#i love seeing my own face mirrored back at me during a really intense scene

[eddis-not-eeddis]

Hello darkness my old friend, it looks like the show's lighting technician got laid off again...

[lorelune]

of carnage

|| blade x reader || E/18+ || shared toxicity, band au || wc: 8.8k  || ao3 ||

You and Blade are mutually assured destruction. You know this, and yet it does not stop you from chasing after him.

minors, antis and ageless blogs dni

notes: well hello :3c this fic is part of a trade i did for some LOVELY selfship art with MOST BELOVED @rabbbitseason!! they asked for toxic bladie and reader and i come to DELIVER 🙏 setting and au are heavily inspired by my time in my local music scene and all of the 💀that came with it. i'm glad it can be all get repurposed into blade smut 🫶 THANK YOU!! to bitti for giving me so many fun wants to craft around!! THANK YOU!!! as well to @ofmermaidstories and @2kmps for beta reading!! now, please mind the tags on this one and enjoy <3

CW: dark content, band au, dubcon, pain during sex, bleeding during sex, toxic relationship between blade and reader, angst, hurt/a little comfort, manipulation, gaslighting by blade and the reader @ themselves, face slapping, spanking, spitting, reader smokes cigarettes, reader drinks, self destructive reader, past blade/dan heng, implied unrequited jing yuan/dan heng, kernels of jing yuan/reader

“Are you going to the gig tonight? Fu Xuan asks as if the answer isn’t obvious already.

You crane your neck back to look at her from your roost in front of your full-length mirror. Your knees dig into the carpet and the tips of your fingers are tinged with black. You’ve spent the better part of the last thirty minutes attempting to perfectly smudge the smoky line of eyeliner on your lower lash line. A tube of dark, red lipstick (his color) and sticky gloss rests on the fluffy carpet beside your folded knees.

“Of course.” You can’t make yourself smile, not when your stomach is in knots. “Are you?”

“I should if you are going,” she huffs, leaning against your doorframe. “You need a chaperone.”

(She’s probably right.)

“Please tell me you’re joking.” You grimace and turn away, unable to meet her gaze. She’s too good at reading you. “I’ll be just fine on my own, thank you very much.”

“... He’s playing, isn’t he?”

“I mean, yeah.” You rub more aggressively at the widening smears around your eyes. “But that’s not the only reason.”

“Sure.”

“It’s not, really.” You meet her gaze with a glance in the mirror. It’s hard to keep, her stare intense and full of judgment— (And worry.) “There’s a bunch of good bands tonight. There’s a touring group— all the way from Pier Point.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You have no faith in me, do you?” You pout, keeping your voice light, and hoping it comes off as a bit of a jest.

When you finally turn to face Fu Xuan fully, she dips to sit beside you, on her own folded knees. She plucks your soon-to-be-worn lipstick off the ground and uncaps it, just long enough to see the color, before sighing and closing it once more with a pop. 

“Not really, no.” Fu Xuan leans against your side, cheeks puffing out. “Not when it comes to him—”

“You can say his name, you know.” You smear chalky highlighter on your cheeks with your fingertips. “It’s not a slur. He’s just some guy.”

“‘Some guy’,” She groans. “If he’s really just some guy, why don’t we skip the gig tonight and stay home? We can order in some nice food, and I could invite Qingque.”

“... I—”

“You know that going is a bad idea, right?” Fu Xuan sighs. “We’ve gone over this before.”

“I’m aware of that.” You can’t suppress your scowl any longer, turning to face her. “Blade is fine—”

“He treats you like shit.”

“He treats everyone like that.”

“That doesn’t make it better. If anything, that makes it worse. You deserve better.” Fu Xuan sounds genuinely upset. “And you can do better. Easily. With literally anyone else, even if you find them at one of your nasty house shows. Try entertaining the thought?”

“You don’t have to be so—” You turn to her, fist balling up on your knees— “So mean about it.”

“It’s messy.”

“And it’s not your business.”

“It’s not!” Fu Xuan says, exasperated as she rolls her eyes. “I really shouldn’t even be bothering, but you are my friend. And it is painful to watch you chase the tail of a man who will hardly give you the time of day or bare minimum respect. Excuse me for showing concern.”

“Your concern is noted.” As it has been before. “But I’m fine. I wasn’t lying earlier— there’s other groups I want to see tonight. You... don’t have to come along just to babysit. I’ll be alright. I know you hate them.”

“I do.”

Fu Xuan crosses her arms and exhales, something angry and burning. “At least let me drive you. I can pick you up later too. Rather I do than some stranger or him—”

“Blade. His name, Fu Xuan.”

“Blade.”

“God, you do say it like a slur.” You roll your eyes, the pit in your stomach having become larger and darker. You swipe below your eyes and thank an Aeon or two that your eyeliner is waterproof. 

...

The house venue is a bit out of town, in the rural suburbs on a lot that’s big enough to host a crowd and not bother the nearest neighbors. Fields streak by during your journey, humming with junebugs and chirping with late- summer crickets. Low hills roll by as a harvest moon rises, waxing and half-full.

Fu Xuan drops you at the curb and idles as you collect yourself. A crossbody bag carries your essentials (your phone, your sticky lip products, a lighter to go with the pack of cigarettes that you actually don’t smoke, and two condoms shoved against the bottom). You fiddle with the strap against your shoulder.

“Call me when you need me to pick you up, okay?” Fu Xuan taps the steering wheel. “I’ll be awake.”

“Okay, mom.”

“I mean it—”

“I know.”

“Don’t go home with Blade. Or let him drive you home. He handles a car like he’s trying to kill himself.”

It’s a fair assessment but you still shake your head, trying to seem good-natured despite the rot you feel curling in the back of your throat. Bile, rising, before you have a drop of liquor in you. It’s a little pathetic; you’ll really think so in retrospect. For now, you walk toward the venue itching for a drink in your hand or familiar company. Thundering bass and ripping guitar vibrate from the basement windows, shaking the ground beneath your feet.

A crowd clusters at the back of the house. Folks swap cigarettes and clutch cans of cheap beer and flasks decorated with stickers. You quickly survey, looking for, searching for him—

(He’s usually out here before his set, hiding away somewhere with Kafka sharing cigarettes and glaring at anyone dumb enough to make a pass at her.)

A hand grabs you by the shoulder, and you nearly jump out of your skin. “Oh my gosh, you’re here! I didn’t know you’d be coming to the gig!”

It’s March, you know. She is easy to identify with the sweet, candy-like perfume she wears and the slight press of her almond-shaped gel manicure into your shoulder.  March turns you abruptly, throwing her arms around your shoulders and squeezing. Too tightly, knocking the air out of you in an instant. You give her a tentative hug back and pull away quickly. The contact scalds you.

“Have you seen—?”

“Blade?” March pouts and tilts her head. “You know, I feel like you only come to these things to see that guy. He’s nothing special. And I have seen him. He was off sulking a while ago, by the sheds in the back of the lot.”

“... I’ll have to check. Thanks, March.”

She sighs as you walk away from her, before calling out to Stelle (who is always a step or two behind her anyways.) 

You feel— bad about how you treat them. They’re both good people. So is the third in their trio, Dan Heng, a man with a beautiful face and an eerily calm demeanor, especially when compared to his companions. The group of them was introduced to you back when you first started attending these shows, hanging around the scene, and sweating in the basement of mildew-filled houses. They were some of your first friends, and easy to mesh with when you gave yourself the time and space to. Stelle always had a flask with lukewarm vodka or tequila, and March kept a case of seltzers in her trunk. Dan Heng was the ever-reliable sober cab. 

(It was nice back then. Before you had become so entangled with Blade and the subsequent social politics that came with chasing and occasionally fucking the hot, albeit emotionally-unavailable bassist of HUNTERS. It was far easier to hold those friendships than to orbit around a man who you can never tell if he hates you or wants to fuck you in his back seat.)

You find Blade tucked away around the side of the house, cloaked in shadow while taking long drags of a cigarette. The cherry glows in the dim light. From the basement window peeking out from the ground, a red glow pours out, illuminating the well-worn combat boots he wears. They’re crusted in filth, falling apart at the toe. 

(You’d still lick them if he asked you to. Hump them if he asked you twice.)

Another figure stands across from him. Serene, arms crossed, with storm eyes visible even in the poor lighting. Dan Heng keeps a perfectly neutral expression as he speaks, hushed, to Blade who wears a scowl so perfectly that it looks like he’s carved of immovable stone rather than not flesh. 

You’re not quite within earshot. You can’t make out their words, only their tone. It’s an angry exchange, one that’s charged with heat lighting and ire. Blade spits something at Dan Heng, venomous in his tone like he so easily is. Dan Heng replies back something so cooly that it’s like a low-tide wave lapping at your feet.

If you were better, you would turn around and leave. Neither of them know that you’re here, so close. It’s invasive to listen, but you know that there’s... history between Blade and Dan Heng. You’ve always wondered what it is, and considering that Blade has the emotional availability of a rotting vegetable, you won’t be getting those details out of him.

Maybe witnessing their dynamic (yet again) could provide you some clarity—?

(And maybe, if you know why Blade was so, so hurt by Dan Heng, you can do better. You can be the exact thing that Blade wants, and then he will want you, just as much as you want him.)

You listen more keenly:

“I’ve asked you to stop booking shows where the Express is already playing.”

“And I’ve asked you to get off my dick and stop being such a priss, but it doesn’t look like you’ll ever do that.”

“I’m asking you to be reasonable.”

“Sure, because clearly asking me to not play prime gigs is ‘reasonable’. Not to mention you should be taking this up with Kafka or Elio, not me. Did you just want an excuse to talk, Imbibitor Lunae—”

“Don’t call me that.”

“What, have something else you’d prefer to be called? I remember plenty of things you liked hearing. Want me to name a few?”

“Hold your tongue—”

A stick cracks behind you and you nearly jump out of your skin.

“Bladie~” Kafka purrs behind you, hands sliding up over your shoulders, hot breath over the back of your neck. “We’re on soon. Soundcheck in five, Firefly has a vodka shot for you if you want.”

You’re frozen.

Blade grunts from around the house, and as he does, Dan Heng emerges from the shadows quickly, on hastened feet, and nearly stumbles when you see him. Your expression must be— fucking stupid. Wide-eyed and slack-jawed as Kafka runs her nails up and down your neck. 

As Dan Heng practically sprints off, Kafka croons quietly into your ear, “And what are you doing all the way back here? Looking for Bladie again?”

You don’t need to speak for her to know your answer. Blade’s steps thud against the ground over the short, dry grass. 

Part of you knows you should scramble away and pretend you weren’t just lurking like a stray dog begging for kitchen scraps. It’s humiliating to be caught by Kafka (yet again), doing the same shit on a different day. Another part of you, one which is much louder, more persuasive, and saccharine sweet, urges you to face Blade. If you get caught in his maw, good. 

Your hands shake as Blade emerges from the dark.

He looks like death. Ghostly pale skin with deep purple eyebags, like bruises. His eyes are cut carnelian, ethereal and volcanic against his parlor. A cigarette hangs between his plump lips, threatening to burn and melt the pieces of his fringe that hang around his cheeks. Long, wild black hair, tipped in faded crimson, falls down his back in frizzy waves. His arms bulge obscenely in the tight, black shirt he wears. A carved jade pendant hangs off of his belt.

Blade stares you down and his scowl deepens, turning even more sour. He mutters something under his breath, something unintelligible but cruel. It’s not the first time he’s spoken to you that way. He’s done so more loudly and more brutally. 

You—

(Hate it. You love it. Well, maybe not love, but you crave the way that Blade is awful to you. You’re horrible.)

“Better get inside now,” Kafka hands drift to your waist, tugging on the belt loop of your pants. You let out a little yip. “I’m sure the front row is filling up fast. No need to spy on Bladie if you get a prime spot during the actual set, hm?”

She’s right; she usually is.

Kafka leaves you with an elegant twirl, humming one of HUNTERS songs from their new EP under her breath. You know the tune. You’ve been playing it on repeat for the last two months. 

It’s easy to follow the jarring trills of soundcheck as you float inside the home, following the trail of people headed toward the basement. Descending down the rickety, railingless stairs into thick, humid air that reeks of sweat, beer, and fledging mold. Down, down, down you go— maybe to hell, where you perhaps belong.

...

Moon Drinker by HUNTERS

You taught me that the high moon 

Was our lovers’ sigil

How quickly did you throw away our runes

How empty is your cup

Moon Drinker

That you would break mine too

...

The gig is decent. That’s how these shows tend to be and you enjoy them just enough to tolerate the stench and humidity of grungy basements like this one. 

Three bands play, IP3, the Express, and HUNTERS. The interest you expressed to Fu Xuan about Pier Point’s IP3 was a lie, but they’re not bad. The frontman, a blond with eyes like inverted crystals, has a sultry edge to his voice that verges on sexual. It’s a cleaner sound that rips into something dirtier, filthier, as their set goes on. 

The Express follows IP3. You’ve seen them more times than you can count, but the trio is still nice to listen to, even now. March always plays with the crowd in between her harmonies in a way that riles folks up just enough without causing abject chaos. The band plays a new song you don’t know, one that is angry and loud and so unlike their normal sound. Dan Heng is on vocals, rather than solely on guitar, and you’re reminded of how mournful and melodic his voice can be. The exact words of the piece get eaten by the cement foundation of the basement, but you imagine that it’s an elegy.

HUNTERS is last on.

They usually are, as their music is the loudest and gnarliest, and they’re typically the most well-known (even if they have a shit reputation and their crowds leave trashed venues in their wake). You feel— insane when they start playing. You know all of their songs, even if you don’t really like their music. Kafka’s voice is hypnotic in a way that’s disarming, even on a recording. Silver Wolf is too good of a drummer for the caliber of band that they are, and Firefly shreds easily on guitar, trained on strings since childhood, but using her talents in a grunge band rather than on a world stage.

Blade’s bass playing is messy. Though his tempo is sure and unwavering, the actual rhythm drags and punches in intervals that verge on unnerving. You have never been able to place if this is due to whatever rage and poison he carries into music making, or if his fingers are as arthritic as Kafka jokes that they are. 

It doesn’t really matter, in the end. The sound blends together in a cacophony that sounds like the way bursted flesh looks. If you could taste the way their newest EP sounded, it would be the iron tang of blood and the acrid burn of bile. 

You’re fucked for it— for Blade. You’ve been since you first became tangled in this web.

A pit opens in the middle of the crowd, small at first, but rapidly widening, with more and more people throwing themselves into it. They bounce around and bash against the individuals at the sides of the pit, only to be shoved back in a moment later. 

You try to stay away from it. Instead, you watch Blade like a fucking pervert.

The basement has gotten hot. Steamy, if you look hard enough at the air that barely circulates against the low, pipe-ridden ceiling. Blade has thrown his hair up in a high ponytail, wisps of hair still cling to his neck and temples, sweat visibly rolling down his neck. His shirt sticks to his toned chest as the overclocked speakers try to keep up with the HUNTERS most recently released song— ‘MOON DRINKER’.

Blade doesn’t look at you. Not once.

His eyes are fixed elsewhere, deeper in the crowd, beyond the bodies in the pit and those who hang at the outskirts by the house’s ancient boiler. Blade’s attention is fixed on— something (someone. You can assume who.) Not once does his gaze drift down his instrument, and never does he acknowledge the way you stand in the front row, so close, with your attention squarely on him.

(This is normal. So normal, it’s painful.)

The pit expands even further, widening as more gig-goers jump into mosh as one song bleeds into the next. You almost get swirled in yourself as a stranger slams into your side with enough force to nearly knock you to the ground. 

A broad, warm hand catches you by your bicep, hoisting you up before you even have a chance to fall. 

“Be careful now,” It’s Jing Yuan (who is much too powerful and rich to be at a basement show, but yearning pushes you both to do stupid, nonsensical things) who speaks directly into your ear, so you can hear him even as your ears ring muffled. “Are you alright?”

You turn to nod at him, flashing him a thumbs up and nervous smile. The cologne he wears permeates the space around you, overpowering the sweat and mildew with ease. He gives you an easy smile and a squeeze, before letting you. He sidesteps your frame to be closer to the pit, crossing his arms over his chest and shielding you from the worst of the throng. 

You’re grateful for the cover; it would be embarrassing to topple over right in front of Blade.

It takes you a moment to recenter yourself, lost in Jing Yuan’s scent and the roar of Firefly’s final, aching guitar riffs. You look back to HUNTERS once more as they finish out their set in a loud, carnal flourish. The expensive speakers they’ve dragged with them are going to fucking blow out—

Blade is staring at you.

Not into the crowd, toward the placid face and cold heart that so clearly plague him, not to his bandmates or instrument, but looking at you.

In the red-lit basement, his eyes nearly glow, unnatural in their anger as they always are. It seemed more concentrated, feral and crystallized in its intensity. Rage. You want to cower under it while your insides feel hot and frigid all at once. He pierces so easily, so thoughtlessly. As the crowd erupts into cheers and shouts as the set ends, you cannot move. Staked in place. 

Not once does Blade look away from you, and his mouth does not deviate from the twisted frown he wears.

... 

Swordmaker by HUNTERS

If I were forged alongside you, 

Do you think I would forgive you then?

If iron was your skin,

Steel your lungs

and lead your heart,

You would be easier to hold.

Empty are memories

Full is the garden

And bloody is the blade.

…

You should be better than this.

Blade slams you up against the back of the shed, the motion jarring and far too fast to be pleasant. Your head knocks painfully against the wood and peeling paint, and despite how you whimper with the impact, Blade doesn’t react. He doesn’t seem to care. 

(You know he doesn’t.)

He hikes your leg up over his hip and grinds against your core through your pants. The motion is rough, clumsy and far too harsh to be pleasurable. The dry friction through your panties makes you squirm and dig your nails into his shoulders. Blade grunts in your ear. You think he likes the pain.

The gig was only let out half an hour ago, and plenty of people are still milling around. Whispers are circulating about if and where there will be an afterparty. You weren’t paying much attention to them— they’re easy to ignore— especially when Blade had been dragging you by the wrist just far enough away from the main house to fuck without being overtly noticeable. 

(Barely, though. Blade can be loud and you can be loud when you’re with him. You’re tempting fate to be caught, seen with him in this way. It’s an open secret that you’re the scraps that Blade entertains himself with, but you would rather not be caught with your literal pants down.)

Blade smells like cigarettes and sweat. The scent of unclean smoke tangles in his unruly hair as you get a grip on it and tug. The juncture of his neck has the faintest hint of some cologne you’re sure he doesn’t know the name of and stale sweat. You press your lips there and dare to drag your tongue across his skin and taste him. It’s not a good taste, not necessarily, but you love it. Salty and filthy. (It’s disgusting, but familiar and morosely comforting.) You are drunk on it and it makes you feel pathetic at the same time.

A growl sounds in your ear as Blade pins you with his weight to the shed. Dragging you back from his neck, he grabs your jaw, forcing you to look at him fully. 

“Don’t leave marks.” He paralyzes you with his stare and sneer. 

“I’d never.” You try to sound earnest, even if it’s a lie. Because you would— you’d bite and tear at his neck (like he does at yours) until the skin there is black and blue. Happily, you would leave hickies above his collar. Split his lip and bite his jaw hard enough to bleed. You could wear his blood on your teeth and smile for once at these fucking gigs.

Instead, you do not bite him. You just let Blade maul you as he desires.

He grinds against your core. The pressure is unpleasant at this point, too much and too little all at the same time. When you whimper now, he just ignores you and slips his hands under your shirt. He grabs your waist in both hands and squeezes.

“Turn around,” says Blade, already twisting you himself, so your front is pressed against the shed.

“H-Here?” You laugh nervously. Despite your... reputation, something cold, unwelcome and uncomfortable settles in you. “C-Can’t we go to your car? Or inside?”

“Maybe later.”

(It’s awful. It’s sick, the way your heart flutters at the implications of ‘later’. ‘Later’ means more of him. More of Blade’s time, his touch, his hardly-there care. More scraps for you to gorge yourself on, more time to beg for more. It’s sick. It’s sick how fucked you are for him.)

Blade reaches around your front to undo the button at the top of your trousers. In a swift motion, he has them around your thighs. Just enough that he can bend you over and access your cunt with some amount of ease. He keeps your panties on at first (he usually does this. You’re never sure why. You can delude yourself into thinking it’s him taking his time with you, but you know that that is a lie). 

Blade places one of his hands on the back of your neck to flatten you against the shed, while the other must be unbuttoning his own pants to get his cock out, based on the jingling of metal and shred of a zipper. You swallow, your mouth dry. You’re dry, but you know that if you try to touch yourself to prep at this point, Blade will only be meaner.

The most he does is run two fingers over your slit, over your panties. It’s barely enough contact on your clit to be felt, but you gasp and shudder anyway. Canting your hips back, you try to encourage more contact. Anything he’ll give you.

He sighs behind you. Disappointed. Aggravated. It makes you want to cry.

Blade peels down your panties. The cold air shocks you, your core tightening up, but you hardly have time to adjust to the temperature before Blade’s equally cold hands fully part your folds. He sighs again, pulling away only to spit on his fingers, and smear his saliva around your hole. It feels dirty. You feel dirty.

When Blade pulls away, you whine at the loss of contact (at how cold it is, at how the crowd milling around smoking cigarettes and cheap weed is just on the other side of this dilapidated shed crows and laughs into the night). You swear you can recognize March’s giggle above the din of conversation.

You’re brought back to your entanglement with a harsh slap to your ass. Harsh and audible. The sound that escapes your lips is choked and high. 

“Don’t get distracted,” Blade huffs. He spits again, presumably on his dick. 

You nod, latching onto the pain radiating from slap to your ass. As if sensing it, Blade lays down another strike. This one is hotter, harder. He isn’t holding back. It is sure to bruise the tender flesh there. A mark. Something that will tangibly ache, something leftover from your tryst.

You could cry.

The velvety head of Blade’s cock nudges your folds. He brackets you into the wall, arms on either side of you. Heat radiates off his chest and sinks into your spine.

“‘Feels good?” He asks, voice hoarse as he coats himself in your meager slick.

“Y-yeah,” you lie. It’s not enough to feel good. You don’t care.

Blade seems content enough with your answer as he bears down on you. Flattening you to the dirt-covered shed, he hitches his hip down, then up, trying to fit the tip of his cock into your hole. He maneuvers your hips as he pleases, grunting when the tip of him catches on your cunt. When you dare to whine, even the smallest sound, he cracks his hand down on your ass again. Your vision speckles into darkness with the shot of pain and—

(The roar of anxiety and subsequent shame when you realize how much quieter the milling crowd nearby has become.)

“Hold still.” Blade's voice has sunk low, gravely with the cigarettes he’s been smoking all evening. 

The next time his cock touches your opening, he presses in without hesitation.

It’s—

It’s too fucking much.

It is, it always is, every single fucking time he fucks you. Any prep he gives you is perfunctory. Blade will never lavish you with attention, not in the way that you probably need. That you—

(Might even deserve.)

No, the most that Blade will do is fuck you filthy behind a shed, near some of his more well-adjusted peers and probably come inside of you. On past occasions, he has let you suck him off in the backseat of his car. He’s only accidentally (‘accidentally’) came on your face a few times. Less than ten, more than five. Once, he ate you out for a few minutes, but you swear to god he was groaning someone else’s name as he did.

(You’re fucking pathetic.)

This is always too much. Blade is too big. Too big, even if you were stretched and primed with a few fingers like would be right and proper. As tight and dry as you are, it’s painful. He has to grind into your cunt with rolling little thrust so he can fit himself in at all. Each one shocks a breath out of you, a shattering, fragile sound. 

When Blade bottoms out, he lays flat over your back. The weight of him is suffocating. His corded muscle is all dead weight above you as his cock twitches inside you. You can’t tell if he’s idling to allow you some time to adjust, or purely for his own leisure. You can’t be sure. You don’t want to ask him either.

“You’re tight.” Blade’s voice threatens to break.

(Of course you are. He’s the only person you will let fuck you, and these trysts only occur every few weeks, when there’s a show that you can be cornered at.)

He bucks into you, deeper still. The head of his cock is touching parts of you that shouldn’t be touched.

You whimper, “Blade—”

He growls in response. It’s a raspy and low tone that makes arousal burn in your gut and leak down your thighs. (You hope so anyway— it’s more wet and you don’t think it hurts enough that you’re bleeding.) Blade fucks you in earnest, then. There’s no delay, no waiting, no potential for momentary, perceived niceties. He pulls out of you almost completely, then thrusts back into you in one single motion. The friction burns and your vision wavers. 

(You still moan like a whore.)

You feel— dirty. Disgusting. Pathetic as he fucks you like. You don’t feel like a person as he fucks you; you never do. How could you? The grip he uses on your hips is too bruising and the force and strength he’s using to brutalize your cunt is just too much. He fucks you like he’s taking anger out on a piece of drywall. Blade shares physically with you in the way a dog shreds a chew toy to bits, then leaves it on the ground to fester.

Blade grunts next to your ear, nipping there.

He doesn’t kiss you— well, not often. He can’t with your current position. You wouldn’t expect him to anyway. Sometimes he leaves a ring of dark hickies across your neck, like a collar. You like those, but he always waits an extra long time to see you after he marks you like that.

(You presume to make sure that the bruises have fully yellowed, then faded. A clean canvas.)

Blade’s pace increases, just before he pulls out. His cock rests on the cleft of your ass and he tips his forehead to rest on the shed, just beside yours.

“You’re still dry.”

“Sorry—”

He cuts you off. “It’s fine.”

...

It apparently isn’t fine. 

Blade drags you toward the house. He barks at someone, then Kafka, to find a room. You feel dazed as he does. Out of your body, as you receive a number of knowing and unknowing stares from the lingering show-goers who cluster around a firepit. 

(How many of them heard you just now? How many know the exact sounds you make when in barely-there pleasure? In certainly-there pain? How many of them know the sound of Blade’s too-big cock slapping into your too-dry cunt?)

It makes you feel sick to think about.

A room must be found for the two of you, as Blade drags you up the stairs of the back porch. 

As he does, he hesitates.

(He has so rarely done this.)

His gaze is not on you; it pierces elsewhere in the dark. A floodlight off the back of the house illuminates a section of the yard, and just beyond its reach, nestled somewhere between the dark and light, he fixates. His jaw sets and locks. 

There are figures, you realize.

They’re easy to identify once you actually focus. One is lithe and short-haired, the other broad-shouldered and long-haired.  Dan Heng and Jing Yuan. Speaking on the outskirts. It feels private. Their attention turns from their hushed conversation to the two of you as Blade stares daggers and swords into them. As if he could pierce them with nothing more than his silent rage and angry eyes. 

You freeze.

Their expressions are obscured in the lowlight, but you can almost feel the looks they give you. Like a sickly mucus that gets stuck to you and rolls down your flesh in slow, cold globs. 

Dan Heng (once so dear to you, still probably dear to you—) looks guarded, thought darkened. Contempt twists his expression, anger following just after. You’d ever wager that he’s disgusted, maybe. Probably with you, because he knows you’re better than this. Beside him, Jing Yuan wears an expression of careful passivity, of geniality, as he always does, but it’s tinged with something sad and old. For all parties involved in this silent, momentary exchange.

Jing Yuan regards you directly, slowly blinking at you, as though he was a large house cat intent on making you feel safe, and not a presence that only drives the bubbling anxiety in you higher. 

It’s a seconds-long encounter that stretches for an eternity. You cannot make yourself move. You cannot feel anything other than rotten and small.

Blade lets out a harsh exhale and yanks you away. The scene breaks and you’re dragged inside. He whispers under his breath, vitriol-tinging his tone. Your panties feel sticky and wet as you walk.

Kafka had found a room for you, on the second floor of the house. God knows whose it actually is. You don’t get a good look at the room as Blade pushes you inside.. It’s dim, the only light is licking in from the dirty window, an afterburn from the raging bonfire outside. You hear muffled voices still, leaking in like a draft. 

Blade locks the door and pushes you onto the unmade bed.

It’s a cheap mattress with flannel sheets. It smells like old weed smoke and cheap incense. Fu Xuan would tell you that you deserve better than this. You think you might.

Blade climbs on top of you, jaw still locked, and eyes far away.

(You do wonder what happened between him and Dan Heng. Something did. Something gutting and heartbreaking— you hear it when Blade sings. A betrayal, an intangible knife cut but still so painful. Dan Heng has always spoken about Blade with a type of protective neutrality. He warned you to never get involved with Blade. To stay away, to not get on Blade’s bad side, and if something did entangle you with him, Dan Heng could sort it out. He has always cared so fiercely for those he loves; it’s a shame that you have squandered it.)

(Blade is a sentimentalist. Blade is so held in the past that it chokes him. It always has, during every moment you’ve shared with him. He lingers in the bloody past, he holds it in his hands with a grip that’s meant to snap bird wings and flay flesh. He hates Dan Heng. He still loves him, though. You see it on his face sometimes. You hear it in Blade’s music. The ache, the death, the unending grief and mourning and rage that the man simply won’t let go of.)

(It is obsession.)

It shouldn’t make you bitter to think about. Yet, it does. It’s not your place to hold those types of feelings, let alone express them. For so many reasons, Blade will never see you as anything more than a cheap fuck. You think Dan Heng is the primary one. Over time, you’ve grown bitter. Resentful. 

Blade pulls off your shirt in one swift move. He’s slower than he usually is. More deliberate. His hands are shaking, like how they do just after he finishes a set. It’s… off—

You hate it. You hate that the lingering pain of someone else will effect Blade more than you ever, ever could in the present.

You grab a fistful of his hair and tug. His breath catches as you do.

”What the fuck is your deal?” You sneer at him. There’s a cruel edge in your voice that does not sound like you. Blade brings out the worst in you, and you fall prey to it, so easily. 

Blade glances up at you, eyes sharp like cut gems. He says nothing.

”You and Dan Heng,” you laugh. You don’t mean to— you don’t, you don’t— and you yank Blade’s hair so he has to look at you better. “It’s pathetic, you know. How you look at him like a kicked fucking dog. What happened between the two of you, anyways?”

Blade freezes. So do you.

You’ve misstepped so brutally. So stupidly and tragically and idiotically. You’ve pushed too hard for what—?

Blade is on his haunches in an instance and he slaps you across the face.

Your head follows the force of the impact, forcing your face to the side. Your cheek smarts. It wasn’t— that hard. Blade is strong. He could do worse. Still, it shocks you. The pain is enough to make you gasp and reel.

”What the fuck—“

”Don’t,” Blade grabs your jaw, “open your mouth about things you know nothing about. You should know better.”

You should. You do.

”I could know more, if you ever told me, I don’t know— anything?” You laugh in his face, manic behind your eyes. You’re crushing the delicate nature of your cheap arrangement like how a child would crush a flighty butterfly’s papery wings. 

Blade shakes his head, smothering a laugh. He wrangles you forward, half-off risen from the bed, and parts your lips with his thumb. Before you can react, bite, claw— he is raising himself higher than you, dwarfing you in height, and spitting down into your mouth, onto your tongue.

”You don’t know when to shut up, do you?” He pats the side of your face, over the cheek that he struck. It burns. In another world, this touch would be tender. Here, you can only wince. 

Before you can reply, continue to run your mouth and rile him up further, Blade kisses you.

It shocks you, stuns you. 

He— he hasn’t ever kissed you before. It’s never been an explicit boundary, but never once during these trysts has Blade ever initiated this type of contact. It has felt dangerous to do so yourself. Something that’s too intimate, too personal to share. The core of your entanglement is the way he uses you. It’s impersonal. 

A kiss, you think, implies something more tender.

You gasp into his lips, and he takes the opportunity to all but violate the inside of your mouth. His tongue plunders inside, licking at his own spit that you have yet to swallow. A noise chokes off in the back of your throat. Something desperate and shocked that you hardly recognize. It’s filthy. He nips at your lips and pushes you back down.

Blade devours you. 

It’s too much, really. It’s a gesture of tenderness that has been so thoroughly mutilated, calling it a kiss feels paltry. The way his lips are on your own is much more like an argument and a subsequent conquest. One in which you lose ground. He nips at your lower lip, snags it between his teeth, and tugs it as he pulls away.

You pant, the sound of your own breath roars in your own ears. Your hands are still buried in his hair, grip unyielding, anchoring you.

Blade smiles, something poisonous and satisfied. You are too drunk on the singular kiss he gives you to care that much.

“That’s all it takes, is it?” He laughs, the sound dark and rolling, like the sound of an earthquake cracking the earth. 

He already knows you’ll beg for scraps. God forbid he gives you even a morsel more. 

The bed squeaks as he flips you by your hips so you’re laid flat, belly-down on the dirty sheets. Blade spanks your still-clothed ass for good measure before rustling around behind you. Assumedly to disrobe, just enough to fuck you. Assumedly, to ignore the condoms you brought (knowing he would disregard them—). Assumedly, to fuck you with every inch of your life. 

You want it. You want him so badly it physically hurts.

(Or, maybe you tore while he had you behind the shed. Who is to say?)

Blade clamors behind you, shaking, arthritic hands tugging your pants by the waistband. He doesn’t even bother to unzip them this time. Your panties get pulled down along with them, and they get tossed elsewhere in the barely-lit room. Blade spits behind you, and a sound of too-dry stroking follows. 

“D-do you want me to suck you off?” you ask with a hum. You’d let him fuck your face, if he asked. Or, if he wanted. Blade wouldn’t ask.

“No.”

“Just let me know.”

Blade sighs behind you, but you think little of it.

You brace yourself up on your elbows, lowering your upper half to be flat against the bed, and arching your hips as high as they’ll go. It’s as if to make yourself look appetizing. You hope it entices Blade, even a little.

(Please, you need him to want you. You need him to want you so badly. Please, please, please—)

The head of Blade’s cock rubs as your hole, down to your clit, then back up again a few times. He’s so hot, it’s like he is burning you. Contact that scalds. The contact against your clit is... nice. It’s the most warm up he has graced you with in a while. You could crave more, but settle for this. 

