right now, so you brutally shook him off and walked past him, thankful that his drunken brain was slow enough for you to escape him. Yet, the sight of your lifeless traits had felt like a cold shower falling on Mark, who successfully ceased your body part once again, making you switch your tone to a more aggressive one as you flip-flopped :

"Why are you coming after me? Who am I? Answer her, who am I? I'm nobody, so why are you there? Go back to your business!"

His eyes were gleaming with lining tears and his pupils were trembling as he shook his head from the left to the right, and you read how scared he was right now, probably because you weren't showing him anything. You even granted him a smile as you teared off his fingers from you this time, his arm falling next to his body while yours was burning because of the mere touch.

*Where are you going* he then chose to display with signs yet you heard it as he was in a complete state of despair, but you couldn't care less.

He then groped his whole body with pressed gestures, looking for his phone to deliver the message to you, and some waterworks prickled at the corner of your eyes as you saw how hard he was trying to stop you.

Your relationship or whatever people could call what you both shared was a complete mess, you hurting him, him hurting you ; you regretting, him regretting too ; you being scared to love someone because of what it made you do, him being scared to love because of what it made him feel ; and you wanted this vicious circle to stop. You were about to depart from him again but Mark's hand didn't miss its second chance to immobilize you in your spot, making you lose it for good.

"Hey, I get it that you want to hate me really bad, but how much of an asshole can you be to call me for help and scare me the fuck out when you're only about to have your time with another girl? You wanted to hurt me that bad? And I'm the sadist one? What more do you want Mark, I thought we were done! I thought you wanted nothing from me, so why did you call me, huh? Why?! Leave me alone now, I got it don't worry you must really hate me like you said, I won't hear you anymore now that I perfectly know! We're through!"

*No I've fucked up I know but wait-*

"Leave me alone! You look like nothing right now so go back to your room!"

In a blink of an eye, you had blend in the dancing mass of people moving on the arranged dancefloor, and your eyes searched for Johnny you quickly found near the kitchen with his phone in his hands, a serious look masking his usual happy traits.

"Oh my God Y/N you're here! You suddenly disappeared with a panicked face, we were all worried! I looked for you in the living room but I didn't find you! Are you okay?"

Those last three words threatened to kill you so you grabbed his warm hand in despair, your hurting eyes not even catching his own that widened for a slight second because of the fireworks he felt burst into his stomach at your skinship.

"Let's go, I beg you" you asked in a faint voice and without a second thought, Johnny nodded in approval as he caught the need in your request.

He finished his drink in no time before putting his cup on whatever surface he found next to him, and he dragged you behind him towards the sofas where he had left his leather jacket earlier, before putting it over your shoulders.

"Here. Let's go" he said in a sweet tone and the two of you stormed to the exit, still hand in hand.

Mark had rushed back to his bedroom, his hand grazing against the wall so that he could walk the straighter he could, and he had jumped into a pair of shoes then grabbed his shirt that had been thrown in the middle of the room. Hansun was busy putting her clothes back on her perfectly proportioned body, and Mark merely bowed her sorry as she ranted about how much of an asshole he was. The second he went back outside, he found you and the last party's host chatting, and he sped his pace closer to the both of you.

"Wait I'm sorry, but I should have asked : are you sure you can drive? You're ok? I don't want to put you in danger" you had stopped your pilot right before the front door, and you were thankful of your reasonable side that couldn't let you down for too long.

"I drank, but don't worry, I'm fine. It's not the first time I did this, and since I'm responsible of you, I'll be cautious" he smiled as his free fingers embraced your cheek quickly, and you both left before Mark could catch you as he was slow in spite of him, the landscape shaking and turning around.

Still, he had perceived the last bit of your conversation, and his fiery blood turned to ice while his panic turned to a total terror : the one of losing you as his lover, became the one of losing you at all because of a car accident. He couldn't let you take this risk, he couldn't let the second woman he had ever loved in his life go when this time he could stop it. He couldn't simply watch from aside as he had done back in the car ; he needed to do something or else, Mark felt like the burden of guilt would be the end of him.

                          *NO! DON'T GO WITH HIM! DON'T GO WITH HIM Y/N! HE DRANK DON'T GO IN!* you unexpectedly heard Mark scream into your ears as you stepped on the sidewalk, and you jumped in surprise.

You looked over your shoulder to see an out-of-breath Mark pushing the front gate, bending with his hands on his knees for a few seconds before he leveled his head up and, the second he saw you reaching the end of his street, he started running again.

"What's wrong?" Johnny asked you obliviously, lightly pulling at your hand as he hadn't heard anything.

You didn't say a thing and unexpectedly sped your pace up, dragging him behind this time, but the confused boy still snapped his head at the back and spotted Mark that was jogging far from straightly to the both of you. He then let go of your hand to enfold your shoulders with his arms, and he guided you to his car that was right in the corner, parked on the main avenue that was still busy with numerous vehicles.

He swiftly opened the door for you and pressed himself to sit before the wheel, and once the doors were closed, you sighed.

"Are you okay? What's happening?" Johnny asked while unlocking his phone to type your address on the navigation system.

"Just ignore him" you barely answered, your throat tightening at the sight of Mark getting closer and closer in the rearview, his blonde hair fighting with the wind and before you even knew it, he was right next to your window, knocking loudly against it.

*Don't go with him you can't go with him he's drunk it's too dangerous Y/N please come out I beg you* Mark shook his head vigorously before he strived on the doorknob he tried to open, but you had been quick to push the lock button.

Surely because of alcohol, Johnny was a bit slow at typing but mostly, you caught the anger in his eyes as he stopped what he was doing to dart Mark with them.

"What's wrong with him seriously? He's going to break my car at this point!" he growled at the blonde's punches against the window that were unstopping.

You couldn't dare to look at him, the worry and the fright in his eyes compressing your already weakened heart so your pupils dropped at your knees, and you did your best at snubbing him and his pleads.

"He's just really drunk, let's ignore him" you tried to calm Johnny down and the latter rolled his eyes annoyingly but it helped him focus back on the navigation, the only key to save you from hell at this point.

*Please don't please don't I can't have you die too in an accident please please…*

This comparison consumed the last bit of a heart you had after all the emotions it had went through. It was as if some ashes were burning your whole insides, and you felt like suffocating.

"It's for the better…" you murmured, your brows knotting as your migraine was back at it, even more with the roistering sounds of Mark's fist slamming against the car body.

*Y/N please come out*

Finally, this tensed situation was going to break as Johnny's car's motor roared, sign that you were ready to go, yet it only caused for Mark to shout louder into your head.

*Y/N!!!! Y/N DON'T DO THIS YOU CAN'T GO PLEASE I CAN'T LET YOU GO PLEASE NO*

As you deported from the sidewalk and engaged yourselves on the road, Mark sprinted on the side with his hands still tapping against the car. You finally acknowledged him, with the shock painting your traits as you wished he would quickly see how dangerous he was for himself and for the other drivers around you. Fortunately, his drunk-self couldn't compete with a car so you drove past him and he stopped following you, running out of breath as he couldn't scream his worries out, the accumulation of feelings strangulating him.

"Pretty intense between the both of you, right?" Johnny broke the awkward silence you had plunged into now that the car's beating up had stopped.

"Intense is the word, yeah…" you restrained a sob and you looked over the rearview on your side, only to see Mark standing up way too close to the automobiles.

His eyes had detached themselves from Johnny's car as his drunkenness was suddenly taking the best of him, immobilizing him in his spot like a zombie and his adrenaline having been emptied up by his vain attempts to make you stay. The city lights were blinding him, and the vehicles’ highlights seemed to be leaving trailing of colors behind them and meddling between each other, to the point Mark's vision was about to make him faint. Everything was so bright and so fast, while the world seemed to be spinning at a deadly pace around his figure.

He didn't feel himself topple to the front, his brain not responding to the primary sense of balance anymore, yet he was lucky that his body still knew about survival instinct, as he would have been hit by a car, hadn't it been from his feet dissociating with his head full of air to step back.

Mark got petrified by the sound of tires screeching against the road due to the driver's safe maneuver to avoid him, and while gasping for air as the car had been to a traumatic proximity for him, he fell in a squat position. He felt like he was trapped in the middle of his nightmares about the accident, where he couldn't do anything except for waiting for it to stop.

He then brought his hands to his head so that he'd stop hearing the lurid traffic noise, and closed his eyes so that he wouldn't see any one of those engines that scared him more than anything. His whole body was shivering, and at each scream of the horns pressed by the drivers angry at him for being dangerously on the road, he smacked his hands against his ears to disperse it.

You had witnessed all the scene, seeing him disappear from the frame of your small mirror as he had dropped pretty brutally to the ground. Without you even controlling them, your tears had made their way out the second Mark had been about to get into an accident, and you didn't hold back your gasp of fear either. Luckily, you hadn't drove too far away from the spot where you had left him, and moreover, you came to stop at a red light.

"What's wrong?!" Johnny had been surprised by your demeanor, and he tried to check on you but you had opened the window, your head popping outside and turned completely to the back, so he couldn't read your tortured expression.

"I have to go" you informed him before unbuckling your belt and strongly opening the door a few seconds before the light turned green. "I'm sorry but I have to take care of him, I-I'll call you, b-be careful, please!"

You didn't grant him the time to answer nor to ask you anything as you slammed the door and treaded the tar, towards Mark who was still squatting between the empty parking place and the road, with his face buried on his knees. You ignored the horns of disapproval as you squatted before him, with your face drenched in tears at the sight of the boy you liked in such a devastated state.

*Please don't die please don't die please don't die please don't leave me don't leave me don't leave me…*

Even at his worst state, he was still thinking of you. Even with his own life in danger, he was wishing for your own to continue. Your stomach dealt with unexpected butterflies flapping their wings against its ramparts, and this sensation somehow relieved your need to vomit that had lingered in your throat ever since you had left his bedroom. You breathed out and wiped your face, spreading some of your makeup of your skin, before landing a hand on his forearm. Never in your life would you have imagined that someone could shiver so much when it wasn't winter ; you had barely touched him that his body quaked even more due to a spasm.

"Mark, I'm here" you said gently as you tried to hold back the rest of your tears so that you could talk properly.

*Please don't-*

Mark's head slowly left his legs and he freed it from his clenched hands, and the moment his eyes found yours that were glimmering more than the stars above you, the landscape around him settled as he found peace in your stare. All of a sudden, you felt two arms surround you as Mark fell onto his knees and brought you close to him, so close that you could feel his insane heartbeat against your chest. His hot breath dispersed into your hair and caressed your skin, giving you the chills, and it wasn't long before you were hugging him back.

His embrace was powerful and desperate, yet he was still trembling like a leaf fighting against a strong wind.

*I was so scared… I'm so scared* he thought as he dug his face deeper into the crook of your neck.

"Let's move, hm? If we stay here I'm definitely going to have an accident" you chuckled and you felt him nod.

You helped him get up on his feet and rejoin the sidewalk where the boy sat back down on the ground, his legs definitely not willing to be cooperative as he still couldn't feel them, and he put his elbows on his knees before letting his head drop along with a sigh. You stood next to him but not too close so that he could breathe, yet your curiosity and worry soon betrayed you :

"What happened to you?" you bluntly asked him, playing with your feet on the pavement.

Mark repeated his frisk on himself to look out for his phone, a frown dressing up his beautiful traits as every move was hard for his hammered body to execute, but you soon interrupted him as you realized he probably wasn't in the best dispositions to talk.

"Forget it, sorry"

*I'm pretty miserable… Not even able to come after you, what a man* you heard him curse himself in a deep but raspy voice that testified of his worn out state.

"I don't like perfect prince charming or valorous knights…" you mumbled to yourself with a pout. "Anyway you look okay now so-"

"Let's stay here for a while" the famous robotic voice cut you through your goodbyes and you gazed down at Mark to see he had retrieved his phone, on which he was already typing something else.

"With the sound of traffic? Are you sure it's a good idea?" you wondered sincerely, your eyes widening.

*Better than go back there and meet that girl…*

"Oh because you think I would have accompanied you by the hand and brought you back to her? I must be dreaming… No sorry, and I was about to say that now that you're okay, I'm going" you answered curtly, but before you could retire, Mark extended his arm and his hand landed on your ankle.