“C’mon Blade,” you whine. Your voice sounds airy. “Fuck me.”

He doesn’t reply, not with his voice. The rocking of his hips becomes more pronounced, and the slide of him against you becomes slicker. Still too big, too hot, but wet at least. Which is a bonus. Pre and blood are probably leaking onto the shaft at least a little bit too.

It makes it easier once he slides home in a single blow. 

It’s too fucking deep— especially with this angle. The head of his cock presses against your deepest parts, bruises them in a place where no one can see or feel but you. Blade is huge, the girth of him stretches you as his hips rest against your ass.

A wretched noise bubbles up past your lips. Something between a cry and a plea, for more, for less— to go home, to be in a warm, clean bed with someone who actually cares— you aren’t sure. Your desires have been twisted up and wrong for so long, you can’t tell what you really want. 

It makes you feel rotten, and then there’s only one thing you want.

(To hurt.)

Blade fucks you, then. Fully in, fully out of. Long and deep thrusts that carve out your insides in a brutal way. It’s violent. He leans over your back, and braces himself over you. You feel small, stupid, and hurt. A horrible swirl of things that make tears spring up at the corners of your eyes. You bury your face in the crusty pillow you’d manage to snag nearby—

And Blade tugs it away immediately. His big, calloused hand curls to hold your jaw up, so every pitiful whine and whimper you let out can’t be muffled. The bed squeaks as his thrusts slow.

“Don’t hide.”

“I-I won’t.”

“You were.”

“I won’t a-again—”

“You want this, don’t you?” Blade growls in your ears, then moves to the most fragile skin of your neck and bites. 

(You do, you do— god you do. You need this.)

You nod, and Blade keeps biting. His jaw nearly locks. You’re sure that you’ll be bruised for a week.

Blade scoffs and rears back, grabs your hips in both hands for leverage. And he fucks you.

That’s all it can be, really. You can’t get a solid hold on anything. The pillow has been thrown off the bed, and you struggle to find purchase on the sheets. All you do is take it. Pleasure, or something like it, builds in your core and goes nowhere. It simmers but never crests anywhere near orgasm. 

You don’t mind. This is enough.

Blade’s pace increases, never frantic. Never with him. Manic maybe, insane, tortured and damaged, but never frantic. Not with you. His rhythm falters as his cock slides in and out of you, slick beginning to stick to the inside of your thighs. 

His hand comes down on his ass. The other cheek, this time. It’s enough force to bruise again. You’ll have trouble sitting for a week.

As Blade nears his peak, his rhythm stutters. His breath grows harsher and more strained. His grip goes from bruising to breaking. You gasp with the pain, but don’t tell him to stop. His cock brushes against your cervix, and never your sweet spot. 

Blade flattens you to bed, prone, and puts his entire weight on top of you as his orgasm hits him. A strangled cry shatters from his lips into your ear as he fucks you too fast and too hard. A gush of warmth fills your insides, spilling to your outsides when there isn’t enough of you to hold all of him.

The bed frame slams into the wall with his final few thrusts. 

You lay there, in the filth, in the pain and the dissatisfaction of the tryst, and rot.

...

Blade leaves you there, at some point.

Not right away, but eventually. He rolls off you at some point, catches his breath for a while, checks his phone, then rises to right himself.

You cannot make yourself move. The only thing you can make yourself do is take slow, measured breaths. Each ache in your body is punctuated, loud and unignorable now that the fizzling pleasure of sex has dissipated. What’s left of it is this: carnage. 

“You have a ride home?” Blade asks. He must be near the door, based on the sound of his voice.

Fu Xuan’s warning words come to mind, and shame fills your belly. 

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

And he leaves.

You rot for a while longer.

This is not the first encounter that has gone this way. Blade fucks you like this and leaves. There’s no reverie or sweetness. There is using and being used, and the conclusion that always follows is this. Cooling, soon-to-be dry cum leaking out of you in thick droplets and a bite mark on your neck you’ll need to conceal for the next two weeks. Blade will ignore you like he doesn’t know you, next time he sees. But still fucks you like a toy.

It’s awful. It’s all you want.

You force yourself up at some point.

You’re surprised to find that your pants and panties are in a heap on the end of the bed. You are sure that they were tossed farther, but perhaps you misremember. Painstakingly, you rerobe yourself. Moving your legs in such ways hurts so bad, you could cry. You probably did cry while Blade fucked you. 

The quick stop in the squalid bathroom confirms this. Mascara smudges around your eyes and down your cheeks. The sticky gloss you were wearing has been smeared away. Not even a stain of the crimson remains. 

You feel hollow as you walk down the stairs, outside, toward the bonfire and its rapidly dwindling flames. A few folks still millaround, people you recognize, just barely, though no one you could call a friend remains around the pit. Stelle, March, and Dan Heng are long gone, probably. You’d feel too ashamed to look them in the eye anyway.

Someone offers you a warm beer and you take it. Your hands shake.

Hollow and wordless, you move around the backyard like a specter. Part of you wishes you were one, just something mostly formless and shapeless. Transparent. No one could see you make a fool of yourself that way. There would be no witnesses to your desperation and perversion.

You swallow back bile when it rises in your throat, and wash it down with a chug from the can.

You’re surprised to find Jing Yuan idling around the corner of the house. He looks up when you near him, and he greets you with the same genial smile he always wears. He nods to the space next him, already plucking a pack of cigarettes from the breast pocket on his shirt. You take one, and he lights it for you in the next instant.

“It looks like you needed that,” he hums. He doesn't take one for himself, only tucking the carton away and out of sight.

“Maybe.” You want to vomit. Or slide down the wall of the house and rot there. 

He laughs then. It’s too... warm of a sound for how you feel. For how dirty these venues are, and for the company that you have come to hold, it feels dissonant. Jing Yuan is too kind, too patient. 

(He cannot be your friend because your ruin would spread to him, maybe.)

“Take as many as you like,” he urges with a hum, and settles next to you.

Silently, you ruminate. Descend into yourself. You suppose, given the events you’ve seen tonight, that you’re both stewing in something akin to yearning. 

(Jing Yuan is better than you for it. He, at least, doesn’t sleep with his unrequited adored in someone else’s bed after a messy house show.)

“Do you have a way home?” asks Jing Yuan, breaking you from your slow-rolling spiral.

You shake your head. It would be rude to call Fu Xuan so late. You— you hadn’t really thought about a ride. Not yet. 

Jing Yuan looks you up and down and his smile looks sadder, “How about a ride home?”

“Sure.” You nod. 

The ride back home in Jing Yuan’s (too nice, too expensive, too decadent) car is quiet. An album from a band you don’t recognize plays at a low volume. Soothing, soft voices, so juxtaposed from the venue you leave behind. Maybe you just can’t recognize the words because you’re decaying. Your phone lays in your lap, over your aching thighs. 

[no new messages]

(Because Blade never messages you after a fuck. You’re not worth that much to him.)

...

Gingerly, you unlock your front door and enter your little apartment. Fu Xuan lays on the couch, on her back, with her phone against her collarbone. Her mouth is parted in peaceful sleep, though her hair is still done up, all of her pins are still in.

(She waited for you, again. And you failed her, again.)

You don’t know how she puts up with you. Or why either.

Some part of you wants to vomit. Wretch, like it’ll purge the awful, disgusting thoughts warming you. They do not serve you. You should just—

(Know better. You gain nothing from entangling yourself from Blade. The sex is... enough. Because Blade doesn’t know his own strength sometimes and makes it hurt, unintentionally toeing the line between too little and too much. It’s still not worth it. It shouldn’t be worth it. You’d be better off never going to any gigs, ever again. You wouldn’t have to disappoint and embarrass yourself to your old friends then. You wouldn’t have to linger in the yearning of others while never having that affection given to you.)

You collapse atop your bed. Your makeup has been roughly scrubbed off with an old towel, and you can feel the crunchy remnants of mascara clinging around your eyes. You can’t make yourself care. Burying your face in your pillow, you burrow into your blankets. You’ll probably be sore and hungover tomorrow... today? The songbirds are just beginning to chirp their morning arias. It makes you sick to your stomach.

As you begin to doze, your phone vibrates. 

[one new message]

blade: did you get home 

Your mouth feels dry and your chest feels so tight you could die. 

you: yeah. jing yuan drove me. 

[seen: 5:11 AM]

You hold your breath as Blade begins to type. Then stops typing. Then begins again. It goes on for several volleys and you really do think you might puke.

blade: get some sleep

You drop your phone somewhere in your sheets. Giddiness fills your chest, despite the exhaustion and ache and bone-rotting fatigue. Elation causes you to smile, something wide and girlish that you have to hide in your pillow, lest it be beared to the world.

(It’s a scrap. It’s nothing. It’s worse than the bare minimum and the bar is already in hell.)

But, it’s something.

A morsel. Something to clutch onto and hold and cherish.

You want to put his words between your teeth and swallow. 

[zafetycar]

higher - DR3

⭐︎ daniel ricciardo & reader ('you')

⭐︎ one in which daniel and you let some drinks and a song drive you during a party

⭐︎ warnings: mention of alcohol

⭐︎ word count: <1k

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

in honor of a hundred of you liking the lando norris social media au “what i was made for”

this is crazy ! thank you so so so much !!!! i can’t wait to share more stories with you !!!!

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

it only took one second for you to realise which song had just started. the very first note had sold it. and it took you even less to snap your head around looking for daniel’s eyes, already locked on you, admiring you in awe and anticipation. and his silly grin plastered over his face. 

in a matter of milliseconds you run for each other, spilling the drink in your hands all over the floor. daniel trips over nothing, stumbles over to you, almost knocking you out on the way. but you straighten up right away as you hear the music, knowing that the lyrics are coming. slinging your left arm over his shoulders, your glass half empty in your right hand, you close your eyes, finish your drink in one swig and clear your throat, preparing for the intense two minutes coming up. daniel brings his right arm over your shoulders and pulls you close to him, practically chocking you, as he raises his own drink in the air and throws his head back. and the track finally starts.

"this whiskey got me feeling pretty”, you both scream in unison, voice cracking and hitting all the wrong notes. you rock yourselves side to side to the rhythm of the music, nearly hitting the people around you. 

but you just keep on singing like your lives depend on it.

“but I'm turnt up upstairs and ‘I love you’, is the only thing that's in my mind”, you dramatically sing, clinging on each other for support. neither of you is thinking strait in that moment. you are driven by the piece the same way you are driven by the person your holding. at the same time, you both look for the other’s eyes. the chorus is up next.

“you take me higher”, you shout, attempting to match the singer’s right tone, bursting out in laughter before composing yourself, determined to finish the song.

“but I'm drunk instead with a full ash tray, with a little bit too much to say”, you yell, holding the last note as best as either of you can before ridiculously trailing off. you turn to face daniel as he pulls you into a strong yet loving embrace, and you lay your head against his shoulder, kissing the covered skin there.

another song comes up through the speakers, but you keep on dancing side to side, tripping and almost falling each step you both take. daniel’s hand come up to lay on your head, softly caressing you hair as he plants gentle a kiss on your forehead. you look up to him and smile. he mirrors your expression, a sparkle lit in his eyes. as you take another step, you stumble backwards but daniel’s strong grip maintains you upright. your laughs fill the room, joining those of the people who just witnessed the scene.

how this hopeless romantic love song had ended up in a party playlist, between two club songs, was an absolute mystery, and as unexpected and annoying it first seemed for the others, it was hilarious enough for them to *secretly* plan it again for the next time you would all gather around drinks.

ps: i really liked creating this one so i hope you like it too! also i'm glad it's a little one shot, so that you get a little glimpse of my writing !

note: hi! thank you for reading this piece, i hope you enjoyed it ! feedback is very much welcomed :) see you around ★

[cjsinkythoughts]

Suits, Dresses, and Heels

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 4000

Warnings: !FATWS SPOILERS!, Cursing, More Mentions of PTSD, Gun Violence, Slight Mentions of Drinking, Club Dancing (You’re all gonna hate me for that part, but I’m not sorry)

A/N: Here’s Part 4.2 - The Second Part to Episode 3 - as requested. This is a little more scene-by-scene, but there are some off-screen moments. I’ll be posting Part 4.3 (which will have the rest of the episode) later tonight.

There’s a bit more information on Reader, but not as much as the last chapter. Sharon comes in during this part, so you get to see her and Reader’s relationship.

Also, I have mixed feelings about Zemo at this point. Not in the story, the Reader��s not a fan as you learned previously, but for me personally, he’s surprised me a couple times by coming back and helping.

Anyways! Thank you so much for reading! This isn’t beta’d so excuse any mistakes! Check out my other parts before you read! Thank you again! Stay tuned, loves!

FATWS MASTERLIST

cjsinkythoughts MASTERLIST

!SPOILERS UNDER CUT!

The dress was far too tight for your liking, and showed way too much skin. Not that you didn’t like being a tease every once in a while, but for this mission, you’d rather have more cover and movement.

You had to admit though; Zemo had nice taste. The dress fit deliciously - which made you wonder how he got your size. The color and cut was devastatingly flattering. Plus, he let you do your own makeup.

Being the only female, you were in a separate area of the jet getting ready. Once you were done, you made sure to knock, even though you’d walked in on Sam changing too many times to count while on the run and had seen Bucky answer the door in nothing but a towel. It was mainly for Zemo’s sake, just a warning that you were walking in whether or not they were ready.

“Damn, girl! You clean up nice!”

You rolled your eyes at Sam, painted lips quirking up as you studied him, shooting him a wink. “You should try a mirror, Sammy.” You turned to Bucky to find him staring wide-eyed and slack-jawed at you. “What do you think, Buck?”

His mouth snapped shut and he cleared his throat, eyes exploring the dips and curves your body. “You…” He blinked once. Twice. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, his intense eyes making you heat up, before he shook his head. “You look good.” He rushed out, before spinning on his heel shoving past Sam who was snickering.

“Where’s Zemo?” You noticed he wasn’t in the main area of the plane when you walked in.

“Rearranging our ride once we get there.”

You huffed, fixing your hair. “Oh God. We’re really doing this.”

“Yup.”

“Okay.” You looked down at yourself before looking up at the boys. “Something’s gonna go wrong, isn’t it?”

“Absolutely.”

“No doubt.”

Giving a slight groan at their simultaneous answers, you nodded. “Let’s try not to screw up too badly, boys, alright? I at least want to live long enough to see Peter graduate.”

Sam rolled his eyes with a scoff. “That kid’s a punk.”

“You’re a punk.” You shot back.

Bucky raised his hand. “I second that punk thing.”

“For which one?”

“Both of them.”

You chuckled as Sam gaped at Bucky, who shrugged innocently. The former assassin tilted his head in your direction to shoot you a grin and a wink, making you laugh more. Shaking your head, you go to make a joke when Zemo walked in.

“It’s time. We’re landing now.”

And just like that, the teasing atmosphere dissipated, leaving you anxious and regretful.

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

You walked by Bucky, arm linked with his metal one, listening as Zemo told Sam about his “character” he was to play.

“He’s a known womanizer - always has a gorgeous lady on his arm.” Zemo gestured towards you. “It’s the only way they’d let in a woman.”

“Aren’t we going to see a woman?” You questioned, gently patting Bucky’s metallic bicep when his hold on you tightened.

“Which makes it more imperative that you don’t act threatening. Women don’t make the same mistake men do; they don’t underestimate other women.”

You nodded. He had a point there. Bucky faced you, a frown on those pretty lips. “I don’t like this.” He mumbled.

“You think I do?” You whispered back. “With you being him again? Even if it’s just pretend? And need I remind you whose idea this was?”

“I know, I know. Just…” He sighed. “Promise me you won’t get hurt on purpose.”

Your forehead creased. “Why would I-?”

“To protect people. You always do. And I get it, I do. It’s why you started this in the first place, but…save yourself first, this time, okay?”

“Buck-”

“Promise me.”

It wasn’t often you could see the fear in his eyes, hear it in his voice, but you could then. Unable to do anything else you nodded, a soft, “okay” falling from your lips. He nodded back, pressing a kiss to your head, before letting you go as a car approached.

Bucky helped you in - the heels you were wearing were no joke - before sliding in himself, Sam getting in on the other side of you. “And you two can’t be…” Zemo gestured to the two of you as the car started moving, eyeing your still connected hands. “Doing that.”

“This isn’t my first theater production.” You snapped at him. “We’ll be fine.”

He raised his hands in surrender, turning back to look out the windshield. Once you arrived, you gave Bucky’s hand one last squeeze, before accepting Sam’s hand to get out on his side, linking your arm with his like you were doing with Bucky earlier.

“I finally get to see one of your performances, baby.” Sam grinned at you.

You smirked back. “Best seats in the house, too, Smiling Tiger.” He groaned at your jest, nudging you playfully with his elbow as you giggled.

“This way.” Zemo cut in, jerking his head in the direction you’d be going. You took a breath, steeling yourself, before the three of you nodded at each other and followed his lead.

You found the fellas reactions amusing, their heads turning to study and scan everything they could see. You were more subtle in the way you analyzed your surroundings, feeling a bit more at home in this situation than, say, fighting super soldiers on top of semi trucks.

Your jaw tightened, as did your grip on Sam’s arm, when Zemo started speaking Russian, the four of you pushing through a crowded bar. Sam ran his fingers over your arms, giving your hand a little squeeze, silently reassuring you.

It was a bit obvious Sam hadn’t done much undercover work, put he stayed in character and you were impressed. Especially when the bartender started cutting up the snake, which you had to look away for because if there was one thing you couldn’t do…it was snakes. You nearly gagged when Sam reluctantly downed the drink. 

Bucky eyed you, lips pursed in a way you recognized as him trying to hold in a smile. That made you feel a little better, hiding your own smile by turning into the crook of Sam’s neck. “Not. Funny.” He growled through clenched teeth, lips not moving.

“Kinda is.”

He grumbled under his breath, before the two of you tuned into the conversation between Zemo and a thug that came up, learning about the apparent power broker of Madripoor, which you a bit of from your time undercover there.

Sam held you tightly when Zemo turned to Bucky, knowing what was about to happen.

You didn’t like it. You didn’t like how easily aggressive he became. You didn’t like the little smirk Zemo gave as Bucky attacked. You didn’t like the cellphones being pointed in his direction. You didn’t like it.

“Didn’t take much for him to fall back into form.” You gave Zemo a warning glare, a shaky breath leaving you.

He’d been doing so well. At least, for someone who had been through what he had. Especially considering it’d only been a few months since he’d been pardoned - half a year since everyone came back. You knew bringing Zemo on board had been a bad idea, but-

A squeeze to your hand pulled you out of your thoughts. You let out an inaudible sigh of relief as Zemo allowed Bucky to let the man he was choking go.

“Selby will see you now.”

One step down. You hoped that would be the hardest part, but you knew it most definitely wouldn’t be.

“You good?”

Bucky sniffed, giving you two a curt nod, before following Zemo. You bit your lip. “That wasn’t really an answer, was it?”

Sam shook his head. “No. No it wasn’t.”

Selby wasn’t exactly what you were expecting, but you’d come to expect that. You stayed on Sam’s arm, giving the guards coy smiles and playing with the fake nails you had on in faux-boredom.

When she purred at the man besides you, you and Bucky glanced at each other, with you resisting the urge to scrunch up your nose. “And who is this gorgeous creature?”

Your eyes snapped back to Selby, giving her a slightly bashful smile. “Celeste Addams. Pleasure.”

“Trust me, dear. The pleasure is all mine.” Alright, you thought as she scanned you with a smirk. She was swinging for both teams. You could work with that. “What’s the offer?” She looked back to Zemo.

Zemo gave her the offer - information about the super soldier serum for the Winter Soldier and the code words to control him. Your blood boiled as Zemo touched Bucky, fingers grabbing his chin. You swore, once this whole thing was over, you would kick Zemo’s ass. You should make a list, just to keep track of all the things he’d done, and no doubt would do, to piss you off. That way he’d know why exactly you were beating his ass.

A name came up, Dr. Wilfred Nagel, along with the knowledge that the super soldier serum was, in fact, in Madripoor. You and Sam met eyes. Second step down.

But before they could get anything else, Sam’s phone buzzed. You ducked your head, closing your eyes, mumbling “fuck” when you saw it was Sarah. Sam’s responses just made you inwardly cringe even more.

“The bank, yeah. We laundered so much mo-” He chuckled nervously. “Yeah. They’ll come around.”

Is he fucking serious? For the love of God, Sammy…

And then she called him Sam. Next thing you knew, Selby was shot and you, Bucky, and Sam were taking out a guard each, you growling at the fact that you couldn’t use your legs because the dress was too damn tight.

You had no choice but to trust Zemo’s lead, but word traveled very quickly here, and less than a minute after walking outside, you were getting shot at.

“C’mon!” Bucky grabbed your arm, pulling you besides him.

“Can you not right now?!”

“I can’t run in these heels!”

You glared at Sam, the killer six inchers on your feet feeling like hell. “Hell no! You did not just say that in front of me!”

“You started it!” You scowled at him, following Bucky into an alley, only to duck as shots rang out. Chest heaving, you looked around for the source of the bullets that killed the men chasing you.  Your “guardian angel” as Zemo put it.

She soon appeared in all her stunning, blonde badass glory. “Sharon?”

Sam quickly explained the situation, trying to get her not to shoot Zemo who she had a gun pointed at.

“I stole Steve’s shield, remember? I also took the wings for your ass,” she pointed the gun at Sam, then Bucky, “so that you could save his ass, from his ass.” And the gun was back on Zemo. She shot you a smile. “And your ass is looking beautiful as always.”

You grinned back. “Thanks. You’re not looking too bad yourself.”

As she spoke, your lips turned down. You had tried calling her after Germany, but it always went to voicemail. First thing you did when you got back was try to get everyone pardoned, but it was a process. And then you found out about Wanda and ever since…

Sharon was your first real friend. She was only a couple years younger than you and had been one of your first partners during your time with SHIELD. And the fact that she’d been on the run for years now, even with the Blip, her family not having seen or talked to her since…that was exactly why you couldn’t take a break. She was family and you found there was nothing more important than family. But when she needed you, you were out searching for someone who didn’t want to be found.

How were you supposed to choose between two sisters? How could you cope with the fact that you chose the wrong one?

“Sharon, we need your help.” She laughed at Bucky’s statement. “Please,”

She glanced at you and you nodded. “I’d appreciate it, Share.”

She gave a sigh before nodding. “This isn’t over. I have a place in High Town. You should be safe there for a while.”

She turned and started walking, and you were about to follow, when you remembered something.

Spinning around, your fist connected with Zemo’s cheek, Sam and Bucky shouting in surprise while the man stumbled back. “Don’t you fucking dare touch him like that ever again, or I will break every bone in your body.” You threatened, your expression twisting into a scowl as you grab his hand and bend it awkwardly. He grunted but didn’t move, knowing one wrong turn would break his wrist. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal.” He ground out.

You pushed a little more, making him wince, before letting go and rounding back to Sharon, who was smirking at you. “Let’s get moving.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She jerked her head back over her shoulder to where a car was waiting, leading them over.

You quickly followed after her with Bucky on your heels and Sam dragging Zemo along. Speaking of heels, as soon as you got in the car - getting shotgun for the first time ever at Sharon’s insistence - you prodded the stupid shoes off your feet.

“Nice kicks.”

“Yeah.” You scoffed. “Unless you’re trying to kick.”

“Did you rip the dress?”

“I was tempted to.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll get you in something more comfortable. And you’ll look just as good. Not that you wouldn’t look good in literally anything.”

You chuckled, giving her a look. “Let’s not test that theory.”

She smiled back, nodding. “Fine. I’ll let you pick something out.”

Sam huffed, crossing his arms best he could, being squished with the two other fully grown men in the back seat. “Women.”

The two of you exchanged looks, rolling your eyes at the three pouting guys. “Men.”

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

“I’m gonna go check on the boys. But I’ll be right back.”

You nodded, looking through her closet. No dresses. And absolutely no heels. Flats, if you had to, but you’d definitely prefer sneakers right now. You decided on shorts and an off-the-shoulder blouse, grateful for the looser clothing.

“They’re idiots.”

You laughed and looked over at the door as Sharon entered. “Yeah. I know.”

“Cute.” She commented on your outfit, sitting on her bed. “They explained the situation. Sam said if I help, he’d clear my name-”

“Sharon.” You sighed, biting your lip. “I tried. I really did. I-”

She shook her head, smiling at you reassuringly. “No, I know. It’s why I’m not mad at you. Sorry I didn’t call back. How’ve you been?”

You shrugged. “Fine, I guess.”

“Even with the whole ‘Cap is back’ thing.”

“Walker’s the government’s pet. He’s not Captain America. He’s not…”

“Steve?”

Looking up at her from the ground, you nodded. “Yeah.”

“Do you miss him?”

You smirked, wagging your eyebrows at her. “Do you?”

She rolled her eyes, tossing a pillow at you. “It’s kinda weird now, isn’t it?”

“Maybe a little. But I can’t blame you. Have you seen him shirtless? Good God.”

Sharon laughed, shaking her head as you joined her on the bed. “How come it’s always you getting wrapped up in these things?”

“I have no clue.” You chuckled, crossing your legs underneath you. “First I’m answering a phone call from Bucky at five in the morning and next thing I know, I’m being kicked off of semi trucks, breaking criminals out of prisons and running in six inch heels.”

“You answer Bucky’s calls at five in the morning?”

You gave her a look. “Sharon-”

“No, no. Hey. That’s cool. Some girls like bad boys, some like jocks, others like nerds. You like super soldiers from the 40’s. Everyone’s got a thing.”

A playful shove turned into a pillow fight, which turned into a sparring session, during which you pin her on her back. “You’re getting better.” You complimented, getting up.

She glared at you, taking your outstretched hand and letting you pull her up. “I guess that’s why you’re an Avenger.”

“That’s still weird to say.”

“Why? You’ve been an Avenger since, what? Ultron?”

You nodded, straightening your clothes. “Officially, anyways.”

“Right. Because you were there for the Battle of Manhattan as the secret seventh superhero.”

“Yeah…I miss it. The anonymity. I’m pretty sure I’m one half the Senators’ speed dials.”

Sharon frowned, brows pinching together. “What about the other half of the OG? Where are they?”

“Thor’s in space, Bruce is MIA - which I can’t really blame him for - and Clint’s retired with his family.”

“You think he’s gonna stay retired?”

You shrugged. “I hope he does. He’s been trying to retire for years. He deserves it. Knowing him, though…probably not.”

Sharon crossed her arms, nodding at you. “So that leaves you.”

“Yes it does.”

“Do you ever think of taking a break?”

You gave a half-sigh, half-groan, making her smirk in amusement. “It’s…come up a lot recently. I dunno. I think I’m burning out, anyways.”

“What makes you say that? I was watching you guys with Selby. You’re still one of the best I’ve ever seen.”

“I-I’ve been having…problems.”

Her eyes narrowed, her hands setting on her hips like a mother about to scold her child. “What kind of problems?”

“Just flashbacks. Of different things. It happens at random times. Certain triggers; something someone says or does, or something I smell or hear.”

“PTSD?”

“Something like that.”

“Has it affected you in the field?” Hesitating to answer was answer enough and she nodded. “Then…maybe it’s time you do start considering retiring.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “At 36? There’s no way.”

“C’mon. It’s not too late for you to settle down. Go one a few dates. Meet someone. Maybe have a couple kids-”

“Woah, woah. Slow your roll.” Your features scrunched up in incredulity. “Pump your breaks. No one said anything about marriage or kids.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m just saying…think about it. I heard even Bucky’s been on a few dates.”

It was your turn to narrow your eyes at her, hearing the suggestive tone in her voice and seeing the eyebrow raise. “Yeah. He has. A few. I told him to. Told him it might be good for him to, I dunno, get back out there.

“Or, you could just…go out there with him.”

“Not you too! Have you been talking to Sam?”

“Is it Steve? Is that what’s stopping you? Because you know he’d just want you to be hap-” She stopped as he phone vibrated, grabbing it and reading the text. “Company’s arriving.” She pointed a finger at you. “You got very very lucky. This conversation isn’t over. I’m not dropping this.”

You bit your cheek and nodded. “Alright, mom. Can we go party now?”

She breathed out a laugh and nodded. “Yeah. Let’s go party.”

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

“Hey, gorgeous! There you are!”

You smirked at the boys as they met you near the top of the stairs, eyeing Sam and Bucky appreciatively. Damn, could Sam pull off a turtleneck. And Bucky in black and skinny jeans? Sharon sure had good taste. “Today’s the day for attractive outfits, huh, gentlemen?”

“I’ll say.” Bucky hummed, glancing at your own outfit. “You look beautiful, doll.”

“You look very dashing yourself, Barnes.” You grin, pulling at the lapels of his black blazer and fixing the collar. You smoothed your hand down the front of his shirt, looking up at him with an eyebrow raised when he caught your wrist, keeping your palm over his heart.

He clenched his jaw, taking a breath, before letting it out, almost dejectedly, and letting your hand go. “Um,” He cleared his throat, hand falling down by his side. “Did, uh, did Sharon say anything more about these friends of hers to you?”

“Nope.” You shook your head. “Just told me to enjoy the party.”

“I guess we should go enjoy the party, then.” Sam nodded towards the stairs, where the music was floating up, her guests already pouring in.

You made your way downstairs, looking around the room. Sharon sure did know how to throw one, that’s for sure.

People were pushed together, dancing to the beat of the music, drinking, with colored lights flashing every which way. Bucky’s hand found yours almost instantly, and you smiled at him. “C’mon.”

“What?” His eyes were wide as you dragged him towards the groups of people dancing. 

“Dance with me.”

He shook his head violently. “I-I can’t.”

“I thought you used to be a dancer?”

“Used to. And I was a swing-dancer. Not…” He gestured around to the people bobbing up and down, moving their bodies with each other.

You waved dismissively, pulling him closer. “All you need to do is feel the beat. I’m sure you can do that, can’t you, Mr. Tough and Scary Assassin?”

He licked his lips, looking around nervously. You brought his hands to your hips, making his eyes snap back to yours, your own arms winding around his neck. You started moving rhythmically, nodding your head to the music, smiling up at him and giggling at the adorable concentration on his face.

“You, uh, you go to parties like this a lot?”

“I specialized in undercover operations, remember? I practically lived at these places for some of them.” He licked his lips, his grasp on your hips tightening. “Loosen up a little.” You laughed, catching his jaw between your fingers and making him look at you instead of the crowd surrounding him. You scratched at the scruff, speaking softly, but loud enough for him to hear. “It’s just me.”

He nodded and, slowly, a bit hesitant, started moving his body with yours, relaxing his tense muscles the longer you two danced.

“Nice hit, by the way. With Zemo earlier.”

You shrugged, turning in his arms, biting your lip when he pulled you closer, your back to his chest. “I didn’t like the way he grabbed you. It was unnecessary. I was thinking of making a list, actually.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” Your arms wound around his neck again, your head falling back to his shoulder. “Of things he’s done so far that warrant’s me beating his ass once this is done.”

He chuckled, warm breath tickling your cheek, thumbs tracing circles on the bare skin just above the waistline of your shorts. Your own fingers had found home in his hair holding his head where it was, his lips centimeters away from your ear. “Share it with Sam. I’m sure he has a few things to add.”

Your breath hitched as his metal fingers danced along your bare navel, arm tightening around your waist. “I’m sure he does…I thought you said you can’t dance.”

“I guess I just needed to warm up. I’m a bit rusty after eighty years.”

“Don’t seem that rusty to me.” You breathed out, turning your head to look at him. His tongue ran across his lips again, his eyes glancing to your own.

“Hey, guys!” The world and your situation came crashing down on you, the music you didn’t realize you’d been tuning out, along with the crowd’s boisterous laughter and cheers, rushed back to yours ears. The little bubble with just you and Bucky shattered. You both stepped away from each other; you cleared your throat and pushed down the heat that had nothing to do with the hundred bodies in the one room, while Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, the tips of his ears red with no help from the colored lights. Both of you were panting lightly, avoiding eye contact with the other three staring knowingly at you. Sharon nodded her head, gesturing behind her. “I found him.”

Sam nudged Bucky - who was staring at you, his jaw ticking and his throat tightening as he swallowed thickly - before jabbing his thumb in Sharon’s direction. “Here we go.”

You nodded, eyeing Bucky with a small smile. “Here we go, Buckaroo.”

[rezzyromance]

How would the four lords react if their s/o suddenly says, “I think I’m in love with you,” while watching them do something mundane, eg. Alcina putting on her lipstick, Heisenberg tinkering with something, etc.

This makes me so happy :,)

Alcina

You lay on the large bed you and Alcina shared. It was made to fit her, so to you it was like an ocean of soft mattress and silk sheets. You were so comfortable, although the presence of your lover would make the situation all the more comforting. Instead of laying with you, she was hurrying to get ready for a meeting Mother Miranda had called together. She always made sure to look her best before leaving the house. You lay on your side and prop your head up with your hand, all your weight put onto your elbow. You watched as she sat down in front of her mirror to do some touch ups on her makeup.

"I wish you didn't have to go. I wish you could just lay here with me." you complain. "I know my dear. I'd love nothing more than be able to spend my time with you, lazing away, but I'm afraid this meeting is very important." her tone was soft and sweet. It was a tone she only spoke to you in. You sigh and continue to stare at her, admiring the way she gently bounces her hair in her hands to make sure it sits perfectly. She notices you staring through the mirror and can't help but smile as she reaches for her favorite lipstick.

"I'm surprised you haven't burned a hole in me with that stare of yours." she says before parting her lips to apply her lipstick.

"I think I'm in love with you.", you lovingly say. It wasn't odd or out of the ordinary. You told her that you loved her often, but there was something special about the way you said it this time that made her freeze. Her eyes grew wide for just a second as a blush began to rise from her pale cheeks. She turns to face you, intensely staring into your eyes as the corners of her lips perk upwards into a pleasant smile. "Oh my sweet (Y/N).", she stands up and walks over to you before placing a kiss on your lips, leaving a red stain from her lipstick.

Donna

You yawn as you curl up comfortably in a chair with a hot cup of tea in your hands. It's not a yawn of boredom or exhaustion, but a yawn of comfort. The type of yawn your body produces because it's so at peace that life itself begins to lull you to sleep. You were watching as Donna sewed a brand new dress for one of her dolls. She had taken off her veil to do this, not wanting any lack of vision to ruin her progress. The dress was beautiful. She had been working on it for days. It was a small, pink and flower patterned dress with white lace around the edges that Donna stared at with intensity as she attached it with her needle and thread.

No words were spoken for the entirety of her process. You sat in silence and watch through out all of it. The way her eyes never unfocused from the task made your heart flutter. The way her dainty hands held the fabric so gently caused a light smile to rest on your face. She was just so beautiful.

After a while, you decide to break the silence. "I think I'm in love with you." She gasps and nearly pricks her finger with the needle. Her whole body language changed as she nervously fiddled with a stray strand of hair with her fingers. Her shyness only made you smile harder. "I think I love you too.", she whispers before smiling and continuing with her work, attempting to hide how flustered she is.

Moreau

The light from the tv was the only thing illuminating the room. Moreau had put on one of his favorite romance movies for you both to watch. You told him you'd never seen it before and that absolutely blew his mind. How could you NOT see this masterpiece of a movie? There was no negotiating with the man. You HAD to watch it and so now here you are, curled up on the couch with him in the dark.

You had noticed out of the corner of your eye throughout the whole movie that Sal kept turning his head towards you, observing your reactions to his favorite parts of the movie. He wanted nothing more than for you to enjoy the movie just as much as he does, so you made sure to pay close attention. It was a very cheesey movie about an underdog winning the girl of his dreams who's way out of his league. But still, you pushed through.

You noticed that he hadn't looked over at you in a while. His face was too fixated on the television. You glance over to and notice something. Very subtly, he was mouthing every word spoken in the movie. You kept staring but made sure to not make it obvious enough for him to notice. Word for word, he got everything right. Every single word and sentence was right on time. "How many times has he seen this?", you wondered to yourself. Then, the movie goes silent for a second other than some cinematic music. His lips stopped moving as there were no more words to speak, but a smile grew on his face. You look to the movie and see that it was some sort of scene where the two characters have their first kiss. It's passionate and wholesome. "I think I'm love with you.", you say as you stare at him. He jumps as his shocked expression jerks from the tv to your face. His eyes were wide and his mouth was agape. "R-REALLY?!" You laugh at his excitement. "Of course! I know it!", you assure him before placing a kiss on his cheek.

Heisenberg

"Son of a bitch..." he grumbled quietly as he fiddled with something small in his hands. He had been working on a gift for you for a while now, but he needed it to be absolutely perfect. His face was sweaty even though he wasn't doing anything that required any hard physical labor. It was just the sheer intensity of his own perfectionism that caused such stress for him. He had a pair of glasses that he never wears on. They just help magnify things for him so he can see even the smallest little details of whatever he's working on.

"Heisey, I'm bored. Mind if I sit in here while you work? I promise I won't be a distraction.", you lean on the doorway to his workshop. "Sure but you're gonna have to sit..", he paused for a second as he dragged a metal chair across the room, setting it in a corner that's the farthest away from him. "Oh come on!", you groan. "Don't give me that bitchin'. I'm busy and this is top secret stuff I'm working on!" You groan at his ridiculousness and walk over to the chair anyway. You sat down and watched as his brow remained furrowed intensely. "Damn. He must be working on something serious." You thought to yourself. You noticed he had his tongue sticking out ever so slightly as he worked. You wanted to chuckle, but didn't want to distract him. "Stupid piece of shit..... come on....", he whispers to himself through gritted teeth.

You stared at him, captivated by his focus and intensity. Whatever he's working on must be really small because he's able to hide it from your field of vision with just his hand. He kept grunting and whispering things under his breath. You could tell he was growing frustrated with whatever he was working on. "What are you working on again?", you question. "It's a surprise.", he says bluntly. Your interest is peaked.

He looked goofy. His large body was hunched over a chair, hovering over something so small you hadn't even seen it yet. How could something so small be causing so much stress from such a large man. The absurdity of it all caused you to chuckle. "What the hell's so funny?" He sounds aggravated as all hell yet his focus never strays away from whatever is in his hands. He looked to be carving into whatever it is.

"I think I'm in love with you.", you blurt out. He responds with a cocky chuckle after pausing for a second. You couldn't tell, but in that second where he was speechless, he felt like his heart stopped. Did you really mean it? Could you really mean it? Why now? How could him in such a strange position invoke feelings of affection from you? While his mind raced, he was able to appear as if it didn't affect him. "Oh yeah? How come?" "You're just so funny looking right now. But in a cute way.", you explain. "Like, you're this big and powerful guy, but you're so stressed over something that's so smile and you're trying so hard to work on whatever it is with your giant hands. I'm not sure why, but it's just so loveable to me."

He had completely frozen during your words. He had no idea what to do. It felt as if his brain short circuited and was unable to proceed normally from that moment. "You know what. I think it's perfect.", he says before stepping away from his workshop table with his hand clasped together. He swallowed harshly as he walked towards you and revealed what was in his hands. He made a necklace all by himself with his own blood, sweat, and tears. On the front, it was his family crest. He had manage to manipulate the metal perfectly. On the back it had the word "Buttercup", engraved. You didn't hesitate to put it around your neck. "It looks even better on you.", he smirks before pulling you into a kiss.

[poisonmypleasure]

Light A Flame

sakusa kiyoomi x male reader

���️ smut: somnophilia, blowjob, riding

Sakusa Kiyoomi didn't know what possessed him.

He was watching the late night cartoon airing on the TV that you always watch. Next thing, he was suddenly hot and bothered, his dick growing semi-hard underneath his underwear, a bulge visible through his pajama pants.

The ace wasn't completely ignorant at the cause of his boner. He was thinking about you after all. 

He couldn't exactly pinpoint what did you do to turn him on all of a sudden.

Was it you coming back home from class earlier in your denim shirt, two upper buttons undone with your h/c hair tousled? 

Or was it when you got out of the shower, your wet h/c hair flopped down, your torso exposed with remaining droplets, already in your basketball shorts? 

It could be when you were wearing your long-sleeved T-shirt, when you pulled your shirt over your head, stretching your abdomen to let the rest of the shirt roll over your body before completely covering you. 

The way your back muscles flexed a bit? Delicious. 

The way your stomach was covered when you pulled the hem of your T-shirt down? Such a tease. 

And when you moved your gaze on your boyfriend's hungry eyes, you noticed it the moment you walked out of the bathroom, your lips curled into a small smile.

But Kiyoomi saw a lazy smirk that was so sexy to him. 

There was also when he heated up the food that he bought in the evening for you to have a late dinner. You ate beside him on the sofa as he watched the news, kissing his hair as a ‘thank you’ for taking care of you. The affection sent butterflies and shivers all over his body.

The heat got more intense when you mindlessly rubbed his thigh with your palm. It was warm for you but sweat was rolling down his back. It was just a simple gesture with innocence behind it but he got so bothered by that, in a good way.

Maybe, all possible causes affected him directly that made his dick hard. 

He loves you.

It’s love, right? The one made him pop a boner during random times like right now?

Kiyoomi sighs in frustration, leaning his head back on the sofa.

Is he… horny? Without a reason? No way!

That is your brand. You are known to be 247 horny.

The saying about becoming the person you love is happening to him? Gosh! Out of all the best qualities of you, he took your horny with him.

He puts his sweaty palms on his clothed thigh, suddenly remembering then mirroring your actions earlier. Rubbing his own flesh to get any pleasure by himself.

It isn’t the same as when you do it.

So, he walks into the shared bedroom of yours, standing near the foot of the bed to stare at your sleeping form.

He knew that you were drained from your long day and he wanted to give you time to rest. The thing that possessed him to be aroused right now isn’t helping him.

Adding to his desire, the scene in front of him, the one of you sleeping, is really arousing.

He didn’t know how you sleep and somehow got half of the blanket to hang off of the bed. Your aggressive sleeping made your T-shirt rode up to half of your stomach, your shorts were rolled up to show your thighs for him to drool.

Your erection is poking out too, your tip leaking precum and wetting your thigh.

There is no way Sakusa could hold himself back.

Now that he knows you’re horny too. Damn, you could even get hard in your sleep.

Pushing his final contemplation away, he straddled your knees before sitting on your thighs, trapping your legs under him.

He pulls down your shorts with difficulty, with him sitting on you and being careful not to wake you up. His present under the clothing made his lips dry, licking them at the sight of your proud standing cock.

Kiyoomi gently grabs your dick, wrapping all of his fingers around it before stroking it, the leaking liquid spreading all over your length.

“Tch! Stupid Y/N getting hard in his sleep... You better wake up when I suck you off…” he whispered to your dick in front of his face, hoping the message would get to your other head.

Due to the room being quiet, the squelching from your pre-cum and his tight grip filled the room with clarity and Sakusa felt his last bit of restraint from jumping you disappear.

He wastes no time to devour your whole length in his mouth, tongue already licking the whole thing, tracing the veins while bobbing his head to swallow it.

While sucking you, his eyes look up to your face, still nothing as you’re still far in dreamland. He struggled to frown with your cock in his mouth, a bit upset that you haven’t wake up to fuck his brains out yet.

He powers up his sucking, slurping back his drool on your length, drinking the built up pre-cum, stroking you faster and tighter, pushing you further down his throat.

The idea of him using your vulnerable state to satisfy his needs and getting caught with your hard cock deep inside his mouth turned him on like no other as he started to grind his own erection on your leg.

His eyelids flutter at your sleeping face, pretending he is seducing you with his eyes while giving you a blowjob. He knows you would go crazy at his expression that you would grip his hair and fuck his throat roughly.

And you are still asleep even when he gets closer to his orgasm by rubbing himself on you. It annoys him when he cummed first in his underwear as he grunts on your twitching length.

The pleasure from his orgasm made him moan around your cock louder, sending greater sensation that your seed bursted down his throat.

Swallowing everything then pulling off your tip with a loud pop, he pants on your still erected dick, all wet from his saliva as he had sucked everything off it.

He sits up to stare down at you with furrowed eyebrows.

You are still in your slumber.

“Y/N, you idiot… How did you cum in your sleep and still hard?”

He spat on your cock to wet it more, stroking it fast to exaggerate the squelching noise in hopes of getting any reaction from you being sensitive.

Nothing out of you, not even a small jerk.

“You sleep like you’re dead,”

He decided to take matters in his own hands in favour of satisfying his own lust. Shrugging his pajama pants and cum-stained underwear off, he squatted above your hips, your erection straightened in his grip before lowering himself onto you.

Your shaft pressed dead on at his prostate that he jolted upwards again. He moves his ass back down again slowly as he can handle.

He stilled himself for about two minutes to get used to your girth stretching his walls until his own erection woke up again.

Then he lets himself loose as he rides you in your unconscious state, slamming himself down onto you that his firm ass cheeks clap your thighs.

His volume was moderate as he wants to let you know that your cock is hitting him so good inside him but doesn’t want the people living next door to hear.

“Fuck! Y/N! Wake up and fuck me! Damn it!” he whispered in a yelling tone.

He fucks himself onto your hard dick until his legs begin to shake and his own length becomes painful.

“Fine… If you’re not doing it, I’ll do it myself…”

He changes his bouncing into grinding back and forth to drag his nerves against your cock, stroking his own to reach his second orgasm.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I’m cumming! Y/N-”

His semen made a mess all over your stomach, some staining your T-shirt. He continues to jerk off until he couldn’t handle the pleasure anymore that he drops his hands on your chest to support him from falling forward, his whole body shivering.

Sakusa’s heart drops when he sees your eyes flutter open, still hazy from your slumber when you scan the situation you’re in.

You looked at your boyfriend’s face with a bored expression before the lazy smirk that Kiyoomi loves from you appears. 

“Kiyo-chan? Did you use me while I was asleep?”

The guy gasped when he sensed your palms massaging his waist. He gulped as he already allowed you to have your way with him, knowing that you would go for two rounds at the least.

“Yeah, I did. Now, get up and fuck me into the bed,” he answered with confidence.

You were impressed by his attitude, already seeing him breaking down in the next few minutes.

Sitting up to meet his face, you grab his chin to guide his mouth to yours, kissing the breath out of him.

“You’re such a pervert, Kiyo-chan! And you say I am the horny one,” you provoked.

You obeyed his words that night and didn’t stop just before dawn. You were proven that you weren’t the only pervert in the relationship.

a/n: plssss excuse the h*rny 😭 also, not me outwriting my w***p** works 💀

[captnjacksparrow]

SNS Dynamics - Sasuke's Perspective

Lengthy post ahead

On completing my rewatch of Naruto part I and part II, many things which never made sense started to make sense. One among them is the relationship between Naruto and Sasuke. I used to ask why Naruto is going so far for Sasuke. And why Sasuke is helping out Naruto even though he wants to kill him. And I used to think that Episode 478 was retconned to make the final battle ends in a draw and Sasuke somehow made to reconcile with the titular character. Yet, I instinctively felt, ‘Something is very different about them’. But on careful rewatch, all the clues which consolidate their relationship was there. The way they love each other is totally on a different level and the creator very carefully planned this from the beginning of the Manga.

Though I really don’t like the ending for making every characters into a child rearing machine at an age of 20 to make way for an abomination called ‘Boruto’, I still loved everything till Episode 479.

I wanted to discuss about both Naruto and Sasuke's perspective. But that cannot be accommodated in a single post. So, I decided to start with Sasuke. Since Naruto's side of SNS is very open and vocal, we clearly knew what is going on in his mind. But Sasuke's side is usually very subtle but much more intense than Naruto which makes it worth analyzing.

Before getting to that, for most of the characters in the Naruto universe (I mean 99%), Sasuke is a person who looks cool, aloof, rude, overbearing, blunt, genius and emotionless. And that’s the truth. Except for Itachi and Naruto. So when I say he is rude or arrogant, it is from the people’s POV.  And since I always see myself in Itachi, I see Sasuke as that adorable innocent child who is very honest but forgiving.

I strongly feel that Sasuke has some innocent enchantment towards Naruto ever since he lost his family which later transcended into a bond which cannot be put under Friendship or Bromance. Enchantment, here I meant by, is not in a sexual way but more like the unconscious need to be in the presence of other person. Like walking beside each other eternally. Or even warming up next to a campfire near a chilly beach. You don’t want to fall into the fire but just enjoy the warmth. It maybe totally a platonic love like many claims to be. But his absolute disinterest in any other characters (even just as a friend) and the following traits he shows only to Naruto are clearly not just distinctive of platonic love either. It’s completely beyond platonic.

The following are the traits which Sasuke shows only towards Naruto, could have been avoided or delegated to other characters if the creator really wanted to assert their relationship as just friendship. There are lot of subtexts and emotions which I cannot accept it under the guise of bromance or friendship. It’s just not possible. If someone you like shows all these traits to another person, you should stop thinking about that person and move on.

The traits are :

Preferential Treatment

Attentive

Protective

My body moved on its own

One and Only

Powerful Eyes

Unconscious Closeness

Preferential Treatment

This is the very basic and first thing you show to someone whom you love. Meaning, I will treat this person much different from everyone else. When I was exploring this trait, I couldn’t stop laughing in many places. Because Sasuke is such a trolling machine who mercilessly trolls people who are in his way. He also inspire certain amount of fear which makes him even more unapproachable.

He has this cold bearing where people find it extremely difficult to manage or approach him. It comes off as very rude most of the times. One such example is Sai told Sasuke that he will get along better with him than Naruto. Sasuke put a Genjutsu on him for comparing himself with Naruto. LOL.

What's more funny is most people (Sakura, Orochimaru, Kabuto, Sai, Hinata) usually talk to him politely with honorifics like 'Sasuke-kun'. But he didn't give two shits about them and shitted them all mercilessly.

Here is the infamous proposal from Sakura in part 1.

Well she deserved this one to be honest. Throughout the entire conversation Sasuke never saw her face and responded very bluntly even though she was pouring her heart out crying. There was no visible distress or sadness from Sasuke’s side.

Whereas with Naruto, in the final Valley of The End, we saw him turning towards Naruto and answer him properly when Naruto asked the same question of what Sakura asked. There were so many emotions throughout the battle and Sasuke’s pain of leaving Naruto was clearly shown. Which explains the difference of where Sasuke keeps Naruto in his heart.

The following is the one from Chunin Exams prelims where Sakura is begging for him to quit with tears. The response is an usual 'Stay out of my business'.

Me: Sasuke!!!! Even I don't know how to approach you!!!! I understand you don't like to talk unnecessarily so you just shitted on Sai. But Sakura is your teammate, isn't it?

And then there is this little orange blonde who literally trolls Sasuke.

I really thot Sasuke was going to trash Naruto too, like he could have easily said, 'Naruto, you should also stay out of my business'.

But then

These words are something precious for Naruto. He wished for these words to come from Sasuke someday in his lifetime. But not at that time. And he was truly shocked and very excited. Believe me, when watching that scene, it was really great. But while making analysis like this, it’s absolutely hilarious.

This dynamics is similar to

Sakura: *cries unbearably* Sasuke-kun, I am worried about you. Don’t act so strong.

Sasuke: Shut up. Mind your own business.

Naruto: Bastard! She is worried about you.

Sasuke: Alright, I love you. Now shut up.

ROOOFFFFL :-D

I thought all these childhood bickers were over by part 1 and we will never see it in part 2.

Nope. I was wrong. Kakashi and Sakura were the scapegoats here.

Here's another round of applause from Naruto.

And I honestly cannot comprehend what was going on in Sasuke's mind and why he is really rude to Sakura and Kakashi. It seems he was really irritated by their presence or he maybe thinking they were useless or both.

When Naruto asks him something, he responds without any insults. What baffles me most is that during Infinite Tsukuyomi, Sasuke wanted to kill Naruto for his Revolution and awaiting his fated battle. And yet he answers him properly.

Can you see the pattern here?

He shits on people asking some question even with an utmost polite attitude but when Naruto asks the same question he was like "Alright Sweetie, Am gonna answer anything you want and say anything you like".

The following is the beginning of everything where Naruto can't even swear properly but still Sasuke couldn't even bother.

In short, the way he treats Naruto is quite different and hilarious when compared to the others. With his cold bearing, he absolutely has no need to put up with Naruto's outburst but he still accepts without a care every time. RIP to those souls who got the short end of the stick.

He must have an extreme tolerance towards Naruto's tirades to the point where he can never insult him back. And I also believe 100% that, nobody dares to make such frequent insults on Sasuke to his face except Naruto.

I know SK shippers jump in here to say Naruto is not the only one. But still the dynamics between Karin and Sasuke is simply a mirror image of Naruto and Sasuke, probably she reminded him of Naruto and hence made some exceptions for her because Sasuke never gives a damn about any other clan other than his own, but when Kabuto tells him Karin belongs to Uzumaki clan, he was shocked. I am pretty sure the only other Uzumaki member he knew is none other than Naruto.

Now, does this means he is in super love with Naruto? No.

But the way he treats every other characters and how he treats Naruto exclusively speaks volumes and this trope shouldn’t have existed in the first place. The creator should have made Sasuke treat both of his teammates equally which could’ve deflected the shipping angle. 

Attentive

Am not talking about how attentively he analyzes his enemies in the battles. Of course, in that department, Sasuke flies high. This is about how attentive he is to Naruto to the point where he can deduce what Naruto thinks and how Naruto looks without the need to communicate with him.

I know Sasuke suspected Sakura was acting strange before Chunin Exams when she said 'Good Morning' with some hesitation. But the difference here is that Sasuke can identify Naruto without even talking to him.

Funny thing here is that Sasuke was sitting somewhere far behind from Naruto and yet he could pick up Naruto getting freaked out without seeing his face.

Who could forget about the famous ‘Where’s real Naruto?’ episode during Chunin Exams?. It would’ve been fine if this happened once. But the creator went ahead and made this thing happen twice under entirely different situations. And everytime Sasuke can find fake Naruto without fail. This scene conveys Sasuke is very observant towards Naruto’s appearance & fighting skills (the way he evades an attack).

Now, being attentive to someone is not a special thing which attributes to love. But considering Sasuke’s personality who is aloof and focused on his own world, knowing Naruto like the back of his hand  is way too descriptive. Only someone who really understands the other person or constantly paying attention can find out such subtle changes. It doesn’t end here.

This is the battle between Gaara and Naruto. Where Naruto was literally confused about how to save his friends from Gaara who is much more powerful. And yet Sasuke can find Naruto’s mood just by seeing him.

Me: Yes, Sasuke!!! Gaara happened to pass by Naruto and forgot to kill him on a whim!!! So, Naruto is scared to the shit!!

Also Me: You guys always bicker with each other and are not best of friends. Sasuke!!! How could you analyze his mood just by looking at Naruto????

In Shippuden, There’s no inner monologue like the above, but whenever Naruto appears before him (Orochimaru’s hideout, Bridge, War arc), Sasuke gives his undivided attention to him. He even went so far as to advice him to pay attention to the battle. And I was like “Wait!!! you wanted to kill him... why pay attention to him at all? Geez”.

As much as you want to think that Sasuke doesn’t care about anyone, he does care about Naruto to the point where he doesn’t want him to be worried. How thoughtful just for a ‘teammate’.

How did Sasuke knew that Naruto would worry about him?, I wonder.

But all these things started from this

This boy has been noticing Naruto from way back when he was around 7 when he lost his family. Of course he would know every little things about Naruto because for some undefinable reason he couldn’t stop paying his attention to Naruto. A lineup of girls vying for his attention because of his cool appearance, whereas Sasuke simply loved Naruto without any reservations but because of his childish and warm personality which reminded him of his family.

‘I couldn’t stop paying attention to you’  and in some translations the words were ‘I couldn’t take my eyes off you’. Either way, these words are not for someone you see just as a friend let alone a brother.

Protectiveness

I can go on and on about how protective Sasuke is towards Naruto. I can write a separate post about it. This is the most important aspects of this ship which makes it sail higher than any other ships.

Of course, this is the Ninja world where people wants to protect each other and at the same time kill each other too. Sasuke protecting Naruto and Naruto protecting Sasuke is not too special. In fact, one of the weak and pathetic character like Sakura was saved once in every three episodes by Naruto or Kakashi or even by Sasuke sometimes.

And yet here I am mentioning protectiveness as the most important aspect of this ship. So what differentiates?

The way Sasuke protects Naruto is one of the intense thing I’ve ever seen. When I watch this series, I gained this immense ability to put myself in other characters mind just like Naruto. When I put myself in Sasuke’s mind whenever he tried to protect Naruto under different conditions, I simply cannot put their relationship under Friendship.

Here, Naruto is fighting Gaara in part 1 and Naruto was repelled by his own attack from the paper bomb. Sasuke being already battered by his curse mark bruise and he couldn’t move an inch. And yet he is shielding Naruto even though it is completely unnecessary because Naruto bumping into a tree log is completely normal. The creator even went under a lot of pain to draw that panel which took 40% of the page.

Now you may question, many characters even died protecting someone. What’s so special with just shielding?

Like Hinata jumping in for suicide before Pain, Iruka blocking Mizuki’s attack, Tsunade blocking Orochimaru, Neji dying as a ‘Love Cupid’ for hinata and Naruto.... I can cite many things here. What’s common among them all is that they were all perfectly capable of moving around and yet decided to save Naruto.

But that’s not the only point. 

Is there any need for him to save Naruto? No.

Will Naruto die if he didn’t shield him? No.

Then why? He could have spent that energy trying to do something for Sakura rather than do a pointless shielding. 

And then there is Kushina.

Naruto’s mom was already on the verge of dying as she had Kurama extracted from her body and Jinchuriki without a Tailed Beast will die. Because of Uzumaki clan’s strong life force, she could hold off for a bit longer. When kurama attacked Naruto, she shielded him with her body and saved her son from an imminent death.

Even though Sasuke didn’t die shielding him, but there is a semblance.

Both protected Naruto even when their body condition is worse. That is, Protect at all cost attitude.

I intended to put Land of the Waves arc here as it is very similar to what happens with Kushina. But that’s for an upcoming section.

Now, as a Mother her instinct to protect Naruto is very strong.

But who is Naruto for Sasuke? What makes his instinct so strong to protect someone who is not even related by his blood? Until and unless you love that person dearly you won’t do it.

That brings me to the next thing.

Yeah, it kind of looks ‘very friendly’ to give a 3 layered protection to someone who is already powered up like you and most importantly you want to kill him.(Can I say that looks really romantic?). Anyways my point is different.

What really happens here is this

It is a well established fact that Minato, the Yellow Flash is the fastest shinobi in Narutoverse. It wasn’t surpassed yet. He uses the Hiraishin No Jutsu to teleport at the speed of light. It was invented by none other than Tobirama Senju who is the fastest shinobi of his time.

We basically have two fastest shinobi in the battlefield here. And Minato being the fastest among them, definitely don’t want to blow up near his son for whom he died protecting him once. He wanted to teleport somewhere away and before he could do it, Tobirama teleported the bomb back to Obito.

What many fails to notice here is that all these things are happening in mere seconds. But Sasuke realized it real quick as usual and protects Naruto in an instant. How fast his instinct you may ask? Quicker than the two fastest shinobi on the battlefield and one among them is Naruto’s dad.

What I want to say is Sasuke’s protective instinct is quicker than Naruto’s father and similar to Naruto’s mother.

And you know, I questioned myself during the Chunin Exams arc “I think in the Zabuza arc, Naruto conveniently happened to be near Sasuke, So he protected him at the cost of his life. What if Sakura happens to be there? Would he have done the same? Maybe he would’ve died protecting her too.”

But all of my questions were thrown into drain by Sasuke as if he was able to read my mind. The answer is “Hell! I don’t care if she died. That’s her loss. I will not die for her sake.”

This is really confusing, hilarious and romantic at the same time.

Me: Sasuke!!! I understand why you want to save Jugo... Even though you abandoned him in the Land of Iron. LOL. What are you going to do with Naruto anyway when the whole world is blasted off?

He proved this again in the Kaguya’s Lava dimension too. Before you tell me that he saved Naruto because he needs him to seal off Kaguya, the previous scenario nullifies your argument.

And SS wankers shamelessly defending that Sasuke don’t want Sakura to die by Kaguya’s hands, that’s why he left her to die. Geez!!! Who the hell is Sakura to Kaguya anyway? Even if she were to die by Kaguya’s hands, it would almost look like how Obito died. It’s not bad at all. But falling into the lava pit, burning, screaming.... sssshhhh. Wake the f**k up!!!

Now how can you convince me that this is just Friendship? What’s more funny is Sasuke wanted to kill Naruto later at some point. Throughout the War Arc I was always confused as to why Sasuke even care about Naruto at all? He didn’t care about him ever since he left him 3 or 4 years ago and he doesn’t have to. After all everyone have their own paths to walk on.

Even if I put myself in Sasuke’s mind and see Naruto just as a friend whom I want to kill, I wouldn’t go under so much pain to save him. I would feel like it’s better for him to die by something else rather than me. Because I can’t bring myself to kill someone I know well.

These scenes are not just put there by chance.

Such a strong reflex to protect someone is only possible when you consider that person’s life more than yours.

Does any other ship has such things to show? I’ll wait.

Yeah Sasuke protected Sakura from Orochimaru and Gaara. But he also went so far to wait for Karin and awakened a new power to protect her. So does this means he love those girls?? No. He was just showing a team camaraderie. But it’s funny that later, he tried to kill those girls knowing full well they are unprepared to fight him. While with Naruto, it always comes with a warning. Try to understand this difference. Which is exactly why I didn’t put Sasuke saving Naruto during his Chakra training, or falling from the waterfall and many more. Because they are just a team camaraderie.

I don’t even have to compare with other ships, did Sasuke ever protected anyone like this in the whole series?. These are the things which could’ve been avoided or handled in a different way, like there was no need to emphasize on saving Naruto alone while ignoring others.

My body moved on its own

I don’t need to explain this any deeper. There are many people who says Sasuke is incapable of showing his true feelings. He is cold, rude, aloof and stoic so he always hides his feelings for everyone (mostly this line was used by Sakura wankers who wanted to portray that Sasuke always loved Sakura deeply but never shows). But they fail to understand the irony that one of the most beautiful line in this entire series was told by none other than ‘Sasuke Uchiha’, “My body moved on its own”.

Yet I find Sasuke shows his honest and heartful emotions before the people he loves. If he can show that to Itachi and Naruto, why not with Sakura?

I know those wankers try to say Sasuke repressed all his feelings until Chapter 698, so he has some romantic feelings for Sakura too. Bullshit!!!

Even though he repressed those feelings in his mind, his body always betrays him in the end and his feelings pours out from time to time. That is what this section explores about.

Man, this is the most painful GIF I have ever made.

In his battle with Itachi, he was completely consumed by the feeling of revenge and hatred for his brother. But when Itachi approached him in his final moments with an intention (seemingly) to snatch his eyes, he still couldn't push Itachi away though he could have. Sasuke just looked into his eyes and let him do whatever he was about to do.

Why?, Because he loved his brother so much once that he don't know what to do but simply embrace that moment. These are the moments your mind says to close your eyes or even run away (he totally could have) but his body will not allow him to.

This is what I meant by your body betrays yourself. Even in your darkest moments, you cannot fake. You always show your true emotions towards the person you love. The more you suppress, the more it will burst out.

Here Sasuke’s hatred is glaring through his eyes because Sakura is persuading him to not do something he wants to (as always). His only motivation is to kill that man. His resolve is a real deal.

But in a matter of minutes after giving that long hateful speech with some heavy determination, when he saw that hungry blonde boy who was tied up for trying to steal food, Sasuke just acted on his own and served him food even though he was told not to which could jeopardize his career.

This bipolar dance is something to notice throughout the series and is always interesting to explore. When Sakura tries to dissuade Sasuke from something, he always retorts to insults or an angry stare. But when Naruto accidentally stands in Sasuke’s way, he always involuntarily helps him out.

In short, towards Sakura he was like “Even you cannot take that path away from me” but when turning towards Naruto, he was like “Well, I can risk everything for you at the cost of my path”.

This seals the real deal for SNS ship.

At this point, for us viewers, Naruto is just an orphan who has no friends but always carries his life with a positive spirit hoping that someday he will be accepted by everyone.

Unbeknownst the fact that he already has one person who was willing to die for him and putting all his dreams into fire.

Important thing to notice, It’s entirely at Naruto’s fault for them being in this situation. If Naruto had used a bit of brain to attack from outside the mirror, they wouldn’t have been in this situation. But still Sasuke plunged into the trap without any regrets. That’s the beauty of this scene.

What’s more thrilling is that the creator told us Sasuke loved Naruto in the very next chapter itself. 

How?

By making Haku jump before Zabuza knowing full well that he is going to die which is not very different from how Sasuke shielded Naruto.

And not only that, but by making Naruto say “He really loved you”. I got to say the creator may sucks at writing Sakura and Hinata for God only knows for whatever twisted reasons. But when it comes to male characters like Naruto, Sasuke, Itachi, Obito... he was just amazing and on another level.

How?

By indirectly drawing parallels between Sasuke and Haku in a matter of successive chapters.

By dropping indirect hints and crumbs like these to tell us, the audience, the motivations of the characters.

I always had the thought why did he risked his life for a boy who always fights with him? This became more emotional when we get to know the real reason for why Sasuke risked his life much later in chapter 698.

Having faced all the turbulent things in his life, somehow seeing Naruto doing all those childish stuffs made him feel relieved. That warmth was what he needed at that time. He wanted to escape from it but couldn’t. That’s why he embraced his warmth unknowingly in his Team 7 days by constantly reaching out to him starting from asking tips, concerned about having breakfast and training with him to climb the tree.

Sasuke even come to like Naruto more than himself and that’s why he was willing to die for him.

This feeling is definitely not a bromance or friendship. It’s an innocent enchantment you hope to last forever. Which again explains why he tolerated Naruto’s insults and hostility all those times. Because Sasuke knew those childish things were the ones he got attracted to him ever since his childhood. Rather than saying tolerated, I should use the term enjoyed. He really enjoyed those moments being bugged by Naruto for no reason.

Because just like Itachi said to Sasuke once, ‘If you are excellent you become alienated and arrogant even though you were sought after at the beginning’ . But Naruto pestering him means he is very curious about Sasuke which no one else tried. He was adored by those girls for his coolness and revered by those boys for his excellence but nobody really tried to befriend him. But Naruto tried to befriend him through Rivalry. That’s why Sasuke unconsciously started to like him. This also explains why he roasted Sakura for badmouthing him even though Naruto attacked him and tied him up earlier.

If Sasuke can show all these feelings even though he was trying to suppress it towards Naruto and Itachi, Why can’t he show a single normal feeling towards Sakura??? Because there isn’t one. Except for an old Team 7 camaraderie where he saw her as an acquaintance and nothing more.

Many NH shippers claims, but Hinata loved her ‘Naruto-Kun’. She jumped in front of Naruto to save him from Pain, when in reality she just acted selfishly and couldn’t pull out the Chakra rods. Meaning she failed whatever she was about to do.

Another interesting thing to cite for NH shippers, they claim for Naruto, Hinata is the most important person his life. Since when? With that shitty movie called ‘The Last’ with shitty retconned stuff? In all the 699 chapters he always claimed Iruka Sensei and Sasuke were the important people in his life. And you know what? For Hinata to like Naruto, he has to jump in to save her from the bullies. But for Sasuke he just saved Naruto without any validation. He saw Naruto and liked his presence and just did it. 

When you could accept that failed attempt as a love, why not accept Sasuke loves Naruto when in fact he succeeded in saving him and that too unconditionally?