*That's not what I meant. I don't care about her, do you hear me?* he grumbled but without looking back at you as he felt hot flushes fanning his face now that he was feeling you, and he surely didn't want you to see him weaker than what you had just spotted.

"You were about to take great care of her earlier though" you scoffed while crossing your arms, but you didn't chase his hand away as you too felt some thrill at his touch.

"Are you jealous?" the phone took the relay as it was easy to type with one hand.

"Yes" you confessed instantly, and Mark finally snapped his head up to search your face as he hadn't expected neither this answer, nor that frankness. "What? As if you should be surprised"

You caught the premises of a shy smile tingling the corner of his lips, and you couldn't help but find it cute instead of annoying.

"Then stay" he lowered his eyes to write it and showed it up to you.

You hissed through your teeth as your heart imploded at the sight of those two words he knew too damn well to employ with you.

"Don't ask me this again…" you moaned annoyingly, your head turning away from his figure to watch the city life in front of you.

You both hadn't paid attention to it, but some clouds had accumulated above your two aching heads and in less than three seconds, a storm broke out and showered your two bodies that stayed still in unison while all the passersby that had been walking around you or on the other side of the street started to run and protected themselves with whatever they could.

But for the both of you, it felt like a remedy. Your body relaxed and you closed your eyes to face the sky, letting the drops smudge your makeup even more and soothe your eyes that had been burning from the overfull of holding back. The smell of wet tar swamped your nostrils and you exhaled silently but profoundly, forgetting for a while about Mark who on the contrary had been staring at you.

Beautiful. You like her so much man. So so much.

"Do you make rain fall when you're sad too? Like a Goblin?" his phone asked for himself a few moments after he had let go of his grasp, the spot he left turning cold, and you chuckled.

"No, sorry to disappoint you" you smiled with your eyes still closed.

You didn't catch Mark's little nod, nor did you see him stand up painfully, until you heard his feet stumble a bit next to you. You slowly reopened your eyelids and downed your head to the left to meet with his soaked figure a few feet away from you, and your heart that had calmed down went back to work at full speed.

His blonde hair seemed to be close to a light chestnut color thanks to the rain, and the strands were falling perfectly on each side on his face before he pushed them at the back with his hand. You were tipsy because of the alcohol you had consumed to forget, but you now were drunk of his face you loved more than you could admit. His hardened traits that were softened tonight, his pink heart-shaped lips you selfishly dreamed to kiss again when you knew you couldn't, his deep brown eyes that could take you miles away from reality just from the way he looked right through you.

His body revealed by his wet clothes was attracting you to the fullest, and it was hard to hush your incipient desire for him as the both of you were totally quiet, simply gazing at each other with your eyes full of innuendo. His gaze climbed down to the slope of your nose then the curve of your lips you licked out of anticipation, and a glimpse of air shakily escaped Mark's mouth, as he was having a hard time refraining himself from stealing a kiss from you.

*Stay. I won't regret it like last time I'm not that coward anymore, please*

Even without hearing him you would have guessed his plea just from the way he was staring at your face, the despair having made itself home inside his irises.

"You're drunk Mark. You're supposed to hate me and move on, remember? I've hurt you enough and I won't do you any good, so it's time for me to step out…" you answered in a calm tone even if every word had pulled at the strings of your heart.

*No, you know I'm worse without you.* And no, you did me good.

You shook your head from the left to the right in denial, but he began to close the unbearable gap between your two bodies. You couldn't turn away this time as you were no longer angry and because a physical contact with him was what you craved for the most ; however, your guilt helped you to put a defensive hand before you, but only for its poor palm to end up meeting his chest as he took you in his arms another time.

He was scared to be left alone as only you was maintaining him up on his two feet right now : he couldn't see anything else but you, he couldn't hear anything else but your voice, he couldn't feel anything else but your body that glued to his because of the water drenching your clothes. No more chaos around him, no more flashes of the accident, no more desertion of his brain functions.

*I can't do this without you. I can't. I tried but I can't. Stay with me, please.* he murmured into your head walls, his low voice making your frame vibrate and your hand on his heart crumpled the material of his tank top, this grasp being the only thing preventing you from surrendering.

Nevertheless, his arms tightened around your back and waist and you heard him exhale loudly, sign that he was once again struggling with his inner emotions. Mark was indeed fighting some tears but also his urgent need to unite your mouths ragingly right here right now, but somehow he knew this wasn't the right thing to do.

Instead, you felt his lips plant a wet kiss at the base of your neck and you subconsciously sighed in pleasure, your grasp on his top tightening even more, but like a thunderbolt crossing your mind clouded with your feelings for him, your reason recalled you the order.

"L-Let's talk about this when you're sober, ok?" you barely proposed, your voice fainting with your soul he was absorbing despite him.

Mark departed from you to look you in the eyes, and you took this opportunity to step back and let go of the white fabric that fell and stuck back to his torso.

"I'm going. Go back, and do whatever you want with whoever you want but please, don't think about me while doing it that's disgusting" you managed to joke, your lips ignited with desire breaking into a smile before you turned around and quickly walked down the street, and this time the blonde didn't come after you.

As he observed your silhouette becoming smaller and smaller under the street lamps, Mark wondered how you could smile about that awful thing he had done to you.

*I don't deserve you.*

You smiled sadly as you heard that comment above the rain, because you had been thinking exactly the same. You had hurt him so much yet he had been the one begging for your love and running after you, when you should normally be the one to do that. He wasn't deserving you, no, because he deserved so much better ; he didn't deserve to love a liar that had wronged him from the very beginning while he had finally been true to someone. As you sunk into the depths of the night, you resolved yourself to put an end to this the next time you'll see him.

                                               The next day, you woke up with a painful hangover, yet your eardrums were free from any negative thoughts coming from Mark, giving you a smile that went well with the bright day that welcomed you. You felt extremely tired from the past night, but for nothing you would change what happened, not even the image of him with another girl in his arms. You cherished each one of the memories you had built with him up till now, because you knew it would soon be over ; it had to.

Unknown [4:29 PM] : Hi, Y/N. It's me, Mark… What about we meet today at Han River? Around 8 p.m, if that's ok for you. I've got things to tell you.

You broke out into a sob, as you were far from ready to bid farewell to him. But this hard time was necessary for him to trust someone again and love without suffering. A simple relationship with solid roots and not rotten by mistrust and tears. You were way too guilty and full of regrets to let yourself love him.

You [4:30 PM] : Me too, I have things to say. I'll be there.

No need to precise that you counted every minute that passed by until the time to go finally came. You hadn't been that stressed out in so long, the nervousness you had experienced before the boys' flat's door being nothing compared to the bundle of nerves that juddered within you as you were walking on Han River's promenade. A fine breeze was refreshing your hot face, and the sun that was setting slowly appeased your mind. Mark had indicated the zone where he wanted to meet ; it was near the bridge, and when you reached the location, your eyes recognized his silhouette immediately.

Standing in the grass and across a tree, Mark was wearing a black hoodie that was way too large on his thin body, and unlike the past times when you had seen him, his humid hair wasn't styled up but simply covered by the hood. You could only see his profile graced by the sun's rays, but you guessed from afar that he looked better than yesterday, a peaceful expression veiling his facial features.

When he heard some footsteps coming from behind him, Mark turned his head and as he saw you going down the small climb of grass longing the promenade, he broke into a smile you had forgotten he could have. His eyes almost went unheeded and his nose wrinkled, giving off the cute vibe you had found in him only yesterday night.

The sky above the river was turning to an astonishing gradient of red, pink and ending in the traces of blue left from the afternoon. This ambient light suited so well with the warmness that seemed to seep out of Mark's body you were craving to feel close to yours again ; but you stopped a couple meters away from him. You wished you could engrave this image into the solidest rock on earth as it was the last time you would meet, yet you could only trace it into the sand of the souvenirs that were meant to lose in authenticity, because you shouldn't condemn yourself any further with crystal clear pictures of him to haunt you.

All of a sudden, Mark brought the distance separating the both of you to something too close for comfort for you, and you scraped your throat with your stare falling at your feet shyly.

*I can't stand you being that far* he thought, and your heart did a blip.

"Hi…" you saluted as your eyes finally met his that were nowhere close to the desperate look he had given you the night before.

His pupils weren't flinching anymore, and they were shining with something so pure that it took your breath away.

*If you can hear me, I wanted to say before anything else, that I'm sorry*

"I guess that's sincere because I can" you smiled before passing a hand through your hair out of anxiety; you needed to move, or else your tensed body parts would end up cramping.

Mark chuckled then bit his lower lip as his hands dug into the front pocket of his hoodie. He took his time to contemplate your face that was lightened by the orangey sunny tint, yielding you with loveliness.

And that I like you.

Silence followed this confession you couldn't hear, until your impatient one forced its way out your lips to put an end to everything, for the better.

"Look Mark, I-"

*Shit I think I've got no choice, why bad thoughts only, that sucks so much*

Your words got stuck into your throat as you didn't understand the meaning of this thought, and you watched the blonde as he took out a small scratch pad from his huge pocket, before presenting it to you horizontally. Your eyes widened as well as your mouth, and Mark smiled genuinely at your taken aback expression as he prepared himself to flip the first page. You noticed the blood that had filled his cheeks, making you feel shy as well as you didn't know what to expect, then he looked down to ensure he was doing it the right way.

"I know this is cliché and cheesy as hell, but well, I don't feel like talking, not yet" he revealed his handwriting with an expectant expression on his face as he eyed you, and your heart stopped as you read it.

You couldn't help but crack into a smile, forgetting a moment about the sorrow that would fill you and probably him in a few minutes, when it would be your turn to confess.

"As I guessed, you wouldn't hear everything I'd think, so… I had to write it"

He exhaled discretely before flipping to the following page, his head dropping down further along with his eyes that watched cautiously what he had unfolded, and thanks to his hood, you didn't catch how red his whole face turned at the next sentence.

"I like you, Y/N"

"And I don't think I'll ever be able to stop it, just like you can't stop hearing me"

"Maybe you won't unless we're together?"

"I don't know about you but I've been thinking lately, you may have heard it or not, and even more with what happened yesterday, I'm now sure that I'm not better off without you"

"Yes, you hurt me, but I hurt you as well with my behavior and my words. Even when you knew how bad I was doing up there, you weren't scared and stayed by my side. But when I knew about your power, I decided to leave like a coward"

"So because I don't like unequal situations, or being indebted, as you prefer…"

"… I'm willing to give it back, if you'll accept me. Because yes, you've done me more good than wrong"

"We both said we wouldn't love anybody else after what happened between us, so what about we simply love each other?"

"I want to keep sharing things with you, but by myself and not by my head being a mess that's messing with yours"

"And you're the one that started to clean up all this mess, look how I'm opening right now"

"I need you, Y/N"

"So, will you date me?"

When Mark gathered enough courage to acknowledge your reaction, he got taken aback to see you were actually crying a river, silently, with your hands above your mouth.

*What? What what what what's wrong? Don't cry!*

But you just couldn't stop, his declaration having touched you to the deepest of your soul. You had planned to go separate ways, but seeing that he truly liked you as much as you did, you weren't sure that you would be capable of rejecting him, the fear of losing him forever catching up but also the one to break his heart indefinitely. Would you be able to leave with that much feelings for him anyway?

"Will you forgive me, first?" you asked in a trembling voice, between two sobs you couldn't control nor calm. "I can't be the one to accept you, you need to accept me. I don't deserve you, not after what I did"

"I don't deserve you as well, I ignored your feelings that were true" he wrote after having proudly revealed the pen he had thought of bringing before leaving, a satisfied smile dressing his appealing lips.

"They deserved to be ignored after what I did to you" you insisted while wiping your face. "Actually today I came to tell you it was better if we parted ways, because I hurt you too much, because I've been awful to do this to you, because you deserve someone who won't lie to you who won't put you in such a state for weeks who-"

"You're the one I want, Y/N. I don't care about that someone" he revealed before you could finish, and he hid the writing pad and the pen back into his kangaroo pocket.

He then approached slowly, and you felt your core throb just at the sight of him being at a reachable distance. The atmosphere somehow grew romantic, maybe because of the red sky representing faithfully the passion burning inside of you, or maybe because of the loving stare he had on your traits he scanned with pleasure, taking a picture of every inch to save into his mind.