This is one of the tropes which should have been avoided if the creator wanted Sasuke and Naruto to be just friends.

One and Only

This is something very special that is offered to that one person in his life. That is Naruto. Even Itachi knew it. That is the Power to influence Sasuke’s heart. This is the fact even Sasuke himself knew it and that’s why he wanted to kill him.

Now don’t compare this with the manipulation shit which Orochimaru and Obito were doing. It’s not that. Many Sasuke fanatics always blame Naruto that he is also manipulating Sasuke just like everyone. That’s totally wrong.

Manipulation is something you do by talking about some twisted facts and make the other person to do what you want to.

Naruto never did that. Ever. Whenever Naruto and Sasuke meet, they always talk about themselves and how they feel. Not the world, not Team 7 or anything. Which is exactly why Sasuke himself willingly left that space in his heart for Naruto when he left him in the Valley of the End which he badly wanted to destroy. Sasuke, of all people, know Naruto is also very honest.

Sasuke lost all his rationality when he went into darkness by stabbing Karin who was helping him in his battle with Danzo. She even replenished his chakra many times. He not only just stabbed her, after when he found her still alive, he decided to finish her off with his Chidori.

And then the pink haired bitch appears before him and started to concoct lies with malicious intent to kill him. This provoked Sasuke more and more to reach this point.

Believe me, when you are lost in darkness, all you need is a small light which can show you a path. Someone who can extend helping hands to lift you up with honesty.

Sakura, being a crass woman, riled up Sasuke further with full of nonsense.

If you want to picture the darkness,

This is exactly how Sasuke feels. He is in so much pain and don’t know how to face it or deal with it. So he started to destroy everything he sees. For him Karin, Sakura, Kakashi are all just some pebbles in his way and want to trample them as he goes. His entire life has become farce after knowing his beloved brother’s real pain and miseries. Now he has no one left from his family.

Until Naruto appears.

He may not be his family, but he is the only person left for him in this world. Which is established in many Naruto endings and even Sasuke himself accepts this with Sage of Six Paths. 

But my Cherry Blossom queen really loved Sasuke, she only wanted the good of him. My question is ‘Then why the fuck she tried to kill him? She looked at Sasuke and find that he changed. She didn’t even bothered to find out what’s going on from his side.’ Then how is this considered as wanting only good for him? 

Surprisingly Sasuke calmed down a bit, the moment Naruto appears and even started to respond to him which he didn’t before with Kakashi and Sakura. Deep down Sasuke himself knew in his heart that the path he is going through is Self-destructive. Just like Kurama tells Naruto ‘Destroy everything you see’ in the Pain arc when he sprouted upto Eighth Tail, Sasuke’s traumatic mind tells him to ‘Destroy Konoha’.

All he needed was someone to extend an helping hand to tell him what to do without any malice. Naruto did that. Just like what Minato did for Naruto in Pain arc.

After clashing Rasengan with Chidori ,they meet inside the White bubble space and Naruto talks to Sasuke which evoked all his past memories which he never wanted to awaken.

That’s why Sasuke was visibly shaken with Naruto’s words. Because those were the words which mirrors exactly how Sasuke feels too. He was surprised and shocked that Naruto also felt the same way without him ever openly confessing those feelings.

When everyone tried to kill him for his monstrosity, Naruto is the only person standing there seeing him as his friend. Just like how Iruka saw Naruto way back in 1st chapter.

Believe me, even at the depth of darkness, when you see the person you love so much, you will stop and rationalize.

That is exactly why Itachi left Sasuke in Naruto’s hands. He even admitted to Sasuke that his words will not reach him no matter what.

Sasuke may not have abandoned his ambitions at that point. But Naruto gave him a clear path. That is ‘Show all your hatred on me’ and then do whatever you want.

I know SS shippers will claim that back hug from Sakura changed his murderous behaviour during the Chunin Exams. Yes. That’s true. But right after that, when Sasuke was fighting Yoroi in a one-on-one combat, his Cursed Seal flares up again. He retracted that seal out of his sheer will and thought about both Sakura and Naruto who was freaking out without even knowing about the seal. So, it’s not only a Sakura exclusive moment. The creator even went ahead and drawn a panel asking Sakura to not say anything about the Curse Mark to Naruto. Why do that?

As far as I understand, Sasuke saw Naruto and felt the warmth of his family. He singled that out in chapter 698. When Naruto was placed in the same team as him, he started to extend his good side to his other team members as well. But the moment he decided to leave the village, he severed the ties with Sakura (was there ever one apart from considering her as a teammate?) by saying Thank You. Meaning, you helped me many times so thanks for all of that. What’s more pitiful is, he didn’t even look at her face for the entire conversation except for saying ‘You are really annoying’. There is nowhere in the manga where Sasuke singled out Sakura for making him feel anything and did something for her exclusively. It’s all in the context of Team 7.

If Sakura is the most important person in Sasuke’s life, he should have stopped the rampage the moment he saw her but instead he got riled up more and more. Which explains where Sasuke kept her in his heart. Literally nowhere. He threw her into the trash. LOL.

If Hulk can calm down after seeing Betty Ross and you call that love, why not accept Sasuke loves Naruto??

Powerful Eyes

You know, Even in real life, Our eyes always reflects our true feelings, just like how your body betrays your mind , your eyes even betray your body.

Just like how Itachi could never fake his evil brother act in his final moments.

Just like how Sasuke couldn’t turn away from Itachi when he was approaching him to seemingly snatch his eyes.

Uchiha boys being a romantic bunch, always expose their awakening/ reawakening/ evolving their Sharingan in a most distressed situation. Just like Madara and Sasuke exposed their brimming eyes for Hashirama and Naruto. But in this department, Madara is wildly romantic as always. LOL. Despite losing 3 brothers, he awakened his Sharingan only when he was breaking up with his ‘friend’. And Sasuke, he reawakened / evolved Sharingan when trying to save / breaking up with his ‘friend’. Such a Biological defect!!!!

Poor Sakura pathetically fails in this department.

Anyways this part is not about Sharingan anyway. It’s about how such a powerful eyes becomes powerless before those Blue Eyes.

Eye Symbolism is something I really enjoy exploring in this ship.

Like I mentioned earlier, Sasuke has never shown his emotions atleast starting from Part II. He usually never shows any positive emotions like happiness, laughing, pouting, love, excitement (although he has shown all these towards Itachi and Naruto) and is known for negative emotions like anger, annoyance, hatred.

Look at how Sasuke is glaring with hatred for her insensitive words. She deserved this to be honest.

Now, is there any need to show your fury towards Kabuto?

Since the beginning of the Shippuden, some facts have been established strongly:

1. Sasuke has changed by leaps and bounds in terms of his attitude and hatred.

2. Sharingan is pretty dangerous. Many characters including kurama acknowledges it. Sasuke is very adept at using his Sharingan.

Orochimaru maybe right. But he doesn’t know the weakness. LOL

His hatred has reached to a point where he couldn’t think anything rationally and started to kill everyone, just like how Naruto kicked Sakura in his 4 Tailed Kyuubi Mode engulfed with the hatred of Kurama. Meaning, to reach his goal, Sasuke will kill anyone in his path without any hesitation. This shot is the representation of this.

And yet when he saw those particular Blue eyes, he stops his rampage immediately and visibly shocked even.  That’s the look of ‘why is that blue eyes here?’

You have every right to accuse me that I am over exaggerating this scene. I am not. Even I wanted to think that way too that I am deluding myself. The creator has only consolidated my view pretty strongly.

There’s no need to emphasize on eyes at all. The anime team has went under so much pain to animate this scene in a satisfying and compelling way.

What’s more? The creator even went under further extent to draw a whole page in the manga focusing on their eye contact after the Rasengan vs Chidori clash. Meaning, Sasuke has calmed down visibly and became very easy to reason with.

Trust me, even in your darker / vulnerable moments, your eyes will reflect your true feelings to the person you love. You cannot be stubborn. 

Now did it stop here?? Nope, it happened again in the Final Valley of the End battle too.

Sasuke is usually confident of his Sharingan (rightfully so) and likes to flaunt his eyes just like Madara. He was very sure that he was going to win.

While Sasuke had a clear resolve to kill Naruto when he was showing his back, but the moment he comes close with those Blue Eyes, his heart even pounded strongly (in the anime), and lost the resolve completely which made his Sharingan retract itself unconsciously. Meaning, his eyes betrayed him.

It’s funny that not even a minute ago he was very proud of his Visual Prowess as an Uchiha and his victory is inevitable but the moment he saw those Blue eyes, he just lost. You think I am again exaggerating?. Nope!!!

Oh Dear!!! This doesn’t get more romantic than this. An inescapable gaze from those blue eyes he loved all along.

Sasuke!! What happened to your proud Uchiha eyes?. You just stole Chakra from Naruto, isn’t it? Hints like these are really heartwarming, to be honest.

My entire point is, every character from every arc hypes up Sharingan starting from Zabuza, Haku, Rock Lee, Orochimaru, Kabuto, Kurama and many more, but why put a weakness for Naruto’s eyes? 

What I really loved exploring is the way Sasuke totally expressed everything through his eyes in Episode 478.

Sasuke shows his vulnerability towards Naruto with just his eyes. These are not something you show to everyone. Even when Itachi departed finally after releasing Edo Tensei, Sasuke looked sad, shocked and pained but didn’t cry. He accepted the reality of it. The last time when we saw him crying, it was after knowing the truth of Itachi, facing towards the beach and was weeping unbearably because there was no one else for him in this world. But this time, he is next to the person whom he feels truly loved and he doesn’t mind showing it with his eyes.

Well, on multiple rewatches, the clues for their love was already dropped in the 1st Valley of the End fight itself. Sasuke already lost his resolve to kill by balling his chidori fist rather than ramming through his chest. So the feelings inside the bubble are their honest emotions like always.

The pain on the verge of their separation inside the white bubble is clearly evident from their eyes even in their monstrous form. Even in the manga it was mentioned that ‘I can’t turn my back  Vs  I am not letting you go’

But what they really wanted to be from their childhood was this.

Look at Sasuke, how entranced he was on looking at that innocent boy. Now put yourself at Sasuke’s mind. Will you ever look at your friend like that??? Now, they are probably just 7 here, am not romanticizing. But Sasuke looks enthralled innocently.

But somehow, their paths separated them for who knows how long. But the pain in both their eyes is unbearable. Even the databook, mentioned that separating from Naruto is like ripping half of his body. Well, this proves it.

Now, if they really wanted to portray this as friendship, they never should have given Eye symbolism at all. They should have gone with ‘I was always jealous of you’ thing, like they portrayed in that filler episode 450.I would’ve gladly accepted it as friendship. Because that’s how friends behave when they are jealous and I wasn’t feeling any romance at all. There’s no need of that lengthy monologue on how he was always looking at Naruto and felt pain.

I am telling you, I won’t be looking at my friend like this. 

Unconscious closeness

Remember, I’ve written in the beginning of the post that Sasuke enjoys the warmth from Naruto. Meaning, he likes that person’s presence unconsciously and want to be near him. Sasuke proved this many times.

This is the most intense and confusing section I have to dissect for this post. But it’s the most entertaining nonetheless, atleast for me.

Starting from the Land of the Waves arc, here Sasuke is speed walking to match up with Naruto.

Initially I thought, he is trying to be competitive. But instead of walking ahead of Naruto to show who is faster, he just walks beside him. I find this really hilarious and adorable. This just shows Sasuke likes Naruto’s presence so much so that he wants to walk beside him.

Now many SS shippers tries to make this scene for themselves, when it is clearly not.

If you notice Sasuke in the Bell Training, he compares his strength difference with Kakashi and determines to get stronger. Same with Might Guy, he compares Might Guy’s speed with his own Sensei. Meaning, he respects people with strength. Naturally, he should’ve asked her and Sakura would have given him tips wholeheartedly. Because she really succeeded in that training.

Why bother to ask a deadlast?

The only reason I could find is that he wants to befriend him in his own stubborn way. But Poor Soul!!! He didn’t get the tips anyway. LOL. But despite getting the short end of the stick, he never hold it against him. Just like he never held anything against Naruto when he tied him up in Episode 3. All he did was just flaunt how he escaped.

Pretty cool for a 12 year old kid. Because If I were Sasuke, I would hold it for sure.

Once again Sasuke proves how he can care Naruto in his own adorable way.

He could’ve said ‘I am going to train too” if he really intended to train. There is no need to say ‘Going for a Walk’ and ask Naruto about breakfast. This explains that Sasuke simply missed the boy’s prolonged absence and reached out to him in his own cute way.

Now all these doesn’t mean he was in love with him. It’s just a childish attraction which makes him act like that involuntarily.

I just added this GIF to compare with the next scene.

Now Shikamaru falling on Naruto in an unconventional way doesn’t look anywhere romantic. Instead it’s the opposite. They are pretty friendly here.

But Sasuke’s approach to Naruto does looks undeniably sensual and I couldn’t deny the sexual tension that brings with it. (Even when I watched it for the first time having no idea of shipping anyone, I lowkey got creeped and thought, ‘Sasuke!! What have you become? ’)

This scene is something even I can’t dissect. Because honestly I don’t know. Sasuke is a person who never appreciates physical touches nor does he initiates either.

I get this crazy femme fatale vibe when seeing Sasuke with his sexy costume landing at a speed of lightning with his hands wrapped around Naruto and taunting near his ear about what was he doing there? The only reason I could think of is that maybe he missed him for 3 years which made him go unconsciously so close near Naruto. It’s also funny that he could’ve shoved his sword into Naruto’s heart before landing and no one could’ve batted an eyelid.

Damn you, Kishimoto!!! Is this scene absolutely necessary??? What are you trying to convey? Why do you give Sasuke, a sexualized aura?? I understand you love this character so much and you want this character to be desirable among women. Yeah, you succeeded by making Karin behave like a woman in heat, the moment they met. But instead of letting her get close to him, you made Sasuke to say ‘You... Don’t get so close’ whereas with Naruto, you made Sasuke to go willingly touch him in a half hugging stance. Geez!!!

Here comes the most interesting part in this section.

It may seem irrelevant at the beginning but trust me, it will make sense later.

Before that, I would like to appreciate the creator and especially the anime team to bring the battle sequence so lively and different in its own way. If you notice the purpose of every battle that happened in Naruto series, each carries it own meaning and deliberately distinguished. How you ask?

The fight between Deidara vs Sasuke.

Logically Deidara should be dead in the Gaara retrieval arc itself. There is no point for him to chase Sasuke who killed Orochimaru to whom Deidara had nothing to do with. It didn’t impact the story in any way. But the purpose of that battle is to show how far Sasuke has grown up in those 3 years. The way he can use his Sharingan to analyze his enemies abilities and weakness so quickly and take multiple steps ahead, the way he can use Genjutsu and other incredible jutsus in his arsenal were a visual treat.

Now, let’s analyze Sasuke’s arsenal of Jutsus. He can do Teleportation Jutsu, a decent Genjutsu, Chidori Senbon (needles), Raikiri (Chidori sword which ranges to 5 metres), Chidori Nagash (Chidori from his whole body), Transformation Jutsu, Substitution Jutsu Shuriken Jutsu with wire works, Kirin, Gokakyu No jutsu, Sword fighting, basic Hand-to-Hand fighting (I’ve never seen him do it ever since the Chunin Exams with Orochimaru), Archery fighting, Susanoo, Amaterasu and all the Rinnegan abilities.

Based on the jutsus he learned so far and how he applies in every battle, it all confirms two things:

Sasuke is a Medium-Long Range Shinobi

Sasuke’s battles are usually based on his Cleverness

Let’s go for Naruto. He can do Teleportation Jutsu, Sexy Jutsu, Harem no jutsu, Rasengan, Rasen Shuriken, Oodama Rasengan, Biju Dama, Tailed Beast Mode, Kage Bunshin No jutsu, Sage mode jutsu, Frog Kumite, Better Hand-to-Hand combat skills (better than Sasuke), Transformation Jutsu, Substitution Jutsu and all his Six path abilities.

Compared to Sasuke, Naruto’s jutsu variety is very less. But for every 4 punches from Sasuke equals 1 powerful punch from Naruto. Analyzing all of them,

Naruto is a Close-Range Shinobi except for his Rasen Shuriken

Naruto’s battles are usually based on his Jutsu Timing and Unpredictability

Now, Let’s rewind back to 3 years and look at the 1st Valley of the End battle. That battle was cleverly choreographed which carried very intense emotional baggage. Things we never knew about those boys until then were openly admitted and acknowledged. That is, for Sasuke, Naruto became his closest friend. For Naruto, he always wanted to be Sasuke’s friend way back when he was 6 or 7. For both, they already have some unexplainable bond by just looking at each other and smiling secretly.

The theme of that battle started as Am going on my own path vs I can’t allow you to tread on that dangerous path and ended up with I want to break our bond vs I don’t want to.

Now, this posture represents, Naruto is the one who pursues Sasuke to stop him from whatever he was about to do. Meaning, Naruto is the one who is constantly reaching out and Sasuke as usual kicks him out violently, that is he is pushing him away. That’s the essence of the whole battle.

Considering all the battles in the Naruto universe, I categorize them as follows:

Best Calculated (and emotional) battle - Itachi vs Sasuke

Best Hand-to-Hand combat - Kakashi vs Obito (what a fight it was!!!)

Best Mega Powered Up battle - Hashirama vs Madara

Best Emotional battle - Naruto vs Sasuke (1st valley of the end)

Best Unpredictable/Entertaining battle - Naruto vs Pain

Despite having all the potential to fulfill the above categories, The Final Valley of the End Battle never bested in any of them.

As analyzed before, the boys have grown up to greater heights. I expected a battle between Cleverness of Sasuke Vs Unpredictability of Naruto

But what I observed was something so intense. That is Unintentional closeness.

This battle symbolizes one thing: I am going to kill you to get lonely vs I won’t let you kill me because you will be alone.

Being a long range fighter, I expected Sasuke to go for this.

If you have to kill someone you love, it is best to keep your distance. Sasuke knows this full well when he battled with Itachi. Except for some Sword fighting, he maintained a certain distance to fight Itachi throughout, until the very end.

But when fighting Naruto, all I got was this.

That’s when I finally understood that this posture means, the fight is very personal. Which means, Sasuke or Naruto won’t be fighting by sitting on top of each other with their enemies or anyone else. That’s just between them alone.  

There was no analysis or cleverness from Sasuke’s side or any Unpredictability from Naruto. It was very bland and Sasuke looked clueless throughout the fight.

It started with some boxing style combat, including stealing hand seals and then some power punches. Very quickly it propels to Susanoo vs Tailed Beast mode. I expected some Hashirama vs Madara level power battle.

But all we saw there was this.

I mean, Come on!!! Man. Even the most Crazy and openly Romantic Uchiha, Madara himself never fought like this in Susanoo with Hashirama (Though Madara must be thinking ‘Damn Hashirama! I should’ve tried this with you’. LOL). Those mega battles carried variety of tactics.

Another thing I noticed was, Sasuke is the one who does lots of talking and constantly pursuing Naruto. Whereas Naruto is uncharacteristically quiet for the most part. 

And finally it leads to this.

Sasuke was unconsciously getting closer and closer to Naruto which is the opposite of what he wants to do. Because of that very closeness, he couldn’t look at his eyes with his Sharingan and eventually got an uppercut. It’s like Sasuke was screaming, ‘Hate me’ and Naruto was like ‘Keep talking’.

Every jutsu he had for attacking from a long-range were forgotten. He didn’t even try to put Naruto under Genjutsu. I mean with his Rinnegan, he was capable of putting all the 9 Tailed Beasts into a powerful Genjutsu. Why didn’t he try that with Naruto? There was no Chidori Stream or Lightning Blade.

I can imagine Naruto doing close range fights with someone or even sitting on top of the enemy. Example, part I, Naruto head bumped Gaara. He was literally fighting with his Shadow Clones against a Monster so he had to get closer. Naruto monstrously punching Deidara not knowing the fact that it was a clay clone.

But Sasuke??? Can you imagine Sasuke sitting on top of the enemy and punching to pulp??? No way. Not a chance.!!!

In one way or other way, Sasuke was always in the close proximity with Naruto throughout the battle and touching each other which is totally uncharacteristic of him when compared to his other battles.

Every battle he ever fought was always at a distance which is the clear representation of his own character. He is calculative, analytical, precise and moves fluidly with a flair like a true Ninja unlike Naruto who is always reckless, noisy, powerful and clumsy. 

Sasuke is someone who never lets his emotions get ahead in the battle, unlike Naruto. This is evident from the War when he was yelling at Naruto to stop worrying about Hokage as they were Edo Tensei who can regenerate. Even when fighting with Itachi, he calculated every move and attacked Itachi without any emotions except at the very end. Sasuke in this final battle forgot who he was and telling us viewers “Am just gonna get closer to Naruto and punch him hard”.

In short, Sasuke completely forgot all his battle tactics he had with Itachi and let his emotions get ahead of his cleverness and got himself closer to Naruto which eventually ended up weakening his resolve to kill him. This is what I meant by Unintentional Closeness.

Anyways, what I understood was, the creator didn’t put all this by without any meaning. It’s all very deliberate and drawn carefully.

Moving onto the final and the most defining moments of SNS.

When I watched this scene for the first time, I can’t comprehend the exact meaning. And I forgot about this later because of my excitement to know what happens next. But what I understood on my rewatch is that, the feelings exchanged here is very pure and innocent but distressing.

Sasuke already lost his resolve to kill by not ramming Naruto with Chidori instead balled up his fist. So he is not contemplating whether or not to kill Naruto.

Sasuke made every effort to leave Naruto and succeeded in it too. But somehow, accidentally, when faced with a person whom he considers so precious in such a close proximity, despite have a stinging pain in his arm, he is feeling the warmth he once felt. He just wants that warmth to prolong for some more time and he can’t able to evade it. So he totally gave in to that desire and feeling it unconsciously. Sasuke always watched Naruto (unbeknownst to him) and felt warmth, relief and weakness. This scene is the symbolic and innocent representation of all those feelings when he saw Naruto and he is exeriencing it for the final time. 

Does this means, does Sasuke wants to kiss him? No.

But every symbolism of that being happening is there. It’s just all open to interpretations. The creator could show us how Sasuke fell on his knees and staring at Naruto intently but never intended to show when he got up and left. I don’t understand this twisted mind of the creator.

Added to that, Sasuke was about to say ‘Naruto, I....’ God only knows what he was about to say. But every possibility of Sasuke confessing and kissing is there.

I know the creator cannot approach this directly considering the situations he worked under. But is there any necessity for such an intense scene? Even the anime creators loved this scene and made their own version of making Naruto’s eyes wide open and even more closer.

I wont be watching my friend or sister like that. 

That explains all the way back to this fated accidental scene.

There is nothing special about this scene. It’s all very clear that the kiss was accidental. It was really funny. But my point is why Sasuke never beat him to pulp or even push Naruto away like he did with Sakura and Karin? Why did he stood up for Naruto before Sakura? Why did he let go off Naruto even though he tied him up? Too many leeway for a single person in a single episode. And the most important part is, Sasuke thought it was intentional and remembers the taste. LOL.

Does this means he enjoyed the kiss? Not at all.

Most probably he was shocked to see Naruto in such a close proximity after seeing him from a distance for all those years. And he enjoys this as just another prank from Naruto in his own innocent way. But he won’t mind getting another one from Naruto either.

So, to conclude

I believe I made this post from an objective standpoint without making crazy theories and I don’t have to..... since canonical resources were plenty. Obviously my own bias will also be there which is unavoidable. But I tried to question the creative choices of why this scene even exist in the first place many times. Because those are the scenes which made the most impact inside me.

My first watch of Naruto gave me the benefit of doubt that ‘Are they in love? Nah... They are friends. Maybe I am just overthinking...  but why does it feel different??’ and that too only after finishing episode 478. After rewatching it again and again, it only consolidated my view.

For Sasuke, his worldly ties are pretty thin and runny. He was always a loner from the beginning even when he had his family. He never bothered to make any friends nor did anyone tried to befriend him. He was pretty close to his family especially Itachi. When he lost everything, somehow he got attracted innocently to Naruto and started to like him. But beyond Naruto he never bothered to add anyone in his heart. He considered Kakashi and Sakura were like his acquaintances who helped him a lot and that’s all.

Then after using Orochimaru, he gathered some high skilled shinobi for killing Itachi. But he made it clear that there don’t need to be any understanding but just co-operation would be enough. But along his way, he just abandoned Jugo, Suigetsu somewhere. He openly said to Karin that she is nothing but a burden to him. When his hatred reached upto a maximum boiling point, he didn’t even hesitate to kill Karin, Kakashi or Sakura. But the moment Naruto appears he calmed down. The proof? He was shocked to see Naruto at first. Then Naruto calls, ‘Sasuke!!!’, to which Sasuke responds with, ‘What?’. Despite becoming a maniac, he could find it in his heart to listen to Naruto.

It took an Edo Tenseified Itachi to bring him some rationality to question his beliefs about destroying Konoha. When Jugo and Suigetsu appear again, he casually asked them, ‘What do you want with me at this point?’, I mean, Come On, Man. LOL.  Even during the war arc, when things were about to blast off he only cared about Jugo (who helped him many times, so understandable) and Naruto (Geez!!! LOL).

Even after their final battle, the anime went so far as to create a scene where they were alone in a bright Konoha. But Sasuke looked very peaceful and listening to Naruto intently. When Naruto freaks out about Infinite Tsukuyomi, he casually laughs off and says ‘you still care about the world’. Meaning, he is happy there spending time alone with the person he loves. Doesn’t give a rat’s ass about missing anyone else. (How romantic!!!). Honestly, Sasuke wouldn’t mind if they were to stay that way forever. He would gladly listen to Naruto all day.  But when Naruto disappears he freaks out and starting to make up his mind about joining his brother.

It’s very clear that the people he adores are Itachi and Naruto. Towards Itachi, it’s super understandable, because he is his own brother. But Naruto??? Why should the creator go so far as to make Sasuke adores Naruto even after breaking up with him?

And why make Sasuke possessive about Naruto’s life? When Obito was about to kill Naruto with that Black Orbs, Sasuke blocked him and said ‘You are not the One to sever the past, I am’. I understand the logic behind Sasuke’s possessiveness on Itachi’s life because he destroyed his family, childhood and even Itachi wants Sasuke to be the one to kill him. But why possessive on Naruto? He is not related to him by blood. Naruto never did anything wrong to Sasuke to warrant any hate either. You will become possessive on something only when you truly hate it or wholeheartedly love it. There is no middle ground. My point is why put Naruto here at all in the first place?? Believe me, If Sasuke never paid attention to Naruto in the War arc, I would be the first person to jump out of this ship. 

Just to give you a basic example, Imagine you are living in a place far away from your family, friends and that loveable person. When Corona hits everywhere and forced Lockdown to travel outside the city, and the situation is getting worse day by day. Whom would you desperately reach out first? You would reach the person whom you are connected well in your family and that loved one. You will prioritize your friends only later. This is the Universal truth. Sasuke was seen showing that same instinct in the War arc towards Naruto whom he was not related by blood. And you all just want me to believe Sasuke sees him as just a friend?? Give me a break!!!

If all those traits I’ve mentioned above have been avoided to a greater extent, I would be happy to believe that they are friends. If not all, at the very least delegate some of the tropes to other people or share some of the tropes with other people along with Naruto. But dumping it all on Naruto alone makes me only curious and incredibly romantic too. 

It’s no wonder, Naruto would go so far as to reach out Sasuke even at the expense of his life.

Oh, Did I forget about the cutest and most exclusive trope to SNS?

U-SU-RA-TON-KA-CHI, the most personal word which carries its own meaning and is only for Naruto. So funny that Sasuke has to spend a certain amount of energy to call Naruto using a 6 syllabic word rather than NA-RU-TO, a 3 syllabic word which is much easier.

Disclaimer: This post constituted everything from from Chapter 1 to 699 or Episode 1 to 135 (part 1) + Episode 1 to 479 (Shippuden) excluding fillers. Though Sasuke shinden novel was made into anime, I don’t want to consider that here. As much as I loved the prologue in that novel, I still don’t want to cite that here, as I consider everything after 699 is $$$$ making bullshit.

FUN FACT:

If you put yourself in any character in the Naruto Universe except for Naruto, and ask them, ‘What do you think about Sasuke?’. You know the answer from Sakura, she will say ‘Sasuke-Kun looks very cool and acts aloof, that’s why I love him’. Kakashi will say ‘My favorite student’. And all the other people will say somewhat similar, ‘He is an excellent Shinobi who belongs to the proud Uchiha clan and Naruto’s rival’

But Naruto will be the only person to say this.

“Lot of fun to be around” ....... LOLLLLL.

Me: No, Naruto!!! Clearly not. No one in your universe can have fun with him except you. Go and Ask Sai, Team Taka or your own Team 7. They adore him for being Cool and Talented. But Fun is not the word that equates with Sasuke unless there is no You, Naruto.

Thanks for reading :-D

[alldayangst]

lovebug (Tom Holland)

GIF is from gaybuckybarnes here on Tumblr. You can access my masterlist here. This was written for @worldoftom’s lolbrosgetsicktoochallenge. The prompt I had was: ‘Tom self diagnoses himself as sick. He’s got all the symptoms. He’s speechless, over the edge and just breathless. He never thought he’d get hit by the ‘love-bug’ again’. Inspired by the song Lovebug by Jonas Brothers!

A/N: Y/N is an assistant director on Cherry in this fic. This has a lot of Cherry (the movie) references but most are explained if you haven’t seen the film. Such as, it was filmed in Cleveland and Morocco, directed by Joe and Anthony Russo. Some scenes in this fic borrow from the movie & I’ve linked clips from the film if you’d like to listen/watch along. WC: 4K.

“Yeah, Mum, I’ve just got like the sorest throat at the moment.” Nikki’s picture cuts in and out on a scrambled screen on the South side of London, her husband’s hand periodically reaching out for her, rubbing her shoulder, then leaving the frame almost as quickly as it came in. Even through the low quality, the pixels dashing about his screen, Tom can make out his mother’s brows knitting together and can’t remove the feeling of utter guilt when he sees her grow redder and redder out of anger, concern and confusion for her son. “But I’ve got Harry here with me.” Harry waves from behind his brother, his trusty mug swapped for a Phoenix Coffee Cup in his spare hand, just to get a taste of the States.

Tom reckons that's why he’s sick. He barely drinks coffee on the other side of the pond, and would bet good money that an at home PG Tips would beat America’s swankiest coffee joint any day. But now, he’s betrayed his usual routine and his body’s all out of whack and his throat is hoarse, he’s breathless even at times.

Harry shoots his mum a half smile to comfort her, but he doesn’t know what it's like to be a mother, and his and Tom’s mouth both form an ‘O’ when Nikki begins to type so hard her screen jolts and Tom swears she’s put a dent in it. “You know what? I’m going to give them a piece of my mind, Tom! They’re overworking you!” Nikki looks intensely to find her baby boy in drug-addled eyes and his jungle of curls on his newly shaven head. She guesses it becomes easier when Tom pushes his face halfway into the screen and pleads like the child he’ll always be to her, “Please, please Mum! I can’t have any days off. Under any circumstances, I need to finish this film!”

Tom turns to his younger brother for help. “Tell her, Harry!”

And as little brothers do best, Harry spills the beans as soon as Tom’s phone is in clutch. “Tom’s fallen in love with the first A.D., Y/N.”

Nikki immediately loses her frown, knowing how love can knock Tom off his feet and blow all the wind out of him. Tom’s father, Dom, re-enters the frame to match Nikki’s grin. He never misses an opportunity to tease. “Oo, caught a case of the love bug, have you?”

Harry has to whip the phone around to dodge Tom’s protesting arms reaching for it again. “Don’t listen to Harry. I’m not in love. I just like Y/N.”

“A lot.” Harry mutters. Tom’s family doesn’t budge any further, knowing how bad Tom was hurt after his last relationship. They weren't sure when the love bug would come back to bite him again. So after they all shared a knowing look, Harry handed Tom his phone back. “I’ll keep you updated. Bye, Mum.”

It all started five weeks ago. Tom, at 24, was beginning to feel like love was trudging up a high hill he couldn’t come down from, where every beat of heart was feeling like an ache on an open wound.  Tom had yet to meet a lover to prove distance makes the heart grow fonder, finding himself in six month long entanglements and illusions of love before things inevitably went sour.

He’d say, perhaps, you were the closest thing to the real deal. The problem was, he didn’t know if you liked him back.

“When life was beginning, I saw -”

“When life was-”

“When life was be-fuck!”

“When life was beginning, I saw you.”

Tom could make a picture book out of the day he first met you. He remembers how your hair looked that day, the speckles of genuinity in your eyes, how your ear-to-ear smile seemed to be a mirror because every time he saw you from then on, he brandished the same beam. He recalls how his eyes went low as he dropped his script to his lap and stared at your lips, so soft and kissable, as you repeated his words back to him: “When life was beginning, I saw you.” Then you chuckled softly as Tom waited patiently for his head and his heart to return to him.

“I’m sorry. I’m dyslexic. I have a bit of trouble reading.”

“It’s cool, I'm the first A.D. That’s what I’m here for.”

You rubbed your hands on the back of your trousers, your mic jostling in your back pocket as you attempted to rid yourself of your nervous, sweaty palms.

“I’m Y/N.” You reached out for a shake only for Tom to cough loudly into his own hand. 

“Fuck! I’m so sorry! That wasn’t me trying to get out of your handshake. I- I-.” Tom looked at his hand for it had failed him for the first time in his life. His hand that had helped him up during handstands, being his crutch through cartwheels and backflips, but had decidedly run out of luck to be on the receiving end of Tom’s monstrous cough impending a handshake with someone his eyes just couldn’t look away from.

You laugh again. Your laugh sounds like melody, Tom muses. Awestruck, he wishes he could play it again, repeat it like a radio hit and never wash himself of the feeling he got when he heard your laugh for the first time.