I forgive you, he thought but he clearly saw that you couldn't hear it because your head lowered the more he stepped forward, so he brought his fingers to your chin to make you look back at him.

He then nodded while slowly blinking, an appeasing body language to signal you what you were dying to hear.

I forgive you, he reiterated in his own world and you teared up another time as he didn't let go of your stare, his fingers sliding along your jaw to spread across your wet left cheek.

His left hand did the same with the other side of your face and he grazed it with his thumb, being careful not to rush things. He had longed for this moment to happen deep inside of him ; he was conscious of it as he finally felt like he was living again, like he was breathing at full capacity, like his broken heart was piecing back together, all of this thanks to you and not because of you.

Your hands were itching as they couldn't stand remaining by your sides, so you ended up grasping the fabric of his hoodie that was falling around his waist, and Mark hissed as you were finally responding, even bringing him closer to you. You felt his breath caress your face along with the light wind, and his irises full of desire and love finally disappeared behind his eyelids as he dived on you to finally kiss you.

I forgive you, he tenderly thought a last time as his tongue intertwined with yours, and you got the message without even needing to hear it.

Your hands on his waist crawled up to his back you scratched through the material, while he couldn't stop caressing your cheeks as he kissed you again and again, his breathing being loud once more, but God, you were fond of that sound. The one testifying of the impact you had on him, provoking a combust of passion within his guts just with one look of your pretty eyes or one brush of your lips on his.

When he finally broke the kiss to catch his breath, Mark settled his forehead down on yours.

"Let's start over" you muttered, your lips grazing his as you did so and he nodded slightly before passing his arms around your neck, burrowing your frame into his.

                          It's with wobbly legs but light hearts that you walked side by side to his workplace where he had proposed you to go. Once you entered, you noticed his colleagues murmuring something between them before they walked up to you and escorted you to a table near the kitchens, with a pretty rose in a vase and a pair of their usual sophisticated cutlery waiting for you.

Mark had explained to you that he'd cook for you tonight and that you'd both enjoy the dinner together. He had asked his boss for this favor during his noon service, that the latter had gladly accepted as his hardworking junior had been the most expectant he had ever seen him. The both of them came to you so that the chef would expose the menu, Mark having put his blouse on and you couldn't help but smile at the sight. He looked so dignified and masculine in those clothes, and your eyes already full of stars were now probably shooting hearts at him.

Everyone was looking at you curiously as they remarked the special service and head-to-head with a cook you benefited, and if you had felt embarrassed at first, the second Mark sat in front of you to share the meal, you forgot about everyone else.

"You must have been pretty sure that I'd say yes to organize all of this" you teased, feeling flustered by this small event.

"I just believed in us" he responded on his smartphone, and your heart melted again.

Since when this boy had the last word with you? You had to admit that you had been eaten up by your guilt that had prioritized your pessimistic side, but somehow, him being straightforward and confident was extinguishing all your past fears and wonderings about this relationship. He appeared to be so bright and at peace, and with just the pure smiles he was giving you as you did the talking, or the look he had upon you as he watched you eat deliciously, you felt right where you belonged.

Once you finished dinner, Mark went to the kitchens to help cleaning up, but his colleagues almost kicked him out so that he wouldn't spill any second of the night he had to spend with you and for you only, and he came back to you with his hoodie back on. He offered you his hand without acknowledging you, his head turned towards the entrance, suddenly feeling shy after you had thanked him with your pretty eyelids batting. You ceased it, your fingers finding shelter between his as if they had been molded together, and you caught him biting back his smile of satisfaction.

"I know you like it, it's written all over your face" you laughed as you walked out, and the blonde frowned in disapproval before speeding his pace, your feet jogging behind to catch up.

You were floating on your little happiness' cloud, the path to his home spent quietly, but it was a silence you both appreciated as each one of you was just too busy thinking of how good you felt. Mark unexpectedly turned nervous when he let you in the apartment, as he got reminded of his activity in his bedroom the night before.

Everything was incredibly quiet, the boys apparently having their own occupations on this evening – or maybe it was Mark's doing again? –, and you chuckled at the sight of dozens of plastic bags from the party they hadn't thrown out yet.

*Maybe she didn't want to come here so soon… I'm stupid, shit, what should I do?* Mark regretted as he scratched his chin nervously, standing in the middle of the living room with eyes lost in the emptiness.

"I'm fine. I mean, I'll be perfectly fine if you stop thinking about her already" you answered while crossing your arms and he jumped in surprise before glaring annoyingly at you. "Sorry?"

*Sorry my ass*

"I still hear you" you laughed as he stepped closer to you who had stayed near the entrance, waiting for him to guide you wherever his heart would be pleased to.

*Ohhhh shut up already* he grumbled before stealing a kiss from you, and he felt you smile on his lips before you gave another one back, pecking him lightly.

"I didn't know you could be so at ease with people, like where did the quiet and setback Mark go?"

*Blame yourself* he dared you before turning away, his chin up in the air proudly, and he trailed his feet nonchalantly to his bedroom with his hands in his front pocket.

As you walked behind him, you got reminded of the first time you had been at his place, the pattern being exactly the same ; him inviting you implicitly to follow him, and you at the verge of having a heart attack just because of the intimacy of the room you penetrated, closing the door behind you.

The dim light was on again, and Mark sat on his desk while you went in front of his wardrobe's mirror to check yourself, your eyes feeling puffy after having cried till you were running out of bodily water. But when you spotted his stare at you from behind through the glass, cold sweat rolled down your spine and hot flushes glided over your neck and cheeks.

He had indeed been observing you pretty intensely, enough for your body to shudder as you turned around to meet him face to face. Naturally, an intense atmosphere had settled upon the two of you. You were finally each other's, and the long awaited ending of the push-and-pull situation stirred the both of your cores. Kissing and holding hands had tested your inner desires that you had kept at bay while you had been out in the open ; but now that you were within four walls of pure privacy, the carnal desire plagued over your minds at full force, marking its territory in every single cognition of your brain.

You slowly laid your back against the cold surface, your hands hidden behind your back and your legs crossing, and you withstood Mark's gaze he was according you through half-lidded eyes, while a light of lust took its place in yours. He couldn't explain why his desire for your body to be in his arms and without the barrier of clothes had invaded his senses that quickly, except that he knew you definitely were different.

It hadn't been when Hansun had found him lying on the ground in his bedroom, without any lights turned on, that he had decided to take her to his bed. It hadn't been when she had lied next to him on the floor and talked to him about things he didn't even remember. It had been when she had touched his body almost expertly, aiming at every right spot to awaken his lust that had been swallowed by his jealousy as he had seen you with Johnny. It had been when she had attached her lips to his, the sour taste of the alcoholic drink she had emptied up just before infiltrating his mouth as their tongues had danced together sloppily.

Under her physical stimulation, his human brain had stood by to let the place to a bestial need that had urged him to have sex with her. But deep down, Mark knew it had mostly been to discard his thoughts about you.

However, with you, Mark didn't need a physical contact, at all. You standing in front of him and not being a parasite in his imagination, for him only to admire, was sufficient to turn him on.

He had wanted to make love to you the second his eyes had scanned your curves through the mirror, then the detour of your tinted lips you licked despite you. The sight of you being so reachable and eyeing his features intently was more than enough for some electricity to wave between your two bodies, overriding his flesh to attain his guts.

With you, it took just one look, for Mark to lose against his feelings that screamed at him to worship you completely.

You're going to be the death of me if you keep looking at me like that.

Your lover suddenly jumped off the wooden furniture and charged right at you, giving you exactly what you had implicitly asked for : his mouth devouring yours and his hands roaming over your needy body, needy for his touch that could make you weaker or stronger, flames or ice, stimulated or in bliss. Whatever he would want from you, tonight, he would have it, as you also were ready to love him to the fullest, without holding back.

You moaned into the kiss and he almost did too, his voice vibrating within his low growls of satisfaction, and it triggered you even more to hear something coming from him too, cutting through the silence. Your hands grabbed his nape and your fingers dug into the base of his hair, involuntarily putting some pressure to feel him even closer to you.

The rhythm was slow at first, his mouth gratifying yours with long and tender kisses he sometimes ended with a biting of your lower lip he tugged at leisurely. But soon, Mark felt a need to prove you more, so he sped up this intimate exchange, his kisses becoming breath-catching and messy.

Like the first night you had spent together, his desire for you set fireworks within his body and commanded his every action he wasn't mastering anymore. It felt so unfamiliar to be wanting someone that bad, to the point where kissing was never enough, and Mark realized how much of a zombie-life he had been living up till you and the amazing sparkles you graced him with. Right now, he wasn't like a robot ready to execute the task his primary needs had naturally ordered him, no ; he simply felt alive thanks to the alchemy you both shared and that guided him in unknown land.

His hands had been wandering up and down between your hips and waist, more delicately than his fervent work up on your face, while yours were pulling involuntarily at his locks of hair every time you would feel his teeth clashing against yours or catching your bottom lip. Suddenly, Mark helped one of your legs up and he enclosed it around his waist, causing armies of ants to go down to your feet. He then pushed you further against the mirror, with his body trembling on yours as it was desperate for more and more.

But because it had been so long since he had truly been about to conclude with a girl, he was trying to take his time at exploring you step by step. However, you didn't help him control his impulsions as you deviated your face from his and brought your lips to the side of his neck, on which you marked a love bite. He hissed through gritted teeth as your mouth traced a wet path between his earlobe and his shoulder you tried to expose by pulling at his oversized hoodie, his head lolling at the back as he breathed quickly. A few seconds later, he was strongly picking you up and wrapping your two legs around him to bring you to his mattress.

He landed you delicately on your back before placing himself on top of you, and he kissed you sweetly on the forehead to pause this intense make-out.

*Are you sure about that?* he asked without asking as he retreated to look down at you.

*If that's too soon, I can wait… I don't want to rush you like last time* he got worried into his head, and you gladly caught those caring interrogations that spread a smile across your flushed face.

You took the hand he had been to dig into his jeans' pocket to transcribe his worries on his phone, and you kissed its palm before leaning into his touch as he cupped your face.

"Mark. Kiss me already" you only breathed out, and he bent down to grant you what you had wished for.

The way his name had rolled off your tongue in a whisper had gotten him almost whimpering, his usual quietness becoming hard to handle, though he would only have produced sounds of pleasure rather than full words or sentences ; his mind was blank anyway, only filled with his want to feel you closer. You wrapped your arms around his neck and plunged your stare into his, his strong and shaky breathing resounding in your ears again, and from the way he was gazing at you, his eyes dark but oscillating, you knew he was still apprehensive to touch you more.

You then initiated the next steps bringing you closer to loving each other fully, as your hands went down and under his sweater. At every caress of your fingertips against his burning skin, Mark felt like you were adoring him and praising him silently, your light touch appreciating every inch and skin cell as if they were sacred, and he couldn't describe how good it felt to seem worthy again.

He retained his breathing as you gently began to pull the fabric up until his fit torso was revealed to you, and your strokes traced circles on his upper body, enjoying the softness of his pale skin. When you redressed yourself on your elbows to steal another kiss from him, Mark finally saw the green light you had been sending to him ; he finally knew what to do and how to do, his feelings reviving the dead areas of his brain dedicated to the good use of carnal instincts.

He kissed your lips, down your chin to the valley of your chest that was showing thanks to your V neck shirt he got rid of right after, then in no time, he undressed the both of you completely but still with delicateness. Perfection dwelled in each detail that covered your skin ; that's what popped up in his mind as he watched you over with awe.

His body was trembling with overexcitement as he began to make love to you, sensually and slowly. Never had your skin felt so sensitive to the touch of someone else, as at every caress of his hands on your body while he connected the both of you again and again, it was as if he was leaving a deep print.

You could swear you had caught a glimpse of his voice at every guttural sound Mark hadn't been able to hold back, but you were already in a pure state of euphoria to have him all for you, with his eyes closed and his lips capturing the skin of your neck once in a while, when they weren't on yours.

In a last sigh, you both rolled on your sides, your sweaty bodies steaming hot. Still, Mark didn't last long without having you in his arms, so he scooted over and hugged you close, making you smile against his chest. You heard his heart bouncing against your eardrum, and as your hands made their way to his back, you realized he was still quivering in pleasure. His nose was on the top of your head, and he kept on pecking you.

Never had he imagined he'd feel at peace again. Never had he thought that his body would feel strong again. Never had he believed in tears of joy ; yet he felt the crease of his eyelids turn hot, and indeed some water lined under them, making him frown in the dark.

Thank you.

His lips were itching and so was his tongue, as Mark was getting overwhelmed by his gratitude. He was dying to say those two words that meant so much more to him than an "I love you". He needed to tell you in this perfect instant, as tomorrow you wouldn't get the weight he wanted to put into them. He lowered his face and leveled up yours on the cushion with the help of his hands, and when your eyes bored into each other, his lips parted slightly.

Thank you, Y/N.

He felt like he would have a hard time breathing if he ever kept this to him this time. He took a deep breath and prepared himself to say his first words to someone in two years, but his guts were telling him that now was the right time to do it, even if it draw his energy.

However, when he tried to emit a sound, only some air released from his mouth that brushed your face, making him clench his jaw. What was happening? Had the product of his own will turned into a real disablement? Or was it the anticipation of releasing the prisoner that constricted his vocal chords?

"What's wrong?" you whispered as you read the distress in his unstable pupils.

But you weren't hearing anything and he kissed you desperately, pressing his mouth on yours with more force, until you felt something wet fall on your nose. It was a tear that had rolled down from the corner of his almond eyes, and that had made its way from his nose bridge to yours. Mark was feeling scared that he couldn't overcome his silence as he wanted to.

"What's wrong, Mark?" you reiterated as you ceased the side of his face with your hand, and the blonde closed his eyes with his brows furrowed.

He reopened them and your loving stare gave him the courage to try again, his heartbeat stopping momentarily as he licked his lips.

"T… Thank… you…" he suddenly breathed out in a merely audible voice, but it had been enough for you to hear.

He breathed unsteadily right after, as if talking had strangled him, and tears you had thought you were running out of accumulated under your lower eyelids that widened. Had you heard his voice for real? Those two words he had chosen with justness had your skin covered with chills, then you rushed your lips on his to kiss him a few times, interrupting yourself to look at him unbelievably each time.

Mark's face broke into a smile as his hooded eyes gazed at you once you were done releasing the euphoria he had put you through, his success improving his well-being as he felt proud, and he fell for you even more. He definitely wanted to talk again, if that meant he could see this profound light of love in your eyes another time. He chuckled quietly as you buried your head into his chest to hide your tears of happiness, and that was how you both fell asleep, with bodies that couldn't feel more comfortable than when they were intertwined with each other.

                                              *This is so weird*

"Could you stop being that pessimistic? You were okay with this yesterday!"

*He's still your godfather! I'm fucking embarrassed! I told it to my father, and he found it funny, but I don't!*

"Speaking of your father, he's one of the reasons why we're here, so you should be invested!"

Mark and you were standing outside the cabinet's door, waiting for Woodam to welcome the both of you for his next session. Your hand was in his, but he couldn't stop shaking his wrist out of anxiety.

You had chosen to move forward together, slowly but surely, him confessing to you his wish to speak again and to bid farewell to his mom now that he had another woman in his life he could turn to, but he was well aware that he wouldn't be able to do this on his own as residues of his trauma were still blocking him and had struck him back at the party ; you definitely determined to stop hearing his thoughts all the time, even if they had become rarer than before and that you used them to tease him now.

You lifted up your jointed arms and kissed the back of his hand to calm him down, and Mark turned his head to you to watch you with adoration, as he instantly felt better.

I don't know what you did to me for me to get this swayed seriously, he thought as he mirrored your gesture, but he gave your skin three pecks before pulling at your hand to bring your body right against him.

He enclosed his free hand around your linked ones, and he breathed out one last time as he caught the happy footsteps of the doctor getting closer to the door.

"We're in this together" you whispered in your boyfriend's ear, who landed the side of his head over yours for a few seconds in acknowledgement.

Together.

"Helloooo lovebirds! Come in!" Woodam welcomed you in, and you protested at the lame nickname he had used.

As the door closed behind the three of you, the sound of your joyful laugh faded, but the patients in the waiting room still caught it as it seeped out like a lovely serenade. Unfortunately, they didn't get the chance to witness the beautiful and shining smile Mark was wearing, for the first time ever as he stepped into this cabinet that finally appeared like a solution more than a problem.

Together, he loved this word. As together with you, Mark Tuan was about to give himself another chance to live a brighter life as a son, boyfriend, cook and roommate ; but mostly, a chance to love himself and, as an old man had once said to him, the people that stuck by him through winds and tides and led his way to a better Tomorrow.

                               THE END.

[my-mystic-messenger]

MC gets killed by Rika

Very interesting request and I was super excited to write it! Hope you enjoy! :3 Fandom: Mystic Messenger Rating: Teen and Up Warnings: Rika and her usual bullshit + consequences Categories: Angst-y Relationships: MC x Saeran Word count: 1976

When he'd first met you, he'd introduced himself as Ray. Ray, the bubbly, kind and almost ditsy personality Rika had crafted for him. He always had to be Ray, because Ray was good. Ray way useful. Saeran was bad. Saeran was useless. A mantra his saviour had drilled into him from day one.

Whenever something bad happened, Saeran was the one to blame. Ray would never do such a thing, Rika told him. So it was always Saeran who got called upon when punishment was in order. Saeran who got tortured. Saeran who grew to resent Ray and everything good. Then you came along. Of course you loved Ray, with his silly flowers and his constant need for affection and attention. When Saeran was woken he couldn't help but laugh about it. His constant whining merely struck a cord with your mother instincts nothing more. But Ray lived in the illusion of thinking you genuinely loved him. As a man, no less. For that he'd actually have to be a man for once, instead of pampering you and worshipping the ground you walked on like an obsessed child. A man who knew how to follow orders!

After that, Ray took over for a much longer time than usual. Normally Saeran was more dominant, fought his way to the top of the conscious, but now he seemed dormant. Rika couldn't understand why Saeran, her loyal servant, wasn't returning until she met you and things became clear.

You were just like V, a bright light that knew no darkness. You shone like the sun, repelling all darkness around you and cleansing Saeran of the darkness she'd planted and grown within him. You were destroying him piece by piece. Ray had stopped taking the Elixir, making it close to impossible to control him, let alone call upon Saeran. Instead he seemed peaceful within himself, no troubled thoughts creating turmoil and pain anymore. He was reverting to his old self and Rika couldn't let that happen. She tried to separate you, buried Ray in work in hopes of breaking him to reveal Saeran once again. Even chin deep in work, however, Ray remained positive. One message from you and all the tension seemed to dissolve, leaving an even more motivated and steadfast Ray. Rika tried to seduce you, tried to pry on your insecurities and fears in order to find or even create darkness with in you, but there was nothing to find. She was wrong in assuming you were like V. You were much brighter and much more dangerous, because you weren't even aware. Then the RFA became more involved, Saeyoung stepping back into Ray's life in ways the younger twin hadn't expected. His brother wasn't as evil as Rika had told him. He even praised him for being such a fabulous hacker and you seemed to be fond of him as well. Ray began to question. From all the logs he read, the RFA didn't seem bad. Everyone seemed happy, even you. Ray became scared he would lose you to the RFA, that you'd leave him behind, but then you offered him to come join them as well and to Ray's surprise, everyone welcomed him. The moment Rika read those words, her world burnt red. She cut Ray off the chat entirely and gave him so much work she was sure he wouldn't have the time to contact you which would eventually lead to him breaking apart and Saeran returning. Or so she'd hoped. Apparently it was too late for Ray, however. He'd been consumed by your light. So much so that his work began to waver and the mere thought of you and being reunited with you made him strong. Ray had become useless, which meant it wads time to destroy that part of Saeran completely.

She called upon you, first you and then Ray. When he entered the great hall and laid eyes upon you, Ray's entire face lit up and Rika could tell you were just as happy. Both of you gravitated towards one another, wanting nothing more than to touch once more.

Rika stopped both of you in your tracks. Ray, with a flick of her hand, two guards holding him back. You, she held back herself, wrapping her arms gently around your slender frame tenderly. Much like the snake had done to Eve. 

Ray should have been happy to see the two of you together, but he froze where he was being held in place, his heart dropping and his face betraying his worry. It was a confirmation of Rika's greatest fear, that Ray was betraying her and leaving her for you. That was fine though, after tonight, Ray would be gone anyway and Saeran would finally return. Rika would make sure of it. A third guard appeared, holding a little vial shimmering with a bright mint coloured liquid. Ray barely had time to protest before the liquid was forced down his throat. Rika waited, a twisted smile on her lips. Once Saeran awoke you'd be disgusted by him, repulsed by the darkness Ray had hidden within himself. His real self. She was still convinced that Ray was merely an illusion Saeran had created to suppress his darkness. But Rika had been feeding and harvesting it, making it grow and now it seemed like it was finally ready to take over and swallow everything bright that still remained completely. Minutes passed, however, and Ray remained. He didn't die, instead begging to be let go so he could be with you. “Please, it burns”, he cried, skinny frame shaking almost violently. “I don't want it anymore, saviour. Please, I've been good. Let me go. Let me go so I can be with her, touch her. Just one more time and I'll return to work. Please, saviour. Please.”

Rika felt her blood boil, nails digging into your skin in anger. You hissed at the pain, alarming Ray who looked up where he was kneeling on the floor after collapsing from the pain the elixir was putting him through. His eyes widened. “Don't!”

But it was too late, for you and for Ray. Rika got out the tiny dagger she'd hidden under her dress and it one swift motion cut your throat before dropping your lifeless body to the floor like a sack of dirt. She took a step back, making sure that the spreading puddle of blood didn't touch her. Ray sagged together like he'd been killed along with you, head hanging low ad hidden in his hands as he screamed and cried in agony. It was only a matter of seconds now, Rika noted with an ever growing grin, that Ray would be swallowed up by Saeran. Saeran who'd always been the stronger one. Saeran who'd endured loss, pain and torture. Saeran who'd accepted the darkness that he carried with in, welcomed it like Rika had taught him to and used it however she wanted to. The Saeran she'd created. However when Saeran lifted his head from his hands, his mint eyes were gleaming with a darkness Rika hadn't anticipated; pure, uncontrollable rage. And it was directed solely at her. Ray was destroyed, but what Rika hadn't anticipated was for Saeran to fall in love with you as well. His entire life Saeran had been sickish and weak, but not in that moment. His movements were strong and so quick one had actually problems catching them. One moment he was withering on the floor in pain and the next he knocked two guards twice his size on the floor. Rika called for help, turning on her heel to run, but Saeran was faster. He caught up to her in seconds, ripped the knife from her hand and held it to her throat. She didn't doubt for a second that Saeran would hesitate to slaughter her right then and there. “My my, Saeran, is that a way to treat your savoiur”, she asked, his arm tightly wrapped around her from behind without a chance for her to free herself. The guards arrived but stopped in their tracks when they saw what situation Rika was in. If they moved, she was dead. That much was sure. “Shut the fuck up, Rika”, Saeran spat into her ear. “You're not my saviour, she was. And you killed her. To punish me! An innocent, sweet girl who came here to test a fucking game is dead and it's all because of you. So now, I'm going to punish you for misbehaving like you did with me.” Saeran's first instinct was to kill her like she'd killed you, but that would have been an almost merciful act. Rika was so void of anything remotely human, killing her would almost equal doing her a favour. No, Saeran had something far more sinister in mind.

What he had to do, was take every last thing that kept her alive from her like she'd done to him. You'd warmed his cold hard, shone bright on the darkness within it and banned it away to reveal the good, but Rika had killed you to get her evil servant and evil she would get.

He walked her out of Mint Eye, at first with the knife to her throat but once they were far enough he buried his hands in her perfect, blonde hair and dragged her out of the castle by it. She stumbled and fell, he could tell it all hurt, but he didn't care much like she hadn't cared for his pain.