“It’s all good. I’ll see you around.” You disappear from his trailer, likely on a venture to your own, when Joe and Anthony block his view of you walking away.

Anthony and Joe take on the ghost of you in Tom’s room, “Tom! The man, the myth and the legend!” Joe comes behind him to rub his newly hairless head. “We’re so glad you agreed to do this movie!” 

“Bummed that you’re not coming to the Browns game tonight, though.” Anthony remarks, throwing a football at Joe who sets it in his lap.

“Harry and I, we’re British, mate. We play football with our feet.”

Joe doesn’t know it then, but his next words are the beginning of the end for Tom. He rubs on his football and looks Tom in his eye when he poses, “It’s a shame ‘cause the whole crew’s going. First day of filming celebrations.”

“The whole crew?”

Anthony mumbles an ‘mhm’ as he picks up a framed photo of Tom and RDJ sitting pretty on Tom’s dresser, posing like father and son.

Tom’s usually self assured when he’s on set, but he’s hesitant to say this next improvised line. His voice trails off as he speaks. “Including Y/N?”

“Y/N?” Joe queries, with a smile that’s half scary and half comforting, and the butterflies in Tom’s stomach are begging him not to fuck this up and suddenly every second a word is not spoken feels like hours have passed and he might have ruined things before they’ve even started, gosh he just met you and-

Tom tries to play it cool. “I don’t- they’re cool.” Tom coughs again. “I mean, I don’t really know them but Y/N seems cool I guess.”

Anthony and Joe smile at each other, scrambling to exit. “Whole crew’s going, baby!” Joe beams.

“Please don’t tell Y/N I asked!” Tom shouts before they’re out of earshot.

“Yeah, yeah. Anthony, go long!”

A few hours later, Tom was sitting next to an unamused Harry, you on his left, foam fingers pointing every which way. 

“Are you a big football fan?” Tom asked, imposter syndrome creeping up on him. He had the best seats in the house, but knew not a thing about this sport he’d come down to watch. Meanwhile, crew and crowd alike sat themselves around you guys, cheering leaving throats raw for days to come and a tussle for a foam finger between Joe and Anthony leading to hundreds of sugary popcorn shells scattered on the stadium floor.

“I mean, I wouldn’t ever turn down the option to look at Odell Beckham Jr. Are you?” you replied.

Tom looked over to his brother who sat with his chin in his hand, lips pulled into a thin straight line as his rusty curls were blown about from the wind of brown and orange flags flown from fans behind him. “We could learn to love it.” Tom flashed you a toothy grin, unsure of where to guide the conversation next. He knew for sure that he wanted to keep talking to you, but his ego began putting up a fight, eager to show himself off if you’d have him in any way. Tom sighed. “Truth is, we have no fucking clue what’s going on.” Tom could hear the commentary about a player reaching the end zone, but they were all just words that went into one ear then came straight out of the other.

You giggled. “I have no idea either. We could make up our own rules if you want.”

Tom likes the way you think. He also likes the way you speak. He loves the way you laugh.

“You have a beautiful laugh.” 

You covered your mouth. “Oh, fuck, I hate my laugh!”

“I’d make you laugh a thousand times if I could.”

You pointed to the jumbo screen as Mayfield made a touchdown, unable to stop laughing from sheer nerves as you felt Tom’s hot, burning haze on you. An advert for Cleveland’s Own Phoenix Coffee flashed on the screen as you spoke. “We’ll make our own rules. Every time we see the quarterback pick up the ball, we’ll cheer.”

By the end of the night, Tom is speechless, breathless and over the edge of his chair in faux excitement and anticipation of the quarterback receiving the ball once again. 

“Another coffee?” The service worker asked.

“Yes please!” You and Tom both say in unison, pumped as the quarterback began circling around to collect the ball in open arms.

The footage of the game is cut abruptly as the camera points to a confused, solo Harry; Anthony and Joe are seen at the edge of the frame whispering suggestively and pointing towards Tom, the camera eventually capturing the superstar who looks back up at his own reflection. Poorly green screened hearts flood the screen and the camera pans to include you in the frame too. Tom looks on in horror when he realises what’s going on and how it could be too late, and turns to you.

“I promise I didn’t know this was going on. We don’t have to.” Tom panics. 

You hear him loud and clear, that you don’t have to, but your heart and eleven thousand people are telling you to kiss him otherwise. “Oh well. We should just do it.” you murmur, the bright pink ‘KISSCAM’ logo flashing in and out.

It doesn’t take more than a moment for the gap between you and Tom to close, for your face to get lost behind his, his lips pressing against yours, eyes closed, trusting each other to share your air. This was probably the first thing that night worth cheering for, howls and whistles erupting around you. 

Tom doesn’t understand American football, but he thinks that the best seats in the house could be anywhere next to you.

Harry’s on the phone to his twin brother, Sam, when you and the rest of the crew make it back to the hotel later on. “-Yeah, and Tom spent half the night with the first A.D. cheering and screaming at fuck all.”

The Cleveland Browns lost that night, but Tom remains none the wiser. He stood in the doorway as Harry continued to relay his day to Sam. “Oh, and Tom, Mum said to give her a call, eavesdropper.” He flicks Tom’s reddening nose before closing the door.

A week and a half later, Tom reckons that's why he’s sick. He never has the time anymore to attend ‘real’ football games back home, and he actually understands the game back in Britain. But now, he’s cheered at almost every given opportunity to impress you stupidly, and his chest and voice is suffering as a consequence.

You and Tom walked onto set with your pinkies intertwined, growing closer and closer by the minute, but Tom doesn’t miss how Ciara’s boyfriend visits set every day for her, doesn’t miss how they rub their nose together in this lovey-dovey affection he wishes he could bestow upon you.

The scene wasn’t working.

The crew was beginning to grow restless and Tom silently became more frustrated as the minutes went by and he was unable to get his lines right. He remembers how a week ago, it felt so easy. You were there to correct him when he stumbled upon his lines and you picked him up so effortlessly, a twinkling smile on your face. But then? Then you were different. Your eyes were scrunched up behind the lens of the camera and you were mumbling something to Anthony about how the sun was due to go down in Ohio soon so you needed to hurry along.

“Alright.” you announced. “Take five!”

And Tom was thankful, Ciara perched upon a swing for the scene they were filming, Tom dwindling the rope of the swing under his finger as her boyfriend approached her once again. “Hey dude, are you okay?”

Ciara looked at Tom with the same concern, hands finding home in her boyfriend’s nest of hair. “Yeah, Tom, are you okay?”

Tom coughed into his hand. “Yeah, guys, I’m good.”

“I think you’re coming down with a nasty cough.” Ciara muttered.

“Yeah. It’s you guys. You’re too cute. You make me sick.” Tom laughed humourlessly for a short while, wanting to be that adorable with someone, maybe not anyone, maybe just with you someday. Then Tom shook his head, a bitter feeling in his throat as he yawned. “It’s the Browns game. I was yelling and screaming every time a quarterback got the ball. Of course I’m a little unwell. I’ll be good as new in a few days though.”

Ciara already knew Tom wasn’t playing a man with the healthiest of habits, but she worried that Tom was getting this bad this early. “Maybe you should talk to the first A.D. about reducing shoot days from five to three?”

Tom didn’t like the prospect of seeing you less. “Yeah.” Harry had a clapperboard between his hands, leading Tom’s eyebrows to furrow as his brother yelled something about it being take 13. “Maybe.” 

Harry resumed to a new position in your chair, with you taking Harry’s place right across from Tom, a coffee waiting for him when the scene was over like Harry always did. Ciara’s boyfriend left the frame to watch supportively on the sidelines.

“Lights. Camera. Action!” Anthony called. “Time is money, you guys! Let’s try to get this one right this time.” 

They’d been over this already twelve times today.

“Hey, I’m really happy you’re here.”

Ciara read her line back. “Why’s that?” 

Tom could hear whispers of the crew, the sound guy glaring at them in case they were picked up in the scene, and he knew it had something to do with the fact that he couldn’t for some reason get the next line out all day. And that reason, unbeknownst to everyone, was because Tom couldn’t say something he didn’t mean - feeling like his heart was locked in a cage for which only you had the key. He looked past his co-star, Ciara, and up at you; feeling so close but you were far away, leaving him all day without anything to say. And overcoming his speechlessness and breathlessness, even in just that moment, he ran his hand over the rope to say, “Cause I like you. A lot.”

Ciara and the rest of the crew broke into a wide smile once Tom finally spoke his next line, but the only person Tom was focused on was you, who wasn’t smiling, but mouthing his words back to him.

Ciara breathed, “Shut up.”

And Tom’s sure to look you in the eye when he says, “I really do.”

When the filming for the day is said and done, Tom makes a beeline for you across the greenery. You hand over his coffee to him, “It’s a little cold now, but a warm hand is holding it.”

Tom quirks an eyebrow. “Are you inviting me to hold your hand?”

“Don’t push your luck.”

“You swapped jobs with Harry, I saw.”

“Yeah, well. It’s good he gets to grips with the job now. You know, in case anything changes.” You pulled your phone out of your pocket. “I should probably give you my number. In case anything changes.”

“Oh no, yeah. Your number is?”

“216-XXX-XXX. Speaking of changes, I heard you’re trying to get your days reduced.”

“You were eavesdropping?” Tom looks at your face that bears no trace of guilt. “You’re just like me!” He pulls you close.

“Tom, if what happened today is because you’re working too much, I’m happy to reduce your time.”

“Nah, nah.” Tom sniffles, rubbing his nose on a jacket probably worth more than your life. “I’m just a bit sick, s’all. I’ll be fine.”

Two weeks pass and Tom’s no better. With the Cleveland game nearly a month ago, Tom has nothing to blame and as first A.D., you’re obligated to reduce his hours. Tom’s on the phone with his mother when you approach his trailer. 

“Don’t listen to Harry. I’m not in love. I just like Y/N.”

“A lot. I’ll keep you updated. Bye, Mum.” 

You’re so quick to skip happily back to your trailer that you miss Harry calling out to his brother, he’s his protector now that his mother was countries apart. “Tom?” Harry starts.

Tom mumbles an ‘mhm’, hoping Harry would make it quick as he sees you FaceTiming him. If only his mother could see him like this. He’d get to call her tomorrow and tell her he’d called you for the first time yesterday, he could hardly wait to utter, 'I've finally found the missing part of me’. Harry sighs as the FaceTime ringing is relentless. Tom’s eyebrows threaten to meet in the middle of his face as he clutches onto his phone.

“Tom.” Harry begins. “Y/N is giving up assistant director.”

Tom’s really not sure where Harry gets the source of his information from, but he’s sure this isn’t true. He thinks you’d tell him before his brother if you were leaving the film behind, leaving him behind.

The film is due to move filming to Morocco soon, and Tom’s well aware that not all film crew joins them when production moves abroad, but to Tom, you’re an extension of this movie universe. And Tom refuses to leave the memories of you in this filming cycle. “How’d you know?”

“I’m taking over.” Tom’s screen lights up with the glow of your call, and as bright as it is, as bright as you are, as bright as your smile surely is on the other end of the phone call, Tom’s in his deepest darkest feelings wondering how he fooled himself into thinking romance could go right for him this time. 

He’s going to Morocco. You’re not. You’re funny, smart, promising, beautiful. You’ll find someone good for you, a better pair by the time he’s back.

“That doesn’t mean it won’t work out, man.” Tom sulks in his bed, the light from your constant calls bleeding through his bed sheets. “I just wanted to warn you.” Tom nods, screaming into his pillow. Harry decides that’s his cue to leave, a glimmer of light from outside seeping through the crack of the door as Harry escorts himself. Tom musters all his might and courage to reluctantly answer your phone, the ear-to-ear grin he knows so well greeting him once again.

Suddenly, he forgot how to speak. Hopeless, breathless, couldn’t you see that?

“Tom?” You call out his name a few times before cutting straight to the point. “Do you like me?”

Tom shifts slightly but not enough to show that he’s alarmed. “Huh? Yeah, I like you.”

He sits up, but doesn’t reciprocate the outrageous smile you wear like a heart on your sleeve. Tom’s eyes are sunken, dark circles forming under his eyes where he and his disturbed character become one. You suddenly remember why you shouldn’t have run away so fast, perhaps Tom was overworking himself. He continues, “But I’m an emotionally unavailable hopeless romantic. So I wouldn’t waste your time on me.”

Tom can’t help the hurt in his heart when he sees your smile drop so suddenly, knowing it was earnest. “Tom, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying, life is unfair. And I’m gonna quit while I’m ahead. We wouldn’t work out. And I like our friendship now. We should stay that way.”

You’re not convincing when you nod rapidly, not letting Tom see your face as you play with your fingers to avoid his gaze. “Yeah, I agree.” You’re much less convincing when the last frame Tom caught of you was a shot of tears dripping down your face, as three rings followed you. Tom’s screen went black in your absence, and Tom falls asleep with eyes even redder from crying, and he wonders when he’s gonna shake this sickness.

It’d been a few days since Tom had got his shots to allow him to go to Morocco. He sat opposite the doctor on set, a coffee cup placed on the desk between him.

Tom reckons that's why he’s sick. Shots always have their side effects, and he’d taken multiple shots in one day. And now, he specifically asked for you to hold his hand during the process, Harry branded in a glinting jaw-drop, only for you to leave directly after. 

“I’m speechless, constantly feeling over the edge, breathless.” Tom explains his symptoms to the doctor. “At first I thought it was because of that stupid football game, then all the coffee I’m drinking, now I don’t know if it’s the shots. I feel like shit, doc.”

“I know exactly what you’re dealing with.”

“What?”

“Lovebug.”

Tom stares at the doctor in utter bewilderment. “You figured that out based on my symptoms?”

“I figured that out based on the puppy dog eyes you gave for your first A.D. when they left without a word.” The doctor begins to laugh softly, but Tom is unamused. How is he supposed to shake this illness after completely ruining your relationship? How is he supposed to mend your bond after talking so recklessly, so emotionally? “Tom, I’m not here to be a fairy godmother, I’m being strictly medical. At a certain point, what you feel in your mind affects your body. So I prescribe that you talk to Y/N and say everything you need to say.”

And while that seemed easy enough, Tom’s ego was at work again, and Tom was feeling far too bruised and wounded to speak to you first. Surely if you cared enough, if you liked him back, if you were willing to be distanced, you would reach out first.

It seems Tom’s pride had forgotten that you already did.

“I heard that this is the exact shit that happened in Cleveland, and he couldn’t get the line out.” Tom hears the whisperings from behind the camera, the amount of familiar faces in the crew dwindling after the change in location. He doesn’t respond. He waits for someone to take five. And when no one throws him a bone, he asks Harry to.

“Alright, everyone take five.”

“Someone get this kid a fucking coffee, he’s always on edge.” Joe instructs.

“And you think giving a kid in twenties coffee is taking him off edge?” Anthony chuckles.

Tom doesn’t care whether or not he gets the coffee, rocking side to side. He’s got all the motion for this role, but he feels nothing. All he felt was for you.

“Here.” Harry sets a Moroccan mint tea down next to Tom, hoping it would calm him down. When Tom takes a few sips, the look in his eyes is less pleading, and everyone’s ready to rumble, this being the last scene of the day.

Harry feeds Tom the line. “Baby, are you seeing bad things?” Tom is seeing bad things. A life without love, a life without you. Unable to contain it all, Tom turns his frustration into laughter. “Why are you calling me baby for, man?” Tom has this ear-to-ear grin but even he feels it's not as innocent, as genuine as yours. He never knew a smile so wide could be so full of pain.

“I have an idea.” Harry saunters off to collect his phone. “Don’t stop rolling the cameras.”

When Harry comes back, there’s sounds of shifting erupting from his phone. “Hi, Tom.” 

Tom didn’t know it would be so bittersweet to hear your voice again. He wasn’t sure if he should put walls up again or if twice was the charm. Even if you worked out in the short term, whose to say Tom wouldn’t get hurt again? And Tom wouldn’t want to hurt you.

“Are they taking good care of you out there? I don’t think I took good care of you.” Tom doesn’t say anything on the other side of the line, so you continue. “I’m not a good A.D. if you’re always sick and tired, and I didn’t want to see you any less, which was selfish of me, so I didn’t change your schedule.” You sigh as you admit why you left. “When you asked, though, I swear I was gonna do it, but then I heard you liked me, and I got carried away. I had to remove myself from the situation to do what’s best for you. Do you understand me? I did it for you.”

“I, uh, I got a diagnosis.” Tom stumbles.

“Oh my gosh, are you seriously sick?”

“I’m speechless. Over the edge, breathless.” Tom laughed dryly, finally feeling like he can choose an ending.

“What did they say it was?”

“Lovebug.” Harry smiles softly at his brother.

Your laugh is like nectar entering Tom’s ear.

“I might just love you way too much, Y/N.”

“Are you sure you’re doin’ okay?” Tom tries his best not to sound dejected that you didn’t say it back, knowing he’s already felt the brunt of this heartache already.

“I just miss you, that’s all.”

“I miss you too. I love you.” Joe stops recording, and Harry lowly whispers ‘take.fucking.five.’ as he and the crew creep away from Tom’s new found love scene. 

“Anthony, can I borrow your phone?” Harry begins to type Nikki’s number as soon as Anthony gives over the phone. “Mum, Tom just told the first A.D. he’s in love with them so guess who’s out of a job?”

Tom knows why he’s sick. He used to feel like love was trudging up a high hill he couldn’t come down from, where every beat of heart was feeling like an ache on an open wound. Tom had yet to meet a lover to prove distance makes the heart grow fonder, finding himself in six month long entanglements and illusions of love before things inevitably went sour. But now, Tom has found you.

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Hi love!

Can I please beg for Tangled Geraskier?

Rapunzel Jask. You know I’m a sucker for angst so including the scene where he cuts her hair would slay me 💖💖💖💖💖

TYILYYYYY

Hello, Stina dear! Sorry this took me actual months to write, but it broke me out of my writer’s block and for that I am eternally grateful.

I chose several pieces of the Tangled narrative to write Geralt and Jaskier into... enjoy! 

2k-ish words (please leave me comments I’m so tired my dudes)

tw: blood, injury, major character (near) death, if you’ve seen Tangled you’ve seen this

---

“So,” Jaskier smiles playfully up at the thief sitting beside him. “Roger Eric, huh?”

Geralt rolls his eyes but Jaskier catches the flush that settles high on his companion’s cheekbones. “It was… It’s a long and boring story about a lot of sad little children that I’m sure you don’t want to hear on such a lovely evening.”

Jaskier scoots closer, until the sides of their arms are pressed too tightly together for even a slip of paper to slide between, and leans his weight against the thief. He bats his thick eyelashes and pouts his lip in a way that always seems to work with his Father. “C’mon, Geralt, please won’t you tell me? Just one little story? I told you about my magical hair, after all.”

“Hmm,” the thief glares dawn at the doe-eyed blonde for a moment before nervously clearing his throat. “Fine. I… I got the name Geralt of Rivia from a collection of short stories that I used to read the other boys at the orphanage in Kaedwen; they were all about this knight who was loyal and brave and courageous despite his hideous appearance. He was rejected by princesses and noble women but was beloved by the people. Having been born with white hair… well, a lot of the folks that came looking for children thought I was under a spell or curse so…. I wasn’t their first choice for adoption.”

“You and Geralt were a lot alike, then. Different. Special… Kind.”

“I wouldn’t say I was spe-”

Jaskier’s hand darts forward and his long, slender musician’s fingers grasp Geralt by the wrist. The fledgling bard clings onto his escort tightly, his large blue eyes suddenly brimming up with tears. “Don’t you dare say you aren’t special, Geralt Roger Eric whatever your surname really is. I’ll never forgive you if you spew such nonsense where my delicate ears can hear it.”

Geralt swallows thickly and glances away. Jaskier always looks so sweet and sincere; the features on his boyish face flicker in and out of focus as patterns of light thrown by their small campfire play across his pale skin. His gaze is intense, focused on Geralt and Geralt alone. The thief panics and asks: “What is it, Jaskier? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You saved me, you know. You saved me from those men back there at the inn, you saved me from being trapped in the tower all my life, you saved me from getting lost in the forest, you… you’re a good person, Geralt. Don’t let the world or the Captain of the Guard or anyone else change your mind, do you understand me? You are-” Jaskier’s hands scrabble frantically to grasp Geralt’s, as if the white-haired man might disappear entirely if Jaskier so much as loosens his grip “- you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me since I’ve been locked in that foul, awful tower!”

“Well I…” Geralt clears his throat again. He stands slowly, disentangling his hangs from Jaskier’s as he takes a slow step back. And then another. “I should go get more firewood.”

Despite the uneasiness in their parting, Jaskier smiles after him. 

The momentary spell cast by their closeness is only broken when Jaskier hears a familiar voice from just behind him: “Well, I thought he’d never leave!”

The blonde jumps up from his seat and spins on his heel to face the black-cloaked wizard. “Father? How… How did you find me?”

Stregobor wraps his arms around Jaskier’s shoulders and squeezes so tightly that it feels more like a threat than an embrace. “It was easy, I simply followed the sound of absolute betrayal.”

Jaskier flinches and tries to pull away but cannot yet escape. 

“I just brought you this,” his Father continues. He finally releases Jaskier and hands his son the worn leather satchel he’d found hidden in his tower. “If this Geralt creature really is the man you think him to be -and don’t deny it, little flower, I can read your thoughts- give this back to him and see how long he stays.”

“Father, I-”

“Goodbye, my child. See you soon, I’m sure. Just remember that Father knows best!”

And in a swirl of black smoke and confusion, Stregobor disappears.

---

“Why do you look so scared?” Geralt asks. He slows the small gondola he’s rented to a stop, turning it slightly more to the side so that they have a better vantage point to see the lanterns spread over the harbor from the city. Jaskier sighs deeply and shakes a stray flower petal away from his eyes, the enormous golden braid shifting ever-so-slightly against his shoulders.

“I’ve been looking out a window for eighteen years,” he says softly. Nervously. “What if… What if it’s not what I expected? I’m terrified to see what it all looks like up close because what if it doesn’t meet my expectations? What if it’s not everything I dreamed it would be?”

“It will be,” Geralt replies without thinking. 

“And what if it is?” Jaskier queries, voice growing frantic. “What if it’s even more spectacular than I could have ever hoped? Then my dream will have been fulfilled and I’ll just… go back to the tower again.”

“You’ll just have to find a new dream, I guess,” Geralt offers. When Jaskier settles down into the boat a bit more comfortably and smiles shyly back at him, the thief knows he’s hit the right mark for once. Behind Geralt, the first lantern lights up the sky. Jaskier gasps and points, eyes wide and sparkling with excitement; Geralt is utterly enchanted by his easy beauty. The thief digs two paper lanterns out from beneath his seat and offers one to Jaskier, giddy when he grins even more excitedly than before. “I got this for you… I hope you like it.”

“Oh, I love it! And I have something for you, too.” Jaskier turns and pulls something from behind him. The bardling hands Geralt his very own satchel, which the thief briefly accepts and then drops to the floor without a second thought. The anxious blonde musician beams over at him more gloriously than the midday sun and then turns away, blushing a sweet shade of pink. “I should have given it to you earlier, but I was so scared… and now I’m not! I’m not scared anymore!”

“Good,” Geralt smiles back. He’s elated. It feels as if his heart is glowing twice as brightly as any of the lanterns floating past and around them. “That’s very good.”

I know what my dream is now, Jaskier. Now that you’re here by my side I never want to see you frown again. You don’t deserve to be hidden away in a tower where your art is stifled… even if you don’t want to love me back in that way, I’ll still protect you. I want to see how you see the world, Jaskier. I lo-

“Geralt! Look! That one has runes painted on it, what does it say!?”

---

Geralt pulls his daggers from his belt but before he can stab them into the craigy stone wall and begin his ascent, the familiar tresses of Jaskier’s long golden hair topple down to reach him. Thank fuck, he’s still alive. 

“Jaskier! I thought I’d never see you again!” he calls as he grabs hold of the thick blonde strands. 

The thief climbs quickly, his arms and legs nearly cramping with the effort to hurry back to Jaskier. As he hauls himself through the large window and into the tower proper, however, he’s met with a confusing and unsettling sight: Jaskier stands across the room, a cloth gag pulled tightly between his teeth, his hands manacled together behind him. A short length of spare chain attached to the manacles keeps the frightened, struggling blonde tethered against one of the building’s thick support beams. Someone had knocked down a mirror or vase during the previous fighting; shards of pottery and silver lie scattered across the floor, working as a weak barrier to keep Geralt away from the bound man. Jaskier screams out in warning as their eyes meet: “Ghmphh!”

If Jaskier is being held captive then who let his hair do-

Before Geralt can finish fully forming his question, a bright flash of pain arcs out from his side and sends him toppling to his knees. A wet, sticky heat begins to spread from a spot beneath his ribs and when he presses his hand against his shirt it comes way red. 

Oh. Oh, no...

He hears Stregobor’s voice addressing the sobbing blonde, “Now look what you’ve done, Jaskier.”

Geralt collapses to his knees and then falls to his side, curling up in the fetal position and clutching at the wound as if that will be any help at all. He knows he’s doomed, but there must be some way for him to help Jaskier… to save his… his love. 

“Don’t worry, little flower, our secret will die with your little thief, here, and then we’ll be safe again. Just the two of us.”

Jaskier keens loudly and the sharp, desperate sound of it makes something deep in Geralt’s heart ache. The younger man pulls and yanks against the chains that hold him in place, his bare feet slipping against the polished floor as he tries and fails to reach the wounded Geralt. 

Stregobor yanks at the lead, pulling Jaskier back harshly by the arms. The young musician’s shoulders burn with the strain of it but Jaskier pulls forward anyway, uncaring. He must save Geralt, he must. The wizard tugs him back again, more roughly, and the jarring movement loosens his gag. He spits it from his mouth and cries out: “Stregobor! Strego- Father, listen to me!”

The wizard pauses, his interest piqued by Jaskier’s use of the word Father given the circumstances. “Yes, child?”

“Father,” Jaskier pants, turning to look at the man who’d held him captive for eighteen years. The man who kidnapped him from his cradle and forced him to grow up without the love of his real parents. The man who had, mere moments ago, stabbed the love of Jaskier’s life with the full intention of killing him. “I want you to know that I won’t stop fighting you. Every moment of every day for the rest of my life will be spent trying to get away from you. I will scream and kick and struggle and yell and you will have to keep me caged away as a bird or a mouse to make me stay by your side unless-” Jaskier pauses to take a breath, his shoulders sagging as his gaze drops submissively to the floor between them “-unless you let me save this man. Let me save Geralt’s life and I will follow you all around the Continent without a single word of complaint. I will never attempt to run away or hide from you, not once. Everything will go back to being exactly like it was before, Father, I swear on his life.”

Stregobor considers for a moment. 

He nods. 

“Alright, then. Let’s be quick about it, little flower.”

He removes the shackles from Jaskier and clamps them tightly around Geralt’s wrists instead, securing him to the bannister at the foot of the stairs. To keep him from following us, he remarks offhandedly. 

Jaskier pads his way across the floor as quickly as he can in his bare feet and falls to the ground at Geralt’s side. He pulls the wounded thief against his side to steady him and gathers two heavy handfuls of his own long hair. “I’m so sorry! Everything is going to be okay now, Geralt, I swear it.”

Geralt shoves his hands away weakly, “No, Jaskier.”

“You have to trust me, Geralt, I-”

“I c-can’t let you d-do this,” Geralt grunts, teeth gritted against the pain. 

Jaskier stares down at him, tears already gathering at the corners of his sky-blue eyes. His voice trembles when he whispers, “And I can’t let you die. I won’t let you die.”

“But if you do th-this then you-” Geralt coughs and Jaskier wipes a trickle of blood away from the corner of the thief’s mouth “-you will die.”

“Shh,” Jaskier quiets him, dropping one fistfull of blonde tresses to cup Geralt’s face instead. “Everything will be alright.”

Geralt smiles sadly up at Jaskier, his decision already having been made. He lets the back of his knuckles ghost across the musician’s peach-soft cheek. Jaskier’s eyes flutter shut for a moment and then open again, curious. “Jaskier, I…”

The thief uses the last of his strength to push up into a sitting position. The hand on Jaskier’s face slides back and gathers his hair at the back of his neck. Geralt’s other hand comes up, a shard of glass gripped tightly in his fist, and slices through the long blonde strands. He watches as Jaskier’s hair turns from radiant gold to chestnut brown. Geralt falls back with a short, sharp sound of agony, his vision already fading around the edges. The shard of mirror, dagger-sharp around the edges, clatters to the ground beside Jaskier. 

“No!” Stregobor screams, gathering up an armful of Jaskier’s still-blonde hair. The golden hue is already fading, shifting to match the short brown hair still fluffed around his head. The lost prince watches with wide, horrified eyes as the wizard trips over a loose floorboard and goes careening out the open window. 

More worrying than his kidnapper’s death, however, is the man lying in his arms, breathing shallowly. Jaskier gathers Geralt close, tucking the thief’s head against his neck and wrapping his arms around the older man’s broad shoulders. “No, no, no, no, Geralt. Stay with me, okay? Stay with me, right here.”

He grabbed at Geralt’s hand, holding it against the top of his head as he sang desperately. “Flower gleam and glow, let your power shine, make the clock reverse, bring back was once was mi-”

“Jaskier!” Geralt says, pulling his hand down to cup the prince’s face. He can feel his limbs growing cold and numb, distant from him and out of his control. “You… You were my new dream.”

Jaskier sobs, clinging to Geralt with all he’s worth. “And you were mine.”

Geralt manages to smile up into those beautiful blue eyes one last time. And then the world goes dark and his hand falls to the floor, limp.

---

Jaskier buries his face in the crook of Geralt’s neck and screams. He throws back his head and howls like a wounded animal, his heart shattering to pieces within the confines of his chest cavity. Then he quiets himself down, adjusts Geralt’s body on his lap, and finishes the song the way he’s been taught to do: “Heal what has been hurt, change the Fates’ design, save what has been lost… bring back what once was mine.”

A single tear falls from his eye and lands on Geralt’s cheek. A cheek that will never blush again, never turn up in a smile, never-

A faint yellow glow catches Jaskier’s vision, just from the corner of his eye. He turns his head to look at Geralt’s wound and gasps: the outline of a golden flower covers his abdomen, glowing so brightly that Jaskier must hide his eyes and turn away to keep from being blinded. When the glow fades enough that can safely look back again, Geralt’s wound is gone and the blood that was once staining his jerkin has disappeared. 

He leans over the white-haired thief with bated breath, waiting for a movement or a breath or something… anything. 

After a long moment, two honey-hazel eyes blink open. Geralt inhales quietly and then asks, with the sweetest smile Jaskier has ever seen in all his eighteen years of life, “Did I ever tell you I had a thing for brunettes?”

Jaskier squeals with glee and throws himself into Geralt’s waiting arms, pressing their eager mouths together for the first kiss of their Happily Ever After. 

[setzappersto-pew]

StarKid and Musical Score #2

Pop culture parodies tread fine lines to avoid copyright violations, especially when it comes to music. Some go for a certain mood or genre to evoke the source. Holy Musical B@man! is a great example. Nick Gage and Scott Lamps used strictly synthesizer and an electronic drum kit. They made great use of the standard synthesizer sound, calling to mind ‘80s new wave electronic music; a darker electric guitar sound to capture the gritty Batman from The Dark Knight or The Killing Joke; and light and playful bell tones, representing the innocence of Robin or perhaps the campy silliness of the ‘60s Batman TV show.

When it’s a parody musical of a musical, the challenge is even greater. Enter Twisted: The Untold Story of a Royal Vizier.

There’s not a lot of interstitial music to set the scenes, but what little there is excels with capturing the mood, like the eerie strings and woodwinds coupled with sporadic percussion during Aladdin’s breakdown near the end. Instead, Twisted features a large number of songs to fill its 2.25 hour runtime, so I’m going to focus on the instrumentals of those for this post. The instrumentation for this show includes keyboard, drums, guitar/bass, violin, cello, flute, clarinet, and alto/tenor saxophone. It’s a much bigger and more varied band than any StarKid show had before or since.

The endeavor that composer A.J. Holmes, accompanied by incredible lyricist Kaley McMahon, set out on was to evoke not only the source material, Disney’s Aladdin, but also other Disney movies of the same era and the Broadway musical Wicked. The Disney references are all over the place, including the Disney-fied StarKid logo. The latter was accomplished via the title (Twisted: The Untold Story of a Royal Vizier vs. Wicked: The Untold Story of a Wicked Witch), the album cover, the method of role reversal (a villain posed as the hero of their own story), and even a direct reference to the book. But A.J., along with orchestrator Andrew Fox and music director Justin Fischer, took it a step further with several songs to give the audience a truly immersive and magical experience.

To keep it simple, I’m going to link each song--or most, as some I can’t quite figure out--to another Disney or Wicked song that A.J. was likely, or even obviously, taking influence from. The similarities are often in the instrumentation and tempo; chord progressions and adjacent melodies; or lyrics and character situations.

Not a song, but the opening music evokes the haunting strings and bells in the opening of Beauty and the Beast to a tee. Like...it’s a dead ringer, obviously in purpose.

“Dream a Little Harder”: An opening ensemble number like “Belle” from Beauty and The Beast. Introduces the protagonist and the surrounding characters with a sweet and tremulous flute at the beginning and bouncy strings throughout. Lyrics mirror each other, i.e. “Fuck you” = “Bonjour”...Nick’s favorite line, “Marie! The baguettes! Hurry up!”...they all hate Ja’far vs. they all think Belle is weird. Belle is even part of the ensemble, telling Ja’far to keep his “fat face out of the mother fucking book”! It’s a pretty obvious comparison. 

“I Steal Everything”: “One Jump Ahead” from Aladdin is the obvious parallel in orchestration, melody, tempo, lyrics, character situation...everything.