“I knew you'd betray me eventually”, Saeran explained as he continued their way down the mountain. “You never cared for any of us. You only cared for making yourself feel better about being a crazy, psychotic bitch by convincing other people they are as bad as you. As dirty and dark.” Rika didn't reply, holding onto her hair to minimize the pain. She didn't have to speak though, her dirtied face warped with disgust and anger showed exactly what she was thinking and feeling. Saeran laughed, couldn't help himself. “You're not even trying to deny it. Well, at least you're honest now. After everything you lied to me about, that's a really nice change”, Saeran said almost cheerfully. “Of course I'm still going to punish you, that doesn't change. But at least that'll go down with a nice BANG!” They eventually reached the destination and Saeran stopped, turning towards were the castle was standing in the distance. He tugged Rika up, not caring for her hissing in pain. He gripped her face forcefully and turned it so she could look at the cult she'd created. “Look at it. Look at that magnificent castle you built. Paradise, you called it. Filled with mindless idiots and broken people you promised you'd fix and instead pried on. Your life's work. The only thing you felt sincere pride and love for. Look at it, Rika! Look at it...and say goodbye.” With a press of his finger, the entire castle blew up in front of their eyes. The explosion was so massive even where they were standing a long way from it the tree's swayed and the heat could be felt lightly tickling at their faces. Mint Eye was gone.

“Watch it burn, Rika”, he said, finally letting go of her. She sagged to the floor, crying and screaming in agony much like Saeran had done many times over. “Everything you ever cared for, everything that ever meant anything to you is gone. You're all alone in this world. Forever.”

Hadn't Ray been destroyed by her, Saeran would have probably felt pity for that puny, pathetic mess that was left of his once glorious saviour. As it was, he felt nothing but sick satisfaction at having broken even the last piece of her twisted soul. “Rot in the hell you created for yourself, saviour.”

[originalnovelist]

Fall Back.

INVOLVED: Samuel Evans and Carla Smith.  TIME FRAME: Sunday, March 25th, 2018. LOCATION: Bar; Los Angeles, California. NOTES: Carla deserved it.

Samuel licked his lips slowly as he scrolled through his phone for a moment, he was beyond annoyed. In the days past he’d been waiting for Mercedes to come to her senses about their relationship, but she was proving to be far more stubborn than he had ever been. He locked his phone and sat it down tossing his drink back, he would have to show her better than he could tell her. There was no way possible the relationship was over, she was just being stupid. Okay, no she wasn’t. She was hurt by his actions, upset, and confused he got that but he wasn’t given the opportunity to make it better which was what was pissing him off the most overall. She had just made it up in her mind that she was done with him despite how he felt or would feel about it all and that wasn’t fair. Plus, his damn child still wasn’t in his house and boy, oh, boy that had started to turn his attitude very, very ugly. He wanted her to have her space, sure, she deserves that, and she deserves to lash out but honestly, he just wanted them back home and was that too much to ask?

Walking into the dimly lit building Carla looked around for a second. With Mercedes out of Samuel’s hair he was all hers again, she knew she had to throw a few advances out there and even put on an act, but it would be worth it in the end. Just for a little payback, no, the exposure from before was not enough for her. Now she needed to deem herself his again to show Mercedes, that all along everything she told her was true.  She was sure the second Mercedes saw them out together, it would crush whatever was left that she had to hold on to. Because what Mercedes and most people didn’t know was, the man was weak. He could have all the muscles and mouth in the World, but he was easy to play. He was a toy, right, that was exactly what he was her toy. When she spotted the large guy over at the bar all alone, she made her way over with a sly smirk on her face.  “I have been looking all over town for you, and finally I find you. In this hole in the wall. Go figure, we all know you love your drink or two” Carla said as she walked up towards Samuel from behind. She rested her hands on his broad shoulders massaging them gently before she moved beside him, sitting down on the stool nearby. He didn’t look too bad for a guy who was supposed to have gotten his heart broken, but that might not have been a bad thing in her case.

Samuel looked to his watch, he’d been here for a longer duration of time than he anticipated but what else did he have? There was no one home, he was alone, and didn’t really care to be in the presence of friends or family at the moment. Everyone, had pretty much annoyed him to capacity and with Michelle he could only go so far down the road with her before she would eventually cut him off and leave him to figure it out on his own. However, the silence killed him because it spoke to many truths, ones he’d rather not hear. Sleeping his child’s long-lost teddy bear was his only comfort and he was too ashamed to admit it. As large and grown as he were, he slept with a bear for comfort. When he heard a familiar voice approaching he looked to see Carla, somehow his ex slithered her way back in no matter what. The large guy rolled his eyes slowly as she sat down beside him “what do you want?” he asked her outright. He hadn’t talked to the woman since the initial incident, but he was sure she knew, just like everyone one else did that he and Mercedes was no longer together. That was her motive, right? “You need to go, and you need to leave me alone. I am in no mood to put up with your foolishness” he commanded.

“Oh, must we play upset” Carla said sitting her Chanel bag down on the counter, she crossed her legs as she sat back. “You know we could be cordial, but you’d rather make this relationship harder than it has to be Samuel” she told him shaking her head. “I have been looking for you, for a while now actually. And I figured it was about time we sat and talked” she told him sincerely as she looked to his face despite its expression. “I know things between you and Mercedes are over, but you must know, despite it all you have me still.”

Samuel looked to Carla and he rolled his eyes again shaking his head “what the fuck do we have to talk about Carla?” he asked her seriously. “You were successful in the very thing you were trying to do, she’s gone. It shouldn’t be shit else that you want from me at this point, you’ve ran everything the hell away” he told her seriously. “So, again, leave me alone man” he told her tossing his hand up in her face. He flagged the bartender down and ordered another drink without hesitation, and this time he asked for it to be mad stronger. What could have been a chill night, was turning out to be far more stressful then he wanted.  

Carla sighed, and she watched as he ordered another drink “you were never hers to begin with so, I could care less about her little broken heart. What I care about is you, and I, and our son” she told him easily. “Look” she said as she leaned up in the seat getting closer to him, resting her hand on his thigh, “I know what I did wasn’t ethical but, you have to do what you have to sometimes. Especially when it comes to getting something someone stole from you back. You had to know I’d fight for you” she said sweetly, her fingers walking across his leg. “I love you Samuel, even with all that you have put me through, she’d never acknowledge that. If she ever loved you to begin with….” she said looking up at his face, as she planted that little seed.

Samuel looked to Carla raising a brow at her, at her words he squinted at her if he had no self-control like people thought he would have slapped the hell out of her for even fixing her mouth to say the shit that just came out of it. As she moved closer to him he jerked his neck back, his eyes looking down at her hand and he tilted his head at her. “Oh, is that what you were doing?” he asked her as he looked to his new glass and he tossed back. “You’re crazy, you know that” he said looking to her again before he pushed her hand off of him. “I don’t want you, and I don’t know why you don’t understand that…” he said his head shaking. “I was with who I wanted to be with…”

“Samuel, cut this out. You and I both know the truth” Carla added as she rested her hands in her lap. “If you loved her, we would have never…”

“No, we don’t” Samuel said looking back at her again quickly. “And don’t go down that road. You know how that night played out. I was so half passed drunk off my ass and high as fuck. Granted I came to you. But you could have denied me” he told her. “You wanted that shit more than I did, you just wanted something to fall back on. You so foul” he said in disgust. “Would you even have kept Jaiden if Mercedes was out of the picture?” he asked her his turned upward, “or was that just another jealous attempt to get my attention and deem me yours? I was never yours bitch, wake up” he said. “You make me sick, to think I ever trusted your slimy ass” he said venting as he looked to the bartender. “Man” he said gesturing the glass. “And you fucked CJ” he said looking at her again, “you are a skank as whore. I don’t ever want to see you around me again. You need to go” he warned for the third time.

As he asked about their son, she looked over at him with a harden expression and she let it melt away as quickly as the anger came. ‘’Know I carried you child because I loved you enough to do so” she corrected. Carla cleared her throat a bit before ordering herself a drink “please” she told him. “You saved my life, I owe you everything” she mocked nonchalantly, he’d invested in her way more than he let on and it was okay because she knew the truth. He loved her, because if he hadn’t there was no way he’d continue to return even when he was with the chick he swore he only ever loved. Rubbing her lips together Carla told him “you use to say I was your everything too” she reminded. “Sam you fucked around way more then I ever did, let bygones be bygones” she said nonchalantly. “So, you can be mad at me and not CJ?” she questioned looking to him confused. “None of that has nothing to do with what’s going on now anyhow, Jaiden and I are what she be important. I don’t even want to get started on Natasha or that little girl that looks to be none of your DNA to begin with…”

Samuel stroked his long beard for a moment before he looked to her again “get the fuck out of here girl, you know damn well” he said, she was starting to annoy him granted Mercedes had made the same point and it was like turning a knife that was lodged in his back already. As she mimicked him he cut his eyes at her real quick. Fuck this bitch, he thought to himself. At one point he did feel that and even said those vary words, but things change and they both had, and Carla wasn’t someone that he wanted in his life on that level anymore. The only downside to that is that they did have a kid, unfortunately. That was his fault he assumed at the very least. He should have never gotten her pregnant, period. “Shit change Carla” he told her honestly “you messed up a good thing, should’ve kept your fucking mouth closed” he told her angrily. At her last statement he looked to her slowly “what the fuck did you just say to Carla” he asked her as he fist balled above the bar. “Run it by me again…” he dared.

“The fact that you think I own Mercedes an ounce of respect is beyond me” Carla told him bitterly. “Fuck her” she said without much thought, she hated Mercedes with the desire to kill. She could end the girl with her bare hands, even more so now and as her patience wore thin she lifted the glass to her lips. Taking a sip, “what… that’s probably not your baby. Is that what you want to hear me say?” she asked boldly. “We were just fine before she showed” she told him confidently.

“First off, I will kill you if you think for a second you are going to do anything to Mercedes. Bitch, you’ll get fucked up fucking with her” he said as he sat upright, towering over her. “Play with me” he added. “I don’t know what fantasy or relationship you were in, but it wasn’t with me. Our relationship was shit when she and I got together. That relationship wasn’t never shit from the very beginning. You were cheating and so were I. We were NOT happy! Shit was not perfect!” Samuel emphasized. “Stop making stuff up in that stupid head of yours” he said pushing her head back with his hand. “You need to go” he warned a fourth time. “Because you are getting mad disrespectful right now, and I swear to God I ain’t here for it right now. You are treading lightly… I mean real thin” he warned her his finger so close to her face that if either one of them moved, he was destined to jab her in he forehead.

“You will not refer to me as a bitch again, do you understand me” she said with authority in her voice. She knew she was treading shallow water with her smart mouth, but she didn’t care she wanted to get her point across off though she was failing miserably to woo him in the moment. She would have to fix this a second time, later but for right now standing her ground was more important than winning him back. He had some nerve. Carla huffed loudly “you always see things differently from everyone else” she told him. “For some reason you think you are this grand guy that does no wrong and has all of his shit together. When in actuality your life is miserable because you’ve made it that way and you are all over the damn place with it. Might I add. Being a good father starts with respecting your child’s mother. And you don’t respect none of us” she said grazing up at him. “Food for thought” she countered. “You are a sorry excuse for a man and father, trust me. You need much work” she said.

As Carla continued to talk, he raised a brow at her before he dropped his finger. “Alright” he said nodding his head at her slowly, he let her finish as she went on and on and on. He’d told her to leave him alone several times prior to this, and now they were making a scene in the establishment which again was annoying him because after all he just wanted a drink in a quiet bar all alone for the night. But no, Carla showed up and if he had any sense he should have walked away then. But instead he’d do it now. Samuel picked up his sunglasses before reaching into his back pocket he dropped some money on the bar, then he breezed past her headed for the exit. He pulled his keys out of his pocket and walked across the gravel towards his car. He clutched his sunglasses so hard in his hand that the lens cracked beneath his fingertips. Anger just boiling over from within, it was like people were intentionally trying to piss him off these days. Samuel, unlocked the car moving to climb in it he pulled a blunt out of his arm rest and placed it between his lips as he rummaged for his lighter.

Carla watched Sam walk away and she rolled her eyes again at him, again pathetic. She hated the man, however, shattering things around him including his spirit had become her favorite past time. So, she stood up paid for her one drink and moved towards the exit herself. Seeing his car, she looked back at hers before she moved towards him “when you are done, acting like a child. I’ll be waiting on your phone call” she told him.