“Everything and More”: Again, an obvious parody of “Part of Your World” from The Little Mermaid. Same gentle yet sweeping melody, same lilting tempo paired with vocals timid one moment and powerful the next, lyrics exploring desire for more.

“A Thousand and One Nights”: This one was a little harder, as really none of the Disney princesses have duets with their princes. But I think it pairs well with “Can You Feel the Love Tonight” from The Lion King, at least after Timon and Pumbaa have their moment! The back and forth between lovers talking to themselves about the other has a similar feel. Honestly, this song is pretty original and yet manages to evoke Disney love song perfectly without copying any. The gentle melody, sweeping yet sweet orchestration, and the dialogue really sell it. They knew it was the love song because they went ahead and parodied the cheesy pop covers that ‘90s Disney movies are known for with a true bop performed by Britney Coleman and Carlos Valdes.

“Orphaned at 33″: Perhaps the reprise of “One Jump Ahead”? It’s slower and more melancholy and has similar chord progression and crooning vocals. Maybe “Go the Distance” from Hercules? Both are songs of sadness and longing, but StarKid’s Aladdin is far more pathetic and creepy than Hercules. EDIT: “Proud of Your Boy”, which was cut from Aladdin and put in the stage show, is absolutely the reference here! Again, a song of sadness and longing and self-pity and lamentation of a bad childhood...and StarKid’s Aladdin is still more pathetic. Musical parallels: similar chord progressions, embellishments, instrumentation, time signature, tempo, etc.; starts with delicate notes and Aladdin just talking (this starts at 46 seconds in “Orphaned at 33″, after a prelude); lilting and tiptoeing melody in the middle (1:56 for “Orphaned”, 1:08 for “Proud”); powerful sustained vocals and sweeping winds and strings to finish. I know this song was in the back of my mind, but it just wasn’t coming to me. Thank you @hatchetfieldtheories and @melchron for helping me out! 

“Happy Ending”: The last half, at 1:50, really reminds me of “Defying Gravity” from Wicked, specifically at 5:15. The quiet and tense music make way for powerful vocals and are just waiting to burst forth for a showstopping ending. Both songs are also Act 1 closers. I can’t really place the rest of “Happy Ending”, but it all reminds me of Wicked with the powerful rock guitar and drums paired with cinematic strings. Plus, I always love when multiple melodies come together as reprises, most often as Act 1 closers!

“No One Remembers Achmed”: A sillier version of “Gaston” from Beauty and The Beast. The spurned villain’s cohorts are pumping him up and singing his praises! Both melodies are jaunty, though with different instrumentation...Twisted’s featuring sillier sound effects and goofy xylophone.

“Take Off Your Clothes”: A sexier version of “A Whole New World” from Aladdin. Slightly modified melody, and obviously the lyrics, but it’s exactly the same.

“The Power in Me”: A solemn and sweet farewell duet between friends like “For Good” from Wicked. The delicate woodwinds and strings sound similar to the gentle synth in “For Good”. Vocal performances are cautious and tender at first but quickly become strong and confident. “You are the power in me” and “I have been changed for good” follow almost the exact same rhythm.

The titular song has many facets, so I’ll detail them here:

Opening to 1:03 and 5:55 to the end = “No Good Deed” from Wicked, with the same intense strings and percussion. The whole situation and lyrics match, with both Ja’far and Elphaba deciding to just be antiheroes because no one sees them as heroes anyway. “I’ll be twisted, it’s my turn” matches “No good deed will I do ever again” and “I’m wicked through and through”.

1:10-2:06 = “Poor Unfortunate Souls” from The Little Mermaid...it’s Ursula, so of course...but also, the woodwinds and keyboard mimicking brass evoke the same bouncy yet menacing rhythm, akin to an evil polka.

2:07-2:50 = “Be Prepared” from The Lion King. Obviously, it’s Scar’s moment...but also, they have similar deep and primitive drums and woodwinds.

The rest of the songs (”Sands of Time”, “Golden Rule”, and “If I Believed”) I couldn’t really place, but they still evoke the source materials. “Golden Rule” has a classic musical theatre ensemble number feel, with fun strings and woodwinds and delightful choruses; the reprise turns it on its head with menacing piano and bass. “If I Believed” is another take on an “I want” song; the flute and cello pair very nicely together to support Dylan’s soulful voice.

My next post in this series will likely be about the Hatchetfield series: The Guy Who Didn’t Like Musicals, Black Friday, and Nightmare Time. There’s a lot in between, like the AVP Trilogy, ANI, and Starship, but the music for those stands out less to me. They’re great, don’t get me wrong, but I think that the score is not what makes them special. The Hatchetfield stuff, however...is intense.

Thanks for reading!

[theartofdreaming1]

As usual, my thoughts regarding this week’s prompts and random thoughts on chapters 25-27 are below the cut.

heart

The imagery that really caught my attention this time was Peeta pointing out the changes in the moon to Katniss: The only indication of the passage of time lies in the heavens, the subtle shift of the moon. So Peeta begins pointing it out to me, insisting I acknowledge its progress and sometimes, for just a moment I feel a flicker of hope before the agony of the night engulfs me again. - So for one, we see another example of Peeta focusing on the small details in life (which I’ve previously hypothesized to being an important element in his recovery from his hijacking) as well as Peeta being the one to give Katniss hope, even if it’s just for a brief moment. Also, it’s a nice parallel to Katniss looking at the moon and desperately wishing for it to be “her moon” back in chapter 23. As a nocturnal person, I also love watching the moon from my living room window🌙

mind

Hmmh, I don’t think that Katniss and Peeta’s win was predetermined - although I do believe that by introducing the romantic angle, they significantly improved their odds. A Career winning the Games is not really that special and exciting, since it happens so often (although Careers generally satisfy that excitement for violence/blood/gore, that plenty of Capitol people seem to share). As a volunteer from District 12, who achieved an extremely good training score and proved herself to be very capable in the arena already, Katniss definitely had an edge by playing into the classic underdog story, which offered another exciting “narrative” for the Capitolites to follow - that, coupled (heh) with the romance angle Peeta introduced? Katniss (and Peeta) definitely had the entertainment (and excitement through novelty) factor on their side. Ironically, Cato’s chances of winning were not as good as he expected, precisely because he was playing it by the book.

soul

Poor Peeta (and Katniss), it hurts that their relationship was in such a rocky place by the end of the book. Especially those weeks right after the end of Book 1, when there were still cameras around District 12 and they had to pretend while hurting must have sucked big time🥺

Chapter 25

Ugh, the muttations are just so unsettling... *shudder*

Honestly, I’m just so impressed by Peeta’s presence of mind to draw that X on Cato’s hand, after he had just most of his calf ripped off, only to be grabbed and put in a headlock by Cato! He and Katniss work insanely well under pressure

God, Cato’s death is just so gruesome and awful... In the end, his “gift” from the Feast doesn’t help him win at all, but instead ends up prolonging his suffering a cruel amount... I wonder if in general these “gifts” come with a string attached (aside from the expected danger of trying to get them, I mean) - because the Gamemakers also intend for Katniss’s “gift” (medicine for Peeta) to force an even more cruel outcome on her - saving him from blood poisoning only to be forced into killing him herself... 🤔

I’m not sure if this is exactly medical protocol, but I’m terrified that if he drifts off he’ll never wake again. “Are you cold?” he asks. He unzips his jacket and I press against him as he fastens it around me. - Katniss is terrified of the idea of Peeta dying; at the same time, Peeta worries about her freezing - I can’t with these two 😩

Peeta begins to doze off now, and each time he does, I find myself yelling his name louder and louder because if he goes and dies on me now, I know I’ll go completely insane. He’s fighting it, probably more for me than for him - Katniss can’t lose any more people she cares about 😢; on a different note, Peeta fighting his unconsciousness “probably more for [Katniss] than for him” points out one of the crucial elements Katniss brings into Peeta’s life - she is that someone for whom he will fight - including for his own life and well-being - even when it feels easier to give up... Having that person in your life that keeps you going can make all the difference - if Katniss hadn’t had Prim and promised her “to really, really try” to win (and later also made Rue the same promise), I’m not sure she would have made it this far; it’s the thought of Prim anxiously watching her after Rue’s death, that forces Katniss to keep going, to not give in to despair after that particular traumatic event - Peeta, on the other hand, didn’t really have that kind of person in his life, as he will point out on the beach in CF (and Katniss acknowledges herself that the only person who will be devasted if Peeta dies is her)... that is not to say that neither Katniss nor Peeta aren’t fighters on their own - but it helps to have someone that inspires you to not give up

the adrenaline pumping through my body would never allow me to follow him, so I can’t let him go. I just can’t. - We’ll see the mirrored version of this by the end of Mockinjay 

Pity, not vengeance, sends my arrow flying into [Cato’s] skull. - Another act of rebellion, technically (sure, this can be spun as Katniss killing Cato so she and Peeta may win - before Peeta dies from blood loss - but we know better - Katniss’s motivation was compassion for her supposed enemy)

We inch down to the tail of the horn and fall to the ground. If the stiffness in my limbs is this bad, how can Peeta even move? - Peeta is tough as nails, yo!

Before I am even aware of my actions, my bow is loaded with the arrow pointed straight at his heart [...] I drop my weapons and take a step back, my face burning in what can only be shame. “No,” he says. “Do it.” [...] “I can’t,” I say, “I won’t.” - In spite of her initial reflex, Katniss chooses Peeta/ chooses not to kill him; it’s a recurring theme in their relationship (despite her wariness of others, she chooses to open up to Peeta eventually; although she vowed to never marry and have children, she’ll choose to have a family with Peeta); also, my psychology-brain just noticed how this moment illustrates how harmful thoughts/impulses don’t have to determine your actions and are not an indicator of who you are - it’s about what you choose to do

“You’re not leaving me here alone,” I say. Because if he dies, I’ll never go home, not really. I’ll spend the rest of my life in this areny trying to think my way out. - Again, makes me think of MJ; also, I think that from this point onwards, Katniss and Peeta are officially linked together forever; the bond they forged during this traumatic experience will connect them to each other until the day they die

“On the count of three?” Peeta leans down and kisses me once, very gently. “The count of three,” he says. - My heart😭

Chapter 26

... while our muscles are immobile, nothing is preventing the blood from draining out of Peeta’s leg. Sure enough, the minute the door closes behind us and the current stops, he slumps to the floor unconscious  [...] Through the glass, I see the doctors working feverishly on Peeta, their brows creased in concentration [...] I’m not sure, but I think his heart stops twice. - Peeta was in such a bad shape by the end of the Games; I’m still kinda salty that the movie really glossed over this fact :/

... they’re taking Peeta but leaving me behind the door. I start hurling myself against the glass, shrieking and I think I just catch a glimpse of pink hair - it must be Effie, it has to be Effie coming to my rescue - when the needle jabs me from behind. - Oh geez, in Catching Fire Katniss will also get sedated in a hovercraft because she’s upset about being separated from Peeta 😢 (also, Katniss thinking that Effie is coming to her rescue 😭)

While she [Lavinia, the avox] adjusts my pillows, I risk one question. I say it out loud, as clearly as my rusty voice will allow, so nothing will seem secretive. “Did Peeta make it?” She gives me a nod, and as she slips a spoon into my hand, I feel the pressure of friendship. - Katniss is so considerate of Lavinia’s situation, and Lavinia’s giving her a gesture of comfort and support; they’ve never been able to have a proper conversation (Katniss doesn’t even know Lavinia’s name), but still they managed to build up such a bond - compassion certainly is a strong thing to behold 😭 (and this whole scene is just through and through about compassion, with Katniss asking how Peeta is doing!)

Home! Prim and my mother! Gale! Even the thought of Prim’s scruffy old cat makes me smile. Soon I will be home! - Katniss is so excited to see her home and her loved ones again

I want to get out of this bed. To see Peeta and Cinna - Aww, the two people she grew closest to over the course of the past weeks (Haymitch will be added to that list in just a smidge)

Or do I hear a man’s voice yelling? Not in the Capitol accent, but in the rougher cadences of home. And I can’t help having a vague, comforting feeling that someone is looking out for me. - Thank God for Haymitch! 

And behind one of them [doors] must be Peeta. Now that I’m conscious and moving, I’m growing more and more anxious about him [...] “Peeta!” I call out, since there’s no one to ask - Katniss is sick with worry over Peeta; romantic feelings or not, she cares so fricking much for him by now!

I run for them [Effie, Haymitch, and Cinna] and surprise even myself when I launch into Haymitch’s arms first. When he whispers in my ear, “Nice job, sweetheart,” it doesn’t sound sarcastic. - These reunion scenes are so intense and heartwarming! And then Katniss asks about Portia and Peeta because their presence would make this scene complete 

when I asks for seconds, I’m refused. “No, no, no. They don’t want it all coming back up on the stage,” says Octavia, but she secretly slips me an extra roll under the table to let me know she’s on my side - It’s moments like these that help humanize Katniss’s prep team - they might be shallow, they might be completely oblivious and ignorant, but they aren’t that bad [of course, the prep team chattering about their mundane lives while talking about the event that ended with the deaths of 22 children shortly after, leaves a bad taste in our mouths]

I immediately notice the padding over my breasts, adding curves that hunger has stolen from my body. My hands go to my chest and I frown. “I know,” says Cinna before I can object. “But the Gamemakers wanted to alter you surgically. Haymitch had a huge fight with them over it. This was the compromise.” - God, the idea that the Gamemakers wanted to give a boob job to an unconscious, malnourished 16-year-old girl makes me sick 🤢 (Also, what’s the flipping deal about boobs?! As a pretty flat-chested gal, I’ve always been annoyed that there are barely any bras my cup size that are not push-up ones; I’m not self-conscious about it, so stop making me pretend that I’m bustier than I actually am!)

“I thought it’d be something more... sophisticated-looking,” I say. “I thought Peeta would like this better,” he [Cinna] answers carefully. Peeta? No, it’s not about Peeta. It’s about the Capitol and the Gamemakers and the audience. Although I do not yet understand Cinna’s design, it’s a reminder the Games are not quite finished. - Ugh, that sinking feeling when Katniss and the reader realize that the Games are still not over... Sidenote: Peeta flirted up a storm with grimy, bloodied Katniss and complimented her when she wore Cinna’s first, absolutely badass costume (”You should wear flames more often”)... Katniss’s girlish outfit  has nothing to do with Peeta and she knows it... Cinna could have dressed Katniss up in a trash bag and Peeta would have been smitten - although a trash bag by Cinna would probably still look pretty good ;)

“How about a hug for luck?” Okay, that’s an odd request from Haymitch but, after all we are victors. Maybe a hug for luck is in order. - Aww, Katniss actually wouldn’t have minded giving Haymitch a hug just because - sadly, this is about survival tips instead :/

But what was it Haymitch said when I asked it he had told Peeta the situation? That he had to pretend to be desperately in love? “Don’t have to. He’s already there.” Already thinking ahead of me in the Games again and well aware of the danger we’re in? Or... already desperately in love? I don’t know. I haven’t even begun to separate out my feelings about Peeta. It’s too complicated. - Poor Katniss... she didn’t have the time and peace of mind to sort out her feelings regarding Peeta before they all got tied up and muddled with her need for survival. Now she’ll be having an even harder time trying to untangle that mess :(

Chapter 27

Then there’s Peeta just a few yards away. He looks so clean and healthy and beautiful, I can hardly recognize him. But his smile is the same whether in mud or in the Capitol and when I see it, I take about three steps and fling myself into his arms [...] He rights himself and we just cling to each other while the audience goes insane. He’s kissing me and all the time I’m thinking, Do you know? Do you know how much danger we’re in? After about ten minutes of this, Caesar Flickerman taps on his choulder to continue the show, and Peeta just pushes him aside without even glancing at him. - Man, their reunion here always gets me - it would be so fricking good if Katniss didn’t have to worry about their potential doom 😒😔 - she barely has time to just be happy to see Peeta alive and well before slipping back into survival mode while Peeta is just genuinely thrilled to have her in his arms, completely unaware of the pressure and immediate danger Katniss experiences in this moment... It hurts so bad

I’m with Katniss - How did the previous victors endure rewatching those horrible moments from the Games?! I guess because they had to, but oof... I think I’d just completely shut down, blocking out the footage shown, ugh

But I do notice they omit the part where I covered her [Rue] in flowers. Right. Because even that smacks of rebellion. - In such a callous and cruel place as Panem, any act of compassion can be regarded as rebellion, it’s crazy. In a place filled with apathy, hedonism, greed, and cruelty, the most radical things you can exhibit are love, kindness, and respect!

A wave of gratitude to the filmmakers sweeps over me when they end not with the announcement of our victory, but with me pounding on the glass door of the hovercraft, screaming Peeta’s name as they try to revive him. In terms of survival, it’s my best moment all night. - Again, another instance where Katniss’s genuine feelings/reactions to Peeta are get muddled with her need for survival

The one thing I never do is let go of Peeta’s hand. - irrevocably linked with each other

Despite Haymitch’s running interference, I’m determined to see Peeta privately. - Katniss just wants to have an honest and open talk with Peeta 😢 (I get where Haymitch is coming from, and maybe in this instance it’s the right call, but we’ll see a similar situation in the beginning of CF when Haymitch advises Katniss not to tell Peeta about President Snow’s visit and that time, it doesn’t go so well...)

Then Peeta’s there looking handsome in red and white - for someone who isn’t sure whether she’s into him or not, Katniss sure mentions how good Peeta’s looking a lot 😏

“Well, there’s just this and we go home. Then he can’t watch us all the time,” says Peeta. - 👀👀 Peeta is so thirsty here; reminds me of when he pulled Katniss close to him in the cave before they set out to hunt... He clearly believes she’s also “already there” regarding their relationship; he’s never this “suggestive” (can’t think of a better word right now) with her once she lets him know that she doesn’t really know how she feels about him - I feel a sort of shiver run through me and there’s no time to analyze why - Katniss totally isn’t averse to what Peeta’s suggesting here, either (though there’s probably also a healthy amount of fear mixed in with the thrill of being wanted - letting people in can be terrifying)

I can feel Peeta press his forehead into my temple and he asks, “So now that you’ve got me, what are you going to do with me?” I turn in to him. “Put you somewhere you can’t get hurt.” And when he kisses me, people in the room actually sigh. - It’s me; I’m people 🙋🏼‍♀️ (also, the “turn in to him”?!?!! it just suggests such a closeness, I can’t-)

Katniss burying her face in Peeta’s shirt when she’s afraid she might cry learning that he lost his leg 🥺 (how awful it must be to be constantly on display while you’re dealing with your private feelings, ugh)

“... The moment when you pulled out those berries. What was going on in your mind... hm?” [...] It seems to call for a big, dramatic speech, but all I get out is one almost inaudible sentences. “I don’t know, I just... couldn’t bear the thought of... being without him.” - It might not be a super eloquent way to put what she was supposed to say, but this way, Katniss is being perfectly honest (and frankly, if she’d had the chance to properly process her feelings, she would have been able to voice this sentiment with less hesitation)

I go back to my room to collect a few things and find there’s nothing to take but the mockingjay pin Madge gave me. Someone returned it to my room after the Games. - For one, Katniss didn’t think of that pin (again), but also - was the pin returned to her simply because it’s standard procedure or did someone (like Plutarch, for example) arrange for Katniss to get the pin back, to keep her connection to this symbol going?

I stare in the mirror as I try to remember who I am and who I am not. - Poor Katniss! She’s been through so much, experienced so many traumatic events in short succession recently (aside from the trauma she already had), already had problems defining her identity beyond sheer survival, and now the Capitol also keeps pushing an identity onto her and a romantic relationship, when she hadn’t even had the chance to figure out how she felt about that yet

“... Haymitch has been coaching me through the last few days. So I didn’t make it worse,” I say. “Coaching you? But not me,” says Peeta. “He knew you were smart enough to get it right,” I say. “I didn’t know there was anything to get right,” says Peeta. - Oh boy. It’s always so painful to see Peeta realize that he’s been completely out of the loop; again, we’ll see how Katniss and Haymitch adopt a similar strategy in the beginning of CF: banking on Peeta’s good social skills and eloquence and keeping him in the dark. In a way, it’s a sort of compliment they pay to Peeta for being good with people, but, by not telling him, they are also using him for their purpose (which is motivated by caring for and wanting to protect Peeta, but still). Peeta is right to be upset about it - he has always been very clear about not wanting to be used as a piece in anyone’s games, really. And, as we will see later in CF, they are way more effective as a team when they are open and honest with each other.

“It was all for the Games,” Peeta says. “How you acted.” “Not all of it,” I say, tightly holding on to my flowers. “Then how much? No, forget that. I guess the real question is what’s going to be left when we get home?” he says. “I don’t know. The closer we get to District Twelve, the more confused I get,” I say. He waits, for further explanation, but none’s forthcoming. “Well, let me know when you work it out,” he says, and the pain in his voice is palpable. - It’s just so goddamn painful😢 They’ve both been done so dirty by that forced star-crossed lovers of Distrct 12 routine. (Sidenote: I appreciate that Peeta actually gives Katniss the chance to explain herself here - still, it’s too much to deal with on the spot so I can understand why Katniss ended up dropping the ball, even though it’s frustrating to read.)

That it’s not good loving me because I’m never going to get married anyway and he’d just end up hating me later instead of sooner. That if I do have feelings for him, it doesn’t matter because I’ll never be able to afford the kind of love that leads to a family, to children. And how can he? How can he after what we’ve just been through? - Oh Katniss, you certainly are skipping a couple of steps here; I’m pretty sure there are some options in between dating and being married with kids you could look into. Also, she’s just assuming that this is what Peeta wants, but she doesn’t know that at all - As someone who also has this stupid habit of imagining how whole conversations could possibly transpire and then resigning myself to the hypothetical outcome of said imagined conversation instead of actually having them: Don’t do that. ‘Never assume - it makes an ASS out of U and ME.’ 

I see Peeta extend his hand. I look at him, unsure. “One more time? For the audience?” he says. His voice isn’ t angry. It’s hollow, which is worse. Already the boy with the bread is slipping away from me. I take his hand, holding it tightly, preparing for the cameras, and dreading the moment when I will finally have to let go. - Ma babies! They are both so hurt and both just want to be with each other 😭 But they’ll need some time apart, to figure things out before they can do that.

[kanohivolitakk]

Since its 3Hs anniversary some really cool things I like about the game that aren’t talked about enough because the fandom is too busy arguing who is right and who is wrong

The worldbuilding just. 3H has honestly one of my favorite fictional settings. Its just both expansive but also genuinely interesting. I have spent HOURS thinking about the world and made so many ocs its not even funny. I love thinking about the setting of the game so much.

I LOVE the puzzle like way the game explains its world and story. Like I know some people don’t like it because it makes the game a bit too convoluted but personally? I LOVE 3Hs way of not telling everything but rather giving hints and clues the player has to piece themselves. It makes the games world feel more interactive and feels so satisfying. Then again I enjoy that kind of approach to worldbuilding

In general I love 3hs fragmented story and the way how the story is placed in many different fragments. It is geniunely rewarding to replay the game from another storypath and notice the foreshadowing Would’ve the story been probably better had it been just one storypath? Honestly yes. But 3h is ambitious and one of the ways it is is with its fragmented story structure.

The structure of White Clouds is criminally underrated honestly and gets way more hate than it deserves. I love how the first few chapters set up the world of Fodlan and show injustices/conflicts of the world with chapters like the chapter where you face off Lonato for instance. Then the next few chapters are spend in deepening the mysteries such as the conspiracy against the church and the mystery regarding TWSITD. Then Jeralt dies and the last few chapters are spent as “beginning of the End” so to speak, as things clears to the intense climax.

On related note I LOVE how the game handles perspective and how the lords are the respective ways we view the story. I know so many people say “WHite Clouds is same on all paths” but I do feel that’s kinda the point. The story is the same but there are differences that come from the way each of the lords is strongly characterized and has different values, worldviews. The subtle changes on what are focused on in each route also foreshadow what will be focused on each route, which I think is super cool.

Even beyond the lords and routes the game does explore the idea of perspective well. I do think 3h has this very “everyone is the hero of their own story” type of approach to perspective and it shows it well. Each character believes they’re in the right and you can get this view that they view themselves as right. Even Agarthans who are the designated villains have this sense they think they’re in right and that the Nabateans were evil.

The way how games routes being divided into having a different focus is very cool. I love how AM is a smaller scale personal tragedy, how CF is a battle of ideals and how VW explores the world and reveals deeper mysteries. I also love how all of these are related to the lords ideals and worldviews: Dimitri is the most conflicted of the lords so he gets the most characterfocused story focused on . Edelgard is the most ideologically driven so her path focuses on her ideals and battle of wills against Rhea. Claude is the one who is the most freespirited and wants to know the truth so his route focuses on revealing the mysteries.

Also the way the houses characters reflect their respective routes storyline and central themes: Black Eagles are nobles that have conflicting relationships with nobility reflecting Edelgards goal, Blue Lions are all united with the trauma of Tragedy of Duscur, and Golden Deer are a house of misfits who give this “ragtag group who will save the universe with POWER OF FRIENDSHIP and this cool gun I found” vibes which fit the route PERFECTLY

I LOVE how the game plays with and subverts a lot of Fire Emblem tropes. While it does play some tropes straight (dad death and evil cult manipulating behind the scenes) it does do a lot to break from series conventions and playing with ideas to make a more ambitious story. The way it either subverts expectations (The evil emperor being female well intended extremist, Rhea being the Gharnef/Medeus instead of the Nyna archetype she’s presented as), twists familiar tropes to their natural extreme (Dimitris arc is basically the natural extreme end of stereotypical FE lord) and other similar things make the game feeling so planned out, like the writers understood FE stories and wanted to make something that challenges FE while still feeling like it.

The way how every major player acts as foil/pararell to another player is so GOOD. Every faction leader can be compared to the other somehow and that just makes the game SOOOO fun to analyze, trying to find all the similarities and differences and pararells is so rewarding.

A more specific example on this is how i love how the game plays with the idea of holy/sacred weapons. While normally these weapons are artifacts from goddess that defeat dragons, here the holy weapons are bones made from dragons and just???? HOW METAL IS THAT????????? It’s just such a neat way to subvert the idea of sacred weapons. Rather than being blessed creations of the goddess, they are weapons of destruction made by the villains.

I ADORE THE GAMES science fiction elements. I know people say they feel out of place but personally, they make the game memorable for me. I still remember the first time I saw that scene with nukes. I especially love the heavy implication that Sothis isn’t a goddess but rather a powerful alien. It makes her character much more interesting

I know a lot of people don’t like Agarthans but can I just say their backstory being “forced to hide after their land got conquered and desiring it back” making them a dark mirror not just 3h lords/Rhea but FE lords as whole is SO FUCKING METAL. This is what I mean with 3H writers knowing their tropes like back of their hand.

I love how in Part 1 sometimes you’d talk to two characters in Monastery at once instead of just one. It’s something I miss in part 2 honestly.

I love the small sidequests such as the fishing tourney and White Heron cup and wish Part 1 had more of them, it would’ve made the school part feel more alive.

I LOVE how some missions (esp paralogues) have subgoals that you can clear to get better rewards. I wish the game had been more clear with them or even made them main goals of maps sometimes.

I LOVE THE WAY Paralogues act as small gaiden stories that show more of the games world and characters. Its a neat way to let the sidecharacters shine and reveal some neat secrets of the games world and story.

The gameplay loop is honetly fun and satisfying. It is rewarding and while it gets tiring towards the end overall its a good gameplay loop.

I ADORE the aesthetic of Shambhala. Its just so sleek and sinister. The cyrillic letters spelling different words is so cool. Shambhala is my favorite map in the game and the aesthetic is a big reason why.

The games soundtrack is so good!!!!!!!!!!  But not only that I LOVE the way its electro elements subtly hint of Agarthans being in control behind the scenes. This is especially cool in Road to Dominion where the electro parts are barely noticeable yet present. but other tracks have subtle electro vibes as well.  The other way the games music tells the story (such as use of leitmotifs or how the monastery music changes once Jeralt dies) is great as well.

I love how 3h can be read as an allegory for reformation era and reneissance. Its such an interesting way to read the games events and compare it to a real historical periods there’s quite a bit of f

In general I ADORE the cultural references of the game. There’s surprisingly lot of way the games world is based on real life and the details are just *chefs kiss*

THE GAME IS DENSE WITH THEMATIC IDEAS. Besides the perspective the game tackles ideas of how trauma can affect a persons psyche and worldview  (as well how a persons trauma affects the way they interact with the world which in turn can affect the world as well), grief, societal values, historical revisiniosm and so much more. The game tackles SO MANY topics in an interesting manner, it is thematically just as dense as it is storywise as well.

I also love how the games thematic parts work in harmony with the story rather than one overshadowing with the other. Its super refreshing honestly where a games themes and story are both rich and I don’t have to pick one over the other.

Lastly I ADORE the games central message (or at least what I see as the central message anyway): The world’s fucked up and most people want to fix it, but what they deem fixing differs and because of that they go into conflict or outright war rather than trying to find a common ground. Everyone wants a better world but no one can agree what a better world truly means  so they fight over it. It was a theme that not only resonates with my personal values but also hit me REALLY hard when I first played it as it’s a theme that I found incredibly relevant and reflective of our own world during the time I played the game for the first time.

So yeah. I made this post since there’s SO MUCH neat things about the game, its gameplay and story that sadly get swept under the rug in favor of either arguing  which lord was right/wrong or complaining how the game is an unfinished, rushed and overambitious mess. Is 3h perfect? Hell no. But it’s a game that I hold near and dear to my heart and does genuinely SO MANY THINGS RIGHT, I’m sad no one talks about the genuine strengths the game has anymore, instead just complaining.

I’m not even joking when I say that 3h should be up there as heralded as one of the best, most ambitious and complex JRPGs alongside Xenogears, the first Xenoblade game, Suikoden and Trails series as whole along other such games. Its a shame the games reputation is less like those games and more like Persona 5s where everyone focuses more on its flaws and the fans being annoying than the fact the game does geniunely A LOT right. It’s just that good, ambitious game I love so much.

[jamaisjoons]

intro: her XI ⤑ knj | m

⟶ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦:〝 you enter namjoon’s life in the most unexpected of ways, but will you be able to stay, especially when he comes with three adorable but chaotic children, even more chaotic best friends and a bitch of an ex-wife? not to mention your own emotional baggage. 〞singe dad au.

❥ 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: single dad!namjoon x marine vet!reader

❥ 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: angst ⋆ fluff

❥ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 6k

⟶ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: it starts of super fucking fluffy, like - fluff galore, there’s a naked bath scene but like nothing sexual happens, just lots of soft kisses and touches,,, but they are naked so,,,, also it gets a lil sad/angsty towards the end, reader broods about her past toxic relationship, mentions of cheating/infidelity, then it gets sappy and fluffy again because joon is a gentle giant bear and i love him thank u for coming to this solar talk

➵ 𝑎/𝑛: guess what’s back, back again. intro: her’s back, tell a FRIEND,,,, yeeHAW it’s a new chapter of the lONG, L O N G awaited intro: her. I’m so damn sorry it took so long, idk what got into me but i was missing my babies and my man so i hAD to return to it like asap

⏤ thank you to miss ellie aka @hobisbeautifulass​ so betaing this for me ! sorry it took me so long to add this omg

⇥ Previous || Masterlist || Next

Sitting on Namjoon’s sofa, you’re surrounded by the boys as you play an intense game of Mario Kart. Rap Mon is currently curled on the floor, his tail flicking lazily as he watches the screen. Jungkook’s small body - as usual - lies on your dog, using Monie as his person pillow. Not that your dog minds really - especially with the way he’s got his head perched on Jungkook’s small knee. Jimin sits against his father’s lap, watching as Namjoon helplessly tries to steer Toadette’s pram around the circuit.  Taehyung, on the other hand, is seated on your lap, and you hold the wheel close to your body - allowing the little boy to press the button.

Usually, Jungkook would be glued to you; and for the most part, he still is. However, when Namjoon asked who he wanted to play with, Jungkook had shaken his head - his hair flopping with the action - and declared to his father, in a very proud voice, that he could do it himself. You’d wanted to believe him at first, but the shiftiness in his eyes had confused you. Until you’d started playing - and then, you’d found out that Namjoon was damn awful at the game. Of course, you’d offered to play with Jungkook yourself, with his wildly competitive streak, he’d also refused you - to Namjoon’s utter surprise.

Thus, you’d ended up the way you had: with Jimin and Namjoon, you and Taehyung and Jungkook by himself. Keeping your attention focused on the screen, you stick your tongue out in concentration. Of course, when Jungkook had requested you play Mario Kart, you’d been over the moon. You absolutely adored the Mario games, and Mario Kart was something you’d played frequently during University - whenever you needed to relax from the crushing workload of training to become a vet.

“Alright, Tigger, now,” you whisper to Taehyung. King Boo - your character - aligns right behind Namjoon, and as soon as you do, Taehyung presses the B button, firing off the green shell you’d been storing.

“What the- HEY! Why would you do that?” Namjoon shouts, turning and staring at you in disbelief. A mischievous smile painted on your lip, Taehyung bouncing in your lap happily, you shrug at your boyfriend. Namjoon growls, his lip pulling into a slight pout as he ducks his head to the side. Grumbling under his breath, “I was already a lap behind anyway,” he mutters. Suppressing the cackle at the back of your throat, you simply blow him a kiss before turning your attention back to the screen.

From the corner of your eye, you see Jungkook sit up straight - his little shoulders tense as he leans forward slightly. The two of you are neck and neck - Jungkook just a little behind you. Loosening your grip on the wheel slightly, you let yourself swerve to the side just before the finish line - allowing Jungkook to overtake you - consequently taking first place. Throwing the controller down, Jungkook stands up on his little legs and begins jumping around.

“I did it! I did it! I came first,” Jungkook starts yelling as he bounces in victory. His excitement instantly has Monie on his feet, your dog’s tail wagging happily as he runs around Jungkook’s small body in circles. Jungkook turns to you and runs up to the sofa. Placing his hands on the edge, he jumps up and down while looking at you, his face a picture-perfect expression of elation. “Noona! Noona did you see? Did you see? I came first!” Jungkook says.

Face softening, you nod happily, causing him to beam. At this moment, it doesn’t matter that you’d purposely thrown every circuit of the cup, it doesn’t matter that you’d spent half your time making sure the computer-controlled characters didn’t overtake him, and it definitely doesn’t matter that you’ve come second. No, because right now, all that matters is that Jungkook is happy - and you simply don’t have the heart to tell him you purposely let him win - nor would you ever.

Instead, biting your lip, you reach out and ruffle his hair, “well done, baby. I knew you could do it!” you tell him. Jungkook grins brightly at your praise, his entire body vibrating with cheerfulness.

“It’s okay, daddy,” Jimin’s sweet voice carries out. Jungkook immediately stops celebrating, both your attention turning to him. Once again, you bite your lip, trying to stop yourself from cooing at the scene. Jimin’s currently standing on the couch, his face incredibly close to Namjoon. Squeezing his father’s cheeks between his small palms, squishing your boyfriend’s face together and causing his lips to puff out, Jimin sweetly comforts Namjoon. “I don’t mind losing! You did your best daddy,” Jimin continued.

This time, you can’t help the way your face softens, a quiet ‘aww’ falling from your lips. Namjoon’s arms wind around Jimin’s small body before he pulls his son into his embrace. Burying his face into Jimin’s soft belly, Namjoon blows a raspberry - previous upset at losing the game already forgotten. Jimin’s squealing giggles fill the air, the jubilant sound echoing through the living room. Seeing his twin, Taehyung leaps out of your lap and throws himself towards his father, not wanting to be left out.

Instantly, Jungkook’s eyes light up and seizing the opportunity, he climbs into your lap. Making himself comfortable between your crossed legs, you and Jungkook watch as Namjoon gently wrestles his sons - their childish titters weaving together as he begins tickling them. Finally, both boys squirming vigorously, Namjoon relents. However, instead of letting them go, he whispers into their eyes - muttering so low under his breath you can’t make out what he’s saying, though the impish glint in his eyes doesn’t bode well for you; neither does the mischievous twinkle in the twins’ eyes.

“Now!” Namjoon says. The abrupt sound startles you, causing you to jerk. The only thing keeping you from falling off the sofa is your instinct to keep Jungkook from getting hurt - you know that if you fall, so does he.

However, in the second you catch yourself from falling off of the sofa, Jimin and Taehyung attack you. The two boys jump onto you, their bodies bouncing on the sofa as they begin tickling you. Your eyes widen when you feel their fingers wiggle over your body, raucous, childish giggles filling the air and mixing with your own. Usually, you’d struggle violently - but with the smaller boys around you, you’re conscious of hurting them - and thus, you subconsciously subdue your squirming body. However, that only gives them more room to continue their assault. Not wanting to be left out, Jungkook grins and joins his brothers, Namjoon laughing from the other side of the sofa.

“Joon! Oh my god, Joonie, please,” you whine, heaving for air through your laughter. Your boyfriend’s eyes soften, and taking pity on you, gathers his sons in one sweep of his arms. With the three finally off of you, you gasp for air in an attempt to catch your breath. “I hate you,” you mumble, tilting your head to Namjoon and sending him a mock glare.

Namjoon lets go of his sons, his face falling dramatically as he clutches his heart. “Oh, my love, you wound me,” he gasps theatrically before turning and flopping onto your lap. He looks up at you, his gentle umber eyes swimming with nothing but tender love. A soft smile curls on your face and you gently trace his features: over his strong eyebrows and along the delicate slope of his nose. You tap his nose twice with the tip of your pointer finger before you cup his face. Then, bending at the waist, you press a soft kiss against his lips.

Your boyfriend smiles against your mouth, before reciprocating as he tenderly returns your soft kiss. A chorus of ‘gross’ resounds through the air, the boys flopping on their father as their noses scrunch identically at the display of affection. The two of you laugh softly, your breaths fanning each other’s face - but neither of you moves. Eyes twinkling with contentment, and Namjoon’s mirroring yours, you both brush your noses together - your mouths caressing each other in a series of butterfly kisses.

Lost in the moment, neither of you notice when Seokjin, Yoongi and Hoseok enter the living room; nor do you notice the triumphal smiles on their face. Silently, they watch the five of you. Taehyung and Jimin catch their attention first, both boys briskly crawling off the sofa before running up to the three of them. Jungkook, noticing his brothers are gone, looks around - only to find them in Hoseok and Yoongi’s arms. Briefly, he turns to you and Namjoon, rolling his eyes when he realises the two of you aren’t going to separate anytime soon. Sliding off the sofa, he waddles over to Seokjin before gesturing for the older man to pick him up.

Meanwhile, practically oblivious to your surroundings, you and Namjoon stare into each other’s guys, whispering soft nothings while you continue lavishing each other in gentle tenderness. Eventually, growing sick of the display, Seokjin clears his throat. Instantly, the two of you stiffen, Namjoon sitting up slightly as you both stare at the newcomers with wide eyes.

An impish twinkle in his eyes, and a playful lop-sided smile curled on his face, “well, isn’t this adorably domestic,” Seokjin teases. Groaning, your head falls back onto the sofa, Namjoon rolling his eyes at the slight taunting lilt to Seokjin's voice.

"Don't," comes his only reply. Hoseok's eyes wander over your figure, his eyebrow quirking at your state of dress.

"When was the last time you went home?" he asks. Biting your lip, your gaze down at yourself, your face flushing with heat. Dressed in a pair of Namjoon's boxers, an oversized t-shirt with your university logo on it, and fuzzy socks; you know you're the epitome of comfy. Hell, your face is thrown up into a messy bun, strands of hair falling out of it and framing your face in an unkempt way.

Face intensely heated, "I went home two days ago," you mumble under your breath. Twin scoffs of disbelief echo, causing you to scowl at Seokjin and Hoseok.

"And when was the last time you actually stayed home?" Seokjin asks. That immediately causes you to shut up, your jaw clamping tight as you purse your lips. "Yeah, that's what I thought," Seokjin snorts. Turning to Taehyung, the boy happily sitting in Yoongi's arms, Seokjin directs his attention to him before asking, "When was the last time noona stayed home?"

"I don't know," Taehyung replies with a casual shrug of his shoulders.

"I went home two days ago, oh my god!" you reply, your voice taking a defensive tone. Yoongi snorts, causing you to despair - even he didn't believe you. Grumbling under your breath, you throw your hands up in the air in exasperation, "Okay fine! I don't remember the last time I stayed at home - and I only really go back to get more clothes. But even then, I have enough here that I could just do laundry," you ramble, a pout forming on your lip as you look away. Eyebrows shooting into their hairline, the three simply blink at you, taking in your words.

"How do you get to work?" Yoongi asks, causing you to shrink behind Namjoon. Sensing your embarrassment, he tilts his head from his place on your lap and presses a kiss against your kneecap in comfort.

"Did you not see her car in the driveway? She drives to work," Namjoon rolls his eyes.

"Damn, why don't you just move in?" Hoseok taunts - his tone is light, and meant in a joking manner - but both you and Namjoon startle for a minute, looking at each other in surprise. Shyly, you smile at him before ducking your head down. As much as you love him, and as much as you've grown used to being around him and essentially moving into his house - it was still too soon to be thinking about that. Seokjin opens his mouth to say something, but in an instant, Yoongi cuts him off.

"Anyway, do you have time? We didn't come over to tease you," he says. Nodding at his oldest friends, Namjoon finally gets up from your lap before gesturing to the empty seats. Shifting closer to Namjoon, you sink into his side, Namjoon loosely resting his hand in your lap. Instinctively, your fingers lace between his, neither of you even thinking about the gesture.

Putting the boys down onto the carpet, you watch as they begin playing with each other. It always surprised you how easily they were able to read the room - as much attention as they craved, they always knew when to settle down and leave the adults alone. You turn your attention to Seokjin, Hoseok and Yoongi, your eyes skimming their faces for any clue about what they're going to talk about. However, Yoongi's face is a picture of stoicism, Seokjin's easy gaze giving away nothing - though, Hoseok winks playfully at you. His light gesture has you relaxing, the tension in your shoulders deflating as you sink further into Namjoon's side. At least you know it's nothing serious.

"So, what's up?" Namjoon asks, his voice calm.

"We've booked a world tour. You, Yoongi and Hoseok," Seokjin says, taking charge of the meeting. Your eyes widen, excitement bubbling in your veins. A tour! It's been about two years since they've toured - you couldn't wait to see them on stage. You hadn't been able to go the last time - they'd toured while you were amidst your final year exams. However, this year, nothing would stop you from supporting your boyfriend and friends.

Unable to contain your excitement, you bounce in your seat. Namjoon turns to you, quirking his eyebrows. A burst of adrenaline rushes through you, and before you can even think about it, you're kissing Namjoon on the corner of his lips. Your boyfriend looks at you in stunned surprise before a lazy smirk crawls onto his face.

"Someone's excited," Hoseok laughs, causing you to turn and stick your tongue out at him.

"Of course I'm excited - it's going to be amazing! It's been so long since any of you have been on tour- and I couldn't go last time. But I will go this time - even if it means I have to wake up at the asscrack of dawn to buy tickets," you reply, nodding your head in determination. For most of it, Namjoon looks at you in happiness - though, he can't help the twinge of sadness in his heart.

Eyes softening, he regards you tenderly: with your bouncing legs, bright smile and animated chatter, you are a picture-perfect sight of joy and elation. He should be happy - and the majority of him is: he's got a loving, supportive girlfriend, three wonderful children and he's at the peak of his career. However, right now, all he can think about is how good it's been between the two of you; how easy you've both fallen into a routine: waking up together, getting the boys ready for school before going to work, then coming home and spending time together only to head to bed together. He's grown comfortable in domesticated bliss - and he can't help but wonder what it'd be like on tour; being so far apart, unable to touch each other or be near each other - like you are now.

"Joon?" you ask. His eyes come back into focus, your visage becoming clearer. He smiles gently at you, shaking his head at the soft worry evident in your eyes. "What's wrong?" you ask, squeezing his hand in comfort. Namjoon returns your squeeze, basking in the comfort you so effortlessly offer.

"I'm just worried I guess. It's been a while - and last time it was easy because I could take the boys with me. Everyone was with me. But-"

Namjoon begins. He doesn't need to finish his train of thought, because you're finishing it for him, "but this time I'll still be here in Seoul," you supply. Namjoon nods, his usually warm eyes dulling with melancholia. You shake your head, the loose wisps of your hair following the movement, "it's okay. This is your job- your dream before you met me. I'll still be here for you when you come home- and maybe, I could come to see you one day," you offer.

Taking comfort in your words, Namjoon lifts your hand to his mouth before pressing a soft kiss to the back of your palm. His heart clenches at your words - even now, when he's about to leave for months, you don't resent him for it. Instead, you simply step aside, offering nothing but warmth and support. "You're right. And you don't need to wake up at the asscrack of dawn to buy tickets. I'll give you as many as you want- for whatever dates you want," Namjoon replies. Eyes widening, you look at him in shock - stunned by his offer.

"Are you serious?" you gape, your jaw completely slacked. Namjoon chuckles, turning back to his friends.

"Yup! We can do that, right?" Namjoon asks. The three of them snort in response.

"You literally just ignored our presence for a good five minutes - why should we help you?" Yoongi questions, his eyes are passive and cool - but you notice the light twitch to the corners of his lips. Relaxing, you let out a breath of relief. At least he wasn't really angry. Though, you can't help the heat of embarrassment that flashes through you briefly - really the two of you need to stop doing that.

A small wave of guilt washing through you, "I'm sorry," you apologise with a slight now. Seokjin and Hoseok sigh dramatically at your gesture.

"See, now how are we supposed to stay fake-mad when you do that?" Hoseok sighs theatrically.

Seokjin nods beside him sagely, "yeah, we'll give you all the tickets you want," he says in mock pensiveness. Eyes rolling at their dramatics, you ignore them - more than used to them by now - and instead, turn to Namjoon. Once again, you drop an impromptu kiss onto his lips.

"See, it'll be fine!" you reassure Namjoon. Biting his lips, and feeling a lot more sure of himself, Namjoon returns your kiss. From the carpet, you both hear Jungkook sigh loudly - causing you to laugh.

That night, once Seokjin, Hoseok and Yoongi leave, you find yourself in the twins' rooms reading them a bedtime story while Namjoon tidies up. Jimin and Taehyung are in their respective beds, snuggled underneath their covers as they listen to you. Laying on the large beanbag in their room, Jungkook curls into your side, his head resting on your shoulder. Softly, your voice carries out into the still air of the bedroom - you're currently reading one of their favourite fairytales, 'Swan Lake', as they slowly drift to sleep. Your low, mellifluous voice comes to a close as you near the end of the book. Once you're done, you gently shut the book.

Your eyes sweep over the dimly lit room; their bedside lamps and the star projector Namjoon had installed being your only source of light. Bright stars flit over their features, the projector light spinning lethargically and adding to the sleeping ambience of their room. For most of it, their eyes are mainly shut - both the twins' eyelids fluttering as they slip in and out of sleep. Gently, you manoeuvre Jungkook's head off your shoulder so that you can finish tucking the twins into bed. Jungkook whines at the loss of your body, a small pout forming on his face as he squints his eyes blearily at you.

Getting up from the beanbag, you gently pad over to Jimin's bed. Fluffing his pillow slightly, you tuck his blanket under his body before pressing a tender kiss to his forehead. As you move to his twin, Jimin smiles sleepily at you, one eye peeking to watch you repeat your actions with his twin. When you're done, he watches you walk back to Jungkook - carefully lifting the boy into your arms. Jungkook's body is mainly limp, sleep weighing his muscles down. However, that doesn't deter you for one moment - and after a brief struggle - he curls easily into your arms, his head finding the comfortable spot in the crook where your neck meets your shoulders.

As you bend down to switch off the bedside lamp, Jimin calls out to you, "noona?" Humming softly, you turn your attention to him, shifting Jungkook in your arms. "Do you love daddy?" Jimin asks, his voice low and quiet. Your eyes widen at the unexpected question and you blink owlishly at the small boy. Unsure of what to say, or how to answer, you ponder Jimin's question for a few moments - silence falling over the room. Eventually, you decide on the truth.

"Yeah, puppy. I love your daddy a lot," you admit quietly. It's the first time you've said it out loud - and it doesn't matter if it's just to the six-year-old boy - the weight of your words are still heavy - nothing but the truth in them. Jimin smiles and with a nod, he snuggles back into bed.

"But you love us more, right noona?" Jungkook mumbles as he looks at you with a small pout.

Laughing softly, you nod. "Yeah, but don't tell daddy that," you whisper - your tone conspiratorial. You hear Taehyung exhale loudly through his nose, and turn to him, your eyebrow quirking. You'd thought he was already asleep - but clearly, you were wrong. He's looking at you hesitantly, a silent question in his eyes.

"What's wrong, Tigger?" you coax gently. Taehyung brightens up at the use of the nickname, causing you to smile tenderly. Frequently, Namjoon would refer to Taehyung as tiger, and one day, when Taehyung was singing along and bouncing to 'The Wonderful Thing About Tiggers', you called him Tigger: considering he bounced around, was incredibly sweet, and a cuddler to boot. Suffice to say the least, Taehyung had loved your nickname - it was his favourite character in Winnie the Pooh after all - and ever since then, it had just stuck.

Nervously, "are you our mommy now?" Taehyung breathes out. If you'd thought Jimin's question had come out of the blue, Taehyung's one completely throws you for a loop. Unsure of what to say, you stand between their beds - all three of their gazes fixated on you as they expectantly await your answer.

Eventually, you take a deep breath, and gathering all your courage, "that's up to you and Namjoon," you reply. As soon as you say that, the three of them nod - apparently accepting your answer. Taehyung curls further into his sheets, Jimin nuzzling his head against his pillow.

"You should be our mommy... I like your hugs... and you smell nice," Jimin mumbles, his voice heavily laden with sleep. Taehyung makes a soft noise, agreeing with Jimin's sentiment. However, that's all they say - because then, they're both drifting off to sleep.

Overwhelmed with emotion, you wrap your arms tighter around Jungkook and carry him to his own bedroom. Already dressed in his pyjamas, and on the brink of sleep, all you have to do is tuck Jungkook into bed. A feat that would be easy - if Jungkook wasn't desperately clinging to your neck. When you unwrap his arms from his neck, Jungkook whines but acquiesces - letting you place him on the bed. Sitting on the mattress, you begin tucking his sheets under his sides before brushing his hair out of his forehead.

"Noona?" Jungkook asks sleepily - and this time you freeze. A twinge of fear courses through you - is he going to ask you something you're unprepared to answer again?

"What is it, baby?" you ask, swallowing thickly. Jungkook turns to his side, looking at you with his large doe eyes.

"I didn't want you to be my mommy at first," Jungkook breathes out - causing you to freeze - however before you can panic, "because I wanted you to be my girlfriend," he continues. Instantly, relief floods through you, causing you to let out a soft, breathy laugh. Jungkook ignores you, looking at you with nothing but sincerity in his eyes - and you find your breath hitching in your throat. Immediately you know, that you're completely unprepared for whatever he's going to say next.

"But I want you to be my mommy - if it means you'll stay with daddy, Jimin, Taehyung and me forever," Jungkook finishes. The moment he finishes his sentence, your heart grips, tears filling your eyes.

Taking a deep breath, you try to suppress your overwhelming emotions - not wanting to cry in front of Jungkook. Instead, "I'd love to be your mommy - and stay with you all forever," you choke out, your voice straining as your throat constricts.

"Then you should stay - and be our mommy," Jungkook says. His words are simple - as if the answer was there all along - and to Jungkook's four-year-old mind it is simple.

You swallow thickly - gulping audibly. "Yeah, maybe I should," comes your only response.

An hour later, you find yourself submerged in the bath. Light sniffles escape your nose as you wipe the tears from your eyes. Really, you can't help but laugh at yourself. Just a few months ago, you were ready to run for the hills over this level of commitment - and now, here you are, crying in your bath over their sweet words. Never would you have imagined such touching words from them. Of course, they didn't really understand the gravity of their words, and their toddler-like minds couldn't really comprehend forever - yet, they'd still asked you, oh so sweetly, to be in their lives forever. So easily, with only a shred of hesitation - they'd bravely asked you to be their mother, to love and care for them like a mother would - to be with their father. It's the last one that has you emotionally devastated - you have their approval.

You've been with Namjoon for months now - but part of you always worried whether the boys only accepted you because you were intertwined heavily in their lives - or maybe they'd just grown comfortable with you. But today proved that they wanted you in their lives - enough that they trusted you to nurture and love them as a mother would - as their mother should have. Choking down another sob, you submerge yourself further in the bath - letting the water envelope you in its warmth.

"Love?" Namjoon's voice breaks through the silence. Sitting up, you turn your head - only to come face to face with your boyfriend. Concern shines in his warm brown eyes, Namjoon looking at you in a mixture of tenderness and worry. His eyes trail over your slightly puffy eyes and swollen face, a frown marring his face at the clear signs of what he thinks is distress. "What's wrong, Angel?" he asks, his voice incredibly soft and gentle. Shaking your head, you sink further into the bath, your throat constricting.

Guilt gnaws at your belly - you don't deserve his concern, and you certainly don't deserve his sons' trust - not when you'd almost walked out on them. Of course, that stemmed more from your fear of commitment than them. You were just afraid to be hurt again. Afraid to let someone in and have them utterly break the trust you put in them. Maybe Dojae was right - maybe you do ruin your own relationships. As soon as the voice of your ex echoes in your head, you shake it off. No - he's wrong. No matter what he said - you didn't ruin your relationship. He did. You had loved him - and were willing to give up almost everything for him. Everything except your dream to become a vet. Something he hadn't appreciated very much.

Sometimes, you wonder why you stayed with him for as long as you did. Though, you figure it was youthful stupidity. Dojae had been your boyfriend since high school and things were fine during then. But all that changed in university. The two of you had always loved science and biology - and though you'd always wanted to be a veterinarian, he'd somehow convinced you to apply for medical school - just so you could be with him; and in your foolish youth, convinced you were in love with him - you'd agreed. But that first year had been completely miserable - and you'd never hated anything more. Nonetheless, you'd put up with it for an entire year. Until you couldn't anymore.

After your first year, you'd transferred to veterinarian school. It was still fairly close to Dojae's medical school - but you could no longer spend as much time together. And then, things had changed. You'd given him everything - your first kiss, your first relationship, your first time. Hell, you even gave him one miserable year of medical school - just to make him happy. But it hadn't been enough. No, despite how much you loved him, how much you were willing to put up with for him, it just hadn't been enough. And he'd gone looking for more with someone else - in someone else's bed.

You'd seen the signs at first - when he'd come to you smelling like a different perfume, or when the settings for his passenger seat had changed - even though they'd been adjusted specifically for you. You'd seen it when he'd message you hours later, and when he did it was only about when you'd be able to come over because he missed you - and by that he meant in his bed. However, each time, he'd made an excuse and not wanting to believe it, you'd believed them. You'd believed him when he said the perfume was from his lab partner, or that he'd dropped a friend off and that's why the settings were changed. You believed it when he said he messaged late because he was busy studying - or that he just missed you so much he had to have you. But they'd all been lies.

Lie after lie, he'd fed you his deceitful excuses - and like an idiot you'd believed them all. But that doesn't mean it's your fault. No - it's not. You gave him everything - and all he did was take, take and take - and demand more. You were simply trying to finish your degree - it's not your fault you couldn't drop everything just to give his cock some attention - and it's definitely not your fault that he started fucking your roommate just because you were busy studying for your numerous tests and exams. No matter how much he tried to blame it on you; no matter how much he tried to say you're the one who pushed him away. It's not your fault.

"Angel? Where are you right now?" Namjoon asks gently. Drawn out of your bitter reverie, you blink in surprise when you feel him behind you, his lips gently caressing your naked shoulder. Somehow, while you'd been lost in your own world, Namjoon has stripped and gotten into the bath with you. Not only that, but you'd been so deep in your thoughts, you hadn't even noticed that Namjoon had shifted your position. Now, you find yourself laying against his hard chest, the soft of his belly pressed against your lower back as his thick thighs cage in your body.

When you fall against his back, your shoulders noticeably deflating, Namjoon frowns. "Angel?" he prods, nudging you lightly with his nose.

You take in a deep breath, "I was thinking about Dojae," you mutter under your breath. Namjoon stills behind you, a frown marring his face. Then, he wraps his strong arms around you, pulling you flush against his chest. Head lolling behind, you rest it on his collarbone and take in a deep breath: drinking in his scent of sandalwood and vanilla.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asks gently. His voice is soothing, not a single ounce of judgement in them, and you know that if you did want to talk about it, Namjoon would simply listen. But you don't want to talk about it - a sentiment you express to him. Humming softly, "do you want to tell me why you're thinking about him?" he asks.

Biting your lip, "they asked me to be their mother," you whisper. You feel him stiffen behind you, his shoulders tensing below your head as he grows quiet. The two of you stew in silence, Namjoon waiting for you to elaborate while you gnaw on your lower lip. Eventually, you take another deep breath, "I wasn't expecting it - and they asked so sweetly - but I feel so guilty because I almost left - and they didn't deserve that. But then I thought about why I left and..." you blurt out, your words rushing out one after another.

The air thickens with trepidation, and you feel Namjoon suck in a sharp breath, "do you... do you want to leave again? Is that why?" he asks - a mixture of hesitation and fear evident in his voice. Face crumpling, you quickly shake your head, sinking further into his embrace. Feeling your head move, Namjoon relaxes - the uneasy tension dissipating.

"I don't want to leave. I... would it be so wrong of me to say I want to be there for them? That I want to be their mother - that I desperately want to be with them and you for the rest of my life? That I hate Dojae - and I wish I never met him? That I wish I met you instead - that I wish I met you earlier?" you ask, your voice low and full of uncertainty.

"No," comes Namjoon's immediate answer. Twisting in his arms in the slightly, you finally turn your head to look at him, your eyebrows furrowed as you frown. "It's not wrong for you to say that. Sometimes... sometimes I wonder what life would be like if I never met Jihee - if I'd met you earlier; if you were my children's mother. I imagine it all the time too, wonder all the time," Namjoon confesses. Your heart clinches in your heart - the distance in his eyes all too familiar, as well as the slight tinge of pain in his eyes as he thinks about his ex. However, as soon as it comes, it fades away and Namjoon inclines his head down to you, a soft smile on his lips. "But none of that matters. Because we found each other anyway, and we're here now," Namjoon finishes. He moves his hand, entwining your fingers together. Then, bringing it up to his lips, he presses tender kisses to each of your fingertips.

"You're right, we're here now," you echo, your voice just above a whisper. Namjoon smiles brighter before he bends and places a gentle kiss to your temple. After that, the two of you sit in silence, simply basking in each other's presence. Lazily, Namjoon's fingers dance along your skin, lightly tracing circles over your kneecap as you sit in the bath.

Eventually, you break the silence once again, "forever sounds nice," you chuckle lightly - trying to lighten the mood. Namjoon's own soft laugh fills the quiet bathroom, and immediately he's dropping his head to pepper kisses along the length of your shoulder.

a/n: owo did we ENJOY IT HUH? i hope so ᵘʷᵘ because i KNOW I DID IM SO FUCKING SOFT I MISSED HIM I MISSED BY BOYS I MISSED DAD JOON WAH WHY DID I STOP WRITING THIS WTF

Kofi | Masterlist

[jamielea81]

Just a Simple Lie

Chapter 11

Description: Having worked on small independent films for the better part of a decade, your friend tells you about an opening for a script supervisor with a large studio. Wanting to advance your career, you apply and get an interview. The only downside, they prefer to hire crew who are married. It’s just a simple lie, right?

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of drinking. Minor angst. Fluff!

A/N: This is it, the final chapter. Thank you to those that stuck by me during my long break. I hope you love this final chapter as much as I do. 

Word Count: 2,657

Catch up with Chapter 10

**

“I agree. We need change that last scene around a bit too,” you spoke into the camera on your laptop.

The door behind you creaked open and you spun your chair around to see your intruder.

“Hey beautiful,” crinkling eyes greet you. “Who are you chatting with?” he asked, stepping closer to you, leaning down to view the screen.

“It’s Kimmie.”

“Hey, Kimmie!” Chris said a little too loudly, bending his knees to get a better look. You turned back to the screen, partially blocking his view that caused him to bob his head back and forth.

“Hey, Chris,” she replied back with a wave.

“Let me call you back in thirty.”

“No problem,” she grinned.

You clicked disconnect and pushed down the screen, spinning back around to face your boyfriend.

“You didn’t have to end your call on my account,” Chris said, taking a seat on the couch in your office. He kicked out his legs and rested his arms on the back of the couch.

Standing up, you stretched your arms over your head until you heard a small audible crack. The long hours in your desk chair were doing nothing to help with your stiffness. You walked the five steps to reach him, straddling his lap and giving him chaste kiss.

“I missed you. Taking a break is well deserved,” you murmured into his neck.

Chris lowered both arms, wrapping them around your waist and lowering them until they rested on your bottom. “Missed you too sweetheart. But if you really missed me, we’re going to need more than thirty minutes. You may need to give Kimmie a call back tomorrow.”

You lightly pushed on his chest, shaking your head but giving him a smile.

“I’m pretty sure I can get the job done in fifteen, but I wouldn’t mind taking the whole night off,” you replied, bending down and bringing your lips to his.

**

The two of you had been together for two years. It had taken a bit to get there because as it turned out, you both were very passionate people in and out of the studio.

Once your one month extended stay to help with editing ended, Chris was adamant you shouldn’t leave. You had unofficial moved into his bedroom two weeks prior and he had gotten used to you being there. You had gotten used to it as well if you were being honest. You changed your ticket for an additional week, but all too soon late-night arguments became the norm in the days leading up to your flight. He had trouble understanding that you had an apartment with all your belongings that you paid rent on to get back to. Meanwhile, you had trouble understanding that the two of you really needed this time together since it was so early in your relationship. By the time the plane touched down in L.A. you weren’t sure it would last.

Phone calls quickly became strained and almost a chore, but it was all you had. He was staying on the East coast to be close to family and work. Most jobs for you were in L.A. where the studios were located. You didn’t have a choice.

The majority of Chris’ past relationships had been with actresses who had the means to fly back and forth and the funds to take time off to dedicate to that relationship. That wasn’t you. Yes, you were in your thirties, but you didn’t make movie star money. While you did have a good chunk of money in savings, you still needed to either get back to bartending or get another contract for a movie so that money wasn’t quickly depleted.

When Chris hadn’t called or texted for a solid week, you were sure it was over with. This intense relationship that was all consuming apparently had gone up in smoke. You called in sick to your side job and spent an entire day crying. Gemma, being the good friend she is, came over with a bottle of tequila in hand to help drink your tears away. It worked for a little while, until you woke up with a pounding headache. Not to mention, the only reason you were awake was because someone was actually pounding at your door. Taking a one-eyed look at your alarm clock, you saw that it was only six in the morning.

“Who the fuck…” you groan, loud enough for the person on the other side of the door to hear.

You dragged yourself out of bed, only then realizing you were still dressed in yesterday’s jeans and top. Albeit, both heavily wrinkled and misshapen from your rough night of sleep. You didn’t catch your reflection in a mirror but were pretty sure your mascara was smeared everywhere but your eyelashes.

You flicked the lock and opened the door to a red eyed Chris. Before you could utter a greeting or a question, he pushed his way past you into your living room and began pacing. Closing the door softly, you moved past him into the kitchen turning the water on until it ran warm. Grabbing the pot from the coffee maker, you rinsed it before filling it, keeping your back to Chris. He still hadn’t uttered a word but you could hear his steps on the vinyl wood floor. You continued busying yourself with the grounds before flicking the switch to start it.

“I only have that caramel flavored one. I know it’s not your favorite...” you trailed off, still facing the machine rather than him.

Him being here in L.A., your apartment to be more specific, after not hearing from him was slowly putting you into a tailspin. What did it mean? Why wasn’t he speaking to you? Why the fuck is he here? These are questions you really needed to verbalize, but couldn’t, or wouldn’t.

“Come here,” his raspy voice called.

You cleared your throat and took a breath, turning around to see that he stopped pacing. His arms were at his sides but his fingers twitched. Not only were his eyes red, but he looked tired. His beard longer than you’d seen it and a little unkempt. You walked to him, stopping a couple of feet away, staying quiet and trying your best not to cry.  

Chris licked his lips and blinked slowly. “Do you love me?”

What? Do I love him?... Do I love him?

You closed your eyes tight as if it would help this flood of emotions you were feeling. Seconds ticked by. You felt Chris’ fingers touch your hand before the warmth quickly fell away.

Opening your eyes, you were met with his glassy ones. Your head started to nod before you could get the words out. “Yes.” It was weak. Clearing your throat, you tried again. “Yes, I love you.”

Chris grabbed your face almost harshly, but you didn’t care as his lips crashed into yours. It was a hungry kiss and you had to grab on to his shoulders so you wouldn’t fall. He pulled away, rubbing his nose against yours. “I love you. I fucking love you,” he growled.

His lips met yours once again. Your hands slipped from his shoulders to around his neck. You could feel the wetness on your face and you couldn’t tell if it was from his tears or yours.

The two of you eventually made it to your bed, the coffee long forgotten as you reclaimed the love you had gone weeks without. Sleep later took the both of you, only waking at the feel of his hand as it combed through your hair.

“You know,” he murmured. “You really shouldn’t go to sleep with your makeup on. S’not good for the skin.”

Opening your eyes slowly to see the smirk on his lips, you pouted your own. “Doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t?” he questioned, lifting a brow.

“Nope.” You lifted your head and laid it on his chest. “Chris Evans loves me.”

“That’s true.”

“And if he can love me when I’m hungover with black mascara all over my face, I’m not going to lose sleep over it.”

His throaty chuckle made you smile. “We should probably talk,” you said into his chest after a quiet moment.

Chris’ fingertips slid softly up and down your bare arm. “We should, but I want to hold you for a bit longer.”

The talk didn’t happen until the next day as you both opted to stay in bed with Chris only leaving to pick up food for dinner. Your room smelled like garlic shrimp and sesame chicken, but you wouldn’t change a thing about how the day had gone.

Chris was making his primary residence in California as soon as he was done wrapping up the movie. You argued that Boston was home, but he insisted he had his house in Laurel Canyon just wasting away. He wanted to be with you. Needed to be with you.

“I can fly out East whenever I have an itch to. Take you along because I know Ma will want to see you.”

Who were you to argue?

As promised, two months later Chris was back on the West coast with you. And it stayed that way for almost a year until he had you flying out to Massachusetts for another film. This time it wasn’t one of his, but a friend of his that he put you in contact with. You didn’t like him doing you favors like that, but the producer had stated that you came highly recommended.

For several months you split your time between Rhode Island and Boston and grew to really love that part of the country.  It was breathtaking and covered in snow which you had to admit you kind of missed. You loved it when you were here with Chris the first time, but most of those days were spent reconnecting with Chris and worrying. This trip you really had the time to appreciate the beauty despite the coldness of the winter.

Kimmie was the screen writer on that film and the two of you had formed a fast friendship. She enlisted your help on another film keeping you employed and on the East coast much to Chris’ delight. By accident, you had added another career to your resume, consultant. And later, screenwriter.

You let your apartment go along with the furniture in it, packing up only your clothes and the items you couldn’t part with. You officially moved in with Chris in Boston even though you had been living with him for almost a year.

**

“How’s that script coming?” Chris asked over scrambled eggs with cheese the next day.