“You’ll be awaiting until the apocalypse bitch, get away from my fucking car Carla” he demanded. “The fact that you think you can even walk up to me” he yelled snatching the blunt out of his mouth “the fact that you think you can walk up to me and tell me I am being a damn child and you playing fucking games. I was always upfront about my shit, you and these little fucking mind games you like to play is getting old and is very childish. I am not being childish. I. Don’t. Want. Your. Sorry. Ass” he said angrily” Samuel said “do you understand, do you fucking get. You dumb ass bitch” he sneered. “And I tell you one think, you gone regret the day you fucking burned my house down, now” he said as he got back into his car.

Carla looked to him her nostrils flaring “excuse me?” she asked as she snatched the handle of his door and pushed it open wider. “And what does that supposed to mean?” she asked him. “Huh?” she said. “It remarks like that” she said pointing to him “that will be the reason why you won’t see your son again, fucking around with me” she told him as she moved to walk off.

“But is he EVEN MY KID!” Samuel yelled out the door. “But is even mine. You probably don’t even know” he argued back. “Don’t fuck with me Carla, I won’t say it again. Fuck you and the sperm you road in on!” he cursed. “Fuck you, your momma, your daddy, your sister, your cousin. Bitch fuck your entire existence and thereafter” he said.

“No fuck you” Carla replied back to him as she walked away. “Yeah, mhm, sure. No fuck you Samuel” she told him. ‘Fuck you, your ugly ass little girl and your ugly ass baby’s momma, how about that” she told him rolling his eyes.

“My who?” he asked as he got out of the car. Samuel climbed out the car and moved to follow behind her. “My what?” he asked her. “I didn’t hear you, I didn’t hear you” he called out. “My what?” he repeated again.

“Leave me alone” Carla said looking back at him.

“You said my baby what?” Samuel called out behind her “I didn’t hear you clearly” he told her. Samuel grabbed her wrist and yanked her back towards him. “My baby what again?” he asked one more time. “I did not hear you” he told her. “What did you fucking say about my daughter?”

“Get your hands off of my Carla” said as she snatched away from him. “I said fuck your fat ass, bitch ass, pathetic, ugly ass, non-singing, sorry ass baby’s mother” she said loudly. “And I said that baby you claim that you don’t even know is yours or not is UGLY!” Carla emphasized. “With a stupid as name, stupid ass no good father, who’s relationship with her is just a tad bit suspect” she said rolling her eyes again. “That’s what I said.”

Samuel stood before and he punched her in her mouth without as much as an eye blink. And he watched her head fly back before a gush of blood ran down from her broken nose. He flexed his knuckles lightly, hissing gently as he moved to walk away from her. “Fuck you” he said easily. “We will never be anything again, you are dead to me. Remember that always” he warned.

[furandfirewalls]

full name

carlos oscar de vil

preferred name/nickname

carlos, los

appearance.

SEX: cismale HAIR: white with dark roots; naturally curly and soft, although he straightens it from time to time when the mood strikes him. SKIN: carlos has heavily freckled skin, the pale and darker brown tone contrasting in an almost dalmatian-like fashion. with a friend like evie in his life, it’s natural that he’s taken her advice and looks after his skin, which remains youthful and surprisingly soft, given their lives on the isle. the only evidence of a harder life is on his hands; his fingers are calloused and marked from a life of playing with electronics and machinery. EYES: warm brown eyes; despite his heritage and years of trying to act like a true villain, carlos has always had warm, somewhat friendly eyes. he often has minor bags from late nights working on projects. SCARS: calloused hands; a few minor scars on his knees and legs from roaming the isle in fashionable but ill advised shorts. CLOTHES: carlos takes after his mother in the sense that he has a great sense of fashion; his clothes are exclusively black, white and red, with a heavy use of leather and the occasional fur. he has a tendency towards shorts because he feels they’re easier to run in, often layering his clothes. he will always find appropriate accessories, even if only his fingerless gloves.

speech.

ACCENT: in the land without magic, it would be described as american. the mun has no idea i’m so sorry. VERBAL TICKS: carlos has a tendency towards stumbling over his words when nervous or scared, his voice becoming higher-pitched in stressful situations. LANGUAGE: he only speaks english fluently, unless computer coding counts as a language, in which case he could potentially speak a few. he’s always admired the sounds of french and can recite a few words but can’t hold a conversation (mostly fashion terms). LAUGHTER: carlos has a slightly higher-pitched laugh, light and sounds rather young, even for his age. he doesn’t laugh often - there’s not generally a good reason to really laugh on the isle - but it’s loud and obvious when he does. GRUMP: carlos has a tendency to mumble under his breath, particularly when stressed or focused, words sounding more like a brook than actual sentences. BREATHING: carlos is remarkably good at being quiet when he wants to be; aside from the mumbling when he works, he makes few other unconscious sounds and breathes rather quietly.

mannerisms.

FACE: out of all the core four, carlos has the hardest time hiding his emotions. his face is extremely expressive - eyebrows furrowed in confusion, eyes sparkling with curiosity, lip just slightly protruding when he’s pouting because something didn’t go his way. carlos tries, but he finds it incredibly difficult to hide his feelings. HANDS: carlos has to have something to do with his hands at all times, even if it’s simply carrying something. he keeps a series of nuts and bolts in his pockets to fiddle with when he has nothing else he can do. EMOTIONAL OUTBURSTS: rather than having emotional outbursts (unless it’s in panic), carlos tends to do the opposite - he sinks into himself once he’s said his piece, preferring to keep his problems to himself. only fear or danger truly gets a rise out of him, making him speak out or, when scared, scream rather loudly. HABITS: carlos has to fiddle with something constantly, as previously stated. he also prefers to keep a clean space around him and tidies when he’s anxious. PERSONAL SPACE: despite preferring people to keep out of his personal space, he doesn’t have much sense of one in terms of being close to people. he does, however, generally avoid actually touching people unless stealing or if he knows them particularly well, in which case he will accept contact.

health:

DIET: coming from the isle, carlos’ diet hasn’t been the best in recent years. he has a tendency towards a coffee dependency, but actually has quite a sweet tooth. he would happily live on sweets if he could. SLEEP: carlos is an early riser, contrary to popular belief; however, he doesn’t sleep particularly well and suffers from insomnia, meaning he doesn’t sleep anywhere near as much as he should. on top of that are nightmares; with an anxious mind comes many demons when he does sleep, and although he can never remember his dreams, they’re enough to have him jolting upright in the night. CLEANLINESS: carlos prefers to be clean at all times and bathes regularly; he takes great pride in his ability to take care of himself. ODOUR: no strong odours. he finds strong smells distracting. ILLNESS: none. INJURIES: none. OTHER: n/a.

personal.

GENDER: cismale. he has never had any issues with this and feels fortunate to have his gender and biological sex match. SEXUALITY: carlos is gay as all get out, although he does find himself imagining what it would be like to date a girl from time to time. then he tries it and remembers that he is, wholeheartedly, gay as hell. ROMANTIC: carlos loves the idea of romance, but doesn’t believe in it. for one thing, he’s the kid of a villain. he’s unlikely to be trusted enough to find someone who really would give him that chance, isn’t he? MEMORY: he has an outstanding memory for facts, figures and anything he deems relevant; this includes information about other people, as it helps keep him safe. if you need to remember an event and he was there, ask him - he could recite it word for word. PENSIVE: carlos is definitely pensive; he generally prefers a thought out approach over a sudden fight, and hates it when his friends drag him into madcap adventures without a thought. INTUITION: in terms of people, carlos can be somewhat hopeless. his intuition lets him down greatly. however, he’s pretty good at surviving; he’s not managed to screw any of those decisions up yet. GOALS: carlos has mostly decided he wants to live; beyond that, on the isle, there hasn’t been much else to aspire to. once he gets to storybrooke, though? well, things may well change. he’s likely to want to explore this world without magic, a world where technology is king... and he’s damn good with tech. INSECURITIES: his size, his friends, the skills he brings tot the table, his mother... there’s a lot carlos is insecure about. he’s not good at fighting for more than long enough to get away, he’s not magical, he’s not even really that scary or a real villain; yeah, he’s insecure about a lot. he keeps it to himself where possibly, though. no need to give people a reason to push away. ACHIEVEMENTS: the time he made a hole in the dome around them on the isle. it was mostly an accident, but he did it. ANXIETY: being around the unknown is the main source of carlos’ anxiety. he likes to know what’s going on and how to deal with things; he likes his routines. being thrown into a group of villains and heroes is likely to make it skyrocket. SELF-HELP: mostly by throwing himself into some form of work.  COMFORTS: his friends are probably one of the biggest comforts for carlos, but computers and video games are about to get pretty high up there too. BAD HABITS: forgetting to eat when working; a tendency to speak before he thinks despite his desire to, y’know, not be beaten to a pulp; picks at his skin when he’s nervous.

the past.

PARENTS/GUARDIANS: carlos has no idea who his father is. his mother never told him, he has no names that seem to relate to anyone else he ever met (the few he did), and he has no one else to ask. his relationship with his mother is... awkward at best. prior to the curse, he thought the world of her. yes, she kept him from going out as often as possible but she just wanted to keep him safe from the dogs and others who would want to hurt him. now that he’s awoken from the curse, he’s torn. he still adores his mother; those feelings are there, somewhere, but at the same time, she wasn’t doing the best for him and he’s pretty sure she knew exactly what she was doing. she was controlling him and he doesn’t want to see her right now so he doesn’t have to deal with that fallout. SCHOOL: carlos was great at school. he was always fit enough for the physical, and his brains left no room for competition. LEAVING HOME: well, he got cursed. wasn’t really by choice. LIFE EVENTS: the curse truly has been the biggest change to his life and it’s influenced him more than he knows. he’s braver than he was prior to the curse, stronger despite all his fears, and being around his friends only makes him more so every day. WORST DAY OF THEIR LIFE: the realisation that his mother might not love him as much as he previously thought. BEST DAY OF THEIR LIFE: meeting evie and making his very first friend. LESSONS: how to stand up for himself; that he’s braver than he thinks. LOOKING BACK: he’d probably have tried to sneak out more often. he didn’t really before the curse; too afraid of being caught by a dog.

relationships.

FAMILY: carlos considers evie, mal and jay his family, even more so than his own mother. he loves the trio that make up his isle family; word’s still out on cruella. FRIENDSHIPS: again, eveie, mal and jay are his family as well as his best friends. he just wants people to like him for who he is. ENEMIES: uma’s crew, he supposes. harry is fucking terrifying. STRANGERS: carlos tends to be somewhat wary and defensive around strangers, anticipating that they’re more likely to do damage than not. BEST FRIEND: evie, jay and mal. he can have more than one. LOVE: do peanut butter cups count? WORST ENEMY: again, harry is fucking terrifying.

interactions.

MINGLING: carlos is horrible at making new friends because he doesn’t try. it’s kind of hilarious to watch though. once he gets to know people, he’s much better at talking; deep down he’s a people person, he just needs time to get there. COMFORT LEVELS: anyone he doesn’t know, he doesn’t really like being around. once he gets to know someone, he’s alright with small groups and prefers them to large crowds.  PHYSICAL: carlos is not a huggy kind of person. he appreciates casual touches from those closest to him, though, and will hug them if requested. GROUPS: he prefers three specific people and hates large crowds.  OPENNESS: it takes him a long while to open up to new people. GENEROSITY: carlos would literally bend over backwards to help a friend. he tries to play off that he’s a proper villain, but the core four know better.  JEALOUSY: if people take something he considers his, he gets extremely over protective of the item or person in question. jealousy isn’t a colour that looks good on a de vil; it was what drove his mother to such extremes, and it’s jealousy that brings out the worst in carlos too. thankfully, it’s never really been a thing he’s had to encounter... yet. TEMPER: he’s surprisingly calm, but his temper is fiery when he’s angry. EMPATHY: while clumsy and definitely bad at expressing himself on occasion, carlos is very empathetic and is surprisingly good at giving advice; if only he’d realise he could give himself some too. AFFECTION: he hangs around a lot when he likes someone. comes to them for advice, smiles a lot more. DISTASTE: generally he just avoids them, although sometimes he does the less impressive thing and insults them. never a great plan on the isle. SELF ESTEEM: carlos has a very low amount of self-esteem. it’s getting better, but he just never had the chance to develop that sense of self while under his mother’s thumb, and he’s been repeating the same year for twenty seven years; give him some time and he’ll come into his own. CONFIDENCE: to a degree, yes. he likes people to think well of him (or badly, depending on how you look at it). HONESTY: he tends towards honesty, although when he does keep things to himself, it’s not for another person’s benefit; it’ll generally be for his own, whether for foul reasons or fair. LEADER OR FOLLOWER: more of a follower for sure. PRAISE: he’s not really comfortable accepting them, but it’s nice. FAILURES: the rambling and occasionally inane comments have been known to be irritating, yes. CRITICISM: carlos actually takes criticism remarkably well. he has cruella de vil for a mother after all; he had a lot of criticism to deal with. INSULTS: insults are not his favourite thing in the world, but he doesn’t generally react too badly. EMBARRASSMENT: carlos handles embarrassment badly. he won’t show his face for as long as physically possible. FLIRTING: oh my god, carlos is the worst at flirting. he can’t flirt. don’t do it. ATTENTION SPAN: he’s great at focusing on things; the problem is getting him to stop focusing. SITUATIONS: he’s not great with stress, no. he avoids it where possible.

life.