“Good. But I really need to call Kimmie back. You majorly distracted me yesterday. She’s going to find a new writing partner if I keep pulling stuff like that.”

Chris give you a closed mouth grin before scooping another bite into his mouth, shaking his head in disagreement. “You two work well together. Doubt she cares if you get distracted,” he said, his fingers making air quotes.

“Yeah, we’ll see,” you sighed. You really didn’t think she would kick you to the curb, but you wanted Chris to gravel a bit.

Chris pushed his chair back from the table, picking up his empty mug. He kissed the top of your head before refilling his cup. “I can send her flowers if you want.”

You chuckled and shook your head. “You barely send me flowers!”

“Well, that’s your damn cat’s fault. If he’d stop chewing on the stems, I’d bring you flowers home every day,” he argued taking his seat back at the table.

“You love Mr. Fluffykins. Admit it.”

“Only half the time. And that’s only because he’s cute with Dodger.”

Chris only had about thirty pictures on his phone of Mr. Fluffykins, Fluff for short, and Dodger cuddling together. The two of you lucked out on that friendship when you brought Fluff home from the shelter two months ago.

Rinsing your plate, you placed it in the dishwasher before walking over to Chris and kissing his lips. “I’m off to work dear.”

“Have a safe commute,” he said with a smile. It had been your little inside joke for awhile now since your in-home office was your place of business most days.

**

“Knock. Knock,” Chris said, entering your office. “Working late?”

You yawned, suddenly realizing what time it was. “Sorry. Got caught up on something new,” you said, standing and walking over to him. “Let’s go to bed.”

“I thought you and Kimmie finished up last week?” he said, pulling you over to the couch in the room instead.

“We did. This is something new. Something that’s just me,” you said timidly.

“Oh yeah? Just you?”

Leaning into him, he put an arm around your shoulders and kissed the top of your head.

“It’s a script I’m working on. Eric Sherman had asked if I had anything in the works and it got me thinking. Why don’t I have anything in the works? Kimmie and I can still develop scripts together, but there’s no reason I can’t work on a project that I’m really interested in. I might have her look it over when it’s done, but I kind of want to keep it to myself for a while.”

He lifted your face to his. “Just you? Not even little old me?”

You smiled and kissed his nose. “I suppose I could tell you.” You took a breath, sitting up straighter and turning your body to his. “It’s called Just a Simple Lie and it starts with a fake engagement.” Chris started a slow smile on his face. “Along the way, the lie gets a little out of hand and she ends up falling for a friend. I’m just not sure how it will end.”

“I can’t wait to read it. When you’re ready for me to read it.” He tugged on your hand, pulling you out of your seat. “Let’s get ready for bed.”

**

Rubbing in your nightly moisturizer, you gave yourself a final look in the mirror before clicking off the bathroom light and walking into your shared bedroom. You gasped, your hands immediately going to your chest. Chris was facing the doorway, on one knee dressed in a pair of Snoopy pajama pants and gray t-shirt. One hand rested on his bent knee while the other held a ring by his pointer finger and thumb.

“I think I have an ending for your story,” he began. You still couldn’t speak nor could you move. “See, I met this amazing woman that took me by surprise and turned my life upside down, but in a good way. It might have started as a lie, but I know she only had good intentions. I couldn’t help but fall in love with her. The only way this story can end is with her promising to spend the rest of her life with me. Happily, ever after, if you will.” he shrugged. “So, what I’m trying to say is, will you continue to write this story with me, as my wife, my partner in life?”

You nodded your head, walking to him and dropping on your knees. You kissed him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Yes. Yes,” you whispered. “I love you so much.”

Chris took your left hand from around his neck and brought it close to his face, kissing it, and then placing the ring on your finger. “Love you too baby.” He kissed your hand again and pulled you into a hug.

After a minute or two, he kissed your lips and looked into your eyes. “I know we’re having a moment, but would you mind if I take my fiancée to bed?”

You chuckled and kissed him again. “Yes, fiancé. I’d like that very much.” The two of you got to your feet and climbed into bed. “I suppose the ground is pretty hard on those old knees of yours,” you teased.

“Such a brat,” he said, kissing your nose.

“You like it.”

“Yeah…I kind of love it.”

**

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[halfway-happyyy]

Little Honey

good morning friends! here is a quick lil smutty blurb to get y’all through this fine Wednesday morning. Inspired by this little saucy ask someone sent in:  Anonymous said: God can you imagine the jealousy seeing someone flirt with Alex like in real life? You knew this was apart of the job, apart of his life. But when a costar or interviewer is just shamelessly eye fucking your man in front of you, even after being introduced! Alex is of course the perfect gentleman. He excuses you two because he knows that look on your face. So to calm you both down he takes you in a closet and fucks you senseless 🤪

You could always feel his eyes on you.

It hardly mattered if it was from across a crowded room, or from a glimpse through the foggy bathroom mirror. His gaze had the all-encompassing power of making you feel like the most beautiful girl in the world. And, perhaps to him you were.

“You’re staring at me.” You murmured as you swiped the tapered end of a pink lipstick across your bottom lip.

“Kind of hard not to,” Alexander replied.

You turned to glance at him, pursing your lips together as you did so to make sure the pigment was evenly applied. Tonight, he was clad in a lavish, navy blue suit; a black bowtie peaked out from the crisp, white button up shirt beneath it. His sandy hair was long now; longer than you had ever seen it before and you reveled in the fact that he had no intentions of cutting it any time soon. A beard had made an appearance during quarantine. You had been weary of it at first but thanks to the many times that it had scratched the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, you had around to the idea and now you loved it. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you it was rude to stare?”

Alexander’s slow-growing smile broke into a full grin that made your stomach dip in the most wonderful way. “I’m sure she must have. But if you were seated where I was in this very moment, I imagine you would find yourself in a similar predicament.” He cleared his throat and clocked the watch on his wrist. “Done soon, kid? Our car is here.”

This would be the first time out with Alexander to an event in over a year and you could not contain the sheer excitement of it if you tried. You were elated to finally place faces and personalities to the names that he had spoken so highly of on so many previous occasions. As the vehicle glided to a halt in front of the theatre, Alexander squeezed your hand three times and exited his side to get the door for you on yours. Following him out into the balmy Los Angeles night, you could not help the nerves that had started to dance around in the pit of your belly as cameras flashed before you. No matter how many premiers, or award ceremonies, or other large-scale events you attended… you would never get used to the attention. After posing for a few photos together, and waiting while he had his own taken separately, you made your way into the brightly lit theatre together. Only once inside the comfort of the building did you allow yourself to take a deep, steadying breath. A massive, gilded clock on the wall above you told you that you were still forty-five minutes until show time, and you stole yourself for a round of inevitable introductions. You chatted warmly for a few minutes with the director of the film before he was pulled away in another direction, as promises of “We must trade stories again later!” reached you from above the buzzing crowd.

“Oh, Alex!” A female voice cried loudly, and you turned just in time to watch a woman you had never met before, wrap her arms around him. This was still normal territory for you; women had done worse things to him in your presence. But then she nuzzled her face into the hollow of his neck and sighed heavily and your cheeks instantly grew warm. While Alexander reciprocated the hug, he was unsure of where to put his hands, so he proceeded to awkwardly pat her back.

“Hello, Gianna.” He greeted her warmly and when she broke away from him, her hazel-brown eyes were alight with an intensity you had come to recognize well. Alexander cleared his throat and gestured to you. “There is someone I’d like you to meet,” He moved away from her to wrap a toned arm around your waist. “Gianna- this is my girl.”

She turned to you, the smile in which she had reserved for Alexander wilted only slightly as she took note of your unassuming figure.

“It’s nice to finally put a face to the name Alex has spoken so highly of these past few months.” You smiled and extended a hand towards her which she accepted begrudgingly.

“Isn’t it just?” She replied drily.

Alexander squeezed your hip reassuringly and jutted his chin out toward the direction of the bar. “Well, I will leave you ladies to it, hm? I think I see Tom at the bar- would you like a drink?”

“Yes, surprise me please. And whatever it is, make it a double.”

Alexander nodded his head and pressed a kiss to your temple before vanishing into the crowd.

Gianna watched him disappear and returned her attention to you, a half-empty martini glass clutched in her hand. “He’s so much sexier in reality, isn’t he?”

“I beg your pardon?” You blanched; eyebrows raised in genuine surprise.

“Alex. It’s really quite overwhelming, isn’t it?”

Suddenly you found yourself in awe of the audacity with which this woman possessed. With her flirtations and her impossibly cool cruelty- and the kicker of it all was that she really was simply stunning; you could not deny her that. Long, glossy brunette hair hung in perfect curls down her bare back, and a subtle accent that either belonged to somewhere in Spain or Italy colored her every word and you could easily see the attraction. You cleared your throat and managed a shrug. “Yes well at home, he’s just Alex. Still does the dishes. Still drools in his sleep occasionally. Rather a little boring, really.”

She levelled her gaze with yours and smiled coldly. “That may be less of his problem, and more of yours, no?” Taking a deep breath, you tried to scan the crowd for him. You finally caught sight of his impending figure at the bar across the room, deep in conversation with an older gentleman. She swilled back the rest of her vodka and smiled at you again. It was a Cheshire cat sort of grin that caused an unpleasant batch of goosebumps to rise in patterns on your arms. “You look like you’d like to leave, and I don't blame you, but before you do, I just have one question.”

“And what’s that?” You murmured, already regretting indulging her.

Gianna leaned close enough to you that you could smell the precise scent of the floral perfume on her dainty neck. “Does he fuck as good as he pretends to?”

You swallowed hard and tried to ignore the way your arm vibrated in subtle anticipation of the smack that you so badly ached to deliver to her perfectly highlighted cheek. “Hm. An interesting question indeed. And unfortunately for you, one you will never get to know the answer to.” You turned on a heel and made your way for the bar, grateful for the thickening crowd and the dimmed lighting. Sidling up next to Alexander with a heavy sigh, you caught the eye of the bartender and waved him over. “A Stoli on the rocks with a twist of lemon, please.” You had already taken your first sip when Alexander turned to you, a small frown in place on his features.

“I hadn't quite had time to order your drink yet.”

You gestured to him with your almost empty glass. “Beat you to it, Skarsgård.”

“So, it seems…” He murmured. “You alright, kid?”

You giggled humorlessly; the memory of your most recent conversation fresh in your mind. “You know… I pride myself on being a generally un-jealous partner,”

“I do know that. It's one of the many, many things that endear you to me.”

You lifted your glass in silent cheers. “But that woman back there? What a cunt.”

Alexander's sparkly blue eyes widened in shock. “Gianna?”

“The very same.”

“What did she do?”

You winced a little as the rest of the alcohol singed the back of your throat like smoke. “It's not so much what she did… but what she said.”

He turned to you fully now, brushed a stray piece of hair behind your ear, his gaze intense and utterly penetrating. “Talk to me, tell me what she said.”

You rolled your eyes and gestured with your glass to the bartender for one more. “She carries a torch for you Alex. Badly. And I can handle that…” You shrugged your shoulders. “Lord knows it's just one of the many things I signed up for. But you worked with her side by side for six months. You filmed very… intimate scenes with her. She doesn’t have to reach up on her tiptoes to hug you. I could go on.”

Alexander shook her head. “Kid, she couldn’t hold a candle to you.” He leaned ever closer to you, the heady scent of his cologne caused your mouth to water. “And between you and me, I like that you have to step up onto your tiptoes to hug me.” As he caressed a warm hand to the side of your face, you noticed an imperceptible change in the glimmer of his eyes when he reached for your hand. “Come with me.” His tone left little room for argument, so you downed the rest of your drink in one fell swoop and followed him into the crowd. He wordlessly led you down to a quieter area of the theatre and stopped in front of a women’s washroom. Checking that no one of importance was in sight, he pushed open the door and gestured for you to head in first, which you did. Once inside the privacy of the washroom, Alexander checked each stall to be sure that you were alone. He passed by you moments later to lock the door, an erection growing steadily in the crotch of his pants. Closing the distance to you, he patted the counter twice. “Jump up on here, baby.” Again, you did as you were told. He closed the distance between you, the sheer heat radiating from him caused you to shiver violently. You reached forward to palm the bulge between you, and the urge to have him inside of you was nearly all-consuming. “You feel how hard I am?” He asked, his voice already hoarse. “You can physically feel how badly I want to be inside your pussy right now, hm?” Alexander’s skilled fingers danced teasingly beneath your dress. They moved slowly up your leg, past the rounded curve of your knee, up over the silky softness of your inner thigh. “You know that only you can get me this hard, hm?” His fingers slowed when he realized you had gone panty-less this evening. “Not a single other person can do this to me, baby.” He runs a calloused thumb up over the wetness of your slit, stopping moments later to press firm circles into your clit. “Let’s see how fast I can have you falling apart for me, hm? Gotta be quick, little one.” With no warning, he inserted two thick fingers into your pussy and started pumping at a steady pace, his thumb pressing matching circles into your clit.

“Fuck, Alex…” It had hardly taken a while before he had you seeing stars behind the lids of your closed eyes. You could feel the familiar unraveling of pressure deep in your belly, the telltale signs of an orgasm near completion.

“Oh I know, baby…” Alexander groaned. “I know you’re close. I can feel you clench around my fingers. Now, are you going to come all over those, or are you going to come all over my cock?” You tossed your head back against the mirror with a dull thud, the answer to his question lost to the moan at back of your throat. “I’m just going to decide for you baby, you can’t even form coherent sentences at this point.” He pressed a chaste kiss to the base of your throat and nibbled into the soft flesh there, causing a muted cry to rip from somewhere far away. “Ah, ah, ah… you know the rules.” He whispered sternly. He pulled his fingers from your dripping heat and slid them into his mouth, sucking off everything you had to give him. He then unbuckled his belt and shimmied his boxers halfway down his legs, taking his erect cock into his hands, and jerking if off with the rest of your excess juices. You trembled as he lined himself up against your slick entrance, then wordlessly slid himself in to the hilt. “Christ almighty…” He groaned as he let you adjust to his sheer size. “No one could ever compare to you. Not ever.” You wrapped your legs around his waist as he drew away from you and slammed right back in. “Hold on tight baby, I’m about to wreck this pussy.”

“Oh my god, Alex…” You could feel a scream building at the base of your throat- and he could feel it too because a large hand fixed itself over your mouth as he plowed into you with reckless abandon. The familiar sensation of your approaching orgasm returned, and you could feel yourself clenching around his hard cock. “Alex, I…”

Alexander pressed a finger into your clit as he thrusted into you, the timing and pressure caused lightning bolts of pleasure to explode behind your eyes. “You’re going to come all over this cock right now, aren’t you? Give me a little honey, baby.”

You nodded your head fervently and whimpered loudly as you gave yourself over to the all-encompassing feeling of your orgasm overtaking your body.

“You’re going to take everything I have to give you like a good little girl,” Sweat beaded on his forehead and with a free hand, you reached up to push his sandy hair out of his eyes so that you could get a better look at them when he filled your pussy with his come. His normally bright blue orbs were dark now, his pupils dilated and blown over with unbridled lust.

As he slowed his rhythm down a bit, you could physically feel his cock throb and pulsate inside of you, and you moaned loudly.

He dropped his head to your shoulder and railed into you with such force, you feared momentarily that there might be some damage to the mirror or countertop afterward. “Oh, baby…” His hips stilled against your own and you felt him pour his release into you, the sheer feeling of being filled to the brim with his seed, utterly overwhelming. He waited a few blissful moments before pulling himself from you, and carefully tucked himself back into his boxers. Taking a few deep breaths, you watched him fix his suit so that it looked entirely as if nothing untoward had just taken place at all.

You hopped down from the counter and gestured to a stall. “Going to get fixed up quick. See you back out there in a few minutes?”

Alexander smiled and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

When you emerged from the safety of the washroom ten minutes later, you were hardly surprised to find that Gianna had managed to seek out Alexander again. Though he had been able to keep his distance this time. Stealing yourself for what was about to happen next, you joined their conversation with a rather shit-eating grin. “Hello again.” You murmured once there was a break in the conversation. Gianna simply ignored you and was poised to ask Alexander another question. You closed the gap between her and gestured to his subtly disheveled figure. “Notice anything different about him? Go on and take a good look,” Gianna’s fiery gaze flashed to his slightly sweaty visage, to the deep breaths he was still taking, and to the afterglow that despite his best efforts, had still managed to set his skin aflame. “You see that don’t you, G? See how utterly fucked out he still looks?” She crossed her arms defiantly across her chest in response, her glittery eyes shooting daggers at you. “He looks that way because he just had his way with me like an absolute champion. And even though it is entirely none of your business, I’ll let you in on a little secret anyway,” You got ever closer to her, the last part barely above an audible whisper. “Alex fucked me so good just now, that I’ll be feeling him between my legs for the next four days, at least.”

Alexander tugged gently at your hand. “We have to find our seats, kid.”

You offered her one last beaming smile. “Have a lovely evening, Gianna.”

[emy-loves-you]

Perfection Isn’t Perfect

So, as some people know, I lost a bet to @imthebadguythatsfine and my punishment was to write 3K words of whatever they wished. My prompt was: cutesy anaroceit date! It was originally supposed to be something completely different, but plot came and slapped me in the face. So here we are!

Summary: Roman, Janus and Virgil were planning on having a fancy date, but it was canceled due to bad weather. Roman will not stand for it, and assures his loves that they don’t need fancy clothes and nice makeup to have a good date night. Anaroceit with nonbinary!Virgil, genderfluid!Roman, and background QPR Intrulogicality

Warnings: Implied Sex (Remus), language

Words: 3,333

Masterlist

Virgil sighed as they scrubbed the makeup off of their face. Another date night lost to bad weather. Just their luck. They looked up at the corner of their mirror, smiling sadly at the two pictures taped there. The first one showed Roman up on a stage, her pink pronoun bracelet proudly on display, giggling as she spun in circles. The other photo showed Janus at the zoo, holding an intense staring contest with a python (Virgil had actually recorded that entire experience, mainly because it took their boyfriend a full 2 minutes to remember that snakes didn’t blink).

Virgil loved their partners with all of their heart. They had all met in high school, each one from a different social group. Roman, the theatre nerd. Janus, the popular kid. Virgil, the resident bad boy and social outcast. None of them would’ve met if it hadn’t been for Roman’s twin brother, Remus. Remus had quickly attached himself to Janus and Virgil, and introduced them to Roman a few months later. The rest, as they say, was history.

Virgil shook their head, focusing back on their makeup. They’ve been dating Roman and Janus for a few years now, but it was nearly impossible to spend time with both of them. Roman was always auditioning for some play, hoping to rack up enough credit to reach Broadway. Janus was still in college, trying to fulfill his dreams of becoming a lawyer. And Virgil didn’t know what to do with their life. They were currently a manager at the local supermarket while commissioning artwork on the side. Virgil was the only one with a predictable schedule, and even then they were constantly busy. They could usually score a lunch date with either Roman or Janus, but the third was almost always busy. Today was supposed to be their first three-person date in over a month. Virgil sighed. They were looking forward to seeing their partners face-to-face. They would just have to settle for video chats and texts.

Virgil sighed as they continued to wipe off their makeup. Janus and Roman always looked like they were runway models, especially during dates. Virgil would spend hours on their makeup and hair so they didn’t look homeless in comparison. It was kind of daunting, actually. Their partners always looked perfect, with perfect makeup and unwrinkled clothes. Virgil would probably die of embarrassment if their partners saw the way they look at home, wearing only a baggy hoodie and some sweatpants, their hair tied up in a messy bun.

“VIRGEY! WHERE ARE YOU?”

Virgil screamed, jumping as they threw their makeup wipes at the bathroom door where the sound was originating. A few seconds later, the door opened to reveal Remus standing there, soaking wet. Remus grinned. “Pack your pajamas and toothbrush, we’re having a sleepover!”

Virgil blinked slowly, staring at their best friend. “What?”

Remus started bouncing slightly as he grabbed Virgil’s hand. “C’mon! You need to get out of this stuffy apartment. I’ve got food and games and movies!” He smirked. “So grab your sexiest pjs and come on!”

Virgil blushed before sighing. “Alright, geez. Just let me get this makeup off first.” Remus sometimes crashed at their place for ‘sleepovers,’ but this would be the first time that Virgil stayed at his place. But Remus was right, Virgil did need to get out of their apartment and stop focusing on their ruined date.

Remus giggled. “Alrighty then! I’ll be downstairs.”

Ten minutes later, Virgil stood in their living room, backpack hung loosely around their shoulders. They were still bummed that they didn’t get to go on their date, but at least they could spend some time with Remus. “Let’s go.”

“Alrighty, then! Get ready to get wet!”

“Why am I getting- oh.” Virgil stared at their now open apartment door, rain pouring so quickly that they could barely see a few feet in front of their face. Virgil sighed. It’s not like anyone’s gonna see me like this. With that, Virgil marched out into the rain, shuddering as the initial chill soaked through them. Virgil quickly locked the door before sprinting towards Remus’ car, not stopping until they were safely in the backseat. Remus followed a few seconds later, and Virgil snorted as they saw the air freshener hanging on the mirror. It had the outline of a deer with the words Oh Deer in the middle. Virgil snorted. “Did Patton get you that?”

Remus’ grin softened as he looked up at the air freshener. “And what if he did? I’m allowed to get gifts from my squishes!”

Virgil laughed. “Yeah, but it’s an air freshener.”

Remus huffed. “I recognize that some people might not appreciate my natural scent, but that does not mean you should ridicule me, Emo!”

Virgil chuckled. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s get out of here, trash rat.”

Remus laughed as he turned on the car. “Why are you in the backseat?”

Virgil raised their eyebrow. “Because last time I sat in the passenger seat, there was a squirrel in your glovebox.”

“First of all, I did not know about the squirrel. Second of all, that was one time!”

“Yeah, one time too many!” They both chuckled at that, before the car descended into a comfortable silence. A few minutes later, they arrived in front of a house. Virgil started to unbuckle before they realized something. “Remus, this isn’t your house.”

“Uh-huh.” Remus responded, staring at his phone.

“...Then why are we here?”

“You’ll see.”

Virgil huffed, leaning back in their seat. They scrolled through tumblr for a few minutes before the car door opened, someone climbing into the passenger seat with their umbrella and bag. “Sorry, I couldn’t find my face… masks…”

Virgil locked eyes with Janus, feeling their cheeks heat up. Janus was still wearing a fancy yellow button-up shirt and some black slacks, but his hair was ruffled and his makeup was gone. Virgil turned to look at Remus, who was silently giggling at the scene. “You said this was just the two of us.”

Remus chuckled. “I said no such thing! I just implied it!” He turned the car back on and drove away, humming a merry tune he’d heard from Patton while ignoring the tense silence around him.

Virgil could barely stop themself from openly staring at Janus. They’d never seen Janus so… casual. Janus was always dressed to perfection, his perfect makeup and hair only topped by Roman (Roman was the only person Virgil knew to carry both a makeup back and hairspray at all times). It was odd to see Janus without his perfect hair and makeup. A good odd, but still odd nonetheless.

Just as Virgil was contemplating breaking the silence, Remus pulled up to another house. This time it was Janus who pointed out the obvious. “Remus, this isn’t your house.”

Remus giggled. “I never said you were staying at my house. Now come on!”

Remus immediately ran inside, ignoring the rain around him. Janus opened his door and immediately opened his umbrella, then stood there silently. Virgil wondered what he was doing as they got out of the car, until Janus moved to cover both of them with the umbrella. “I assumed you didn’t bring your own.” His tone was slightly teasing, and Virgil was relieved that they might get through this night with minimal awkwardness. “Come now, no need to keep Remus waiting.”

Virgil surveyed the house they were in. Cardboard boxes lined the walls, each one labeled for a different part of the house. They heard laughing from further in the house and followed it, Janus trailing quietly behind them. They reached the kitchen and saw Remus giggling on a barstool, watching as someone whistled and danced as they put something into the oven. His blue pronoun bracelet was a sharp contrast to his bright red pajamas with gold crowns. His hair was sticking up in every direction, and when he turned around Virgil noted that he had no makeup on. But it was still impossible to not recognize him. “Roman?”

Roman chuckled sheepishly. “Surprise?” He gestured to the house. “I was gonna tell you on our date tonight, but that didn’t really happen, so…” Roman clapped his hands (Virgil fondly noted years ago that he only did that when he rambled and needed to get back on topic). “Yeah! This is my new house! I was gonna tell you all about it in person but there was rain so I decided to show you instead!” He made cute little jazz hands. “Tada!”

Virgil blinked in shock while Janus spoke up. “Roman, Darling, I understand why you wanted to show us your home, but why did you have Remus bring us? And why be so secretive about this?”

Roman rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “Well, after our date got cancelled, I was talking with Remus-”

“More like bemoaning”

“Talking about how I wish we could have a date without one of us being absent or the weather ruining everything, and Remus asked why we couldn’t just have the date here? And that’s when I realized something.” Roman started gesturing as he spoke. “All of our dates are so ridiculously formal! Other than texts and video calls, when was the last time we spent time together without fancy makeup or perfect hair? I can’t even remember!” He gestured around the mostly-empty kitchen. “So I’ve prepared a perfect date, set with no expectations whatsoever!”

Now it was Virgil’s turn to speak up. “Date?”

Roman smiled softly. “Now, no need to fret. I can hear the wheels turning in your head, My Chemically Imbalanced Romance.” Virgil blushed at the nickname. “The point of this is to spend time together without any stress of trying to look and act perfect. If we can’t have a nice time like this,” he gestured to his pajamas “then how are we gonna have a happy life together?”

Before Virgil or Janus could even try to respond, Remus spoke up. “Well, if you no longer need your bestest twin ever to be your uber driver…”

Roman chuckled. “Go hang out with your squishes. I know you’ve been dying to see them all day.”

“Damn right I have!” Remus quickly made his way out of the kitchen, waving to Janus and Virgil. “Bye Janny! Bye V! Have fun and use a condom!”

“Tell Pat and Specks we said hi! And tell Specks that he still owes me a jar of Crofters!” Roman called out as Remus left, smiling at the laugh he got in return. He then turned back to Virgil and Janus. “So! I have a pizza in the oven and various junk foods throughout the kitchen. I’ve set up some MarioKart and Disney+ in the living room, and I have some moisturizers and nail polish if you’re up for it!”

Janus said something, but Virgil didn’t hear it, their thoughts running wild for a moment. They didn’t even realize that their partners were trying to get their attention until they felt a hand on their shoulder. They saw Janus’ hand, but it was Roman who was in Virgil’s direct field of vision. Roman gave them a curious look, and Virgil let out a shaky breath. “Sorry, I’m still adjusting to this. I just went from a random hangout with Remus, to a potentially awkward hangout with Remus and Janus, to knowing that I’m now on a date with both of my partners without any way to even try and look nice.”

Roman smiled softly. “That’s why I had Remus bring you two under the guise of a sleepover. I didn’t want you to panic and try to force yourself to be formal and make yourself uncomfortable.” His face then became serious. “However, I understand if this was too sudden. If you want, I can drive you home now. Or you can take up the guest bedroom and have the night to yourself. We would never judge you for something like that.”

Virgil shook their head. “No, I want to do this. It just… hit me all at once, I guess.” They felt their cheeks get warm with embarrassment.

Roman chuckled. “No need to feel embarrassed, Panic at the Everywhere.” He then held out his hand. “Now, onward to video games and Disney movies!”

Virgil giggled as they grabbed Roman’s hand, holding their other hand out for Janus to take. Roman let them to the living room, which was almost completely bare. “When did you move in here, Roman?”

“A few days ago. I wasn’t planning on decorating before showing it off, but we don’t need Disney posters to have a good date!” He pushed a controller into Virgil’s hands. “Here, pick your character. You too, Jack the Fibber.”

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

“Out of my way, Janus!”

“Sorry Darling, but first place is mine.”

Virgil smirked as they heard their partners bickering. “Eat shell, bitches.” Two red shells shot out, hitting their mark.

“Aggh, Virgil! Love of my life, why do you do this to me!”

Virgil giggled at Roman’s dramatics, but was suspicious when Janus remained silent. Just as they were a few seconds from winning, Virgil felt a hand gently grip their chin and tilt their head-

Virgil felt lips on theirs and groaned into the kiss, not realizing their mistake until they heard the sound of someone crossing the finish line. They quickly looked back at the screen and saw their character stuck on a wall in 5th place. They quickly finished their race before turning back to Janus, who was now smirking. “You little shit!”

Janus laughed. “You wouldn’t let me be in first, so I returned the favor.”

Virgil gestured over to Roman, who was dancing on the other end of the living room. “You let Roman win! That’s not fair!”

Janus kissed them again, a teasing smirk on their lips. “All’s fair in love and war, Love.”

Virgil grumbled as their cheeks grew warm from the kiss. “Shouldn’t the pizza be done by now?”

Roman gasped as he ran to the kitchen. “THE PIZZA!”

Virgil laughed as their boyfriend attempted to save the pizza. “Why didn’t you set a timer?”

“Well EXCUSE ME for being so utterly distracted by my beautiful partners!”

Virgil laughed, until they felt a hand cupping their cheek. They turned to face Janus, who gave them a fond smile. “He’s right, you know.” He slowly began to trace Virgil’s cheekbone with his thumb. “You are quite beautiful, with and without the winged eyeliner.”

Virgil snorted. “Says you. You and Roman are always beautiful.”

“And the two of you have beauty that rivals the divine!” Roman yelled, coming back with a plate of misshapen pizza slices. “A small portion was charred, so I had to cut it out before I could cut the slices, but it’s still good!” Roman quickly put the plate down before running back to the kitchen. “I’m gonna go get some drink, go ahead and start without me. Bon Appétit!”

Virgil cautiously grabbed a slice, and watched as Janus did the same. They quickly took a bite and watched as Janus took a bite so small that they wouldn’t have known it was there unless they saw Janus take the bite. They snorted, and explained when they saw Janus’ curious stare. “That’s the first time I’ve seen you eat without silverware, and you ate that the exact way I thought you would.”

Janus gave Virgil a small smile. “Well, I typically don’t eat finger-food, so I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Take what as a compliment?” Janus and Virgil turned to see Roman coming back with three cans of soda.

“Virgil had found my eating habits amusing.” Janus set snootily, but the amusement in his eyes was unmistakable.

“Eating habits?” Roman asked as he grabbed two slices of pizza.

“Yeah, he always takes the world’s smallest bites, no matter what he’s… eating.” Virgil was now staring at Roman, who had taken a bite of his newly made pizza-sandwhich, with a cheesy inside and a crust-coated outside.

Roman noticed that he was being stared at and became confused. “Yes?”

Virgil continued to stare at the pizzas. “...You know how some people have things that could make or break a relationship?” They gestured to the pizza. “Thi-this is it.”

Roman snorted. “My Knight in Shining Armor, are you seriously willing to abandon me over my pizza eating habits?”

Janus gave Virgil a bewildered look. “And haven’t you seen Remus eat pizza? He eats it the exact same way.”

Virgil huffed. “Well I’ve learned from personal experience to not look anywhere in Remus’ general direction while he’s eating.”

Roman laughed, leaning over Janus’ lap to cup Virgil’s cheek with his hand. “You still love me though, right?”

Virgil pretended to think about it for a moment. “Hmm, I don’t know… I think I need a little persuasion.”

Roman chuckled, and soon Virgil’s personal space was filled with nothing but Roman. His mouth on Virgil’s, one hand in their hair, the other rubbing small circles into their collarbone-

“Ahem.” Virgil and Roman parted to look at Janus, who appeared more flustered than annoyed. Virgil could sympathize, having sat between Roman and Janus during a make-out scene before.

Roman smirked. “Aw, are you jealous, Love?” He looked Virgil in the eye and they nodded before they both leaned over to press a kiss to the corners of Janus’ mouth. They continued to kiss their respective halves of Janus’ face until it was redder than a tomato. Virgil pulled back and matched Virgil’s smirk as they watched their blushing boyfriend attempt to form words.

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“...There! Now we just have to let it set for 20 minutes.”

Virgil groaned as they resisted the urge to touch the face mask. “How can you do this every night? I’m already wanting to scratch my nose.”

Janus smirked. “Practice, and the desire to have a good self-care routine.” He glanced down to Virgil’s hands. “Your nails are drying nicely.”

Virgil glanced down at their nails, the various black and purple patterns complimenting each other nicely. “Yeah, they are. I think they’re dry too.”

“Well then, would you like a distraction from wanting to touch your face?” Virgil turned to look at Roman, who was plugging in a speaker. They watched as Roman connected his phone to the speaker, and a soft tune floated through the air. It took Virgil a moment to recognize the tune.

Virgil snorted. “Sleeping Beauty? Seriously, Princey?”

Roman gasped in mock offense. “Hey, it’s a lovely song!” He held out his hand. “Now, care to dance?”

Virgil sighed before grabbing Roman’s hand, allowing him to pull them up into a standing position. Roman immediately shifted to a leading position, and Virgil let themself be guided through the dance. Dancing with Roman felt like walking on clouds, every step of uncertainty matched by Roman’s confident movements.

After around a minute of dancing, Roman spun Virgil away. Virgil moved with the motion, expecting to be pulled back into Roman’s embrace. They let out a small squeak when instead they were gently tugged into Janus’ hold. Dancing with Janus felt like they were a snake and Janus the snakecharmer, Virgil instinctively yet shakily following every move in tandem with Janus.

Janus eventually spun Virgil towards the couch in a loose hold, and Virgil let themselves spin across the room and land on the couch. They watched as Roman quickly took Virgil’s spot, following Janus’ lead. It was exhilarating to watch Roman and Janus dance. Every movement was filled to the brim with passion. You could tell with every heartfelt look and gentle touch how much they truly loved each other. And every second of watching reminded Virgil of how much they loved their partners with all of their heart.

Roman and Janus both reached out towards Virgil, their other hands locked together. Virgil smiled at the loves of their life before placing their hands in theirs, letting themself be pulled back into the music.