CAREER: he’s been stuck as a teenager for twenty seven years. school is fun but that’s a lot. TECH: his tech skills are superb, especially considering how little tech they have on the isle. COMBAT SKILLS: he can defend himself, but he’s probably one of the weaker members of the group in terms of fighting skills. HOME: carlos likes things to be organised; his home makes a lot of sense and he abhors dirt. COOKING: burnt food is technically cooked, right? BUILDING: he’s pretty good with diy. built his own treehouse and everything. CLEANING: his house has always been tidy. perhaps it’s something he picked up from his mother when he did most of the chores at home, but even in the curse, he was a bit of a clean freak. he likes things in their place. SHOPPING: carlos shouldn’t be allowed to purchase anything ever. he’s impulsive as hell and regrets it later. MARRIAGE: no and he has no immediate plans to become so. KIDS: he’s never considered it. PETS: KEEP DOGS AWAY FROM HIM OKAY. he did have a cat called lucifer, however. WORRIES: the portals; his friends leaving; what will happen when he finally sees his mother again. HOBBIES: fiddling with technology, making machines, building really.

[magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics]

Abusive - Request

Requested by @thestrawberryblondehobbitbatch​:  Hi. I was wondering if you'd do a Sherlock x reader are married. They are out on a date when the readers abusive ex boyfriend turns up while Sherlocks popped to the gents.

Summary: In an attempt to escape from reporters, Sherlock and (Y/N) end uo at a very dark restaurant. He excuses himself and leaves her alone for a few minutes without knowing that her abusive ex-boyfriend was a waiter there.

Pairing: Sherlock x reader.

Warnings: Abusive ex-boyfriend, is there really anything else to say?

Word count: 1,789

A/N: Don’t know if the ex is too much of an insane man... I have been reading “It” and, however’s read it knows why, that is the reason I wrote him like this. Also, as someone who’s seen abuse from up close, I beg of you guys, if you’re in an abusive relationship or know someone who is DO NOT stay quiet, you’ve got to talk and get help. Please. This is just fiction, there won’t be a Sherlock Holmes to rescue us, or even so an easy way to escape on your own. So please, do get informed and get help. I repeat, this is fiction.

Enjoy!

The little restaurant was full. Every single table had been taken by either a couple or a family, and they were all chatting like they hadn’t seen each other in ages. The waiters were walking quickly to deliver the orders to the correct table, and the cooks were struggling to get every plate on time. The musicians were full of different songs – some songs were completely unknown to them – and the person in charge of the entrance was trying with all her might to calm every one down.

“It’s unbelievable how many people want to come into this place.” Sherlock observed. Of course, he had noticed everything.

“They don’t…”

“I know.” He interrupted his wife, “Half of them are reporters, the other half are fans.”

“You’re such a celebrity.” She joked. Sherlock smirked proudly, a few crinkles framing his blue eyes.

“You know what to order?” He asked.

“No… The menu is quite limited.” The mischievous smile that formed on his lips made it clear that he didn’t want to stay at that crowded place. “Where?”

“There’s another one, down the block, closer from home.” He whispered, leaning closer to give a stronger sense of privacy. “We can sneak through the back door, fool those paparazzi.”

“The things I do for you.” She sighed and then both of them followed Sherlock’s mind plan.

The back of the restaurant was dark and it smelled like fish, but it had a direct access to the opposite street, which was free of people. Sherlock and (Y/N) ran all the way to the other restaurant Sherlock had in mind. Hiding in the shadows, letting out breathy giggles and, most importantly, enjoying each other’s company.

Said restaurant was empty, and the dim lights worked perfectly as a cover up. No one could see the other’s faces unless they were at the same table or a waiter used to such lack of light.

The food of course wasn’t as good as the one from the last restaurant. It had a rather artificial flavour instead of the homely one Sherlock adored, but even so just being able to spend a night off with her was enough.

Two whole hours went by and they were about to leave. Sherlock popped to the gents while (Y/N) waited at the table, munching at a mint they had given them along with their change after paying the check.

She had felt like someone stared at her ever since she and Sherlock entered the restaurant. But she was so used to being followed either by reporters, Mycroft’s spies or Moriarty’s spies it could really be anyone. And she wasn’t doing anything bad, so she wasn’t worried to be caught on camera.

-

He had stared at her for those two hours. That slut. Giggling like an idiot, playing with her hair, caressing his palm… Of course she was doing it, he was a famous detective – a genius even – who led him to the next question: How come he hadn’t noticed yet what kind of whore she truly was?

He then left her alone. Alone in that dark place, vulnerable. The anger he had felt, locked inside him for ages, was now rising from the flames of his own inner Hell. His knuckles hurt, ached to feel her soft skin break over them, wanting to get splattered with her blood once more.

The mere thought of her pretty face covered in bruises excited him, making tingles appear all over his body in anticipation. The place was dark, he only needed to drag her a bit further away from her table, and so she wouldn’t know what hit her – literally.

He walked slowly towards her; like a predator haunting its prey before attacking. Observing her every move, her naïve expression, her… Her red lips. Those lips that made him lose control, in the exact tone that got his fury to unleash. She loved that colour that shade, it truly reflected her inner self: A whore.

He slid at the opposite side of the table, with his dark eyes glued to her who was distracted getting something from her bag.

“Have you seen my…?” She lifted her gaze, and the pure sight of the man who still gave her nightmares made her freeze. She was frightened to death.

Her blood started running faster, her lungs were lacking of enough air to contain her anxiety. Her heart skipped beats and then recovered them in a few seconds, which caused an inconsistent beating. Her hands, armpits and forehead started sweating, and her knees tingled, begging her to run. The ghosts of the past impacts invaded her mind, and all she could feel was the many bruises that were now long gone but used to belong on her face and arms. Her lower ribs and legs burned, remembering all those kicks and mislead punches they had received. Her lips went dry, and not even the lipstick could get them to hold them from breaking. She wanted to scream, but there was a knot on her throat avoiding a single sound to come out of her. Her flawless skin turned so pale anyone would’ve swore she was a ghost and her eyes hurt. She hadn’t blinked, she couldn’t, scared that he would use those seconds of blindness to harm her.

“You remember me.” He said as a wicked smile grew on his face. That smile, that cursed omen that warned her about the upcoming violence. It was there, right in front of her, directed to her once again.

“Please go away.” She begged in a whisper so low he could barely hear it.

He tisked his tongue and leaned closer. “I can’t leave, slut.” He whispered back, although his voice was audible, “I work here.”

(Y/N) tried to get up from the table, but he just slammed his fist once over the wooden surface and her instincts made her sit back. She hadn’t forgotten his rules.

“Who’s that man?” He asked, and (Y/N) knew who he was referring to.

“Don’t you watch the telly?” She inquired, trying to be brave like that time she escaped. He hissed back, showing all of his teeth.

“Sherlock Holmes, of course I know. What I mean is who is that man to you?” (Y/N) froze, hiding both of her hands under the table. Wanting to keep the diamond ring out of his sight.

“Her husband.” A third voice stated from behind him. Sherlock stepped closer, making the dim light shine over his face. “Who are you?”

He got up and tried to stand up in an authoritarian pose. Of course, Sherlock was taller, but even so he had the face of a maniac and that was pretty intimidating.

“Let me guess,” Sherlock smiled triumphant, “that poor bastard that… Yeah, of course.” The detective didn’t want to say it out loud, knowing exactly how she felt about it. “Think you can get her back to the cave of horrors?” A cruel chuckle left his plump lips, “C’mon, we both know you prefer to be the one beating rather than being the one beaten. So don’t make me bring you back to those summer days when mommy would hit you with a hot metal bar.”

“You think you’re smart?” He fumed. Of course mommy had hit him with a hot metal bar as a child, right on the palms of his hands – he still had the scars – but how could Sherlock know? Not even (Y/N) knew it.

“Smarter than you, yes.” Sherlock replied, “Isn’t that why daddy would punch you. For the low grades and the lack of brains… You think that reflecting that on (Y/N) or really any other woman will help you deal with your anxiety?” Sherlock shook his head, “Nothing will help unless you stop chugging on so much coffee… Although, I can’t really blame you because I wouldn’t want to have the nightmares you have.”

“Don’t make me hit you.” The lunatic warned and Sherlock couldn’t express his thoughts with anything other than a sarcastic laughter.

“You? Hit me?” He huffed, “I’ve dealt with Egyptian murderers and killed each and every single one of them with just one sword… My life’s been threatened more than once and I’ve defended myself. I fought the Golem and so many other criminals that are far better than you. Do you honestly think you scare me?” His voice had gotten lower and faster with each word. He had also leaned closer to the man threatening (Y/N) so that they were at eye level. “Don’t play with me, boy, unless you want to get burned.”

The man pushed him back. Trying to remember how the kids at school would beat him up before he learned how to defend himself – or rather mimic them and use said moves against them – and dodging Sherlock’s attempts to hit him. Although, of course, Sherlock was just distracting him.

It only took four punches. One under the ribs, another one at the back of the neck, the other at the back under his lungs, and the last one directed to the throat. Sherlock punched him in said order so fast nobody actually saw it, however, in just five seconds (Y/N)’s ex was on the floor, finding his will to breathe.

“I can’t believe you dated this pig.” Sherlock complained, “Thank God you changed your mind and ended up with me… Everything all right?”

(Y/N) nodded. “Please, Sher… Let’s just leave.”

“Just one moment.” Sherlock kneeled down to the floor to meet face to face again with the man. “You better disappear, because if I see you again I’ll make sure you never see the light of day again.”

“Sher.” (Y/N) begged, completely oblivious to what his boyfriend was whispering into her ex’s ear.

Sherlock stood back up and took his time to put on his coat and scarf before leaving. Of course, he made sure to step on the man’s stomach on his way out. Nobody touched his girl, less to say, nobody threatened her without Sherlock doing something about it. Everybody knew it, and those who ignored it… Bad things would happen. It was just his way of taking care of the one person that made him feel a lot more than friendship, the one to truly make him feel human rather than an uncomprehended genius. And God knows, Sherlock wouldn’t be able to live without her.

“The things I do for you.” Sherlock repeated her words as they walked out. (Y/N), who was still a nervous wreck, replied with a shy smile and a peck on his cheek. And so they walked through the cold streets of London, back to their tiny flat at 221B Baker Street, where no one would bother them - except for John, maybe.

*Requests are ALWAYS open.*

[actutrends]

Tales of the ‘Iron Lady,’ who is the real Germaine de Randamie?

Germaine de Randamie is set to compete in her second career title fight at UFC 245. Whether it’s in or out of the Octagon, she’s never let anyone hold her back.

The sound of the horn echoed throughout the Barclays Center. It was the second time that the state of New York had hosted a UFC event and history had just unfolded in the evening’s featured attraction. Bruce Buffer began to read the scorecards.

“All three judges score the bout 48-47 …” The fans and fighters gazed into the Octagon anticipating the result. “For your winner, and new UFC women’s featherweight champion … Germaine ‘The Iron Lady’ de Randamie!”

UFC 208 had officially belonged to the Netherlands’ favorite fighting daughter. But what would be a great moment for her and her homeland was soured in the eyes of the public – mid-fight as well as post-fight.

21 years ago, a 200-plus pound 14-year old Germaine de Randamie discovered combat sports thanks to a friend. From there, she would go onto become a multi-time world champion in kickboxing and establish herself as one of the greatest strikers in Mixed Martial Arts.

Prior to that, sports were already a big part of her life as more often than not she could be found out on the Dutch soccer fields scoring goals aplenty.

“I played soccer, very high level, I was in the selection team of the Netherlands,” de Randamie shared with FanSided. “I played soccer for a long time and I really enjoyed it. And one day I woke up and I looked at my mom and was like, ‘I’m done playing soccer.’ She’s like, ‘Okay, well, that’s fine. If you’re done with it, you’re done with it.’ And a friend of mine, he was doing kickboxing at the time. He asked me, and I was a very heavy girl, I was pretty heavy. I think I was walking around at almost 205 [pounds], yeah. I was heavy. I was a big girl – at the time.

“Then that friend of mine who was kickboxing was like, ‘You want to come with me one time?’ I’m like, okay, I’ll do that. And then I was training for two months and then the coach said, ‘You want to do a fight?’ I’m like, okay, let’s try it. I never ever had intention to become a world champion. Never ever. Honestly, one thing just led to another, and it all played out, right now being here,” she laughed, “It’s been a crazy journey.”

Like notable MMA figures, Kenny Florian and all-time great, Jose Aldo, the transition from kicking soccer balls to kicking faces panned out for the Utrecht native.

Once de Randamie went pro, it was off to the races with no looking back. Just like Bob Ross, “GDR” stumbled upon a happy accident and started painting canvases of her own. She was a perfect 46-0 in her kickboxing career.

“It shows how crazy life can be,” she reflected, “Sometimes something changes in a person’s life and they’ll be like ‘Well, I had a plan and it was supposed to go that way.’ Yeah, but maybe your journey is supposed to lead another way and brings out something deep inside you that you never thought you had or could. And now you’re exploring something that honestly, truly makes you happy. Even though you thought going down the other road was the road you had to take.”

Consistently exuding positive vibes wherever she goes and whatever the situation surrounding her may be, that hasn’t always been the case in reciprocation.

At UFC 208 when de Randamie defeated Holly Holm to become the inaugural 145-pound champion of the UFC, the backlash received was as negative as it could possibly be.

After the bell sounded in both the second and third rounds of the title bout, de Randamie landed late punches to Holm that resulted in her being warned of point deductions without actually receiving any – to the displeasure of many.

Having gone onto capture the featherweight crown, “GDR” would be treated to death threats and plenty of toxic comments for her actions. To top it all off, her declining to defend against the top challenger in Cris “Cyborg” Justino didn’t help at all either.

Now 35, the “Iron Lady” has always done things her way and isn’t going to let anyone else tell her what she can and can’t do. As the “fans” did over the course of the immediate months that followed her title win, medical supervisors also recently told her that her time was up in the fight game.

“[My eye injury] was severe,” de Randamie said, “My doctor told me I would never fight again and they basically said hang up your gloves, Germaine. And I looked him in the eye and I’m like, ‘Seriously? A lot of people already told me to quit and I’m not gonna make it, but you ain’t gonna be the one to tell me that. I’m gonna do this my way.’ Then over time things got a little bit better. I do have permanent damage on the nerve but nothing that will stop me from fighting. So we’re ready to go. I see perfectly, let’s go.”

Four months after de Randamie won the belt in February 2017 she was stripped of it by the promotion. She wouldn’t step foot in the Octagon again until November of the next year and in that timespan, she had to heal a bad hand injury prior to the eye incident.

Expected to make her return to action sooner than November, the freak accident struck. In a way, it was like her past came back to haunt her.

“It was a stupid accident, it was seriously an accident,” de Randamie began, “I was playing soccer and I kicked the ball, I wanted to shoot on the goalie and make a score, and I really shot the ball hard and it hit the goalie and it came back and the ball hit my eye. A freak-ass accident. Seriously. 21 years of fighting, I played soccer, kicked the ball and … are you kidding me? So this camp I decided not to play soccer. Just to keep it safe,” she finished with a laugh.

“The thing is, I love being in nature and I love seeing so many things. So if you’re partially blind, it’s very scary. For a long time, I was very blind on one side. So that’s very scary. It is, but everything in life, not everything, but a lot of things in life happen for a reason. Sometimes things work out for the better. You learn so much about yourself even though it hurts for a period of time and you’re like, ‘why does this happen?’ But at the end of the day, I came back so much stronger, and I appreciate everything. And like I said, the most important thing is I’m going to do this my way. Like I said to the doctor, you’re not gonna tell me I can’t. So many people already told me that. And I’m still here. Nobody will hold me back.”

While the legacy of de Randamie is one that depicts her doing damage to other individuals, she never wants to hurt people just to hurt people. A consummate martial artist, she cherishes her ability to be able to protect her own as a police officer when she isn’t protecting herself against her opponents.

Full-time jobs and MMA don’t always mix well for many, but there have been obvious exceptions such as the heavyweight champion, Stipe Miocic, who does his service to society fighting fires. For de Randamie, being able to give back is just something she feels is instinctual.

However, that doesn’t mean it’s always easy to find the balance. Especially for such a demanding and strict profession.

“I love my job. It is sometimes hard because I work and train, I really don’t get time off to prepare myself for a fight,” she expressed, “We don’t do that in Holland. They’ll be like, ‘Okay, you want to fight but you still have to work.’ So unless you don’t want to, you gotta take absence of leave but it’s for your own cost. So yeah, at times it’s difficult. Because you know, I’m getting older too. I’ve been fighting for 21 years. My body took a lot of damage over the years. After over 60 pro fights, it’s been a long career. And sometimes it’s very hard, very hard. But at the same time, I’m healthy. And I want to contribute something to society, not just being a fighter, I just want to contribute something.

“For me, it’s very important that people feel safe. When you walk the streets, you feel safe. I want to help people there where I can. So I love my job. I love what I’m doing. And I love fighting. So at times, it’s hard, but at the same time, it’s so rewarding. So I’m in a good position, I’m blessed.”

Opposed to her career putting the bad guys in cages, she admits that the only one holding her back in MMA cages has been herself.

With a 9-3 record in the sport, it took several instances for de Randamie to grow out of being simply that world champion kickboxer she was when starting. Her only losses have all come against future and current champions. Coincidentally enough, all of them saw her beaten due to her lack of knowledge in the grappling department.

Things were learned the hard way right from the get-go that maybe the approach to things was a bit wrong heading into this new venture.

“My advice [to my past self] would probably be tap if the submission is in,” de Randamie stated, “I got arm barred by Vanessa Porto [in my first fight] and I didn’t tap. Well, she ripped my arm in two pieces, basically, she did,” the former titlist said with a laugh, “I had no experience in MMA, you know? I’m like, oh I can get out of this. No, Germaine. You can’t. So that was very painful!

“If the submission is in, tap … and first, embrace the ground game more because Jiu-Jitsu and wrestling is a very different kind of sport and I see a lot of kickboxers right now transferring to MMA, and I believe honestly, some of them look at it too easy. Like, ‘Oh, I just throw a knee.’ It’s not like that, you don’t just throw a knee. So just take your time. Don’t rush anything. Everybody’s just focusing on ‘I want to be in the UFC. I want to be UFC champion!’ That’s great and I completely understand. But take your time. When you’re young, you have plenty of time. You don’t want to rush things because it takes a lot, not only physically, but also mentally being in such a big organization as the UFC. There are no shortcuts in the UFC. So take your time.”

Having not suffered defeat in six years, the Dutchwoman now prepares for the biggest fight of her life as she will rematch with the now UFC bantamweight champion Amanda Nunes – the last one to hand her a loss.

When the two met in 2013 at a Fight for the Troops event, each were still making their ways up the bantamweight ladder as solid prospects. But in the end, Nunes exposed her rival to still be that striking specialist she was known as.

Initiating the clinch to inevitably hit a takedown, Nunes had essentially won the fight within the first 30 seconds. Three minutes later and she had officially scored the TKO win via ground and pound with elbows.

“I give her that credit,” de Randamie said, “I’m very thankful to Amanda. She brought out the best in me after our first fight and that’s the honest truth. I’ve learned so much after our first fight and I’m thankful for that. I am, honestly. If you just walk over somebody and stick to your mind and being that kickboxer in a completely different sport, you cannot compare kickboxing to MMA at all. Not even close. You’re stupid. Amanda opened my eyes because, at that point, I was still seriously a real kickboxer. She opened my eyes, I’m very thankful for that. She showed me that, you know, kickboxing is amazing, but you’re doing something different. So you gotta adjust.”

And adjust she has. Since the loss, we’ve seen de Randamie’s takedown and grappling defense improve in leaps and bounds.

Crediting her team for her continued success, she says she wouldn’t be here without them. Having balanced out her training when it comes to the striking and grappling realms, de Randamie is nothing but honest. Saying that it would be “arrogant and ignorant” to only focus on kickboxing, as when fighting in the ring rather than the Octagon, her style and approach are entirely different.

But ultimately, the CSA Holland representative envisions her gold strapped adversary to come at her the same way she did the first time … because if things start looking like a kickboxing match, de Randamie expects smooth sailing.

“Don’t get me wrong, I have the utmost respect for Amanda, I absolutely do,” she said, “I mean, she’s a great champion no doubt about that and it’s an honor for me step to step in that Octagon with her again. But if this was supposed to be a kickboxing fight with 10-ounce gloves, she would have no chance, with all due respect. But it’s not kickboxing. This is MMA. I expect Amanda to shoot on me and if we look in the past with Amanda you see she has troubles with true kickboxers. Look at Valentina [Shevchenko]. Even she said she had a tough fight with Valentina, both fights were very tough, so I am in for a tough fight. That’s one thing that’s for sure.

“I know she has legit power. So I have to be careful with that too. I have 25 minutes, I have time. I have a plan. And I’m not going to rush anything. Like I said, I’ve got 25 minutes but if we can keep like a kickboxing fight it’s getting more in my favor every minute. But even on the ground, I honestly believe on the ground, I’m not afraid of her. Honestly. I will not make the same stupid mistakes I did in our first fight. But I do believe she’s gonna shoot on me. There’s no doubt about that. I honestly believe Amanda knows too, I am the most dangerous fighter at this moment that can beat her. I believe I am the only one at this moment that can beat Amanda Nunes.”

These big moments and positions with the spotlight on have become enjoyable for de Randamie. They only last for so long, so they’re enjoyed to the fullest.

From knocking out men in kickboxing to capturing world titles, there are only so many experiences in fighting that can be done before it’s time to experience something new. And sometimes, you might even just wake up one day and come to the realization that you don’t want to kick a ball around anymore.

Living in the moment with her eyes on the grand prize once again, de Randamie looks to write another happy ending to this chapter of her storybook career. But what does that entail for the next installment of the “Iron Lady’s” life?

“I’m always positive in every situation and of course you think about it,” she said of retirement, “Because I want to become a mom one day. But at this point right now, I don’t know, because I don’t think it’s a thought that should be in my mind right now. You do have a plan for yourself, but it’s not a thought that is crossing my mind right now. And I don’t think that’s the right thought to have right now. But I do know, there’s not much left for me to do after this. I can defend the belt or if I lose, there’s not much to do after this. We’ll see.

“Of course, you want to defend the belt. But if I lose, I don’t know. Am I gonna try and capture the belt again? I don’t know, but still, like I said, right now my focus is on Saturday. Have fun, absolutely have fun, and that’s the coolest part. Now I get to have fun and I get to fight the best female MMA fighter there is at this moment. So that is just one thing in itself that is awesome. And put another thing in my basket for things that write my legacy. That’s the most important thing right now. That’s my focus. After Saturday, I’m gonna let my body heal then we’ll see what happens.”

The post Tales of the ‘Iron Lady,’ who is the real Germaine de Randamie? appeared first on Actu Trends.